Tanzer Vick the Savage Hunter, Imitator of an Ancient, Nightreaver of Thar-Eris

PK Gank-O-Meter

Role

Chapter 13

The couple huddling in the tent were terrified. It was supposed to be a
thrilling adventure into the Dranettie Woods and the sorceress and her
ranger beau were confident that they could handle any owlbears or
unfriendly natives.

What they were hearing outside was none of those things.

"Aldaric, go check," she said, sweat beading on her upper lip.

"No," he said as the sound started up again. It was a five-pitched
moaning or a four-pitched moaning accompanied by growling, or a
three-pitched growling accompanied by two types of roaring. Some horror
was outside the tent.

It was scratching the trees. They could hear long slivers coming off.

"It's looking for bugs to eat," Aldaric said.

"No it's not, you idiot," she responded, "Nothing that big eats bugs."

Just as quickly as it began it was over. Something large shuffled deep
into the forest, but the two did not sleep that night. In the morning
they exited the tent and packed up quickly, abandoning any notion of
gathering an owlbear feather.

The only indication that anything strange had happened the night before
was a heart carved into one of the tall ironwood trees. Clearly something
with terrible claws had rendered the symbol.

Within were the letters "D + TV" and a crude arrow pierced the heart.

They briefly tried to decipher it, but in the end ran back to Dagdan as
fast as their feet could carry them.

Role

Chapter 12

<The pitted sphere you hold in your hand has clear indentations for your
fingers, as your hands find their home visions appear in your head of the
inside of a theater.>

The light is from an inditerminate source, the music is a cacophany. The
scenery appears to be rocks, or perhaps a small mountain.

A tiny figure appears, a dirty face moving up the mountain "FEH! SNOT" it
shouts. In short order it encounters another figure, a face painted plack
on one side and white on the other. They bristle, they battle, and the
dirty face is victorious.

Elsewhere on the mountain, a skull fights a beetle and is victorious. The
skull, emblazoned with a book marches on to be confronted with a golden
face. They fight and the skull wins again.

At the far end of the mountain, the dirty face is in close combat with a
dull looking lion's face. The dirty face crushes the lion and marches
toward the skull. As they march the ground writhes beneath them. The
skull disappears into the swirling ground. The dirty face is carried up
on high, but also disappears.

The spinning, writhing hydra stands, extending its heads like branches
over both stage and audience.

House lights go down and all that can be seen are stars twinkling among
the "leaves."

Role

Chapter 11

Q: Okay, wait! What do you want to talk about?
A: Oh, that's better. I want to talk about The Great Performance. You
see, my every movement is inspired by my muse and that I draw from
Bethanny, may she burn whereever she is, I loved her, I want to talk
about my audience.

Q: Who is your audience?
A: Stop talking. My audience is, well, everyone. That's the real benefit
of being a high profile member of The Troupe, I'm hard to ignore.

Q: You're a member of The Troupe?
A: I thought I told you to stop? Yes, inducted by Raltevio himself. And
where does thatbring us? It means that I have no shortage of partners and
find that most Therans are willing to let me prattle on for a moment at
least before d, ismissing me. I speak with the Drillmaster often,
consider all of the Heralds dear friends, and you know I'm related
to the Provost, yes?

Q: He's, uh, a cat...
A: By marraige, you idiot.

Q: He's, uh, married to a cat.
A: ...

Q:...
A: The point is that I'm truly blessed, by virtue of The Virtuoso, to
have a much larger audience than most, but I don't want this to detract
from artists who don't have my reach. It's why I'm always willing to
listen to those who haven't progressed far in their guilds, or whom might
be elves or such. This performance is a collaboration and as such
demandsthat I not discriminate.

Q: But...
A: Of course, I'll still eat them! And enjoy it! But that doesn't mean
that we're not in this together, for the greater good so to speak.

Q: And what will be the result of all this?

At this he sighed, leaned over the table and kissed me gently on the
forehead. At that moment a swarm of stinging insects descended on me.
"Enough with the silly questions," he said as I sprang to my feet. It is
only because I, too, am dedicated to my craft that I remember to grab
this notebook. I ran as fast as I could.

Role

Chapter 10

"Oh, hello," Tanzer said as I sat down next to him at the bar. He had
blood in his hair.

My editor thought I was insane for requesting this assignment, but I felt
that there wasmore to the story than "The Savage Hunter." My writing has
brought me from one end of Thera to the other and I've seen The
Nightreaver twice in person, and these encounters left me feeling that
this interview was not a suicide mission.

The first time was when I saw an eagle alight on Mount Kiadanah Rah, turn
for a momentinto a lion, before settling into the form of a ragged man. I
was some distance away, but I could hear him singing some melody on the
wind as he danced by himself on the peak of the volcano.

The second was when I watched a lion stalking through the streets of
Galadon, settingfires, smashing shops, and clawing cityguards to death.
In the midst of the rampage it flickered and turned into a man who knelt
to pet a puppy and feed the cur the ear of a halberdier.

He was filthy and smelled like a charnel fire, but he smiled as I sat
down. He'd taken the liberty of ordering or something. There was an odd
assortment of food on the table and no one else seemed to be in the
establishment. I thought I could see feet sticking out from behind the
counter.

I nibbled on something charred and gamy.

Q: What brought you to The Tree?
A: I thought these were supposed to be good questions.

Q: Uh, how did you become Nightreaver?
A: I killed someone for it. Are these the best you have?

Q: Adira?
A: I'm leaving.

Q: Where do you see yourself in ten years?
A: I'm taking your hide with me.

Continued...

Role

Chapter 9

The dancer rises to his feet and staggers rhythmically across the stage.
If you were counting you would have noticed nine passes, but you weren't.

Suddenly, the flames are bright again and he lunges and lurches and
withdraws...something from his mouth.

It is a tiny facsimile of a person made out of what appears to be,
though it's hard to tell in this light, human hair. The dancer cradles
the thing to his breast and skips about.

Then, again! the invisible assailants are there, he fights, the horns are
back, his hands are claws, but they cannot hold the child, he swipes and
swats, and butts, and pecks, but in a flash his hands are empty and he is
again alone on the stage.

He trudges as the flames burn low, his head low on his chest, the music
has stopped, all you hear is the crackling of the flames.

He trudges for an uncomfortably long time until the music starts again,
by now he is walking, not proudly, but with purpose. At far stage-left
the dancer perceives something large, whatever it is he sees you can tell
dwarfs the theater. He dances around this thing. You blink and he is
larger now, clearly enlarged. He dances into the thing. You can still
smell smoke, but also now jasmine and forest smells.

The flames grow bright again, as bright as you've seen them, and where
the dancer was is now an enormous lion, he is fighting against his unseen
tormentors and taking ground.

In the cacophonous animal sounds of the song you now hear, or think you
hear, the screams of men. The theater smells of blood. The lion dances.

You see that in between battles the beast is snuffling the ground,
searching for something.

The battle and the music reach a crescendo. With a mighty roar all the
enemies are bested.

We are back to only the beat.

The beast paws slowly to the downstage center edge of the stage, the
closest it has been to you.

It is now a man and it picks something up from the edge of the stage, the
child.

The flames leap to life, it is nearly blinding, the man is now a gigantic
eagle with the child gripped gently in its claws. With a single beat of
its wings it rises out of sight.

The beat stops, the flames go out, and the curtain falls.

The house lights come up.

Role

Chapter 8

The theater is dark and quiet. It smells smoky.

The curtains are already parted and the stage is completely black.

The Playbill on your seat is a simple piece of bark which has the words
"For Bethanny" burned into it in a neat script. You sit.

The drums come first, it is a beat you recognize, or you think you do,
a love song from some years ago, or was it a song about heartbreak?
You can't quite remember. Now that you think of it, the beat is a bit
off.

Here it comes, the strings are about to begin, but that is not any
instrument you've ever heard. Is it a bird screeching? You still almost
recognize the song. It is not a love song, it is a song of loss.

The stage lights come up. There is no front-light, no foot-lights, it is,
only a curtain of flame against the back wall.

A single figure is silhouetted against the fire at extreme stage-right,
barely visible, in the fetal position, as the music intensifies he raises
his head and you see that he is reduced.

The music is clearly a song you know, but the words and instruments are
all the cawing and growling of animals, either a menagerie or some
sorcery is present.

He rises and as the music grows louder he is assaulted by unseen
assailants, he dances away from them, reeling from the blows, his form
thickens and you see a shell form around him, his feet grow large and he
leaps around the stage, his tiny form fighting.

He is on his knees now, pushing something away from his face, but he is
too small to fight it off, for an instant horns burst from his forehead,
but they are gone in a flash, did you imagine them? His tiny form accepts
what is happening in a rhythmic spasm. Are the flames brighter? You
squint.

Moments later when you can see more clearly, the shadowed form on stage
is bigger, the size of an adult, its invisible assailants continue their
indignations. A crab shell, now a turtle shell, the dancer is on his
back, writhing, writhing, then still.

The music continues, this is an uncomfortable scene.

Role

Chapter 7

I've known it was her all along, but I needed to be sure, you know?

She called me little, she called me a fool, she was an old lady by
the time I met her, but I loved her so.

I suspected she hated me.

I don't think she liked men.

But am I a man? Or an eagle? Or a lion?

She was awful, of course, and little, and a fool, but I loved her so.

She was the saddest thing I've ever seen.

It was Bethanny all along, of course, but I had to be sure.

I hope wherever she is that she found her doll or her daughter, but
I hope she is not at peace, for she left before I could tell her I
loved her.

Role

Chapter 6

While I've enjoyed my time in the tree thus far, the song of The Refuge
hasbeen difficult to dance to. If we wish to make an analogy, we will
call the Wardens the harmony, Sentinels the melody, and Reavers the
rhythm.

Thus far following the lead of various absentee Sunwardens, a likeable,
but inept Harbinger, and dear Adira these neccessary parts of the
composition have been a discordant mess. A missing harmony, halting
melody, and a mere drone from the Reavers, trying to drown out everything
else.

Now, while discord can be pleasing at times, we must now play as one.
Together we will play a song that all of Thera will hear. It will shake
the walls of the cities, rupture the ears of our enemies, and flow
sweetly behind us through the unspoiled lands as we dance homeward with
the items of power and skins ofour foes.

I will start the beat and the others will follow.

After that we will eat the harmony and the melody, because it's the
rhythm that we dance to.

Role

Chapter 5

{This entry is preceeded by almost sixty pages of poorly drawn birds,
half-composed musical scores, and smatterings of poetry.}

Has it been this long? I thought I'd been more judicious about updating
this journal. I guess not. I am a bit of a flighty fellow.

So, I joined the Free Folk some time ago. Some dastardly people among
them. Adira, a dreadfully delightful deadly drow gave me a home and said
she'd kill me if I disappointed her. To be fair she did kill me, but it
wasn't an issue of disappointment and I managed to return the favor.

I don't think she'd be disappointed, though, as I've now taken her place
at the pinnacle of the branch. Imagine me as the new Nightreaver. I had
to kill another drow for it, though I don't think she's a drow, but
rathersome frost giant-kin or something. Who knows? I ate her. Cold, but
delicious.

Role

Chapter 4

It was with some trepidation that I entered the foyer, but when
I saw the way the newer students rolled about and threw themselves
into the walls in glourious agony I suspected I might be in the
right place.

When I saw the fangs on some of the older students I knew I was.

It smelled, of course, and was dirty, but I loved that, such a
far cry from the conservatory. The fact that there was a trough
of what appeared to be nearly off meat collected from the local
taverns convinced me to sign up immediately.

After some time charged out into the world, horns sprouting
from my head, encased in a reptillian shell. My hungers had
increased a hundredfold.

Role

Chapter 3

use for coin, as I tended to take what I needed, and had been
sleeping in alleys and barns for quite some time, but still I
was chained by my needs.

It was time to go back to school.

Role

Chapter 2

I suspect that the Troubadour Academy was sad to see me go.
Though I was certainly no singer, and had thus far shown little
skill with any instrument save a drum, I certainly had the
finest sense of rhythm of all the students.

But after what I tasted after that first bloody dance I could
not hope to find being lectured about rhyme and meter in a
classroom. I had to go out and find it myself. And so I did.

I danced my way through the towns and countrysides, interrupting
more than one familys' slumber to feed my needs, and yet, the
more I danced the less satisfied I became.

Jealousy started for eat away at the edges of my being. Not that
I was jealous of any of the performers I always went out of my
way to see. None of them could hold a candle to my talents, but
every time my eyes turned to the sky I saw the sort of dancing
I wished in my heart I could do.

The birds. How I envied them.

It wasn't just how they danced in the sky, it was their freedom.
I began to hate the invisible chains I felt on me. I had little

Role

Chapter 1

Let's be clear about something: It was never going to work.
I had an unremarkable voice. It's worse now, of course, from
all the bones that have gone down the gullet, but that's
beside the point. The point is that it was never going to work.

My father's dream, my mother's dream, the strummers and singers
of the family. They're disappointed, I imagine, especially after
the unpleasantness, but really they should have known better, no?

I need to make something else clear: It was not a total waste
and I regret nothing, certainly some of the others do, but not me.
It gave me a chance to find the music within and that has been
so much more rewarding than the music without.

The love of dance, the joy of movement, whatever you call it
is within me, defines me, dictates my every decision, thrusts
me onto the crags of beauty and emotion such that I can hardly
contain myself.

That music, that wonderful, terrible beat, you know. Can you
hear it?

Oh, oh, another thing to make clear: I didn't "eat" her, I only
ate some parts of her. There was plenty left for the family to
bury.

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