As the sun rose, Robert stepped out to the top deck and took a deep breath, soaking in the fresh ocean air. The dwarf had a boat and navigator waiting for the adventurers in the port of Argos and had set sail right away. They decided to rest upon reaching the lone port of Iona and the dwarf was the first to awake. Robert looked out upon the jungle island and took in all the beauty.

The sun, rising above the jungle, gave the entire island a warm glow. The exotic birds from the area could be heard making some of the most beautiful sounds the native inhabitants had the luxury to experience, while the sounds of waves crashing set the mood of the island.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Icarus asked as he walked next to the dwarf.

“Very. Where’s the boy?”

“Still sleeping, I thought we’d talk before he woke.”

“What is there to talk about, elf?”

“Just because the prince and I accompanied you on this,” Icarus took a deep breath, “adventure… that does not mean you will treat it like your past expeditions for the coxcomb.”

“Those men knew what they were getting into.”

“Not the point. The prince is more important than this treasure. Understood?”

Before Robert could respond to Icarus, Jason climbed up from below deck. The prince, unlike his companions, looked disheveled. His hair was wild, his clothes wrinkled, and he was barely awake. He approached his companions, stretching to force himself to wake.

“Let’s get ourselves a hat,” Jason yawned as he spoke.

“Coxcomb of Andekus,” Robert corrected.

“And where does one wear the Coxcomb of Andekus?” The prince quipped.

“Yer head.”

“Like a?”

“’Tis not the same thing—”

“I think I’ve made my point,” Jason smiled before directing his attention to Icarus, “So what’s the plan?”

“Jason, my boy, this was your idea,” the elf said. “I am following your lead.”

“In that case, let’s make our presence known to the locals. No reason we can’t start this off diplomatically!”

*          *          *          *          *

The three companions stepped off the boat and entered Port Mir’Dautag, named after the orc town that was nearby. As they walked off the pier, heading east toward the town, the port workers stared. It wasn’t often a human visited the area, let alone accompanied with an elf and a dwarf. Robert was inclined to reach for his weapon, but Icarus sensed that and nudged the dwarf.

As they entered the town, Jason noted the lack of security. There were no walls erected to protect the town, nor were there any guard towers. The buildings were all very similar, built from stone with open windows and doorways. The only differences seemed to be that buildings that were meant for business had wooden roofs, whereas the residences had thatched roofs.

“May I have a word with you strangers?” A deep, strange voice called from behind the group.

Turning around, the three adventurers were faced with an iron-clad orc, standing taller than Icarus, with grayish-green skin. His hair was dark and had several braids that were brought together as one ponytail. His mutton chops hung from his chin—also braided. The sun glistened off his armor, adorned with what appeared to be a captain’s cape, with light reflecting from the metal scabbard that held the orc’s broad sword.

The orc’s hand moved to the pommel of his sword, and he was ready to unsheathe it at a moment’s notice. “Perhaps I was not clear. Let’s have a word.”

“Good day to you sir,” Icarus said, taking a step forward, “I apologize on behalf of my group, we were taken aback.”

“What do you mean, ‘taken aback’?”

“Um, well, we… we just weren’t—”

“I’m having a go at you,” the orc laughed as he released his hand from his sword.

The three companions nervously chuckled along with the orc before Icarus finally responded. “The name is Icarus. I’m joined by Robert and Jason. We’ve come from Arthica to visit our sister island.”

“Arthica? We don’t get many visitors from there. What brings you to Mir’Dataug? Surely taking port in our capital city would have offered,” the guard hesitated for just a moment, eyeing the group, “less of a distraction?”

“Dautran, even with all its beauty, is not the first place I would show my companions. Not when you can catch the sun rise from behind the jungle at your lovely port,” Icarus explained.

“Don’t forget about the temple, we’ve got to visit the temple,” Jason chimed in.

“The temple? Are you referring to Yen’Taug?” The guard asked.

“That’s the one. And we’re kind of in a hurry—”

“Watch your tongue, boy!” Robert angrily cutoff the prince.

“Excuse me?”

“Jason, Robert, please not now,” Icarus pleaded.

“The boy must learn respect,” the dwarf argued.

“Respect? I need to learn respect? You dare talk to your prince with such disrespect?” Jason countered.

“Jason? Prince? You’re the son of that skrig king, aren’t you?” The orc questioned.

“What was that?” the prince asked, almost confused by the orc’s sudden hostility.

“If we could all just take a moment and relax,” Icarus tried to reason with everyone.

“Your father is the king of Saffraan, is he not? Iollan Dactyls is nothing but racist skrig that banished my people from any kind of trade talks with Arthician towns. If it weren’t for King Kristoff Quinn of Silverrod, we would have crushed Arthica and its capital,” the guard explained.

“My father is no saint, but you would be best to find respect for the royal family of Saffraan. It is out of respect that we haven’t come to our sister island to crush you—you’re far from innocent.”

The orc guard stepped up to Jason, looking down at the prince, “You should listen to your dwarf friend and watch your tongue.”

Without hesitation, Jason swung his fist into the orc’s chin. The guard, taken by surprise, teetered back from the impact. The orc unsheathed his broadsword and swung toward Jason, who hadn’t yet tugged his own sword from its scabbard. Icarus quickly removed his baton and extended it to its full bo staff form and blocked the weapon from hitting Jason.

“Always need to make things difficult, don’t you?” Icarus asked his prince.

“I like to think I make things interesting,” Jason responded before removing his longsword from its scabbard.

Jason and Robert, with battle axe in hand, flanked the orc guard as Icarus stayed directly in front of him. The guard swung his sword about, contemplating his next move. He directed his next slash towards the dwarf, narrowly missing as Robert jumped out of the way. Before the orc could turn to face his adversaries again, Jason and Robert rushed him.

They underestimated the orc, who was able to rush the prince and the dwarf himself, bending slightly to meet them with his shoulder. When they collided, the two adventurers were sent flying back several feet, landing on their backs. When the orc stood straight once again, he locked eyes with Icarus.

“I apologize for my friends, they are a little over zealous. Perhaps we could just take a moment to talk?” The elf tried to reason.

“You take me as a fool?”

The orc shouted a war cry before rushing Icarus. It was clear that the orc, although skilled, was still far beneath the abilities of the elf. He was able to side step the guard, using his bo staff to trip the orc to the ground. Before Icarus could react, he heard others approaching fast.

As Jason and Robert stood, they were faced with three additional orc guards with swords at the ready. The original orc guard was joined by another, then.

“Captain, are you alright?”

“Arrest these three and throw them in separate cells,” the captain paused, looking at Jason before continuing, “Feel free to especially rough with that one.”

Two of the orc guards grabbed Jason, each punching him in the stomach for good measure. The remaining guards grabbed Robert and Icarus as they headed north, into town. The captain rushed ahead and caught up with the guards holding Jason. As they walked, he leaned in towards the prince.

“Perhaps that skrig of a father will listen to us now,” he whispered in the young man’s ear.

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part Four appeared first on Tellest.

Icarus winced as he hit the ground.

“What are you complaining about? I was the one who crashed through the window,” Jason said, laying on the ground next to his mentor.

“Falling isn’t as easy as it once was.”

Both Jason and Icarus reached their feet and looked at the destruction before them. The ground had broken glass scattered about and they could see the fighting going on within the tavern from where the glass had once been.

“Do you think it was because I said other idiot?” Jason asked.

Icarus shook his head and they both turned north, towards the castle. They didn’t travel too far when they heard a scream. When they swung about, they saw Robert flying out the window and landing a few feet away from them. The dwarf stood up, brushed off the dust, and collected his battle axe. Before he could run back in, both Jason and Icarus grabbed his shoulders.

“Rob, enough is enough,” Jason said.

“The prince is right. There’s no reason to get yourself hurt—or worse—in there,” Icarus reasoned.

“Maybe I was a little harsh. Perhaps we could go somewhere private and talk more about this hat?” Jason asked.

“The name is Robert and wherever we go, they better have plenty of ale.”

“Okay Rob, okay.”

*          *          *          *          *

It had been centuries since the elf was part of the war for control of Ippius. Prior to the permanent settlements of that make up present day Arthica, many different races settled the three large islands that make up a majority of Ippius. It was the arrival of the minotaurs that forced the humans to fight for what they believed was theirs.

At the time, Icarus was staying in his thatched cottage found in what is now known as the Vanyatavar forest, just west of Argos. After years of adventure, he had finally settled down with the elven maiden, Zaleria Vamaer. The couple had met during a battle to save Zaleria’s tribe from an attack by a pack of lagano years prior and had fallen deeply in love.

The elven couple had decided to not interfere with the happenings of the other races, however the battle for land control had spilled into their home. The minotaurs had taken camp within the forest around their home and while out by one of the many streams, Zaleria was killed—mistaken as the enemy by a minotaur warrior.

When Icarus went to meet his love, he was horrified to find her body lying on the ground; lifeless. Without having a moment to mourn, the same minotaur that had killed his beloved came after the elf. Icarus was able to spring out of the way and readied himself for battle, however had no weapons to mount a proper offense. As the minotaur turned to charge, the elf was in motion and leapt into the air, his wings appearing and giving him extra lift. As the elf soared over his advisory, he grabbed a sword that was sheathed on his back—the wings disappearing as he landed behind the minotaur.

Icarus shook his head as he heard Jason calling his name.

“Icarus!” Jason yelled, practically in his mentor’s face.

“What is it, lad?” Icarus finally responded, with more anger than he had intended. “Jason, I am sorry, my mind was elsewhere and I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

The elf had been lost in thought, reflecting back upon his long life—a blessing and a curse. Being part of much of Tellet’s long history was something the elf was proud of, but it came with great costs—losing his love during The Culling was one of those costs.

“Anything you want to talk about?”

“A tale for another evening. What was it that you wanted?”

Jason returned to the table he was sharing with Robert—notes and ale were spread about the table.

“Robert and I were going over his notes from past explorations to try and determine where we should search next. We’re at a loss and there isn’t anyone who knows Tellest better than you.”

“Let me see what you have.”

Icarus followed Jason over to the table and thumbed through the notes. He saw that Robert and his previous teams searched most of Draconis, including the islands of Ippius. Before he flipped through any of the other notes, he noticed that it seemed like Iona, the second largest island of Ippius, had yet to be explored.

“You’ve taken a team to Norkoth before Iona?” Icarus looked to Robert.

“Aye. We had a lead that mentioned those lizardfolk and headed there. In all of our research, nothing ever pointed us towards Iona,” the dwarf answered.

“So, you’re telling me you that you decided to leave the mostly peaceful island of Iona alone while you explored one of the most dangerous lands? You really are daft!” Jason interjected.

“Who are ye calling daft, lad? Evidence is evidence – why would I waste me time?” Robert countered.

“The boy is right,” Icarus started as Jason smiled. “Not about being daft. Going to Iona would have likely prevented the loss of lives. Although Andekus is known in all of Tellest, it is largely believed that she resided in the jungles of Iona for some time.”

“Now listen here elf, I’ve researched Andekus more than anyone else on this rock and I’ve never seen anything about her hiding out in a jungle,” the dwarf argued.

“Robert, although you have been around Tellest much longer than many other beings, you are still naïve. Plenty of history has been left to be forgotten. There is an abandoned temple in the jungles of Iona. It has been a very long time since I have visited, but since then, I had heard of rumors of an extremely generous soul making the temple their home,” the elf explained.

“Boys, dare I say it’s time for adventure?” Jason asked, putting his arms around Icarus and Robert.

“Your father won’t be happy,” Icarus mentioned.

“When can we leave?” Jason asked with a smile on his face.

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part Three appeared first on Tellest.

Three mugs of ale were suddenly slammed onto the table. Icarus and Jason, startled, looked to see a dwarf with curly red-brown hair that draped over his leather shoulder pads. He had a battle axe holstered to a strap on his back and looked like he would be ready for a brawl at a moment’s notice. Before anyone could speak, the dwarf downed his ale and signaled for another round.

“The ale is on me, lads,” the dwarf proclaimed.

“Why the generosity?” Icarus asked as Jason began drinking from his mug.

“I heard yer friend talking about an adventure, and I got one!” The dwarf beamed.

“And why would—”

“Please, give us the details,” Jason cut Icarus off.

“Aye, of course! You know of Wintertide?” The dwarf asked and continued after Icarus and Jason nodded, “There’s a rumor of an enchanted hat that offers the great gift of knowledge.”

“What does that have to do with Wintertide?” Jason asked.

“I know of this rumor,” Icarus answered before the dwarf could. “This hat is rumored to have belonged to Andekus.”

“Aye! The goddess of Wintertide. I been tracking this hat, the coxcomb of Andekus, fer decades—longer than you been alive, lad—and any true adventurer is willing to stick with the hunt, to whatever end.”

“And what’s in it for us?” Jason asked.

The next round arrived to the table before Jason and Icarus finished their mugs. The dwarf grasped his and finished the ale inside in what seemed like one gulp. He wiped away the sudsthat dripped from his red-brown beard before looking Jason in the eyes.

“A chance to wear that coxcomb, of course.”

Jason rolled his eyes and picked up his ale. After finishing his first mug, he looked the dwarf in the eyes before gulping down the second mug sitting in front of him. As he signaled for another round, Icarus sunk in his chair, aware of what was to come. “A chance to wear that coxcomb?” he mocked the dwarf. “Why, how could I resist? Who doesn’t want to wear the hat?”

“Now listen here lad—”

“The name is Jason—Prince Jason Dactyls—and you should watch your tone.”

Jason was standing, towering over the dwarf. Icarus looked around, and took a swig of ale, as many patrons of the tavern turned their attention to the prince. Icarus tried to signal Jason, but it was too late—the dwarf shoved Jason.

“You little man, you dare challenge the prince? I am a Dactyls, a descendant of the man who helped settle these lands. Who are you?”

“Perhaps we should take this outside?” Icarus interjected as more and more attention was being directed their way.

“Yer family wouldn’t exist without mine. Who am I? I am Robert Ipparius, descendant of Arthur—the man that ensured these lands could be settled.”

“And I’m Icarus, the one trying to save the two idiots announcing their famous lineage in a tavern full of criminals.”

Robert grabbed Icarus’ mug from the table and gulped it down before winding up and throwing a wild punch. Jason was quick enough to duck beneath that hook, and he grabbed one of the empty mugs from the table. He threw it toward the dwarf, who sidestepped the projectile, allowing it to hit an orc that was sitting behind him.

“Great,” Icarus sighed.

The orc stood up from his stool, brushing shards of glass off his shoulder. He looked at the group in front of him and growled. Jason’s heart pounded, as his sight settled on the burly patron.  Orcs were not often found in Argos. Humans filled most of the city, especially the north side. Although people were staring, they clearly tolerated the orc’s company.

The orc lifted his mace and swung it toward Jason. The prince jumped out of the way, nearly falling into his mentor. Before anyone could react, the orc chopped that spiked club toward Robert, who rolled to the side, avoiding the damaging blow that destroyed a table.

“Hey! Calm down. It was an accident. I wasn’t trying to hit you—I was aiming for the other idiot over there,” Jason said, pointing in the direction of the dwarf.

The orc didn’t take too kindly to Jason’s words and charged toward the lad and his mentor. They leapt in opposite directions, avoiding that unexpected foe. A man dressed in the garb of the Saphron Brotherhood was not as lucky. The orc hit him squarely in his chest, launching the assassin across the room.

Every patron in the Falcon’s Nest erupted in a roar. Blows were exchanged, chairs were broken over backs, and mugs of ale were broken over heads. Jason took the opportunity to charge the dwarf, who was distracted by all the commotion. As he approached Robert, he leapt and drove his shoulder into the dwarf’s chest, taking him to the ground. As soon as they landed, Robert winced and Jason rolled to the side, gripping his shoulder that had collided with the dwarven armor.

Robert was able to climb to his feet before Jason, his armor taking the brunt of the hit and the fall. He grabbed the closest chair and swung it toward Jason, who had managed to climb to his knees. Before he could stand and defend himself, the chair cracked over the prince’s back, sending him back to the floor. The dwarf smiled and grabbed the closest mug of ale to celebrate

Before he could take a swig, Icarus was there and slapped him upside the head—causing the mug to drop. The dwarf grabbed his axe, ready to remove it from his back holster to continue the fight. When he saw the old elf, he dropped his hand to his side.

“Ye should never make a dwarf drop their ale.”

“Oh, I see.  And inciting a bar fight is so elegant?” Icarus helped the prince to his feet. Once standing, Jason cocked his fist back, but Icarus caught those tightly bound digits before they could collide with their new acquaintance. “And you should know better, my liege.”

Before either Jason or Robert could utter a word, a large man approached them. The three patrons prepared for a fight, waiting for the stranger to make the first move. Physically imposing, standing about a foot over Jason, with arms the size of his head, the man wore simple black slacks with a white tunic. He stared at the group of three before looking at the chaos that was swirling within the tavern.

“Enough!” The large man bellowed.

The fighting instantly stopped. Every patron stared at the large man. The ones closest to him had turned white, their bodies shaking at the thought that they may be within his grasp. The only noise that squeaked into the tavern was that of broken furniture continuing to settle to the ground.

“Who?” The man’s voice was deep.

Everyone pointed in the direction of Jason, Icarus, and Robert. Icarus hung his head in disbelief while Jason pointed directly at Robert. The dwarf had grabbed his battle axe and seemed ready to take on the entire tavern.

“This is my tavern. Look at it,” the large man revealed.

“To be fair, the orc really was the one that turned this into a brawl,” Jason reasoned.

The owner’s eyes grew wide with anger. He reached out and grabbed the prince by his collar, lifting him off the ground with ease and pulling him in close. “I don’t care what family you come from, no one wrecks my bar.”

Once the owner threw Jason across the room, the entire tavern erupted back into a brawl. By the time Jason was back on his feet, the large man was upon him once more and tossed him through the window, onto the street. Icarus ran towards the exit to check on his pupil, but he was cut off by a member of the Saphron Brotherhood. The assassin had his dagger drawn, ready to slice into the elf. He began tossing the dagger in the air and from hand to hand—showing Icarus that he was skilled with his weapon.

Icarus pulled out a golden baton, with several emeralds adorned on each end, from under his cloak and held it at his side. The assassin chuckled at the sight of it, and took a step towards the elf. With a quick squeeze, the elf’s baton grew to a full sized wooden bo staff. The entire weapon was carved with elven scripture—it was a piece of art combined with the golden and jeweled center.

Caught off guard, the assassin wasn’t expecting the quick assault. Icarus swung the bo staff into his opponents chest, then his back, and finally an upswing to his chin, knocking him to the ground.

The elf had no time to celebrate as he heard charging footsteps. He turned just in time to see the orc from the earlier scuffle. He lowered his head to slam into Icarus, but the elf was ready for him and jumped over his adversary. Instead of ramming into another patron, the orc was able to stop himself. However, when he turned, his face met with the end of the elven bo staff. Icarus smirked at his good fortune.

The fortune would not last though; the owner of the Falcon’s Nest picked the elf up and tossed him toward the same window Jason had crashed through. Luckily for Icarus, there was no glass to smash through. That did not make landing on the hard ground outside any easier.

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part Two appeared first on Tellest.

Jason stood before the Nadeus tree, a twelve-foot pine adorned with albino flutterballs, in the holiday room of the castle. It was the holiday season, the time of year where citizens of Argos, the city of which Jason was prince and heir apparent, celebrated Wintertide. The town was bustling with traffic as families shopped for loved ones and friends gathered for Wintertide Festival, a weeklong celebration, activities.

Ten years had passed since Jason last thought about Wintertide and its meaning. He never understood the weeklong festival, or the celebration of Andekus, the goddess of charity and the deity of the holiday. He couldn’t grasp the idea of celebrating seven different ideals when it was clear to him that it was all made up. However, he did understand that his father, King Iollan Dactyls, despised everything related to Wintertide.

Although the Dactyls ruled Saffraan, the western nation of Arthica, they were part of a small community that believed in one creator, rather than the gods and goddesses of the land. Believers of the one, true savior also disregarded the Wintertide holiday and celebrated Nadeus. But even the most powerful believers were afraid of what the majority would do if they found out about their belief system.

“Son,” a voice from behind Jason snapped him out of his thoughts.

Iollan stood behind his child, stroking his black, bushy beard. He was imposing, standing at six feet tall with muscles bulging through his heavy royal garb. He was looking his son in his eyes when Jason turned around.

“It wasn’t so long ago that you looked up to me.”

“That was long ago father. I’ve grown much since I was a child.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Jason looked to the floor. He and his father had a tenuous relationship in recent years, specifically with how non-humans were being treated in the kingdom. He looked to his father, brushing his dark brown hair out of his eyes.

“You treat those not like us without respect. We were all created equal in His eyes.”

“That may be true, but that does not mean we all grow to be equal. The world is more complicated than you believe it to be, son.”

“Maybe you make it more complicated than it needs to be, Father.”

Jason walked out of the room. He had spent the last ten years following his family blindly in what they believed. When he witnessed his father kick a down on his luck gnome—just looking for a warm place to sleep—out of the city, he was heartbroken. Jason confronted his father about it and when he saw that his father held no remorse, he knew he had to follow his own path.

As he made his way out of the castle, he was stopped by Arik Purdell, the five-year-old son of his father’s top General, Alan. Jason didn’t acknowledge the young boy, the thought of his father’s treatment of other races still on his mind, and quickly walked by with purpose. He was running late to meet a friend.

“Master Jason,” the boy said.

“Arik, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Oh, okay…”

Jason stopped walking. He could hear the disappointment in the boy’s voice. He turned and stared at the child and gave him a brief smile. “How many times do I have to tell you, it’s just Jason,” he said as he knelt down beside the lad.

“Sorry, sir,” Arik said. “You seemed angry, and I wanted to try and make you feel better.”

Jason smiled. “The fact that you wanted to help me is all I need to feel better. You are going to make a fine general one day.”

“Thanks,” the boy smiled, “what are you up to?”

“I’m meeting some friends at the Wintertide Festival.”

“Won’t the king be angry with you?” Arik asked, befuddled.

“That’s the idea.”

Jason smiled and stood up. He tousled Arik’s hair before turning around and heading out of the castle. As he left the castle grounds, his mood began to change to match the holiday décor—the more fantastical the town looked, the less he thought about his father. Jason’s eyes grew large as he soaked in all that Wintertide had to offer.

*          *          *          *          *

The Falcon’s Nest, a tavern in the south side of Argos, was the home to criminals and lower level Saphron Brotherhood members that visited Argos. The brotherhood, a group of assassins from the region, often had their initiates use the tavern as their home base. Once they had proved themselves worthy, the initiates were promoted and invited to the Saphron Brotherhood’s main hideout, which remained a secret to all but those who belonged.

Icarus Callatuil sat at a table in the tavern, waiting for his friend. With its dim lighting, insipid odor and penchant for attracting the least trustworthy citizens of the city, the elf could never understand why his friend chose the tavern as their meeting place. He didn’t mind though, for the Falcon’s Nest had some of the best ale in all of Tellest.

Jason walked into the tavern as the elf finished his drink. He scanned the room for his friend, before locking eyes with Icarus. The elf waved him over and pointed to the bartender, holding up two fingers to request another round of drinks. Jason walked to the table and sat down as the drinks were delivered.

“I’m surprised you continue to agree to meet at the Nest. My father would be livid if he knew you were complicit in my rebellious actions,” Jason smiled.

“Your father would be even more livid if I shared all his dirty secrets from his rebellious years to you,” Icarus smirked as he responded.

“My father? Rebellious? Even so, he wouldn’t forgive my choices.”

“Jason, my boy, there will come a time when you complete your training and take the throne. We will become friends and work together often. I will also be sitting with your future son, training him,” Icarus paused to take a drink, “aiding him when he rebels against you.”

Jason smiled and they clinked their mugs and gulped down their ale. Icarus signaled for another round.

“I will never understand your stubbornness about meeting here. It’s a dangerous place, and this is just to anger your father.”

“I’m disappointed. I thought you would know me better. The fact that coming here bothers father is just an added bonus.”

“Enlighten me then.”

“Argos is the capital of Saffraan. If you want to find information, the Falcon’s Nest is the place to find it.”

“And what information can the prince of Saffraan get here that he can’t get from official contacts?”

“What information could I possibly receive at the castle that could lead to an adventure? Come to the Nest enough, you’re bound to hear about something exciting. You can’t tell me that an elf of your age doesn’t know how to find adventure?”

“And I suppose you want my help when the time comes?” Icarus asked, ignoring Jason’s question.

“What are mentors for?”

The post The Night Before Wintertide, Part One appeared first on Tellest.