Buffy the Bard - Prologue

Hello and welcome to the start of an epic tale and journey. It's an adventure filled with discovery, deceit, desire, and of course, dragons.

Dungeons & Dragons, that is.

No, this story is not affiliated with Wizards of the Coast. But it is a love letter to all things fantasy and world-building, for which D&D remains a beacon.

I'm stumbling my way into writing this story after discovering D&D and falling back in love with the world-building and storytelling process.

In a writing block spanning years, I've left several unfinished stories in its wake. And now, turning back to them, I want nothing more than to breathe new life into them, and allow them to share one single universe.

It is in this universe where my protagonist, Buffy, will be exploring - with you, her escort party of adventurers, by her side.

Let's find out just how and why that happens, shall we?

Things To Keep In Mind

Buffy The Bard - Prologue

“But Alan … How can that be?” The woman’s voice, a curious blend of high octaves and raspy undertones, was riddled with worry, and for good reason.

After finding her husband anxiously pacing in the kitchen, fussing over his own thoughts instead of their morning oats, Lizette had finally gotten Alan to direct his murmuring - and attention, toward her.

“Well that's just it, isn't it?” Alan quickly quipped with uncertainty, the tips of his fingers pressing nervously against his grey-blonde stubbled chin. “It can't be. Unless … Unless it can? But … Surely …” his murmuring began again, the doubt festering.

He'd just gotten wind - well, overheard … a contextual hunch, if you will, that their Kingdom (of Solaris) had an announcement planned.

The subject of said announcement, if true ... could effectively end their current era - one riddled with cowardice and conflict. And in doing so, it could also definitively decide whether the new one it paved the way for would be written in ink, or blood.

“Okay, alright. Just - hold on. Now … Wh-Who did you even hear this from, anyway? Hilda? Gideon? Because Gideon can't even read,” she tried to argue, her nerves breaking through as she staggered onto the stool beside the island bar counter, her plump bottom poking over its sides.

“Even if Hilda could read it, she wouldn't understand it. Hell, I barely did. And if we couldn't -”

“Hold on,” Lizette rumbled, brows pinched in the way an angry wife’s often did. “We? … You didn’t tell her, did you?” The question was drawn out in an octave lower as her palms flattened against the counter, rising to her feet as quickly as she had come off them. “You know she can’t help herself! Not telling her is for her own good. And -- well, everyone's!” She was scolding, pleading with him, almost.

“Of course not!” Alan feigned, head snapping up and to the side in offense. “What do you take me for?”

Lizette’s breath hung on the aversion in Alan’s eyes, the seemingly aloof gaze drifting about before finally settling on the hanging mirror across the room with dawning realization.

“She just … happened to overhear …” he trailed off, his lips pursing reflexively to Lizette’s audible gasp and wail.

“Whaat? Alan!” Lizette whined in defeat, her shoulders slumping and her head tilting back. “Wh-Well how long ago was that?”

Alan’s eyes finally lifted to make apologetic contact, revealing a slight luminescent glow - and his use of the spell, detect thoughts. Gasping, Lizette’s body jerked toward the mirror, barely in time to see the clattering of the front door in its reflection.

She’d been eavesdropping, and the unanswered question of how long filled Lizette with overwhelming dread.

“Buffy, wait!” Lizette cried, pivoting on her heel and rushing for the door. But by the time she got there, the young elf was already making her way onto the main road, Lizette's plea swallowed by the rustling of the hilltop trees.

“Buffy!”

A low hum rumbled in the elf’s throat as the well-kept nails of the teifling entangling him trailed along his bare, groomed chest. It rose and fell with the wake of consciousness - a feeling he could never quite get used to, despite how much he’d come to crave it.

As an elf, sleep was something that mockingly alluded him, making it a rare gift that only she had managed to give him. And it was one he graciously accepted each time - in whatever deliciously wicked way it was bestowed.

“Mmm … Five more minutes,” he playfully grumbled as he rolled over in place, his arms slithering their way beneath her thighs and stretching out to wrap possessively around her waist. He hugged her snugly, his face burying itself into her crotch and earning an affectionate giggle from his mistress.

She tucked a rebellious strand of the elf’s pale blonde hair behind his ear, nails trailing insistently against his scalp.

“Oh, I doubt you’ve got even that long,” she teasingly cooed, his ears twitching when he finally heard the frantic, though familiar, footsteps rushing through the halls of the library - headed in their direction.

Eyes springing open, the elf shoved himself from his bed, leaving his lover in a blanket cloud of bashful bewilderment as he scrambled to dress himself in time for the overly curious bard to reach them. He made sure to clasp all the necessary buttons and fasten all accounted buckles, lest she wonder why they would be anything but immaculate.

“Dammit, Buffy,” he hissed with nervous laughter as he fumbled about. “Can’t you keep a schedule?”

“It’s not her fault she thinks you’ll be awake,” the teifling snickered, despite the wizard’s narrowed gaze. “Honestly Alphonse. Can’t you let her in on the fun? Just for a night?” she beamed mischievously, canines digging at her bottom lip as she pulled one of the bed’s oversized pillows into her nude embrace with her long, slender tail.

“Your ancestry is showing,” Alphonse teased, earning a toothy smile as he secured his spellbook’s fine leather waist harness in time for the rushing footsteps to stop just outside the door.

As incessant as the young elf may have been, Buffy was nothing if not polite.

“Alphonse! Alphonse?!” she shouted.

She tried her best to be, anyway.

Pulling the door open, Alphonse met Buffy with an expression he hoped masked his mildly confused frustration - and the fact that he’d been unconscious just moments ago.

“Buffy …” he feigned, voice trailing as he noticed her panting state. Had she run all the way from Lizette’s? His brows pinched, puzzled. “I hadn’t expected you so … early … Did you run here?”

Alphonse jerked back a step when Buffy rushed toward him, his arms raising up and easily over her head from their height difference. He scoffed and fumbled over his words as she circled him like an agitated cat, shamelessly poking and prodding into his attire as if in search.

“She would have stopped me if I tried to take the circle,” she huffed dismissively as she pointedly shoved her hand into the front pocket of his trousers, sending him a jolt out of his facade of patience.

“Wh-! What! Are you -“ he carefully snatched at her wrist as the sound of giggling filled the room, catching Buffy's attention.

“Ezra!” she beamed in a greeting as she was seized, her body going slack in defeat just as quickly as she had launched her assault. “Is the circus in town?”

“Last night, I’m afraid,” Ezra grinned fondly.

“Ah?! Tickets left?” Buffy whined as Alphonse growled impatiently.

“You know you never need a ticket.”

“You’re not going to be going anywhere. Because you’re going to be late for deliveries. Again. And Lizette is going to have your head,” Alphonse interjected like an insistent father. Buffy’s ears twitched downward as her expression shrank away from the tone. “Well? What is so important that you couldn’t wait until after you’d made your deliveries? Or at least until a decent hour?”

Buffy’s expression fell in realization, the point of logic to illuminate her impulsiveness dawning on her for the first time. “I … Well, perhaps it isn’t … so important. But Alan, he … it could be? I … hadn’t thought of that, to be honest,” she struggled, processing the challenge and failing to come up with a counter.

The nonanswer made Alphonse grimace, his hovering stance over Buffy unyielding, and making her that much more frazzled. The realization of how much Lizette was going to be upset with her was beginning to set in, the distinct huff and crossing of Alphonse’s arms over his chest reinforcing the matter.

But he was more interested in finding out what Buffy was searching for that she couldn’t find on her own. It was a known fact that Buffy knew every square inch of the library, as grand as it was. Every room. Every shelf. Every ward. If she was coming to him, it meant that he was her entry point - and that narrowed the possibilities dramatically, as it did his attention.

There weren’t many tomes in the library that Buffy hadn’t read, let alone ones that required chaperoning to do so.

The ones that did …

Fathers, Alan … Alphonse thought to himself with a creeping anxiety.

What had he heard? And more importantly - what had Buffy heard?

In a flash of shadows and saunters, Ezra’s cheek suddenly appeared to nuzzle protectively against Buffy’s, her hands gently clasping at her slightly hunched shoulders, which flinched at the sudden contact.

As keen as Buffy’s passive perception was, she could never quite catch Ezra’s movements - not if she didn’t want her to.

“Come now, Alphonse, don’t be cruel,” Ezra pouted against the bard’s cheek, eager to defend her mousey friend. “Buffy doesn’t know how to lie, do you, love?”

Caught in the headlights, scarlet bloomed across the freckled bridge of Buffy’s nose as she struggled to respond.

“I!” she burst in an ambush of embarrassment, face scrunched in protest. Lips twitching in frustration, her fists clenched, pressing on. “ … do …” But when looking up at Alphonse’s critical gaze, Buffy’s ears and shoulders slumped, the facade crumbling. “-not.”

Ezra was quick to shoot Alphonse a defiant look of both pity and admiration, but it soon morphed into that of mischief as she nuzzled Buffy’s cheek again.

“You see? And you doubt her,” she cooed lovingly, Buffy’s deflation lessening from the praise.

“I know she isn’t lying,” he grumbled, shooing Ezra away. “In fact, you'll continue explaining yourself on our way back to the Ladle and maybe, I’ll think about letting you read the tome that was worth ignoring your responsibilities, yet again.” he pressed, as he shoved Buffy toward the doorway.

He needed information. And he needed time for that information to be … handled. If Buffy had heard something about one of the sacred tomes, he needed to know which one, and how they were going to keep its history - and Buffy's future, unscathed.

Ezra’s tail twitched at the dismissal as she stood from her partially bent position. But then she saw it. The look on his face as he herded Buffy into and down the hall. The look of cautious calculation, as if making his way across a tightrope that was suspended within a maze.

Allowing herself to fade into the background, she listened, her insight guiding her as she opened her mind to search for Alphonse’s racing one with detect thoughts.

She was in his domain but a moment before she heard it sounding off. The same phrase, each time with more resonance in her own mind. Her temple pulsed as she felt his telepathy spell overpower her own, his voice consuming her thoughts and concentration.

Contact the guild.

Contact the guild.

Contact the guild.

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