<hr/><div align="center"><br/>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/ec/Animated-music-note-image-0012.gif)<br/><br/><strong><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: georgia;"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">CHAPTER   ONE:</span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">BRAWL</span> OF THE <span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 12pt;">BANDS</span><br/></span></strong></div><br/><hr/><br/><div align="center"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/5c/Gold-Goblin.gif)<br/><br/><em>The Golden Goblin Tavern<br/><br/>Flamerule 30, 1384</em></div></td><td>          </td><td><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/05/SuzailL.jpg)<br/><br/><em>Suzail, Cormyr<br/><br/>Sunset</em></div></td></tr></tbody></table></div><br/><hr/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>The story of the Bard's Bastards can be impossible to believe. As many witnesses insisted, you had to be there to see it, and if you truly wanted to understand it, you had to first know why things were as strange as they were in Suzail. The capital of Cormyr and the seat of power was named after the mother of the first king. It was originally the farm of the father of the first king. <br/><br/>As blasphemous bards and bastards who grew up with nothing would say, <em>"That first king was one lucky son of a devil!"</em><br/><br/>Present day, Suzail was a large port city on the shores of lake Dragonmere with a population of around 45,000 of mostly humans. It was ferociously protected by 2,000 Purple Dragon knights and 100 War Wizards. No neighboring nation dared invade. Only actual dragons were able to burn most of it down, and four nearly did on that horrendous day 366 years ago. You would think that no one cared now, but you would be wrong. Yelling fire paled to yelling dragon, which was recognized a serious crime to this very day. <br/><br/>If you were a tourist like the Bard's Bastards were and asked where the wildest knee-slapping, mug-slamming tavern was around, you were pointed the way to the Golden Goblin tavern and given the same fair warning everyone got.<br/><br/><em>"Enter at your risk! Everyone comes out with a shiner and one less tooth. Don't believe me? Then you're stupid as you look. You git what you git in the Golden Goblin, your next trouble. Git and do what pleases you, I ain't your daddy."</em><br/><br/>On your way to the Golden Goblin, there were many youngins running around the harbor, not free to roam and play but sent or volunteered to labor for some coin. Some fell headfirst into horse shit while the smarter ones swindled the newcomers and gave the elders a whopping headache. While there were plenty architects, bakers, barristers, brewers, butchers, clerks, cooks, courtesans, drivers, engineers, farmers, fishermen, gamblers, gardeners, herbalists, innkeepers, librarians, merchants, midwives, millers, miners, porters, sailors, scribes, shepherds, stable masters, soldiers, tanners, trappers, and woodcutters, they seemed to be overwhelmed by the largest migration of bards, musicians, and instruments ever seen. What compelled such a turnout, the cleverest scryer could not say! Sure there were odd mimes, fey ballet dancers, and storytellers with enormous pipes they smoked each chance they got. However, the quite wondrous sight to see was the countless harpischords, pianos, pipe organs being delicately carried while their owners panicked and barked. Silver and brass bells clanged off the drums and gongs, rolling away downhill chased by shrieking pursuers. Then there were the fiddles and the harps, then the lutes and mandolins; no one could make this up! The flutes, the pan pipes, the recorders, the shawms, the trumpets, the sung ballads, the uttered chants, and the echoed chorus of melodies all overlapped a great cacophony and still made up a fascinating and nuanced orchestra parading through Suzail!</td><td>            </td><td>You got out of the sweltering sun and entered the shady Golden Goblin thinking you would find some tentative peace and boring quiet. Instead, you were met with roars and raging accusations. The violent innocents dove after cheats and cons, flipping tables of games and drinks over in a deafening cascade. The booths were just as crowded, and the stage had a long line of performers waiting to showcase their talents, even those from faraway lands. The floor was sticky. The air was stuffy. Yet the aromas of beer, wine, and juicy food were ambrosial enough to entice you to stay. Not before long, you approached the only table that had available seats. The kicker was, only one half-elf sat there. He seemed the most dangerous, the most handsomest, and the drunkest of them all, the black-haired, the amber-eyed <strong>Blake Titangate</strong>. He hiccuped to himself, staring at his unfinished drink.<br/><br/>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/6/62/Pathfinder-Darius-by-Yama-320-2.png)</td></tr></tbody></table>