No normal tale

Introduction

Somewhere in the countryside of the empire Sorran, on the southern parts, a group of troupers finally arrived at their destination. A small village near the Otam mountains. It's simple and wooden buildings signature for these parts of the empire, where the soil was the most fruitful and the winters soft.

As the troupers stopped at their usual spot, the mayor of Kobblestone came out of the villages gather-house. He welcomed them with a golly smile, something the troupers knew him best for. "Welcome back! We've been waiting for you troupers. I will welcome you in our house, share our food and will give you supplies for after you leave to continue your quest to bring joy to others, as always." The head of the troupers nodded. "And we will bring entertainment, stories, laughter and anticipation, as always." Both men shook hands, agreeing to the same terms as they had done through many generations back.

It was a soft spring day, children ran around as the troupers were preparing their acts and others were taking care of the horses.

The atmosphere in the busy village was light, both men and women looking forward to an evening of distraction, a getaway from their monotonous day to day lives. One trouper in particular they were waiting for with anticipation. Swift tongue Joe. And although he may have earned that name because of...less innocent reasons, he was now known by that name due to the fact that he was the storyteller of the group of troupers.

The old man was by far the best in bringing the most epic tales of them all. And he knew every one of them, every tale ever told, Swift tongue Joe could tell.

Or so was said by the village women... But patience was needed, as Joe only arose after all the other acts of that day were finished. This would be after sunset, nearing midnight. A big fire was made in the middle of the field, where the troupers stayed every year. Almost all the villagers would gather around it. Only the young ones and their mothers would stay behind to catch some sleep. And those who might be too weak to be able to stay up till so late.

Joe, who was now waiting on his regular stand for everyone to gather, saw that old widow Nancy was missing, the farmer Geoff, who had caught a nasty flu, and the newlywed couple, mister and misses Jacksons. The old man smiled, as he remembered that last year misses Jacksons had been with child. They had to be exhausted, taking care of a baby could be energy draining. His deep blue eyes immediately went to his own grown son, Joe Junior. He was now a father himself, time sure went by fast. Joe Junior, troupe leader, with his tall figure and blue eyes, took after his father. The leader of the troupers smiled back when Swift tongue smiled at him, his grandchildren probably fast asleep, watched by Sia, old Joe's daughter-in-law.

Soft whispers filled the field as everyone was gathered, young and old, troupers and villagers, sitting around the campfire, looking at the tall white haired figure standing on his small wooden platform. With deep lines that framed his eyes and mouth, he looked the part, the old wise man of the bunch.

As soon as Joe lifted his hand, the whispering died down. Taking a deep breath, the storyteller stepper forward. "Welcome back my children," he said, his voice reached every part of the crowd, yet it sounded calm and composed. "Welcome back to this year's gathering. Once again, I, Swift tongue Joe, shall bring you a new tale. One you have never heard before. And with that I mean none of you, not even you Celeste." Celeste, the village healer, looked up. She was an old woman, oldest of the community. Her kind brown eyes twinkled. "You've never disappointed me Joe, so I trust you won't do so now either," she said. Joe nodded and grinned wide.

Of course he would only take the villagers in consideration, as his family, the troupers, they shared the fire with him every night. And thus there was almost no tale they didn't know.

Sitting down on the chair placed on the stand for him, he ran his hand through his well-kept beard and looked around the crowd.

What tale this time...

The campfire illuminated the faces of many, giving the scene an eerie feel. The moon was high that night and the sky filled with starts, something that Joe loved the most about the countryside. It was still pure, unlike those stench drenched cities. And as the man sat there, surrounded by both friends and loved ones, he found his tale to tell. A wide grin spread over his face, and the crowd held their breath, knowing his was about to start.

Joe inhaled deeply and rubbed his hands together. As he spoke, he pulled everyone to him, his voice made for the art of telling.

"This tale, my dear all, is one not even my troupers know. A tale so rare only a handful of people have ever heard of it."

The troupers, who were leaning against the caravans which surrounded the fire, or were standing at the edge of the crowd, looked up, surprised. One even they didn't know, now, that was rare. Leaning in, they looked at Joe, just as eager as the villagers, if not more.

"This, men and women, young and old, is no normal tale. Not one of a young hero. Not one of a child finding out they are meant to save the world. This is one about a pity thief who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. And nothing more than that..."