Beginning Credits: GANGSTA’S PARADISE (Coolio) if it were written by Shakespeare
Title Card: Mistamere, Thaumont 4, 1000 AC
Fade in on the ruins of Mistamere, under an overcast sky as strong winds blow through the broken walls and whistle around what is left of the eaves.
Cut to Bargle's bedroom, as we watch him wake up, and go through his morning ablutions, put on his fancy robes, fluff up his pointy hat, put his dagger in his belt and pick up his gnarled wizard staff. The opening song continues through this, and as he eats his breakfast, delivered by a Kobold dressed in a Glantrian “sexy maid” outfit. The Kobold's gender isn't clear, but it doesn’t look happy about the attire either way.
Finally, he emerges into his throne room, still somewhat wet and trashed. He sits down on the throne, stroking his beard.
Bargle: "I like this place, but it's getting to be too high traffic don't you think?"
The Iron Ring thugs awaiting Bargle in the throne room just shrug.
Bargle: "They ruined all my *good* traps." He looks lost in thought for a moment, and then turns back to the thugs. (Bellows) "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!?"
Lead Thug (I imagine him played by someone like Rory McCann) "Begging your pardon, sir, but we've found something that I think needs your… personal attention."
Bargle: "Go on…" Camera pans out and then we cut to:
Title Card: "Clarion's quarters - Temple of Chardastes"
Background: Dead Can Dance - Bylar
(The sound of the muted, whistling wind sets the tone as the camera pans across the cozy quarters of a priestess of Chardastes, the Immortal of healing and renewal in Mystara. The room reflects her devotion: a healing shrine stocked with potions, herbs, and medical tools; sacred symbols adorning the walls; a simple bed and writing desk; houseplants lending life to the space; and a small fountain whose gentle trickling provides a soothing backdrop.)
(Clarion lies in bed beneath a blanket, stirring as she groans softly and opens her eyes. As awareness returns, she sits up abruptly, glancing around in brief panic before realizing her surroundings. Near her, Silverleaf reclines on another bed, still wearing the ogre's battered nightcap, her expression serene as Aleena tends to her.)
Aleena: (brightly) "I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away." (She flashes Clarion a warm smile before continuing playfully.) "And you must tell me more about your companions, you wicked minx." (Aleena places a hand on her chest in mock awe, her expression exaggerated.) "A dashing warrior… a mysterious wizard…" (Her face turns mildly disgusted.) "Oh, and a little weaselly man too."
(She moves to Silverleaf’s bedside, placing a gentle hand on the elf’s shoulder.)
Silverleaf: (sleepily, mumbling) "Don’t tell the squirrels…"
Aleena: (laughing softly) "I didn’t think the Calarii ever slept."
Silverleaf: "We don’t. But it’s a fun way to learn secrets."
Aleena: (smirking) "Indeed."
(Aleena turns back to Clarion, her tone shifting back to playful curiosity.)
Aleena: "Oh, and you must tell me all about 'Hawk.'"
Clarion: (startled) "What?!?"
Aleena: (teasing) "You said that name while you were delirious. Would it happen to be the large, handsome warrior who hasn’t left your vestibule all day?"
Clarion: "I…"
Aleena: (with a mischievous smile) "Is he someone special? Don’t worry, I won’t tell the acolytes. You know how they gossip." (She giggles, then softens her tone.) "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease while you’re still recovering. Your companions were nice, though. Well, most of them. My uncle will be glad to hear you’re feeling better—he’s most anxious to learn what you uncovered at Mistamere."
(With a wink full of playful charm, Aleena exits the room, leaving Clarion in a state of flustered embarrassment.)
Clarion: (to herself, exhaling deeply) "Oh, no. That wasn’t awkward… at all."
Silverleaf: "Don’t worry. She doesn’t remember him."
Clarion: (shaking her head) "Not awkward…"
(Fade in on the vestibule outside Clarion’s apartments at the temple. Fleetwood sits slouched in a chair, his armor disheveled and damp from the previous fight. A steaming mug of tea rests in his hands, the only sign of warmth in his otherwise weary demeanor. It’s clear he hasn’t moved since escorting Clarion and Silverleaf here.)
(The door to Clarion’s rooms opens, and Aleena steps out, her movement brisk but poised.)
Aleena: (brightly) "Hawk, I presume?"
(Fleetwood shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering briefly to her before dropping to the mug.)
Fleetwood: "Hawk Fleetwood."
Aleena: (pausing, a slight frown forming) "I… know you. I think. You brought me back to Threshold when… Bargle…"
Fleetwood: (quietly) "Yes."
(Aleena looks at him, puzzled, her brow furrowing as she tries to reach for something just out of grasp.)
Aleena: "I can’t remember—it’s so frustrating. I think I recognize your face, but I don’t remember… you."
Fleetwood: (his voice heavy) "Those aren’t pleasant memories." (A quick flash cuts to Bargle’s magic missile spell striking her, the sharp light leaving a lasting shadow.) "We barely knew each other—a single day. But what a terrible day it was."
(Aleena pauses, her discomfort matching his. She looks away for a moment before speaking softly.)
Aleena: "I think I remember… that you’re a good man." (She hesitates, then clears her throat and squares her shoulders, her tone shifting.) "Clarion is asking for you."
(Before Fleetwood can respond, she turns abruptly, walking away with deliberate steps, leaving him staring after her in muted confusion.)
(Fade out.)
(Fade in on the temple's main sanctuary. The room is vast and serene, the soft glow of candles illuminating the sacred space. Clarion and Silverleaf step inside, each carrying traditional thanks offering candles, their light steady and reverent. Before the altar of Chardastes, an armored and cloaked figure kneels in silent devotion. The figure rises swiftly upon their arrival, her movements sharp and purposeful. She is a petite woman with features resembling Amanda Seyfried, her cloak billowing slightly as she casts a disdainful glance at Clarion, who towers over her.)
(Without a word beyond a clipped and imperious "Ox," the woman brushes past Fleetwood as she exits, her expression cold and dismissive. Fleetwood steps inside and sits patiently, his steady presence contrasting the tension left in her wake.)
Silverleaf: (as they finish their devotions) "Who was that?"
Clarion: (a hint of bitterness in her tone) "Adept Elwyn."
Silverleaf: (quirking an eyebrow) "And what’s up her butt?"
(Clarion stifles a chuckle, shaking her head before speaking quietly.)
Clarion: "When I first came to the Temple, the other novitiates made fun of me for my size. Ox was one of the nicer names they had for me. Elwyn was their leader. Most of them didn’t last as priests—I’m still not sure how she did. It wasn’t for embodying Chardastes’ spirit. She hasn’t been back here for nearly a year. Last I heard, she was out in Luln, looking for… something."
(Fleetwood overhears this conversation but says nothing, his thoughtful expression giving little away.)
Fleetwood: "I’m glad you’re feeling better. Both of you."
Clarion: "Did Aleena speak to you?"
Fleetwood: (pausing briefly) "Yes. It was strange."
(Clarion looks as though she wants to press him for details but decides against it. After a moment, Fleetwood shrugs lightly.)
Fleetwood: "Felonious is brewing up more of his potions, and I think Greegan went off to the Salty Harpy."
Clarion: "And you?"
Fleetwood: (exhaling deeply) "I’ve been waiting to hear about your condition. Drank a lot of tea, listened to a lot of chanting. Couldn’t do a bloody thing else."
Clarion: (softly) "You must be exhausted."
Fleetwood: (earnestly) "I could never rest knowing you were hurt." (After a moment, he glances at Silverleaf and adds with sincerity) "Or you."
Silverleaf: (dryly) "Oh, naturally."
Clarion: (firmly) "But now you must. I need to pray and meditate to regain my powers. We’ll need everyone at full strength to deal with whatever Bargle is planning next."
(Fleetwood doesn’t move at first, his expression conflicted. Clarion’s gaze hardens slightly, though her tone stays gentle.)
Clarion: "Go. I’ll be fine." (Still, he hesitates.) "Don’t make me knock you out."
(Reluctantly, Fleetwood rises and leaves, his steps heavy but resigned. The camera lingers for a moment on Clarion and Silverleaf as the sanctuary’s peaceful ambiance contrasts the storm brewing outside.)
Title Card: Fleetwood’s Home
Background:
(Fade in on Fleetwood’s home: a small, sturdy wooden house with patched walls and a roof that dips slightly in the middle. In the yard, a practice dummy stands guard beside a set of weights and a makeshift sparring area, worn from years of use. Fleetwood enters the scene, trudging up the path. He opens the door to reveal a modest interior, functional yet inviting, with simple furnishings that reflect a life of discipline.)
(He removes his armor with practiced care, placing it on a rack near the hearth. With a deep sigh, he lights a fire, the crackling flames casting flickering shadows across the room. Exhausted, he collapses into a sturdy wooden chair, eyes fixed on the dancing light. Sleep eludes him, and when it finally comes, his dreams are restless, shadows of the past playing out behind his closed eyes.)
(As the sun sets, golden light streams through the window, startling him awake. He stretches, shaking off the remnants of his uneasy rest, when a knock at the door breaks the stillness. Rising, he opens the door to find Clarion standing there. She is dressed simply, her Thyatian commoner’s attire accented by ribbons in her hair. A warm smile lights her face—one he finds himself mirroring despite the weight of the day.)
Background music: Make Time For Love
(She steps closer, her slightly taller frame evident as she shifts self-consciously, a subtle charm in her demeanor.)
Clarion: "You have a lovely place."
Fleetwood: (glancing around) "I wasn’t expecting company. I can put some tea on."
Clarion: (lifts a picnic basket with a playful grin) "No need. I brought supper... and something stronger than tea." (From the basket, she produces a bottle of port, holding it up like an offering.)
Fleetwood: (softly, accepting) "That’s... good. The memories aren’t kind tonight." (He retrieves two earthenware mugs from a cupboard, their designs reminiscent of an older time—a nod to the TSR Hobbies logo, but without words. They feel heavy and grounding in his hands as he sets them on the table.)
Clarion: "Memories of the battlefield?"
Fleetwood: (quietly) "Many. And what came after."
(They sit in silence for a time. Clarion bows her head, murmuring a blessing over the food. They eat and drink together, the quiet companionship offering a fragile solace. Finally, Clarion seems to gather her courage, her voice soft but steady.)
Clarion: "Hawk… do you… fancy me?"
Fleetwood: (closing his eyes, his voice heavy) "Yes."
(She reaches for his hand, but he pulls back slightly, his expression shadowed.)
Fleetwood: "Be careful. This way lies pain."
Clarion: (pausing, puzzled) "I thought… Don’t I please you?"
Fleetwood: (his voice trembling) "Before you consent to me, you need to know. What Bargle did. What… I did."
(His hands tremble, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table. The firelight flickers, casting jagged shadows across his face.)
Clarion: (gently) "What happened?"
Fleetwood: (his voice breaking, filled with rage and shame) "I tried to kill him. I wanted to. My sword was ready to strike—but he enchanted me. He twisted my mind. He made me… steal from her corpse. I gave him her possessions. I robbed her body and handed them to him! He turned me into that. That’s why I want vengeance. And why I know you may not want to be with me."
(Clarion’s face shifts through a storm of emotions—anger, fear, loathing, sadness, and finally, a quiet understanding. She leans forward, her voice steady but filled with emotion.)
Clarion: "Ohhh…"
(Without hesitation, she pulls him into a passionate kiss, her actions speaking louder than words. The camera lingers on the firelight dancing across their entwined silhouettes before fading to black.)
(Fade in to an ancient chamber, dimly lit by flickering torches, their flames casting jagged shadows on the walls. The scrabble of clawed footsteps and the clatter of Bargle's staff echo in the vast space as he strides in with his kobold retinue. The opening door sends a beam of light across the room, illuminating a massive stone cube at its heart. Intricate arcane runes spiral across its surface, etched deep into the weathered stone.)
(Bargle’s eyes gleam with excitement, his face stretching into a manic grin as if savoring the spoils of long-awaited triumph. He moves toward the cube, his fingers twitching with anticipation. Speaking the guttural tones of Draconic, he waves a hand over the runes. The lock emits a heavy click, and with a sharp push of his staff, the stone lid grinds open, sending a low rumble reverberating through the chamber.)
(Within the cube lies a polished, rune-etched orb, its surface glistening as though untouched by time. The size of a beach ball, the orb pulses faintly at first, and then its runes ignite in a brilliant glow as Bargle lifts it aloft. The light bathes his face in an eerie luminescence, amplifying his giddy expression.)
Bargle: (his voice climbing in excitement) "Oh, my! Yes! Yes! YES!" (His voice grows louder, reverberating through the chamber with a powerful, echoing crescendo) "YEEEEEESSSSS!"
(The glowing runes on the orb flare brighter, casting the chamber in an otherworldly brilliance. Fade to black.)