#prequelposting

Thank you for the tag @optimisticgrey! Much love.

My first draft of a prequel. Inspired by the OC Infodump Tag Game.

The Shepherd - Chapter 1

I can barely see my face in the rippling water as I shave my head. It leaves me feeling cold, and there are a few nicks in my skin, but it will serve.

My horse whinnies as I grab his reins.

I've never been this far from Baldur's Gate, but I know it's for the best, Father.

I agree. I need this.

Each village I've visited so far has accepted modest assistance from me, but I haven't been able to foment devotion in the way my oath promises. However, with each attempt, my efforts have drawn me closer to my goals.

I secure my pack and mount my horse, Blood Reever. A terrible name. I've been getting him accustomed to the name Paul. Softer, cleaner.

The trail is well worn, and we make it to a crossroads. Candlekeep, or The Cloud Peaks.

I decide to stay at an inn in a small village outside of Candlekeep.

It's been a long day. Getting ambushed by Shadow Druids near Cloakwood drained me, but killing those insufferable bastards helped put my skills to work outside of the city, Father. My training has paid off. …thus far at least.

"Good evening," I mutter to the innkeeper. "I'd like a room and a stable for my horse for the night."

The inn keeper doesn't bother looking at me, as he fusses with his ledger. "Five silver. Room is down the hall to the right. Number 3. We'll take care of your horse."

I open my coin purse and hand him five silver. "He's the black shire, just outside."

He waves his hand dismissively. "Yeah. The horse outside that I've never seen before. I'll know which one is yours."

He finally glances at me. "What are you, some sort of priest?"

"Yes," I say quietly. "Bha-Bahamut. I am a priest of Bahamut."

"How long do you plan on staying?" he says in a grizzled tone.

"I am merely traveling to spread the word and offer my assistance."

He slowly closes the ledger. "You know how to bless the corrupted?"

"Of course."

"Breakfast will be on the house, and I'll even wave the stable fee if you can speak to my wife tomorrow."

I give a slight bow. "Expect me."

"Good." He tosses a key at me and totters out to tend to Paul.

She is their pariah.

She will be the gateway of succession.

Witness her.

"Yes, Father."

The room is comfortable enough. Certainly better than my bedroll. Yet sleep doesn't come easy. It never does. I wish I never needed to sleep…

With a sigh I get up and wander across the road to the tavern.

The candlelight is low and a bard sits in the corner strumming a lute and humming a melancholy tune.

The tavern maiden is resting on her elbow, half asleep. I clear my throat and she blinks a few times. "Oh! Pardon me, Father." She shuffles over to me. Five foot nothing. Tailored tunic and trousers with a tight blonde bun. She doesn't look fragile, but I'm certain I could break her in half.

Her eyes travel across my tattered, grey robes. "Been on the road, I'd wager."

"Yes, you win a copper." I place one on the bar and slide it over to her. "A beer, please."

She snaps it off the counter with a wide grin. "I like you already." She grabs a stein, filling it to the brim and carefully setting it down in front of me.

"Coming or going?" she asks, pulling up her stool and resting on her elbow once more.

"I'm not sure. I'm sort of... wandering. I'm here for whomever might need my services."

"A holy pilgrim."

I take a sip. "Precisely."

"So." Her stool creaks as she leans back. "What's the good word?"

"Excuse me?"

She folds her arms. "You want an audience. Here I am. Go ahead and preach, preacher."

I pause, then laugh. "You're quite eager to have your ears talked off."

She shrugs. "Ain't much else going on. It's usually pretty quiet at this hour."

"I'm afraid I don't have anything prepared." I look down into my stein. "I haven't been able to focus on writing any sermons, lately."

The maiden glances at a man behind me. I turn as he slides in next to me. "Pardon me for overhearing. That's a rough plight, Father. Especially given your vocation."

"I appreciate the sympathy."

He holds out a hand. "Bardebus. The Bardebus, of Bardebus' Beer Barn."

"You own this tavern?" I take his hand and feel something press into my palm. I keep my eyes fixed on him.

"A little hospitable gift from me to you."

In my hand sits a small bag.

He leans in. "Tap a little into the web of your thumb and pointer finger and give it a sniff. That's all you need to do."

"And that does what, exactly?"

"Magic. You'll have a whole book of sermons done before dawn."

I lift my chin. "Ah. That." I thumb the small bag. I've never had terazul. I've never even seen it before. "...Before dawn?"

Bardebus grins.

Gentle tags to @avaritia-bg3 & @the-starflower It's so late in the day to be tagging people for a Sunday Specific Activity™.

“The Jedi are just the yoga police.”

“Anakin would have benefited from a visit to one of those people who hugs you for money.”

“Obi-Wan is an otter. And a top, for sure.”

“The Separatists technically have the moral high ground for using mechanical soldiers that feel no pain, have no emotions, and can, in fact, be recycled.”

“I also would have thrown Mace Windu out a window.”

(singing) “Mr. Sandman! Man me a sand! Make sure an evil Sith cuts off his hand!”

“Jar Jar gets laid in canon and that frightens me more than the Dark Side ever could.”

“Anakin and Obi-Wan argue like a married couple that run a Taco Bell.”