Eberron: Unsung Heroes
The Untold Story Part One
The old man paced the hearth, putting together the fragments of the story he was about to tell. The most important story he would ever tell. His old legs creaked, but it felt good to be moving again, remembering ancient times. It had been years earlier, the beginning, and he did his best to recall every detail.
His grandchildern, afterall, deserved to know why they were alive today.
They came in the room some time later and sat quietly while the grizzled man eyed them over. Two childern, a boy and a girl. He was fifteen, growing into a strong, courageous, and upbeat young man, like his father had. She was thirteen, quiet and quick-witted. Well, the old man thought with a smile, she defintely inherted one of her grandmothers traits.
“What’s this story about, Grandfather?” The boy asked. The old warrior said nothing, instead reaching calmly into his vest and pulling out a long, wooden pipe. He filled it slowly and then tapped a firestone to it, igniting the bad habit and filling the room with a haze.
“I’m going to tell you the story of Dorian ir’Alkestes and Kerrigan ir’Lashia. The true story. The Untold Story, with the true Unsung Heroes.”
Both childern leaned forward, eager for the truth. They were both clever childern, but this story was told a thousand different ways, by a thousand different bards. The childern knew the story was filled with nests of lies, everything from Kerrigan being the daughter of the Old Bear King, Dorian being part Ogre, and the two of them slaying a hundred Dragons at once. “How do you know the true story?”
The old man smiled, expecting the question. “Because I knew both of them.” The childern’s eyes lit up, and he laughed. “Not their entire lives, mind you. I didn’t meet them for a very long time. Eventually, over the years, they told me of the events leading up to… well, everything.”
“The funny thing about the stories about them, is that they start wrong. The real story, the part that’s important, isn’t about where they came from or who they were. They met in a prison, you see, on the wrong side of the bars. They spent a month together, becoming friends. They trusted each other. It was a bond deeper than friendship (but not romantic, mind you… Kerra would kill me if you got that impression).” He chuckled, and then dropped his voice. “And then, they were released. A full pardon. Granted to them by a mysterious benefactor.”
“Who was it, Grandfather?”
“Oh, well, that’d spoil the surprise. Just listen to the story, and try to figure it out, okay?” He nodded, smiling again, and continued. “They were imprisoned in Wroat, and when they were released, they had no gold, no lives, and no purpose. Naturally, they found themselves in Sharn. Or rather, they found themselves outside Sharn’s gates…”