Sparrow Mason & the Fountain of the Undead!

“Right, so a dwarf and a half-elf walk into this bar and I’m on stage holding a lute and a dead ferret,” Sparrow said, over the muddy clopping of the horses.      Sildar squinted at her. “Wait, when did the ferret die?”     “When Private Hammerfoot thought it was Granny Tate’s familiar!” Sparrow said. “As if that old hag could really be… well, an old hag. Huh. Maybe that fool Hammerfoot was onto something… Sildar? What is it?”     Sildar had brought his horse to a halt. There was a large hill looming up ahead, blocking their view of anything beyond.      “Ah, time for a geography lesson, my halfling friend,” Sildar said, in that wise old guy way of his. He leaned over in his saddle so Sparrow could see the map. “I believe we’re right about here. See there? This is the hill we’re looking for, from the sound of it. What did old Edermath say? You think a bit of stealth is in order?”     Sparrow glanced between the map and the terrain surrounding them. It took quite a bit of pestering for her to get Daran to spill the tea on the local adventuring scene. Sparrow needed new tales for her act at the tavern the way Galdrus needed more weapons. So, when Daran finally cracked and told her about the zombies, she knew she had to check it out. The closer they got, though, the more she wanted to just go home and make something up.      Like usual, Sparrow thought. If the others, Sildar included, found out half Sparrow’s adventures were mere fables…     “Sparrow?” Sildar said, waving a hand in her face.      “What? Oh, right, stealth,” Sparrow stammered. “I suppose it might be smart to continue on foot from here. Actually… I don’t know, Sildar. I know I invited you along on this trip, but if what Daran said is true – ”     Sildar would hear none of it, though. He simply smiled like he was on a picnic and hopped out of his saddle.      “Come on,” He said. “It’ll be fun! You have magic, we’re fine.”     Sparrow reluctantly dismounted from her pony.      “You know, I’m starting to see how you ended up half dead in a cave full of goblins,” She grumbled.      “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Sildar replied. “That was a heroic and daring quest!”     “I’m sure it started out that way.”     The two old friends laughed and led their horses off the road. They found a sheltered spot to hide the horses among the thick pines and undergrowth. Then they grabbed their weapons and began the final stretch of their journey.      “Well, I believe the hardest part of our journey is over, now that we’ve finally found our way here,” Sildar said, at the foot of the huge hill.      They began the trek over the steep mound of yellowing grass and jagged rocks leading up to the well. It wasn’t an easy climb. With the sun glaring at them overhead, both Sparrow and Sildar were soon sweating and panting. By the time they reached the end of their hike, the sun was giving way to gloomy dusk. Sparrow deftly, silently leapt along the last bit of rocky terrain in true Lightfoot fashion.      “Come on, over here,” She whispered back to Sildar.      “Just… a moment…” Sildar panted, wiping sweat from his browline.      They took cover among a clump of boulders and dried out undergrowth. Sparrow peered over the rocks, Sildar looking over her shoulder. Before them lay the sullen remains of an abandoned tower, the ruins left to the hunger of nature.      From their vantage point, Sparrow could look down on the whole scene (something that didn’t happen often as a halfling). The main tower had taken a brutal beating. What was left was little more than a jagged hunk of rock. A crumbling mess of stone lay scattered around the perimeter, probably the remains of some outer wall or fortification. Everything lay silent and lifeless in the twilight. Someone seemed to have pitched a tent smack in the middle of the destroyed courtyard, though.      Adventurous campers, Sparrow thought. She wondered if they had any s’mores.      “Look, by the tower!” Sildar hissed. He dropped his voice so quiet Sparrow could hardly hear him. “The light of the lantern by that tent, I swear I just saw someone’s shadow pass through it… perhaps more than one…”     “I can’t see a thing in this darkness!” Sparrow muttered. “Perhaps we should have brought a lantern.”     “Nonsense! The Moon’s good graces have never led me astray – ” Sildar started. Sparrowed grabbed his sleeve and yanked him down behind the boulder.      “Shh! Someone’s coming out of that tent!” She whispered.      “I thought you ‘couldn’t see a thing’?” Sildar replied, crossing his arms.      Sparrow rolled her eyes. “But I can hear better than you, Hallwinter! What should we do? What if they’re dangerous?”     Sildar silently nodded back toward the tower. Sparrow cautiously peered over the boulder again, half expecting to find some bandit looming overhead. Below, a robed figure strode into the courtyard, the soles of his boots cracking against the paving stones. The figure sauntered toward the ruined tower as if he owned the place. Maybe he was here to do some much-needed remodeling.      The figure stopped hardly 30 feet from Sparrow and Sildar’s hiding place. Sparrow’s breath caught in her throat. Some muttered words left the figure’s mouth but even Sparrow couldn’t catch what they were. The figure raised their arms high in the air. Mist began to swirl and cloud around the figure, blending with its cloak. The mist crawled toward the ruined tower like a thing possessed. A horrible stench like dead animals hit Sparrow’s nose. Faintly, from within the tower, she could just hear sounds like growls and groans – the exact sort of sounds a horde of the undead would utter.      Zombies! Daran was right! Sparrow thought. Boy, where’s Corrorin when you need him? Only a second later, though, she realized she was in mortal danger with only Sildar for back up. What had she been thinking, going on this adventure alone! A funeral pyre was not where Sparrow wanted to tell this story.      Sparrow grabbed Sildar’s arm and began pulling him back down the hill as quietly as she could. The stench and sounds from the Old Owl Well soon faded away. Sparrow didn’t stop until they were well out of earshot.      “Sparrow, what’s wrong, my friend?” Sildar asked, staggering to a halt. “I thought you needed a new adventure, a thrilling new tale for your audience at the tavern.”     Sparrow slumped down on the ground. Sildar took a seat in the grass next to her and pulled out his waterskin.      “This was a bad idea,” Sparrow said.      Sildar shrugged. “Actually, I think you were right. That magician back there looked more than the two of us could handle.”     Sparrow shook her head. “No, I mean all of this, this whole quest, it was a bad idea! You chose the wrong bard, Sildar.”     “Oh, now I don’t believe that’s true!” Sildar replied. “Anyone with any sense would have fled whatever was going on back there.”     “I’m not just talking about the Well,” Sparrow said. “You want to know what’s true? I thought if I came out here, I might shake off this weird feeling I’ve had since this quest started. Thinking I could face a troop of undead goons and some wild necromancer was obviously complete nonsense, though. Just like that story I told you about how I gave up my magic lute to some dusty old sage who wanted to study its ‘incredible power’. I made that up! Some thug stole the emerald lute in Stonehaven. Know what else I made up? That excuse I gave you about going on a quest for the King of Silverfall. I can’t go back to the Silverfall region because the king has a bounty on me! That troll just can’t take a good joke. It’s not as if I could show myself in halfling territory without the magic lute, though. Telling everyone I was just on some long quest… It was just as much a lie as telling you that I could be some adventurer, help find Gundran.”     “So you can’t go back East,” Sildar replied, with another shrug. “It’s no matter – the people of Phandalin need you! They need your whole party!”     “No, they need warriors,” Sparrow grumbled. “Not bards. Don’t you see I have no idea what I’m doing?”     “You thought you would?” Sildar raised one amused eyebrow.      “I’m a performer, I’m not some–some hero, Sildar! I signed up for one routine supply run with you, not a world-changing rescue mission. Abren, Galdrus, Cororin, Dangraet, those guys are real fighters. I mean, sure Dangraet is blind and Cororin has that whole holy cleric thing going on, but at least they’re real warriors. The only reason I survived that fight in Cragmaw Cave was smoke and mirrors!”     Sildar just smiled and shook his head. “You know, Sparrow, I think you’re more a hero than you realize.”     “Oh please, you haven’t seen half the stupid things I’ve done since this whole thing started. On day one, I fell out of a tree and just about broke all my ribs. And now I’ve run away from some lone magician with a few dead bodies hanging around.”      Sildar began to laugh, which only made Sparrow that much more frustrated.      “Sparrow, I know for a fact you’re going to come back here,” Sildar finally said. “You’re going to rave about this place to our companions and you’re going to drag them all out here, sooner or later.”     “What makes you say that?”     “Because you need to know the whole story! You’re a bard! Tell me you weren’t at least a little thrilled to see that Daran’s story was real? You need to see how it ends!” Sildar exclaimed. He sighed and added, “Look, do you remember why you got up on stage at the Emerald Eye, the night I first met you?”     “I don’t remember most of that day, after all those pints,” Sparrow smirked.      “Well, I remember,” Sildar said. “There was that group of men, strangers from out of town. Light knows what they were doing in a halfling town. What I saw them doing was harassing the girl who was singing that night. You saw it, too. I know you did because you jumped right out from behind the bar, scared the living fates out of your poor mother, and you stopped the show cold and challenged those fools to a drinking contest. Now that got their attention! The girl who was singing, she gave such a beautiful performance after that. Meanwhile, you were off in the corner getting those fool men so stone cold drunk they couldn’t have told heaven from earth. Should have known better than to test a bartender’s daughter! After I finally finished the job and kicked their sorry behinds out into the cold, you said you were going to go up on stage and toast a song in my honor. No wonder you don’t remember – who knows how many pints it took you to best those outsiders. That’s probably how you ended up busting out a ballad so good your bard magic finally showed itself. I knew I saw something in you that night – long before the magic turned up. I’ve known a lot of heroes in my time and I’ll tell you one thing. It’s not the sword or the spells that make you a hero, Sparrow. You can save lives with stories. You can right wrongs with heart. That’s why we need bards.”      “Man… you sure you aren’t a poet, Hallwinter?” Sparrow replied, after a moment. Sildar gave her a pat on the back.      “I’m no artist, but I do have my moments,” Sildar said, allowing a proud smile. “I think you’ll face whatever awaits at the Well when you’re ready, when you’ve realized what I did a long time ago. Come along, let’s get back to our friends. We have a story to share!”      “Speaking of stories, you aren’t going to tell them all that about those tales I made up… are you?” Sparrow asked, cringing.      “And ruin an opportunity for some valuable team bonding? Never!” Sildar replied. He got to his feet and gave Sparrow a hand up. She glanced back at the summit of the hill in the darkness. So some of the stories that got her here were lies. That didn’t mean her new stories couldn’t be true.