Baldur's Gate : The Sword Coast Chronicles : NWN2 Persistent World

Book of Tales
by Milo Duncain Swishhearth Stoutfoot Darkeyes Greenbottle

note: For my flower.

**the pages look happily used, and well taken care of. The smell of a good weed from Gullykin can be had from the turn of each page. Tucked in the binding of the handmade journal is a long pipe (of halfling size) with just enough leaf in it to see you through the first two stories**

An Introduction:
I am a poor hin, with no worth to call me clean. I live where I go, and sleep where I decide. Some people will see this as a life of refuse. I see this life as one of freedom. I go where I go. I see what I want to see. I am not held down by a constraint of living, I am living a life simply- as a wise man would say.

Through my days under the stars, I have heard many stories; some are old and read only on dusty walls of a long forgotten hole. Others are spoken freely and known well around a fire.

These are the stories I have heard.

The Blind Wizard and his Bluff

Once there was a man who thought himself a great wizard. He took every chance he could to show off his talents, and brag of his exploits. He would enter villages and shoot fire frome his fingers, making the villagers awe and applaud. He would take to an inn and fill cups with magic wine, purses with gold, and tables with food. He was loved, and envied by many.

One day, an old man walked into town and on his back he carried a large sack of goods. He passed by the magician, who had found himself two ladies from outside the surgeon's arms. He was drunk with love and good wine then, and turned to the old man.

"Watch what I can make of a fool who does not grovel before me!"

And he turned the sack of goods into a mound of earth. The old man stumbled under the weight and rolled it over to the ground, surprised and smiling. The magician waited for the old man to follow the demand and kneel before the great and powerful magician.

"I will give you back your sack if you kiss my feet, old man." The magician sneered.

The old man said then, "tis no matter, boy. I can find more sacks like this one, and fill them with more things. Nothing has changed."

The magician was angered, how dare this man be wiser than the great magician!

"You would be hard pressed to find any other bags to carry your trash without eyes!" and the magician cast out a spell to blind the old man.

The old man laughed "it is funny what men think they notice when they are blinded by power. I am already blind, boy. Spend your tricks on someone who will enjoy them." The old man turned and started to walk away.

The magician tried to attack the man again, this time with a lick of fire from his hand. The fire crashed down on the old man in a fiery doom. The smell of smoke and brimstone filled the air, as the townsfolk screamed in terror. The old man was gone. The guards went to seize the powerful magician, who had exhausted his tricks in anger. He was put in prison, and sentenced to hang the next day.

That night he slept and dreamt of the old man. He was standing out on a lake of glass, smiling at the magician. "You have broken me!" the magician screamed "I am to die tomorrow! How do you say to that?"

The old man smiled.

"so you are happy?" asked the magician.

The old man winked.

"You are wiser than I, then? What is it you know!?"

The old man walked forward, extending his hand to the magician. The magician slapped the dirty hand away. "Get away from me!"

"Pride has broken you, my friend. Pride and pride alone." The old man said. He turned, and the magician saw on his back a small sack that he carried with ease. "thank you for your help the other day, by the way. That bag was getting ever so heavy!"