The Legend Of Iron Crick

The Legend of Iron Crick: Part I: Kalaren & Egbert

Cirica: Yt 6

Kalaren walked along the dusty lanes of Aragarth with his best friend, Egbert, who was busy giving Kalaren a tour of the ancient city.

"And that spot used to be a library!"  he would say, pointing to yet another tumbled down building, half patched with dark wood. "We don't use it for that anymore, though. Too drafty."

"And this was the central Barracks. We use it as the main Armory now."

"We're not sure what this building was, but it was certainly destroyed a lot, even before the rest of the city apparently was. Possibly some sort of wizard's hall."

Kalaren would nod, and listen, and always have to ask Egbert what it functioned as now, to which Egbert usually replied that he 'didn't know', or that it was for 'lots of different things!'

At one point, they passed by a very oddly blank area near the south gate. Amongst all the other closely crowded mercantile ruins, it stood out quite sorely. Large brown brambles filled the front as if trying to recreate the storefront that perhaps once existed.

"What about there?" Kalaren asked. "Surely something existed there before."

Egbert chuckled. "Yeah, that's how the legend goes!"

"What legend?"

Egbert stopped dead in his tracks and half-turned to Kalaren, clearly attempting to muster as much drama as he possibly could. Which wasn't much. "The legend... Of the GHOST TAVERN."

Kalaren crossed his arms and looked for a spot to settle down. "Oh dear. My legs are set a'quivering."

"And I haven't even mentioned the Crazy Druidess!" Egbert exclaimed as they sat down on the crumbled remains of a garden wall. "But anyway...

THE LEGEND OF THE GHOST TAVERN

"The story goes, that in the waning years of Ankoria's glory days, after the Great Sorcerer had delivered his curse, and gone on to other lands, a certain female Druid came into power, and sought to rid the land of alcohol, convinced that this would restore Ankoria to it's rightful path as the predominant power in Militiregnum. 

She had successfully convinced smaller taverns and villages around Aragarth to abstain from the twisting of nature's bounties, like hops and apples and barley, for their own senseless pleasure, and to seek the cleansing purity of abstinence. To clear their minds and hearts, and seek higher meaning in Nature instead of the bottom of a bottle.

Now seeking to truly begin her quest in earnest, she sought to convince a Prominent inner-city Tavern to join her in removing alcohol from the land. In doing so, she thought to gain a true foothold for her movement to grow across the Kingdom. So she came to Aragarth, to the Tavern here at the south-gate, and stroke up a conversation with the Barkeep.

"Barkeep!" she declared dramatically, "Tonight is the night of your atonement!"

The Barkeep, who heard accusations all-day, every-day, did not take her seriously, instead calling back over his shoulder, "And what vice can I serve you to forget about that?"

"None!" she exclaimed, throwing a fist into the air. "For I seek to set you on a better path, one towards the light of illumination and unity with Mother Nature!"

This, of course, got the attention of not only the Barkeep, but of a large majority of the people in the common room.

Upon noticing the woman's simple dark green habit, The Barkeep realized he would have to be tactful with what he said next if he didn't want a brawl. (And while he didn't mind a good bar brawl or two, he was already over-budget for furniture repair and replacement this month.)

"My dear woman, it seems you've come to the wrong place if you're looking for learned men with high and lofty thoughts. Try the Inns by the North or East gates. "

The Druidess shook her hooded head passionately, and her hood fell off. "No, humble barkeep," she whispered, smiling sweetly. "Their time shall come, but it is not tonight. Tonight is your night, to ascend to their level. You will help me to explain it to them, once you have seen the light as well."

The Barkeep smiled at the woman. She was very pretty for one in her 30's, and had long, brunette hair, but alas. If she wasn't here to eat or drink, she would have to leave.

"Ma'am, if you're trying to sell something, I'm afraid I don't have time to listen to your pitch tonight." He said, politely, picking up a tray loaded with frothy mugs. "There's plenty of other folks whom I need to serve an-"

She snagged his arm as he came around the bar, and he nearly spilled the tray.

"No, please. Listen. Your life may depend on it." She said softly, but firmly.

The Barkeep refrained from rolling his eyes. She was definitely going to try and sell him some University course or a new religion, based on the robe she was wearing and the way she was talking. He tried to gently extricate his arm while holding the tray in the other hand. 

"M'lady, I have work to do, and friends to serve, so if you do-"

"You mean seduce and poison with your atrocious concoctions?!" she suddenly shrieked, pushing him away, and knocking the tray out of his hands, causing it to spill everywhere. "You twist Mother Nature's designs with your BASE alchemy!!!" she spat.

The Barkeep stared at the broken crockery on the floorboards, watched the liquid soak into the cracks.  He heard others arguing with the Druid now as she railed about his crimes against Mother Nature, against Ankoria, against Religion, and the advancement of the Human Race. He vaguely heard his regulars defending him, their favorite Barkeep, his Tavern, themselves, and their life choices. It all faded, till one of his regulars shouted from across the room "Hey John! Should we throw this crazy quack out?"

He finally looked up, and saw the entire tavern arrayed against the one robed woman.

His quiet reply: "Yes." 

Realizing she was defeated, and baffled at this unexpected stubbornness, she proclaimed: "FINE! If you will not see the error of your ways, I will show them to you forcibly! SEE HOW YOUR CHOSEN CONCOTIONS REACTS TO THE PURIFICATION OF FIRE!" And before anyone could accost her, she conjured a fireball and threw it at the Barrels behind the bar.

For John the Barkeep, time slowed to a crawl.

As everyone dove for either the Druidess, 

or for cover, 

or, in his case, for the fireball, shiny brass tray set forth as a shield....

He saw everyone's faces, even his own, contorted in anger and hatred, reflected in the flames that the Druid threw.

The Druid's frustration-fueled magic was twisted by the dark energies in the still very recent, and therefore very potent, Sorcerer's Curse of Ankoria, and it turned her simple Fireball spell into something far, far worse. Far, far, more complex. The air shimmered, and the firey orange of the fireball turned a thousand different hues in it's brief travel towards the barrels.

Upon reaching the Barrels, the entire store of Liquor and drinks went up in flames... 

Taking the entire Tavern, and all it's current inhabitants with it."

~~~~~

"And the Tavern and all it's people were never seen or heard from ever again!" Egbert finished.

"Wow," Kalaren said. "That's... awful."

Egbert nodded. "Yup! That's the legend of the Sober Witch!"

"Not even really very scary. Just awful."

"Well... Um, yeah, I guess so."

"Like, all those people, probably had families and stuff."

"Well, it's just a legend after all. Nothing really shows that it's real. Other than the fact that there really is no trace of the Tavern, just like in the legend." Egbert said, starting to feel uncomfortable with his story.

"That's convenient," Kalaren muttered dryly.

"Anyway! Shouldn't we be getting back? I thought Wilma was making some sort of sweet bread tonight!" Egbert said, desperately trying to change the subject.

Kalaren decided to let it go. After one last jab. "Yeah, that sounds good right about now. Your story depressed me."

"Hey! It's not even my story. Old Enchanter Grimoir  told me it!" Egbert said, trying to distance himself from his poor storytelling skills as much as he could.

"Oh!" Kalaren laughed. "That explains a lot."

"When he told it, it scared the living daylights out of me."

"Lemme guess, there was thunder and lightning, and it was the dead of night."

"Um... Actually, yeah."

"Sounds like Grimoir knew how to tell a spooky story!"

"Yeah. But then again, maybe it's one of those things that comes with old age. Who knows, maybe I'll get good at it eventually!" Egbert mused.

Kalaren laughed. "Sure, Egbert. That's about as possible as me getting better with a sword as I get older!"

Egbert chuckled, and ribbed Kalaren. "Hey, I know that's not going to stop you from trying to get better, right?"

 "That's true," Kalaren acquiesced. "As long as I have a sparring partner willing to be patient with my unskilled flailing being rendered upon their impenetrable defense!"

"Always!"

~~~FIN~~~

The Legend of Iron Crick: Part II: Stirling & Thingguy

Cirica Yt 7 or 8.

Pending editing.