by Troy Campbell
It had been hot and humid as the Hand of Valor, then consisting of Sagerious as a human; Anacard, the southern druid, Rog, the wild dwarf; Centas, the articulate rogue, and the greedy Dwarven cleric, Tossol, had traveled all the way to the Jungles of Chult and delved deep inside an only temple in search of Rog�s betrothed, a princess of his wild Dwarven clan. The group had just entered into a very large, stonewalled chamber, with a pile of rubble seven feet high in the center. Doors, some open, some barely on their hinges, and some just leaned against their doorframes, lead into small, uncleared rooms beyond.
There were two creatures in the room, one on either side of the rubble. They both had bodies of lithe humans with sharp features and unblinking eyes. Their skin was covered with gleaming green scales, and a serpent�s head, complete with long fangs and forked tongues, rose from their shoulders.
The moment the two creatures and the hand of Valor saw one another, battle ensued.
The next thing Sage could remember was waking up sore and stiff in a large, clean, and cool cave, lit with several lamps. Most of the interior was occupied by well-made shelves and tables filled with fruit, vials, and bowls of various mixtures. Dried plants were stacked and labeled and there was parchment everywhere. Behind the workspace were a large plush bed and a perch with a green bird of paradise. All of The Hand of Valor was looking anxiously down at him. Confused, Sage stared up at them, realizing he must be lying on the floor, and then followed their gaze to the rest of his body. In a moment of shock, Sage recognized he was very different. His long, slender human form was now the short, slim form of a halfling. In a moment of panic, he looked around, just as a familiar form moved in closer. It was the disheveled, but kind and reclusive sorcerer who called himself Huitzilopotchtli. The dirty magician leaned down to face Sage and in a tone filled with compassion explained that he had used his magic at the request of the rest of The Hand of Valor to return him from the lands of the dead to the world of the living. At the mention of The Hand of Valor, Sage looked up at them again, his head a little clearer now, and noticed for the first time that Centas was missing�
Sage was pulled out of his reminiscence by a myriad of emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He had died on that terrible day and had been reincarnated as a halfling. If that hadn�t been shocking enough, Centas, his trusted friend and ally had also fallen and had not returned. Using all of his considerable will, Sage barely managed to fight back a rush of tears. Still breathing deep, he eventually brought himself back to a state of serenity and sublimity.
The gathering around the grave site had grown quite a bit while Sage�s attention had been away, and so it was that he found himself looking down from his makeshift podium onto the faces of nearly 8 score people, all of whom were looking up at him expectantly. It is time, Sage realized, as he took in a deep, steadying breath.
�Friends and acquaintances,� Sage addressed the crowd, �thank you all for finding the time in your lives and the love in your hearts to join us as we share our last words of gratitude and love for our fallen friend, Centas Pendlebeam.� Sage paused to wait as a sudden rising in poorly stifled sobbing ensued, and to maintain composure himself.
"Though we weep for his loss to us,� Sage continued in a soft but audible voice, looking the crowd in their eyes, �we would not do our friend honor if we did not also remember his jovial mannerisms and his articulate demeanor. We should find the strength to recall the creativity and vividness of his masterful paintings, which now beautifully decorate many of our homes.� To this many in the still gathering crowd nodded their heads in agreement.
Gaining a bit of resolution from the people�s positive reactions, Sage lightened up slightly, �Also, we would be failing our dear halfling if we did not remember to relay his heroic tales in their entirety to our children, that they might perhaps find strength of their own in his noble accomplishments. Many of us witnessed�in one fashion or another�his skills in joining with the shadows in order to remain as silent as a ghost and as invisible as the wind.� A few people began to smile through their sadness and nod to those next to them, while pointing to their coin purses. �The losses of his talents are a grave loss to The Hand of Valor and to the folk of the Dales whom he sought to protect. Yet, let us all also commit to memory that it is because of those talents and his good heart that we shall forever celebrate him as a role model and a hero.�
As he was speaking the word �hero,� Sage gestured grandly to his left side where a cloth had up been covering something only slightly taller and wider than human child. On cue, Lord Ulath pulled the cloth to the side reveaing an astonishingly accurate and life-sized stone depiction of Centas Pendlebeam, with his fashionable cloak fluttering forever in the wind, his blade held out in cunning defense, and a pleasant but mischievous smirk upon his cherubic face.
Copyright 2004 by Troy Campbell
