BW PDF - Midnight Campaign

Chapter TENStorytellingAn old, scarred, and incredibly surly warrior warmed his hands atthe campfire of a small way-castle. Little more than a walled shack,it was a haven in the wilderness, a place where travelers might rest.Normally, this kind of a place was solitary, but by some trick of luckseveral groups had come at once, and convenience demanded theyshare the camp. Eating a bit of roasted meat, the old traveler wasdoing the best he could to ignore the eyes of the others.He was failing. A quick glance upward met the eyes of all six ofthem, silently staring at him.“What? Do I have something on my face?”“No, sir,” one of the younger ones said. The boy could not havebeen more than twelve.“Did I suddenly grow horns?”“No sir,” the boy answered again. No one else had moved.“What is it?”“It’s just, well, it’s just that, how to put it. You’re a legend, sir.No one knows quite how to take that.”The old man sat back. He didn’t feel like a legend. He felt tiredand worn. He looked over at his oversized maul, the stone hammerbanded in gold. It was a powerful relic, very useful, but it was hardto hide and quite famous. If it weren’t for that, he would be justanother old man to these people.“Sir, is it true that you killed a manticore in the village of Pent?”The boy asked, and then another interjected, and another. “Didyou really meet the Archangel Scera?” “What about the MinotaurKing?” “Did you-” The old man raised a hand and lit a glare,silencing them at once.He turned his attention to the boy, who had spoken first. Thatone had nerve, and that was something he could respect. Of allof them, he was the one that deserved a story.“Yes, actually,” he said, “I did kill a manticore, but truth betold, there were three of them. You see, it started like this...”