"We were giants, once. Kings of the Wyld."
— Golden Gabe
Among them is a renegade king, he who sired five royal heirs without ever unzipping his pants. A man to whom time has imparted great wisdom and an even greater waistline, who's thoughtless courage is rivaled only by his unquenchable thirst.
At his shoulder walks a sorcerer, a cosmic conversationalist. Enemy of the incurable rot, absent chairman of combustive sciences at the university in Oddsford, and the only living soul above the age of eight to believe in owlbears.
Look here at a warrior born, a scion of power and poverty whose purpose is manifold: to shatter shackles, to murder monarchs, and to demonstrate that even the forces of good must sometimes enlist the service of big, bad motherfuckers. His is an ancient soul destined to die young.
And now comes the quiet one, the gentle giant, he who fights his battles with a shield. Stout as the tree that counts its age in aeons, constant as the star that marks true north and shines most brightly on the darkest nights.
A step ahead of these four: our hero. He is the candle burnt down to the stump, the cutting blade grown dull with overuse. But see now the spark in his stride. Behold the glint of steel in his gaze. Who dares stand between a man such as this and that which he holds dear? He will kill, if he must, to protect it. He will die, if that is what it takes.
—The narration summing up Saga, our very own Kings of the Wyld
Gabe: Rose, listen to me. Do you remember the stories I used to tell when you were little?
Rose: Of course I do.
Gabe: You never asked me if they were true. You believed whatever I told you, no matter how incredible it was.
Rose: I was a little girl.
Gabe: And you're not anymore. I know that. But I need you to believe in one more story, Rose. I am coming to Castia. I am going to save you.
Rose: Of course I do.
Gabe: You never asked me if they were true. You believed whatever I told you, no matter how incredible it was.
Rose: I was a little girl.
Gabe: And you're not anymore. I know that. But I need you to believe in one more story, Rose. I am coming to Castia. I am going to save you.
Gabe: Warriors, hear me!!!
[the War Fair falls silent]
Gabe: My name is Golden Gabe. You know me—or you know of me—from some poem, or song, or story. You might have heard I slew the Crypt Queen Nazalin in single combat, or that I was first over the wall at Castadar. Those things are true. Maybe your father told you he fought beside me once, or perhaps your mother said she met me in a tavern twenty years ago. Well... if you've got blue eyes and the wits of an ox, that might be true as well.
Crowd: [laughs]
Gabe: I'm in a band, and you'll have heard of them too. Matrick Skulldrummer. Arcandius Moog. Slowhand Clay Cooper. And Ganelon.
[a giant wyvern falls out of the portal, Ganelon on its back; he snaps its neck]
Barret: You need help?
Ganelon: Naw, we're good.
Gabe: Some of you—hell, most of you—are too young to remember why we're famous, so let me give you a few recent examples. We rescued the king of Agria from his wife's hired assassin. We burned the Riot House to the ground. We brought down a chimera, and took the Maxithon for a spin.
Crowd: [laughs]
Gabe: We crossed the Heartwyld, though it wasn't easy. We walked the Cold Road, and we paid its toll. We found a druin keystone, and opened the Threshold behind me. And oh, yeah, we killed a dragon. Akatung is dead. But I didn't come here to brag.
Red Bob: Could've fooled me!
Random Mercenary: Fuck off, Bob!
Gabe: In fact, let me start over. My name is Gabriel, and I need your help. [points through portal] That there is Castia. Some thirty thousand men and women are trapped within its walls. Once, they hoped for salvation. Now they pray for death. One of them is my daughter, Rose. But that darkness... that shadow you see between us and them... is the Heartwyld Horde. Every nightmare you've ever had, every monster you feared to find beneath your bed, is right there. And it brought a thousand friends. They've already crushed one army, and sooner or later Castia will fall to them as well. The Horde is hungry. It is cruel. Those inside will wish they had died on the battlefield before the end.
Crowd: [murmurs disconcertingly]
Gabe: Why did you come to here, to Kaladar? Was it to show off the paint on your face? Your latest tattoo? The colour of your hair? Or was there something more? Did you come to find a band, or a booker? Did you want to make a name for yourself? Was it glory you were looking for? Because you don't find glory at a fair. It isn't something that just lands in your lap. You need to go after it and take it for yourself. You need to risk everything for it.
[on the other side of the portal, Ganelon and allies fight with some harpies]
Gabe: But glory is a hard currency to earn nowadays. It isn't just wandering in a forest, or lurking in a cave. You have to breed it, keep it in a cage, and parcel it out so everyone gets their share. I've heard it said—and so have you—that all the great bands have come and gone. People think the world has already been saved, that we don't need mercenaries anymore. They say heroes are a dying breed!
Mercenary: It's true!
Other Mercenary: Fuck that noise!
Barret's Son: He's right.
Gabe: So what can you do? You tour from city to city fighting whatever sorry thing the local wrangler can drudge up. You dress up and dance while some beer-swilling asshole hopes a goblin gets lucky and slits your throat so that he can see some blood!
[some older mercs laugh; the younger ones do not]
Gabe: Who will remember you? What have you done? [gestures towards the Horde] Tell me: Does the world look safe to you?
Crowd: NO!
Gabe: Castia needs fighters! It needs great and glorious bands! Castia needs heroes! Are there any heroes here?
Ten Thousand Mercenaries: YES!
Gabe: I said: Are there any fucking heroes here?
Forty Thousand Mercenaries: YES!
Gabe: This day, this moment, is when you step out from the shadow of the past. Today you make your name. Today your legend is born. Come tomorrow, every tale the bards tell will belong to you, because today we save the world! [raises his sword] This is not a choice between life and death, but life and immortality! Remain here and die in obscurity, or follow me now and live forever!
[the War Fair falls silent]
Gabe: My name is Golden Gabe. You know me—or you know of me—from some poem, or song, or story. You might have heard I slew the Crypt Queen Nazalin in single combat, or that I was first over the wall at Castadar. Those things are true. Maybe your father told you he fought beside me once, or perhaps your mother said she met me in a tavern twenty years ago. Well... if you've got blue eyes and the wits of an ox, that might be true as well.
Crowd: [laughs]
Gabe: I'm in a band, and you'll have heard of them too. Matrick Skulldrummer. Arcandius Moog. Slowhand Clay Cooper. And Ganelon.
[a giant wyvern falls out of the portal, Ganelon on its back; he snaps its neck]
Barret: You need help?
Ganelon: Naw, we're good.
Gabe: Some of you—hell, most of you—are too young to remember why we're famous, so let me give you a few recent examples. We rescued the king of Agria from his wife's hired assassin. We burned the Riot House to the ground. We brought down a chimera, and took the Maxithon for a spin.
Crowd: [laughs]
Gabe: We crossed the Heartwyld, though it wasn't easy. We walked the Cold Road, and we paid its toll. We found a druin keystone, and opened the Threshold behind me. And oh, yeah, we killed a dragon. Akatung is dead. But I didn't come here to brag.
Red Bob: Could've fooled me!
Random Mercenary: Fuck off, Bob!
Gabe: In fact, let me start over. My name is Gabriel, and I need your help. [points through portal] That there is Castia. Some thirty thousand men and women are trapped within its walls. Once, they hoped for salvation. Now they pray for death. One of them is my daughter, Rose. But that darkness... that shadow you see between us and them... is the Heartwyld Horde. Every nightmare you've ever had, every monster you feared to find beneath your bed, is right there. And it brought a thousand friends. They've already crushed one army, and sooner or later Castia will fall to them as well. The Horde is hungry. It is cruel. Those inside will wish they had died on the battlefield before the end.
Crowd: [murmurs disconcertingly]
Gabe: Why did you come to here, to Kaladar? Was it to show off the paint on your face? Your latest tattoo? The colour of your hair? Or was there something more? Did you come to find a band, or a booker? Did you want to make a name for yourself? Was it glory you were looking for? Because you don't find glory at a fair. It isn't something that just lands in your lap. You need to go after it and take it for yourself. You need to risk everything for it.
[on the other side of the portal, Ganelon and allies fight with some harpies]
Gabe: But glory is a hard currency to earn nowadays. It isn't just wandering in a forest, or lurking in a cave. You have to breed it, keep it in a cage, and parcel it out so everyone gets their share. I've heard it said—and so have you—that all the great bands have come and gone. People think the world has already been saved, that we don't need mercenaries anymore. They say heroes are a dying breed!
Mercenary: It's true!
Other Mercenary: Fuck that noise!
Barret's Son: He's right.
Gabe: So what can you do? You tour from city to city fighting whatever sorry thing the local wrangler can drudge up. You dress up and dance while some beer-swilling asshole hopes a goblin gets lucky and slits your throat so that he can see some blood!
[some older mercs laugh; the younger ones do not]
Gabe: Who will remember you? What have you done? [gestures towards the Horde] Tell me: Does the world look safe to you?
Crowd: NO!
Gabe: Castia needs fighters! It needs great and glorious bands! Castia needs heroes! Are there any heroes here?
Ten Thousand Mercenaries: YES!
Gabe: I said: Are there any fucking heroes here?
Forty Thousand Mercenaries: YES!
Gabe: This day, this moment, is when you step out from the shadow of the past. Today you make your name. Today your legend is born. Come tomorrow, every tale the bards tell will belong to you, because today we save the world! [raises his sword] This is not a choice between life and death, but life and immortality! Remain here and die in obscurity, or follow me now and live forever!
