Return of the Favored Son
Dale, once an apocalyptic landscape, destroyed and laid low by dragon fire and the forces of evil has risen beyond it’s past golden age and is once again a force for good and the ascendancy of the age of man. Bard the Bowman, that hero who felled Smaug and led his people in the Battle of the Five Armies now rules as king. Vargas, minstrel and native of Dale, traveled throughout the summer of 2946 of the Third Age to visit his homeland, singing the songs of the victory at The Siege of Summershaw while searching for answers to the whereabouts, or next moves, of the villains Balcoth and Talwart.
Upon entering the city, Vargas’ heart lifted, the long spires and ramparts once nothing more than black rubble had all been rebuilt, and the people thrived and laughed and cursed and bantered at every turn. Lake Town had always been a despicable excuse for a village, but he never dreamed Bard would be quite this successful in fostering such an absolute rebirth.
After a few days of rest from his long journey, a knock at his tavern door summoned his tired feet. Beyond its threshold stood Bard himself, a little older, a little world weary, but the keenness of his eyes and the muscles beneath his tunic forced Vargas to uneasy attention.
It would seem the tales of The Siege of Summershaw had reached across the lands only a few days before Vargas’ arrival, and his penchant for singing of great tales - particularly tales he and his friends were the center of - had proceeded his coming to town. Bard, already interested in any victory over the forces of evil, was cautiously optimistic to hear heroes from Dale were among them, one of his kinsmen no less, and what, if anything could be gained from it.
So in awe was Vargas, he blurted out his months of journeying at dizzying speeds, singing part of it, babbling the rest, until Bard’s strong hands waved for him to stop.
Indeed, Bard told him, snake women turning men to stone, and crypts filled with colored dragon gems were no doubt intriguing (although perhaps partly fabricated?), but what Bard really needed to know about were these Easterlings, and if they posed any threat to their shared homeland.
Maybe, was Vargas’ answer, but had Bard heard about the ghost of his mother?
Bard laughed, and realized then, he would not escape the tales this Bard was so determined to sing.
They two men settled into a lively, if somewhat exhausting conversation for the greater part of the afternoon. Bard called for mead and fresh figs, newly imported from afar, and Vargas relaxed thereafter. It became apparent Bard’s intention was to appoint Vargas a duly appointed Sheriff of Dale, with the mandate to gather information on the Easterlings, and any other forces of evil or shadow, that would do harm to the budding metropolis. In return, Bard was able to relinquish information about the evil dragon priest Talwart.
Most surprising to Vargas was Bard’s revelation that Talwart was actually a man from Dale, albeit, from before the coming of Smaug (prior to 2770). He had been a Godly man, Bard went on to say, and preached at the local church. But after Smaug’s attack his beloved daughter was caught in the flames and something dark turned deep in Talwart’s guts. He continued to preach, but brimstone and heat were the only attributes he readily praised. In those cold dark days after Smaug’s Desolation the people were not so inclined to listen to the virtues of of dragon fire. Before long, Talwart would be cast out of the village, never to return. Bard had known he wished to start his own religion, one based on the tenants of the dragon, and worshiping them as deities. Still though, he had thought it all something of a myth until he heard tell of Talwart’s reappearance and the battles with Balcoth.
Justly satisfied and euphoric with his new honorific as Sheriff of Dale, Vargas parted ways with Bard, promising to come back with information from afar whenever possible and to represent the people of Dale in earnest wherever he traveled.
With that, he rested for a few days, preparing for the long trip back to his new found family. But it was just then, he awoke with a start, a strange but comforting feeling wrapping his heart. In a half dream he opened his eyes and saw yet again the faint ghost of his mother, floating before him, and how he missed her.
Your heroic task is completed, she told him, and I’m oh so proud of you son.
Vargas barely breathed, so taken aback he was by her presence.
Now that you have accomplished so much, I’m afraid you must help your family, help your father’s soul rest. You must find the four strings of your father’s liar and play A Hero’s Silence to gain the clarity you need.
Her spirit wavered then, and Vargas called out, not wanting to see her fade.
This would be the last time she came to him, she said then. She can only conjure enough strength through their family’s music. He must return to Anghor, and there, begin his quest to find the strings in the ancient places of Anghor. Only there will he restore the spirit of his father and the truths of his family.
She disappeared, and Vargas was left to ponder her meanings throughout his long travels back to his adopted family of the Traveling Minstrels.
