Deep within the townshire of Dustan beats the heart of the night. A small tavern weathered by time glows from within. The clap of hands and stomping of feet shares beat with drums, string, and flute. The sign upon the door bears the symbol of the loom with a dragon wrapped upon the wheel with a spindle in its mouth. The meaning to this sign has yet to be answered. Only the tavern master Sassaroth knows the real reason. He will happily agree to any theory, as long as it brings laughs and another order of drinks. The tavern master is an odd fellow. He putters from patron to patron in ever a flow of robes and wind. He stands of average height with bright blue eyes and long solid white hair that shimmers in the lantern light. He does not look old, yet there is a deep past in his eyes. At times he slips unto the corners deep within shadow and peers with blue eyes that seem to glow within the darkness. Rumor has it he is a mage of some great renown. But what wizard would be wetting tables with ale? No one really knows, and even less care. The town is happy, the spirits are following and not watered. If you obey the simple rules of the tavern, the owner Sassaroth will always have a ready crooked smile, instead of a cold heartless glare. The rules are simple. Pay for food and drink. Pay for your lodging. Do not upset the townfolk. Do hurt the tavern. As Sass would say. "Follow the simple rules and no one disappears." He always chuckles afterwards and gives his crooked smile, but the room always seems sightly darker as he laughs. Sass also says "None of the townfolk ever remember anyone breaking the rules. but then again, none of the townfolk ever remember anyone breaking the rules...." He then smiles and says no more about it. The door is unlocked the sign is glowing.... actually glowing. The Spindle Dragon Tavern is open. Sass waits for the daily customers.
I am Sassaroth. I am but a mere traveler, dabbler and a spinner of tales. I have been far of reach and close at hand. I have seen tales drank up at taverns and whispered from strange land. Yet I am here as vanguard to those that will come. There are songs to be written, cheap and full of single coin's thought. There are great stories full of strange tales that no man can ever prove. There are epitaphs of those that have come a story end. Then, there is the Ballads, and those that sing them. Wit and word, phrase and thought, tune and tone, wisdom sought. The ballad is a legend made by magic of song and setting. The singer is but a tool to the song, the story, to use as it sees fit. This, is your ballad. This ballad will be sung. What will you make of it when the first of the bards strike string and wet lips to flute. This ballad will be legend. Will you, can you, make it echo through tavern and town? This ballad will be forever. The time draws sand and each grain is counted. Soon it will be your turn to make legend into song, into ballad. Be warned and prepared. May hope of hearth take you home, but curiosity bring you back. First of bards, Sass
Christmas is coming! What will happen to Ancoran, Ancalimo, Daragast and Leon? Send us a modified image of their Christmas looks ;) the most beautiful one will be published on our Facebook page on Christmas Day! Unleash your talent and creativity! Post a comment below to upload a drawing or a photo montage, there are a lot of images and scenarios that you can transform, you have absolute freedom :D Hurry up, though, you have time until the 24th of December! Ancalimo doesn't seem happy to wear that hat! :D