Of Flames and Thorns: The Druidic Tales, #1

By R.B. Ellis

War looms, and with it, shadows rise.

Destiny always picks its chosen one. Garrett was just its next victim. After a plague ravages his home, he is taken in by a young girl and her father, Lord Drathus Firehart. Of course, as a child of destiny, Garrett soon finds out he is the Goddess' chosen one. The Druid. It is up to him to save the world from the coming darkness. Is it truly that simple?

With elves at the center of the malice in Faerungarth, it seems impossible to unravel the riddles and bring light onto the shadows. What truths will be revealed? What is destiny's plan for Garrett and who is the one pulling the strings?

• Language: English
• Publisher: R.B. Ellis
• Release date: Mar 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393810025

R.B. Ellis

Born in the mountainous state of Colorado, you quickly understand the strange land that is Faerungarth. With its large plains, deep forests, and sky-shattering mountains. I started this book series back when I was twenty-one, but never really thought it come to anything. My life has been full of fantasy all my life; J. R. R. Tolkien, Andrzej Sapkowski being the biggest influences in my world-building. Outside of books, my chief passion for fantasy worlds came from video games. This is why I love to leave easter-eggs and heavy lore. I write now, not for myself, but for my son and any future children I may have. And of course, for my fellow nerds, book lovers

Book preview

Prologue

A SMALL BOY OF ONLY eight winters cried uncontrolled on his mother’s lap. Mama, no! he yelled out.

The boy’s mother, riddled with boils, green veins and blood-soaked clothes, slowly turned to her last child and tried to smile, but her chapped lips cracked and bled. No... please, gods! he whimpered out, as he knew what was to come next.

The boils, the thin skin, weak fragile bones... ill blood. It was all the same. Same as the rest of the shipping dock in Veiltath. Dead or dying. Not a soul, human, elf or rat was spared, and now it had his mother. The great fires that usually burned with such vibrancy had gone cold. Their coals reflected the horrors. The dead were tossed into mass burials or burned on large-scale pyres to keep the plague at bay by those who waited for death. It had been only hours since death with its icy fingers claimed the people at the docks by the hundreds. While all expected the torturous agony, they prayed, wallowed, burned, and buried their loved ones, and now Garrett was forced to do the same.

G-Garrett... My love, my chi– her sentence was cut off by a ferocious cough. Blood painted the boy’s cheeks as his tears tried to wash them off.          

Garrett questioned the gods. Was this some punishment for his family’s poverty and their need to steal and bargain for food? For the inability to maintain their livelihood in an elven city? His mother forced what energy she had left to speak before death took her.

My child, the gods have spared you so you can do wondrous things, you can- can change your fate, y-you are– she coughed over the words she could not speak. Please, my son. She held out a hand and placed a necklace with their family crest into his dirty hands.

His thin, filth-covered hands gripped the necklace tight to his chest. The crest held a dull glow in the moonlight, with a rose stem engraved into the solid gold piece. They attached no ruby flower or any petals. He knew others saw it as unfavorable and in all aspects nothing noteworthy, but this flowerless crest was his family’s insignia. And by all accounts, he was the last of his family. Holding it close, Garrett tried to hold back his tears.

Mama, don’t go! Please, I don’t want to be alone. Please! he shouted and held his mother tight as her voice faded.

Burn our home and run. Don’t turn back and... don’t look back. Please, my love. Watery pink tears turned her eyes a harsh red. She held him tight as she could. Her breathing slowed, and her last words were the ones any mother would say to their child. I love you.

Garrett barely heard them, and even though he knew his mother to be dead, he refused to admit it. He let his tears, his sorrow, flow. 

Wake up, mommy, wake up! You can’t sleep yet. he cried out and shook her lifeless body, cursing the gods.

Time passed slow; the reality of his life took its time to unfold. He knew he had to leave. By morning, the shabby hut he once called home must be burned with the dead inside, for fear of the plague spreading. So, Garrett set fire to his home, his belongings, his memories, his family. With slight hesitation, his head near turning on its own, he forced himself forward. He never looked back.

Garrett tried to make the most of his life, he prayed it would get better, and that those were the end of his sufferings. However, life favors the rich, the strong, and the magically inclined, and at that time, the Elven Imperium nearly controlled all Faerangarth. A racist and elitist society. Elves saw themselves as perfection, a pure piece of art. If one were born a non-elf, even half, it was an atrocity. To be a human, a being with no magic, no skills, and a short life span, such an abomination born in an elven city would be worth less than the sewage. Such people were only good for two things: food for the gutter rats or... slaves. Life is never easy, nor would it be for Garrett.

For a few months, he jumped from job to job, living in pipes on the docks and next to burning braziers on wintry nights. He picked up work where he could, from tying boats down to picking up the filth from the livestock. The boy who cursed the gods had terrible luck, for death only followed him after he left home. When he worked on the docks, his overseer was crushed by a weapons cache he swore had been tied down. Cattle died of sickness not three days into him caring for it. And the elf noble who bought him. His fair wife met death at the bottom of the staircase with her neck broken. Death hung to Garrett like a cloud to a mountain. And as the rumor of Garrett being a jinx spread. Even Garrett heard the rumor or those wishing to get rid of him. But none wished to do it, less they fall to his jinx. it mattered not who did the deed, the elements would do away with him soon enough. He could no longer find work with such events and rumors spread among the city of Veiltath. Far too many weeks had passed since his last job. No one would hire him, not even the slaves would take him; ‘too risky’ they said. With no other choices, he lived in the gutters, all the while he made away with what food he could by theft and pick-pocketing.

Winter was fast approaching, with perhaps only weeks before the first snow. Garrett looked out from the shadows of his doorway to the world. A rusted bolt fell from the sewer grate to his less than meager home. He could hear the rats playing and fighting in the leak in his makeshift wall. He cared not. They would have no prayers for him, no second thoughts. They would eat him. He would do the same in their position. What was he saying? He was one of them. Living in the filth, and dark. He was a gutter rat.

The day was an unusually bright day for autumn. Even from his pipe he could smell the harvest foods. Great sweets with tender spices found his nose and his stomach. How long had it been since his last meal? Three days? A week? The days and nights melted together and all that mattered was surviving... He needed to find a target.

He crept out of the shadows. Sticking to the wall, he spied on the crowds. There were far too many elves, always were. But he was in the Imperium, so there was no escape from the bastards. Suddenly, from among the crowd, a fire caught his eye. She was young and more importantly... human. He saw the two things he wished to take before she noticed, and he jumped out and snatched them.

Hey, you! Hey! The girl’s voice rang in his ear, but he did not respond. However, the young girl only yelled more and gave chase down the alley towards him. Hey! Come back here! She was surprisingly quick for her age, and her heels did not impede her.

Garrett dashed down the alley, using the crates and obstacles to his advantage. Garrett could almost always tell how close or far a person was without the use of his eyes. This time was no different. He could feel her pursuit- the fire-dressed girl nearly had him. He darted left and under a bridge. It had a fork, one of which allowed Garrett to double back. He was quickly back on track with his loot long before the young human girl knew she had lost her prey.

In no time he was back at his pipe. Garrett gladly climbed in and admired his loot. In one hand he held a perfect pear. He gladly took a large bite out of it, remembering the days with his family. The juice spilled over and so did the last bit of cheerful emotions. In his other hand, he held out a strange necklace. The ruby hart beat vibrantly beneath the coxed flames of gold.

This will be enough to get more blankets, maybe salt to preserve food. Thank you, girl. he said cheerfully, taking another bite. He was just about to finish the pear down to its pit when his meal was interrupted.

The name is Elladen! the girl said, her breath caught between the words.

She stood outside his grate. Her shoes, exceptionally fine shoes he noticed, were covered in mud. Her vibrant red hair caught fire in the little sun that passed light through the rafters. All the while Garrett could not help but pull and the long strands of his own hair. His tangled, dingy hair. Though to his credit, it was a much different color when clean. The human girl offered her hand.

I played your game, now give me the necklace, she said, demanding.

Why can’t your father give you another? Just a stupid necklace. He took another bite of the pear.

No, it is not! She opened the door to his makeshift home and crawled to the back to see her thief better.

Upon further inspection, he could tell she was a noble of some regard, with her colorful frilly dress, not much different from her curly red hair. Both a deep auburn, and a mess of curls, ruffles, and mud. As too did they measure to her knees, a tuff or something clinging to her hair and muck somehow found the white parts of her dress. Garrett knew she was a person of wealth, but was she so worried about a necklace that she would risk her beautiful dress?

Garrett caught her eyes. The sun glimmered in the low light. As she walked closer, she crossed through a rusted hole and her eyes caught the glimmer. So beautiful, he had never seen a human with such eyes, as if the gods themselves had lit the fire behind them. Like scarlet rubies, they sparkled with no judgment and gave him a feeling he had long lost. He was so lost in them he barely noticed that the girl was just looking at him with a puzzled look.

It’s... it’s a family heirloom. My father entrusted me with it. So, please? She held out her hand. All the while her eyes were fixated. Whether she stared at him, or through, he could not tell.

He grumbled something unintelligible and felt for the object resting on his chest. He couldn’t help but feel a tinge of regret as he brushed the marking on the medallion. He loosened it and handed it over. Both a feeling of reluctance and willingness to please her fought inside his heart.

My name is Elladen, Elladen Firehart. What is yours? she asked in interest.

Garrett had not met someone who had been so nice to him as she was. Not That she was nice, but neither had he. But just hearing the word pleasure filled him. It had been so long. Then a thought occurred to him. Any minute her parents would come for their daughter. They would no doubt take one look at their precious high-born daughter in the back of a rat filled sewer, grab her and flee.

G-Garrett. My name is Garrett Reinhard.

Well, Garrett Reinhard, I don’t appreciate you stealing from me. Although, my father always says to help those in need. Come along. She reached for Garrett, not seeming to care about getting her fur-gloves dirty. She pulled him from the pipe and dragged him onto a crate. Now then, I’ll be right back. Stay right here! She pushed him onto the crate, and before he could object, darted into the busy street.

He obeyed. And as he waited, he could not help but ask himself why? Was it because she said to? Or perhaps because she was nice. He couldn’t help but think it was something a little more. His brain was a blur, emotions were all twisted. Her face was stuck in his mind and he wished it gone. Yet, it reminded, her hair was the perfect auburn red, her grin sweet, or at least better than the faces he had become accustomed to. But her eyes. Her eyes... how to explain her eyes. He pondered and thought. Blood? No, that too violent for a girl. They gleamed and beckoned. A rose... yes, a rose. The deepest and most pure. She was a rose with the smell of life and joy. He noted that her true smell was something more of a light jasmine or another floral scent. He noted that there was no smell of lavender or honeysuckle. His mother wore such perfumes when she met with her customers. It didn’t matter; she smelled better than he did, and his home.

Still, he waited. Had it been minutes, half an hour? He lost track. Then a thought crossed his mind. What if she went for the guards? He panicked. He squirmed and thought of running. If the elves caught him again, he wouldn’t get away with lashings like last time. Not that the jailer seemed to care when he escaped. But this time they would hang him as a reminder to any thief. With that thought planted in his head, he got up. As he did, she rounded the corner. Her hands were full of food. With her, a man followed. He stood tall and demeaning. Garrett’s blood ran cold. Before he could run, she waved to him and ran over.

Garrett, I– Elladen took a deep breath.

Once she regained her posture and handed him a crème puff pastry, a whole roasted chicken, and what looked like a pint of warm peach cider. Garrett’s eyes widened and color returned to his face. The food she brought him was more than he had eaten in the last month, and the pastry itself was a delicacy. Only the rich could buy such foods. With a slight hesitation, he reached for the food. At first, he was cautious, but even the smell of the herbs was too tantalizing. His stomach gave him a swift punch for his hesitation. He grabbed at the meat, licking his lips, and stuffed it in his mouth without a second thought. He ate so fast that nearly choked. Looking up at her, tears in his eyes and face more than a little red with shame, it surprised him she did nothing but smile. He saw her chest shake slightly. That was enough to make him even more red in his face and turn.

I ran into my father while I went to get you food, sorry it took so long. Mind if I sit with you? she said as he looked up with a face full of chicken. 

He swallowed gingerly. Sure.

To Garrett’s surprise, Elladen’s father, who until that point was leaning on the wall, chose a seat near them, his posture tall and proud. Not at all disgusted with Garrett, nor with his daughter. Though his smile was fair enough under his dark stubble, his eyes betrayed him. With the lord’s coat and cane in hand, he gave Garrett a similar gaze, with the same rose-red eyes to Elladen’s. At first, it was as if he studied him. Something like surprise or realization came over him—his eyebrows and mouth relaxed, and his eyes widened.

I must admit I thought you found another puppy, the father’s voice was deep and calm. It washed over Garrett. Elladen, please introduce me to your friend.

Yes, father. His name is Garrett Reinhard, she stammered as she tried to grasp the proper words. He saw the guilt in her eyes, but she did not back down as he thought she would. Oh uh, Garrett, this is my father, Lord Drathus Firehart.

H-hello my lord. He bowed, and Drathus gave a slight nod.

Ah, be extra sure to run from the servants tomorrow, run far from where I told you to stay. And do so while I am in a meeting. He looked at her with a stern face, the sarcasm did not so much roll off his tongue as get spit out. To Garrett’s surprise, he laughed and again Garrett felt uneasy. He had never met a noble.

Or even someone who saw him as a person. He looked at the man in awe.

Well, don’t just gawk, boy. Eat, talk, enjoy, Drathus said and pointed with his cane toward Elladen and the food spread out.

They did just that. They talked; favorite colors and favorite animal and such. That was until Elladen mentioned her family.

Yes, my father came to Veiltath to help with the negotiations between the elves and satyr. Something about a mining conflict? She turned to her father. He spoke up.

Yes, they are interested in a certain island that has an abnormal amount of precious metals. You would know if you had actually stayed and studied as told you to.

It was boring. Besides, you said it yourself. I take after mother. Mother, she was... was not much for politics. What of your family? The sting on his face must have shown because she was quick to change the subject. She no doubt knew his answer, anyway. Uh, uh, favorite legend. Or uh, story! she stumbled, but Garrett appreciated her action.

Mine is the dragon, and my favorite story has to be The Blue Dragon, Garrett said.

Oh, why? Does it have something to do with power? Elladen asked him; it threw him off. He regained his posture and told them why.

He shook his head. No, I like dragons and the story of the Blue Dragon for the same reason. Dragons are long gone creatures, but they always lived in groups caring for each other. They were said to be creatures of immense emotion. My mom said that when a dragon’s spouse dies, one of two things will happen; the other dragon dies with their spouse as to be together forever in the afterlife, or their scales turn deep blue and their fire turns cold, signifying their deep sadness for their lost one. I think that is a very loving thing to do for the ones you love. He took a deep gulp of the peach cider and then spoke again. That’s why The Blue Dragon is my favorite story: it shows compassion and sadness, but other stories show dragons as fire breathing monsters of death and that’s not very nice. When he looked up, he saw the shock on Elladen’s face.

Two dragons sat upon the mountain. Two dragons, one red and one white... Drathus told the tale. As he did, Garrett noticed he smiled. He then took out a flask. The white asked the red; ‘Why do you brood so?’ The red looked up and said, ‘Because I look upon this world with hate... and jealousy.’ The white dragon came closer and–well–I forget the middle part, but if I remember the white dies in a fight and the red dragon swears a promise, yes?

Yes, Garrett said, surprised.

I never would have thought you would say that, given your— she cut herself off. Well, mine has to be the lyat, and my favorite story would have to be The Tail of Two Satyr. It’s hilarious, she laughed at the thought of the story. And the lyat have those big pouf tails, I want one, it’s not fair, getting to look all cute every day! She demanded the tail with a hand slap on the box.

There was a pause until she spoke again, as if trying to find a proper subject. Or a way to phrase her next question. I must say that your speech is rather, appropriately for your age, and your... situation. she stated, quiet haphazardly.

Yes, well, he took a bite of the crème puff and smiled with joy. It’s because my family spent every coin they had on my siblings and my education. We learned how to read and write, and along the road I learned rather tough words like, ‘inconceivable’. he pronounced the word as best he could; slow with every syllable.

Rather impressive, yes. I am sorry.

You shouldn’t worry yourself with me, my lady.

Lady? Elladen laughed.

This continued for some time. They talked, laughed and ate. However, the entire time Lord Drathus just stared. His fiery eyes peering into Garrett’s soul. Why? He wondered, but they never gave him the chance to ask. The sun basked in the evening sun, and Drathus grew tired and impatient. He finally coughed, stretched, and got up.

Here, this is for you, boy. Why not get yourself some new clothes? He handed the boy a gold Riel.

Sir? I cannot. This is worth, well, worth over three months of honest work.

Why not, boy? he asked, his hand still outreached with the gold Riel.

Cause I’m nobody, a gutter rat, a slum kid. He looked at his leftover food, thinking of ways to preserve it. Perhaps with salts, or maybe dry wraps?

Well, Garrett-the-nobody, he used his name this time, but also added the word he called himself. Garrett did not know if for comedic purposes or to make a point. Aren’t we all nobodies? I do believe so. Until we have someone to lean on to care for and to trust? If a person is given an opportunity, it is best they use it. He placed the coin at his dirty feet and the Lord Drathus, and Lady Elladen went on their way.

Be at the city entrance at noon I’ll see you then Garrett! Elladen waved with ecstatic enthusiasm as she and her dad walked out of the alley leaving Garrett with a decision, either meet with her and enjoy the time they would have or... prepare for the winter.

On their way out of the alley, Elladen’s father looked to her and ask a simple yet life-changing question.

Did you feel it? And his aura–is that why? Because of the presence in him? He paused at alleyway entrance and waited for a response.

Yes, father, I felt something incredibly special in him. I do believe I may have accidentally found what you have been looking for. She looked up at her father. His eyes did not seem happy about the new predicament, a desire laid inside. Elladen knew it all too well. He wanted to drink. She was cautious with the question she yearned to ask. Will mother’s wish be granted?

Yes, he said without hesitation.

Chapter 1.

THE DARKNESS SURROUNDED; it closed, squeezed, suffocated. The very air felt still, and something muted all sounds. No breeze came through, nor left, and with not a trace of smell. Yet there was light. It was twisted. Vile and grotesque, but it was light, nonetheless. Two orbs grew from the swelling blackness. They wavered and shifted ever so subtly. The sickly green and hellish purple orbs grew inside bowls of white, with utter blackness in the centers. They blinked out, then reappeared mere inches from their last location.

Bold of you to come here... Dria, the voice boomed. It was pure chaos. It echoed in all places. Time and space but its plaything.

If you know my name, then you know why I have come to your lair. The orbs grew into a voice of their own. The very words felt twisted by ill magics. Even the enveloping dark felt the sting of ice.

You should be dead, cast to the aether.

Yet here I stand. I ask you, how? The blackness did not respond, staying quiet and brooding. It is because I am more powerful than them. They sought to destroy the very thing they created, yet I thrived in the aether... I learned. In that endless veil, that timeless place, I learned the truth.

Which is? the voice slithered as it closed in on its prey.

The gods are a folly we mortals cannot rely on, not even you. The orbs turned to the voice, as if it knew the shadow was ready to attack. Seeing this, the voice backed off and listened... waited.

I believe in no gods, serve my own desires. Time means nothing to me, and apparently neither to you... Dria.

Keep my name out of your mouth, lest I speak yours!

All those with my name know it as a harbinger of death, a timeless curse. An unruly monster... a daemon.

You are no daemon; we both know that.

Speak. Why have you come?

I wish for your faithful allegiance to me, unyielding and loyal. The orbs did not falter or flinch when the mass of the void hurled itself into her face.

That is all? My answer is no! the void bellowed, all the while it tried to find the orb’s weaknesses, but nothing came of it. Then, in the being’s dark, a blue hue rose itself. It was not larger than a seedling, but its flames grew vibrant and its power, while overwhelming, stung. A thorn in the mass’s palm.

Where did you find this? The canvas of black grabbed the seedling of flames and thorns, barely piercing the night.

In the aether. With it, I plan to break the very heavens. It will take time, thirteen years exactly. However, if you were to join me... The orbs glowed fierce against the seedling. In the light, a slight figure came to take shape from the orbs. Well?

What do I get out of this? the void’s voice shifted. With it the seed followed, drifting in an endless sea of black.

How does God sound? There was a pause, the seedling rolled in the void, floating in the black.

Yes. Let us reign under flames and thorns. This seedling our beacon.

Our beacon to remake this world.

⁕

A PRIMAL AND TRIBAL beat echoed through the rocks. Its rhythm like a heart and the ruins, burned and battered, felt it. They almost swayed. Every few heartbeats, a howl or a moan, and if one were unlucky, a blood-curdling scream of a daemon possessing a poor soul could be heard off in the distance. The Faelands were not a place for even the bravest of knights with purest of heart; more so for anyone hoping to keep their heart, and The Hollow was even worse.

Jared Quilekt didn’t hear the screams, only the beat which had taken over his mind. His mind was weak and weary, and though he was in his later years, his wisdom did little for him. There was a tinge of gray at his temples mixed with his black hair, a mop mess from his cowl. He walked like a zombie for miles, days with no food or sleep, driven only by the heartbeat. He didn’t go willingly, only by force. His sin had soaked what was left of his soul, and now the daemons called him, like a sheep to the slaughter. Days on end, through the Faelands, thick forest, dry desert, and ruins, he walked unknowing, and unwilling.

Time passed by in an unknown amount, but when he arrived, he awoke from his sleep to stare into a deep pit with steep walls and shearing rocks. The very ground was moist with a black tar, and marshes were leaking lethal poisons. Awake, he looked around to see the pits, swamps, and sinkholes that surrounded. The air felt stale and wrong; the rocks looked like a giant wasp hive, with all the color and life sucked away, leaving only the husk. The honeycomb entwined into the leftovers of what lay before it.

Along the dead gorge walls were paintings, only one color, the color of blood. They depicted daemons with many creatures and races succumbing to the daemons. Jared Quilekt had wandered into the heart of The Hollow. It was not the people, lost in the haze of drugs and alcohol, and ritualistic orgies that first grabbed his attention. Nor the blood-soaked floor, fresh with murder. None of that caught his eye. What he caught, however, was the behemoth that broke through the sky. Its root-like base glowed a deep blue and pulsed with a heartbeat pattern.

He quickly noted only thirteen roots, each one rippled the ground and wrapped around in a crazed fashion. While some went from digging deep into the shattered ground, others found their blue pulses in the walls of the Hollow. The closer he looked, the more he noticed the deep red mist that shifted in the crystal. At one point it took a human form, and in another it took an animal form. It flickered and shifted constantly, until it stopped, took on the form of the bandit. Before he knew it, Jared was engulfed in a fog. One of the mind. He quickly gave into the orgies and drugs. Unable to stop, he felt himself moving with the motion like everyone else. Like puppets, they moved as the crystal wanted them to.

His emotions overwhelmed him. They took the bandit–who was in between two lovely ladies–his sin overpowered him. Jared found himself in a frenzy–he didn’t know if it was from the drugs, or a more primal source. He killed the two women, spilling their blood and drinking. He greedily quenched his thirst. He woke up from his haze only to gawk in horror at his deed. His mind, his very will broke and Jared stood screaming in pain. He hunched over while his body boiled black and popped with bubbles, smoke emerged from his mouth and he screamed out his last breath.

From the pile of bubbling, reeking puddles of blood and bone, a daemon had taken him and claimed his tainted soul as its own. The lengthy, grotesque daemon kneeled on all four of its clawed hands and feet to feed on the corpses. All those around only laughed as they continued to give in to their deepest sins and worst emotions, eventually each one would turn out the same.

You will do well, a sinister voice whispered in his ear. You shall be one of my instruments in the world to come, Avaritia.

Chapter 2.

THE GIANT WHITE FAERUN Stag stood peacefully in the meadow. It nibbled on some grass heavy with morning dew, and if it were not for the fog, one would have easily missed him entirely. If you were not hunting him.

There he is, Elladen. Three days, three days, and we have him. Garrett, now a strapping young man, who had seen twenty winters, held his bow with an arrow nocked, ready to be pulled.

Three days he and Elladen, now a young woman of twenty-two winters, had been tracking the stag through mud, rain, and wind. It had seemed that the gods themselves were against the death of such a beautiful and rare beast. With a coat white as the driven snow, a size over two men stacked, and a glorious set of black antlers that any other hunter would covet, it was without a doubt one of the most beautiful creatures Faerangarth offered. The fog was a blessing to them; although it was thick and brisk, it had stopped the stag from phasing.

The stag could simply shift its body and any weapon would go right through it, giving the beast the chance to impale its attackers. That is also why the creature was sought after. Its skin could help any who wore it phase through most attacks. It was used in only the best cloaks and armor and, if one could afford the fifty gold Riel, even into clothing. And that’s exactly why Elladen and Garrett hunted the beast. With a bounty of one hundred gold Riel, the opportunity was hard to pass up.

Neither of them truly needed the money, and Garrett insisted they take it so they could help those in need. Of course, Elladen was more than giddy at the thought of a selfless act and agreed. Truly, the beasts were said to be rarer than a daemon attack in the day. But because the stags usually posed a threat to any villages or travelers, it was best to get the coin from its coat and give it to those in need.

Elladen noticed the White Faerun Stag had been roaming their land for the last couple of