The Three Frosty Bards
Among the frigid peaks of Herenyakal, there are three that hold a special place in the hearts of the people of Hyste Talma. As the legend goes, there once were three dwarven bards of questionable skill and overgrown egos. Red Haired Arsi, who thought himself a master of the mandolin; a blonde bloke called Daguun, who proclaimed himself to be the best with a trumpet; and the most obnoxious of them all, Bardam, who never stopped playing drums.
Separately, the citizens of Hyste Talma could stand the bards, but anytime the three of them butted heads over the proper definition of art, music, or beauty, most prayed to the Gods for swift mercy. No tavern wanted to host the three of them together, and no guard wanted to sort out their quarrels. No amount of jail time, monetary fines, or threats of broken bones ever managed to dampen their enthusiasm. That is until one day, when the three bards set their eyes on a dwarven beauty—Altani. With a beard of rose gold and a temperament of the harshest blizzard, she didn’t entertain their advances nor pay attention to their rivalry. When they finally managed to annoy the poor girl enough, she said: “I will marry the one who can make the mountain peaks sing to their tune.”
Of course, convinced of their superiority and the magic in their music, the bards took up the challenge and ventured deep into the mountains. They searched for weeks before they found the three peaks worthy of their performance. And though they weren’t the highest, they were the most unique in shape. Redheaded Arsi chose the peak in the shape of a bear, roaring at the crystal clear sky. Draguun picked a mountain in the shape of a woman with an hourglass figure and a face of beauty. Bardam climbed a peak that resembled his favorite food—shashlik. Though, perhaps, it might have been his empty stomach that had made that particular decision.
The bards waited for the sun to set, and then when the moon rose to greet them, started their “unholy” yammering. It is said that the noise was so terrible the echo carried all through the mountains and could be heard from Hyste Talma itself. For a whole night, no one in the city could find any sleep and in the wee hours of the morning, three lightning bolts struck the mountain peaks, silencing their howling.
No one has ever heard about the bards again. Whether they were struck by the gods themselves, or simply frozen to death—no one knows. No one cares to check, either, though the legend says that a bard who climbs the peaks to reclaim their instruments will gain unprecedented infamy. To this day, though, when traveling through Herenyakal, one canhear the ungodly kyoodle carried by the wind. Sometimes, adventurers claim that they’ve heard heartbreaking sobs, other times, that a fast paced tune reverberated through the mountain passages.
Comments