Panting a bit, a young gnome clad in a bright red doublet and shiny, shin-high leather boots thrashes out the final chord of a song on his lute. The sparse audience of beer-gutted barflies lets out a resoundingly mediocre acknowledgement, some even taking the effort to clap in a very nearly unsarcastic manner. The stage, small even for a performer of his stature, creaks a bit under the gnome’s feet as he steps over to a stool near the wall, upon which rests a healthy-sized mug of ale. The gnome sighs as he scans his lackluster crowd. Then he frowns. The muscles in his face ripple as he grits his teeth. He snatches up the mug, tilts it back, and downs its contents in a few mighty chugs. A wry smile spreads across his face as the last drop of beer rolls off his chin an onto his lute. He calmly steps back to center stage— the achingly quiet room filled only with the groan of the floor boards. He pops his knuckles, and begins strumming softly.
Come gather ’round, so you can hear
Lend a coin, and lend your ear
I sing of those who know no fear
the brave Aequora Three
Outlaws, brigands, each of them
taking coin and taking gem
but to this role do not condemn
the brave Aequora Three!
For happened they, upon a plan
by an unknown, evil man
to take over a peaceful land
of folks like you or me.
First died a city alderman,
and for this they would not stand
they took to the streets, and so began
the tale of the Aequora Three!
Questions, questions, all around
but no answers could be found
but to the task they were bound,
our noble Aequora Three.
Into a graveyard our team dared,
perchance to spy a suspect there,
but trap was sprung and teeth were bared
upon our daring three!
Spiders came from front and sides,
with venom and enormous size
but they knew not it was unwise
to attack the Aequora Three!
When the foes were all removed
’til at last they did conclude
where they needed to be.
In Drugar Stronghammer they did find
a cleric venerable and kind
The man of Cuthbert did not mind
the questions of the three.
But then when they suspected he
a trap was sprung, oh could it be
a holy man of bended knee
had bested our dear three?
Dropped 50 feet by cleric’s hand,
upon hard rock they soon did land,
and darkness closed upon our band,
in catacombs underneath.
And all too soon they did greet
those that they’d been sent to meet
More spiders, there to make a treat
of the Aequora Three!
So big that this whole room they’d fill!
Bigger than the lumber mill!
Bigger, yes, and bigger still
than ever should there be!
Yet each of them was felled!
By hammer, arrow, stone and spell
All sent to a spidery hell
by the Aequora Three!
Then from the catacombs they sped
with Stronghammer thinking them dead
to expose the cad and have his head,
for trifling with the Three!
With Nesha Quickblade our team met,
with her their very own trap was set,
to snare the cleric in their net
and bask in victory.
And soon the plan was carried out
with Drugar’s forces strewn about
the team captured the vile lout
and let the Sheriff see!
And when all was said and done,
the case was made, the trial won,
because of Aequora’s favorite sons,
the great Aequora Three!
Dripping with sweat, the young bard belts out the final line in time with his audience— all on their feet and clamoring for more. “Thank you! Thank you!” He shouts into the din, as waves of applause crash across the tiny stage.