The Blathering Barbarian

An elf has stolen a magical artifact from under the nose of a powerful lord, but can he escape?

~ ~ ~

A burning sphere plowed through the canopy of the forest, smashing into the ground and exploding into a million burning embers. Small fires burst into existence where the flaming shrapnel landed.

Lîf Faewood leapt over one of these fires, his left hand holding his dark green cap in place while is right gripped his bow as he landed and rolled.

“Seriously!?” he shouted back over his shoulder as he jumped to his feet and continued running. “This is a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?!”

A half dozen crossbow-wielding guardsmen burst through the underbrush, three of them stopping to loose their bolts in Lîf’s direction. Two went wide, but the third clanged off the shield that the fleeing elf wore on his back, the sound echoing through the trees.

Lîf ducked under a low branch, then clambered onto a narrow dirt road weaving through the trees. He could see several other guards on horseback charging along the road to his right, so he darted to the left and onto a stone bridge that spanned a deep gorge.

The mounted guards caught up to the panting elf just as he reached the mid-point of the bridge and climbed onto the edge of the impressive stone structure.

“Stop!” a commanding voice boomed, and all of the guards halted, their crossbows drawn and aimed squarely at Lîf, who quickly reached into the pouch at his side and withdrew the object he’d stolen and held it in his outstretched arm, over the hundred-foot drop to the raging river below.

The object was almost flat with the slightest of curvature to it, iridescent white, with jagged edges that had been worn smooth with time, hinting that it was once part of something larger.

“You wouldn’t dare.” The voice said, emanating from a human man as he approached upon his horse. He was elderly and rotund, with thin hair and pale skin. His exquisite robes dangled on either side of his white steed, and the considerable amount of opulent jewelry he wore had to be worth more than a large town – residents included.

“What makes you so sure?” Lîf shot back.

The guards on foot finally caught up, panting and aiming their own crossbows.

“You worked so hard to get it,” the old man said, “and if you drop it, you’ll be dead before it’s halfway to the river. Seems like a waste to me.”

Lîf looked at the assorted faces in front of him, then bowed to the man. “You’re right, my Lord. It was a lot of work.” In one smooth movement, he dropped the fragment back into the pouch and cinched it closed as he dove backwards off the bridge. The collected guards gasped, and a few crossbow bolts shot through the air where he had been standing.

Rushing to the edge, the guards peered over the low wall at the rapidly shrinking figure of the elf below, then there was a flash of light and he was gone. No splash or other sign of him – just empty air.

The nobleman scowled and shouted angrily, “Find him!”

“Yes, Lord Kath!” they shouted in unison and, moments later, Kath was alone on the bridge, seething as the guards began scouring the nearby forest….

~ ~ ~

Bright light, weightlessness, and then suddenly Lîf found himself surrounded by trees, flung upwards, arcing as his momentum slowed, then falling back toward the ground. He tumbled, stopping prone at the feet of a robed figure, around whom the ghostly patterns of a spell were still fading away. She had olive skin with wild, shoulder-length black hair, and wore robes that seemed to shift in color to match her surroundings.

“Way to cut it close, Ez.” he said as he climbed to his feet and dusted off his green-dyed studded leather armor.

“Sorry, Lîf.” The robed figure said from under wide brim of her battered, tan leather hat. “But Aperad’s Portal is not the fastest spell to cast, and I wasn’t expecting you to jump off the Thrumm-cursed bridge!” She smacked him on the shoulder.

Lîf shrugged and finished dusting himself off as the shouts of the guards started to get closer.

“Do you have it?” she asked urgently.

“Ezari Vale, are you doubting my skills?” Lîf said, feigning offense as he opened the pouch on his hip so she could see the iridescent fragment.

“Good. And yes, after that idiot move you pulled back there, I am. Let’s get out of here.”

Ezari pulled a scroll from her satchel and held it in front of her with her left hand, then began reciting its incantation and moving her right hand as though she was holding a needle and thread, sewing the paper into the air itself. She continued to speak in the strange tongue, her eyes glowing, and the air around them accelerating into a vortex. She let go of the page just as a handful of guards burst into their little hideout between the trees, and the page stayed in place.

“A sorcerer!” One of the guards shouted in alarm.

“Shoot it!” Ordered another.

A crossbow bolt sailed through the air, but was blown wide by the howling wind.

“She’s a wizard, you plebeian!” Lîf taunted.

Ezari spoke one last bit of the strange, arcane language of the wizards and flung the paper forward with a flick of her wrists and it instantly turned to ash, spiraling into the vortex – and the ground disappeared.

~ ~ ~

An instant later, Ezari and Lîf were a hundred miles away, back in their hometown of Eleanora, and standing on the familiar manicured lawn of the Arcane College. Birds chirped under the clear blue sky while students looked at the pair who had just appeared, whispering to each other.

Lîf waved awkwardly.

“Ah, welcome back, young Ezari!” An elderly man wearing flowing robes and a pointed hat shuffled away from the tallest of the several towers that surrounded them, supporting himself with a staff that looked to be made with wrought iron. He had a long, gray beard that hung to his waist and bushy eyebrows hanging over a deeply-wrinkled face and eyes that seemed to emanate humor and kindness. “I trust you have returned with the fragment?”

“Yes, Headmaster.” Ezari said as Lîf dropped the pouch into her outstretched hand. She pulled out the object and handed it over to the man.

“Beautiful!” He said, turning it over. Light flashed from his eyes, so quickly that Lîf wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen it. “This dragon egg fragment will help us considerably in our studies of the Weave.” With a quick hand movement, the egg fragment vanished with a nearly imperceptible pop. “Now, come with me. We have discovered the location of another that must be retrieved…”

Lîf and Ezari fell into step behind the elder wizard. Lîf leaned over and whispered, “That’s a piece of dragon egg?!”

“Sorry, the headmaster swore me to secrecy.” Ezari whispered back. “But it looks like you’ve earned his trust, and I still promise you that it’s for a good cause.”

“I hope so.” Lîf said. “I’m not keen on getting torched by a dragon. I got plans, y’know?”

“Of course, and you don’t need to do this with me. I would never be upset with you if you chose to go back to your life.”

“Not a chance.” Lîf said as they stepped through the doorway and into the torchlit interior of the tower.

~ ~ ~ CREDITS AND LEGAL STUFF ~ ~ ~

This tale is based in the awesome Dark Age of Theer TTRPG setting created by Todd Stashwick and David Nett.

The character art was created using HeroForge and public domain imagery. The resulting composite image was created using GIMP.

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike license. For more info, visit: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

No generative AI was used in the creation of this story, and no part of this story may be used to train or enhance machine learning models of any kind.

This was rewritten to fit within my existing series based in the world of Theer. Click here if you want to see a PDF of the original version.