Jester’s Bedtime Tales
Ephemera: The Traveler’s Note
It looks like there is a note from the Traveler! It’s folded up and may even be booby-trapped, but when you get inside, this is what you’ll find:
Since I would hate to see you missing your mother and the Chateau too much, please enjoy this book of tales from your childhood.
You may not remember all of these tales, but it only took a minor bend here and reweaving there to pull your old favorites from the chaos of time. (Don’t worry, I left out the one about goblins who steal naughty tiefling children away in the night.) There are even some old trinkets that got swept up in the summoning.
And who knows? Maybe seeing the art you charmed from your tutors and your sketches that far surpassed them will remind you of how much you have grown, and of your ability to create and inspire creation?
Either way, know that the world is ripe for your particular spark of joy and chaos. Go forth and befuddle, bedazzle, and bewilder, my dear!
The Traveler
The Tales
The following Table of Contents is a bit of a jumble, as the Traveler has listed the wrong page numbers and even included some symbols (like 3 daggers in a row). Jester has crossed those out and replaced them with her own accurate page numbers. She’s also written a note in the margin, “Traveler!! You’re so crazy, some of those aren’t even numbers!”
- The Tales
- One Bright Night
- 30 Seconds Over Syngorn
- The Castle in the Clouds
- MyFirstDoty Transcript
- The Tragedy of Delilah the Wise
- The Ballad of Artagan
- Bluud & Sand
- Forever and Never
- The Ruby, the Sapphire, and the Coatl
Ephemera: Marian’s Portrait/Headshot
A comforting scent of lavender accompanies this beautiful portrait of Marian Lavorre. She’s peacefully clutching a radiant sapphire necklace on a field of gold. On the back of the portrait is a note, “My little Sapphire, you are always next to my heart. Love Maman.”
Page Feature: An Open Doorway
The page has a doorway cut into it with in the shape of the Traveler symbol. The archway is golden with gems at the top and a silver base. There are pressed flowers resting around it.
One Bright Night
[Illustration: Smiling young Jester in pink and white robes holding her arms out with her mother by window at night.]
So when I was little, my mama couldn’t always tuck me into bed because she was always working. I mean, she’s soooo beautiful and soooo talented, so of course everyone wanted to be with her. But it was okay—I don’t want you to think that things were bad because, you know, I was a big girl and it’s not like I needed someone to tuck me in, and besides, the Traveler would come visit and tell me stories, so many fun stories!
Well, anyway, one night, Mama didn’t have any customers. Maybe it was a holiday? Or maybe my birthday! I don’t remember. But I do remember that she came into my room and said to me, “My darling Sapphire, do you want a treat tonight?”
She was holding a tray with some cupcakes and milk, so I said, “Oh, Mama, of COURSE I want a treat tonight! Thank you so much!”
Mama looked at the tray and said, “Oh! I mean, yes, THIS treat…but I have another treat for you! Put on your robe and come with me!” And she had a very special smile on her face that I knew was just for me.
So I put on one of my favorite robes—you know, the purple one with gold and pink hearts all over it—and followed her to one of the balconies we had at the Lavish Chateau. And Oh. My. A-Gosh. My mama had set it up with a little rug and cushions and blankets and the cutest table and a candle!
“Mama!” I cried out. “This is sooooo beautiful!”
She set the tray on the table and sat down, holding her arm out to me. “Come here, my Jester, and let us spend some time together.”
So I went to sit next to Mama, and with a cupcake in my hand and my head against her chest, Mama pulled one of the fur blankets around us.
“Look, Jester.” Mama pointed up at the sky. I remember that it was a very clear night, and even though we had a candle, most of the chateau was dark, so we could see all the stars in the sky, and you know, it was like it went on forever. “What does that look like to you?”
I looked up and tilted my head to the side. “Oh, Mama, it looks exactly like a horse with wings, like a Pegasus!”
“You’re such a clever girl. I think so, too!”
“But what about the little stars above and below it? What do you think those are?”
Mama thought for a moment, and said, “You know, my darling, those have to be the Pegasus’ children, right? I think this Pegasus must be a mama and loves her children—just like how I love you, my Jester—so she keeps her children close to her, even when she is flying through the skies. And look—one of the stars is a bright blue, just like you!”
So Mama and I spent much of that night just looking at the stars, and making up names for them and telling stories about all the things that we could see. There was an owlbear that went into war with the neighboring giants, a group of elves who got lost in a foggy forest, some baby kittens playing tug-of-war with a blanket they found…but mostly I kept thinking of the mama Pegasus, and what it would be like to have brothers and sisters, and how delicious my strawberry cupcake was, and how sweet my mama smelled, and how warm we both were, lying underneath the stars. And you know? I think that had to be one of my favorite nights ever.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Stars with outlined constellation of winged horse.]
30 Seconds Over Syngorn
[Illustration: In the foreground, Traveler tells young Jester a bedtime tale. Behind them on a stage, there’s a frowning court jester in motley (traditional jester garb with diamonds and stripes) juggling six balls below tragedy and comedy masks.]
It was a day when everyone stayed inside. The dead were among the
living, more than usual anyway, Mama said. And, it was raining.
Good for business, but I didn’t have anything to do.
Ephemera: Candy Wrappers
These golden candy wrappers are decorated with a floral pattern accented with painted jewels. Don’t worry about the smudges on the inside—it’s definitely chocolate…
“Traveler, could you tell me a story?”
“What kind would you like?”
“A scary story. Do you know any scary stories?”
“I can tell you stories of the most horrible things, of vampires whose heads fly free and chase you at night, of tentacled creatures that eat your brains and live in your empty skull, of nameless gods chained in the darkness between worlds…”
“What’s the SCARIEST story you know?”
“The scariest, my love?” He looked at his hands and frowned.
The clown slumped onstage from the wings, dragging a laugh
bladder behind him. One of its bells fell off and hit the wooden slats with
a leaden thump.
“I don’t want to be here, but I’m trapped, and so are you.”
He took out a big brass horn from behind his back. The pitted metal was stained green with verdigris; it had a big dull red squeeze bulb on the end. Blaat.
“Nothing happened yesterday, nothing will happen tomorrow. Today will be the same day, just as it is now, forever.”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A court jester wearing a big neck frill, hat with bells, and a clown nose frowns dejectedly.
Young Jester has written a note next to it: “Is this what other jesters wear?”]
He dug around in a pocket and pulled out a three-foot long slide whistle. Wheeet-woooot.
The slide fell out and clattered to the floor.
“None of your choices matter. If you walk out that door,” he pointed left with his right hand, “you will come in that door,” he pointed right with his left, “and vice versa in reverse.” He windmilled his arms.
He put the laugh bladder under his armpit. It made a limp farty sound. frrrt.
He took out three bean bags and started a slow, sad cascade. Each bag slowly leaked sand as it arced from hand to hand.
“You will never hear anything new, meet anyone new, think anything new, do anything new, ever again.”
The bags plopped, one by one, to the ground.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
“The person to your left will ALWAYS be the person to your left. The person to your right will ALWAYS be the person to your right. A dreadful, tedious eternity with…Bob.
“You’re all horrible people, stuck here together, alone.”
He half-heartedly chucked a handful of crumpled confetti into the air and limped offstage.
“Traveler, I don’t understand. That doesn’t sound bad. That just sounds boring.”
The Traveler stared at nothing and shuddered.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Hooded Traveler, his eyes unseen, grimaces, shivering in fear and revulsion.
Young Jester has written a note next to it: “Seriously, Traveler…you’re so crazy!”]
Castle in the Clouds
As he flew through the soft, warm air of the Menagerie Coast, the Traveler sought the blue girl he had visited for some time. Small and full of whimsy, yet strangely pitiable, the child of the Ruby of the Sea was someone he wanted to get to know better. The girl played funny tricks with a light spirit and was quick to laugh, even when her eyes were sad. He could feel the sadness in her now as his ethereal form found Jester in the garden behind the chateau. She sat upon a blanket, hugging her knees tightly to her chest while looking up at the blue sky and wispy clouds. He wanted to be of comfort; to cheer her if he could. Settling his form beside her own, he left the ethereal to materialize as a mirror of her posture, hugging his knees to his chest, his green cloak pooling around them both.
“Tell me a story, Traveler,” his Jester implored him.
He had introduced himself as a humble traveler when he had first met the girl, and the name had stuck. What could he say? He liked the anonymity and mystery she lent him. It was romantic, and he was such a sucker for romance.
“My Jester. What kind of story would you like?”
“One from far away from here,” his Jester sniffed and set her chin on her knees, “I hate it here.”
“You can always leave…”
This suggestion earned him a frustrated glare from the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea, his hands coming up, palms out to defend himself from her evil eye as he laughed.
“Very well,” he moved to sit with legs crossed beside her, “Have I ever told you about Princess Cirrus?”
His Jester shook her head while keeping her chin on her knees, the movement making her head look loose, as if on a marionette. She turned her head and looked at him, ready for the tale.
[Illustration: The Traveler points at the sky, revealing to Jester a castle made of light and clouds. The Traveler and Jester are both young, small, and viewed from behind.]
“Once upon a time, there was a kingdom called Afaraway. It did not have a king, however. Nor a queen. Instead, it had four siblings, all born at the same time.” He paused as she opened her mouth, face twisted in slight confusion.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Cute blue clouds with pink hearts.]
“But how is that possible, Traveler?”
“Magic.”
“Really?”
“No, little one.” He arched a brow at her to quell any more interruptions.
She settled, though her lips quirked up in a tiny smile, the sadness surrounding her seeming to lift.
“Go on.”
After a moment, the Traveler continued.
“Prince Stratus caused trouble wherever he went. He was a brute and felt that strong armies and magic would keep Afaraway safe. Princess Nimbus was difficult. She got along with very few people, but that was not always her fault. Prince Cumulus went out of his way to be supportive and gentle with all his siblings, favoring debate and diplomacy over force. And Princess Cirrus believed that kindness and love would conquer all.
“One morning, Princess Cirrus was visiting from Afaraway. She had wanted to get gifts for her siblings as their sixteenth birthdays were approaching. She spent the morning wading in the tidepools not far from the Menagerie Coast, searching for pearls and finding hermit slugs instead. She had managed to fill a large jar of them when an old lady came from the trees and asked for the jar.”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A pink clam lays open with a smiling pearl saying ‘Hello!’.]
“Why did she want the jar?” Jester lifted her head, canting it curiously.
“Because, Little Sapphire, the old woman knew Hermit slugs are a delicious delicacy if prepared properly… and can also be used to make a powerful poison.”
“Oh…”
The speculative gleam in Jester’s eye did not sit well with the Traveler, but he continued.
Ephemera: Poorly-Knit Tiny Cloak
A small green knit cloak (or it could be a blanket? Hard to tell, it’s a bit lumpy and not super well-knit).
“The old lady came closer to the princess, and Princess Cirrus could see kindness in her eyes and agility in her long, gnarled fingers. The woman’s clothes looked well-made and clean, and she did not seem addled, save for wanting a jar of slugs. Princess Cirrus smiled at the old lady and told her she would trade the jar for the woman’s cloak. It was a pretty color of blue,” he touched his Jester’s nose, “Not unlike some girls I know.”
His Jester giggled, tucking her face behind her hands.
“But the old lady declined the offer of the princess, continuing to search the tide pools for hermit slugs to no avail. Eventually, she left, and Princess Cirrus felt very guilty for having found them all – especially since she had truly little interest in the things. She did not like the taste of hermit slugs very much, and if the old lady did, she should have them. Princess Cirrus went home.
“The next day, Princess Cirrus went to the tidepools again, but this time to look for hermit slugs. She got twice as many as the day before and, when the old lady arrived to look for some hermit slugs herself, Princess Cirrus presented her with two large jars plus the one from the day before.
“‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I was looking for birthday gifts for my brothers and sister and forgot that, just because I want something, I’m not entitled to it.’”
“I love when you do the voices,” Jester piped in, her eyes shining with interest, the sad shadows gone from her eyes.
“Thank you, dear. May I continue?”
“Oh, yes,” she nodded.
The Traveler smiled and went back to weaving his tale.
“The old lady smiled and invited Princess Cirrus back to her home for tea and cakes. The princess accepted and followed the woman back into the woods by the shore. As she walked, she noted that the path she walked was well-worn and sparkled with crushed shells from the beach. She was enchanted and began daydreaming as she was led away from the beach and deeper into the arboreal labyrinth.
“When they arrived at the old woman’s house, she was delighted to find a picturesque cottage seeming to grow from a copse of conifers, their needle-like leaves making the thatch roof of the dwelling. The interior was just as charming, and the old lady bade the princess sit and make herself at home while she brewed the tea.
“Princess Cirrus perched primly on a footstool while she waited, her eyes taking in the homey jumble of collected things scattered about the old woman’s home.
[Illustration: A kind smile is shared over tea between the princess and the old lady as a hearth glows with warm light behind them. A small furry creature is observing.]
“‘I like your home,’ she said toward the kitchen area.
“‘Thank you, dear. I like it myself,’ the old woman approached with a large tray covered in cakes, cookies, and pastries, setting it down on a low table by the hearth. ‘Please do help yourself while I finish the tea.’
“The princess needed no further encouragement. She moved to sit by the tray to choose which sweets to sample first. The chair was well-cushioned, and she sank a little into its overstuffed folds, almost instantly comforted and unwilling to shift lest her languid feeling lessen.
“Suddenly, she caught a tiny blur of movement from the corner of her eye. When she sat up, she could make out a dusky auburn weasel of some kind. It darted under the furniture and made its way to the tray of sweets. It climbed the chair the princess had chosen in which to sit. As it perched on the arm, it swung its head in her direction, its beady eyes sizing her up and finding her less interesting than the offerings of the tray. And who could blame it, really?”
Jester laughed softly, drawing an answering smile from the Traveler.
“Princess Cirrus leaned forward, taking a cinnamon roll from the tray, and presented it on a napkin to the weasel. The weasel took the entire pastry in its little arms and began to eat it, crumbs flying everywhere.
“‘Alto! Bad boy. You behave,’ the old woman laughed from the doorway to the kitchen.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Alto the weasel on his back eating a cinnamon roll. Nom!]
“She rolled a fragile-looking brass tea cart with a full service of tea clattering and clinking on its top, putting it beside the tray of cakes. Princess Cirrus rose to help her but was not needed and sat again. As the old woman joined the princess in an adjacent chair, she offered a hand to the weasel. He jumped onto the waiting palm provided, taking the remains of his cinnamon roll with him.
“‘Be careful with this one. He is a bit of a scamp,’ she chuckled and poured the tea for them both, handing a cup to the princess.
“Princess Cirrus laughed and sipped the sweet, red tea. Almost at once, she felt better. The princess had not known she had not been feeling her best until she drank the tea, but she indeed felt better. She smiled at the old lady.
“‘Forgive me. I do not know your name. I am Cirrus,’ she offered her hand to the old woman.
“‘I am Virga,’ the old woman reached to shake her hand, but Alto seemed to object, nipping the thumb of the princess.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A blue and pink cotton candy cloud.]
“Princess Cirrus pulled her hand back quickly as Virga stood up, chastising the weasel, and putting him into an iron birdcage with his remaining cinnamon roll.
“‘I am so sorry. Alto is odd around strangers,’ Virga retook her seat, wringing her gnarled hands. “Did he hurt you?’
“‘Oh hardly!’ the princess lied around her wounded thumb in her mouth. It was only bleeding a little, and she didn’t want to seem baby-like. Her brothers teased her about that sort of thing all the time.”
“I wish I had brothers,” Jester interrupted wistfully.
“No, you do not,” the Traveler leveled a knowing glance her way.
“Do you have brothers?” Her tone was too excited.
“Do you want to hear the rest of this story?” His tone was less excited.
“Yes.”
The Traveler continued.
“Virga and Princess Cirrus had a lovely chat over tea and several cakes. When it was time to leave, Virga offered her pretty, blue cloak to the princess. She had changed her mind and felt that her new friend was worthy of the gift, having been so thoughtful to catch Virga her favorite dinner.
Ephemera: Pink and Purple Sprinkles
Several pink and purple sprinkles fall out of these two pages. Someone must have been eating pastries…
“‘This is the Cloak of Coriolis,’ she told the princess as she folded it carefully to place in a bag. ‘It is magical and will protect the wearer from non-magical projectiles. If your brother has a rock thrown at him, it will simply divert to one side or the other and fail to impact him.’
“The princess’s eyes grew wide.
“‘I had no idea it was magic,’ she said, accepting the gift from Virga. ‘I am sure my brother will treasure it always.’
“As Princess Cirrus left the lovely home to follow the sparkling path back to the coast, she thought she heard a dark voice say…
“‘See that he does.’
“As she turned to see the speaker, Princess Cirrus only saw that the door to the cottage had closed, though there was a silhouette of an iron birdcage in the window.”
The Traveler stopped speaking, having finished his tale.
Jester smiled brightly.
“What happened then? Did the brother like the cloak? Was the voice she heard Alto’s?”
“Those are all tales for other days, my friend,” the Traveler stood, looking down at his Jester.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Cute blue clouds make the shape of a castle in the sky with pink hearts floating around it.]
“But what happened to the old lady in the woods?” Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him.
“She was felled by a pair of siblings from Rexxentrum. Hanna and Gregor, I believe.”
“But the old lady was nice!”
“Yes, well… One can never really know people,” He shrugged and tapped her nose, smiling. “Farewell for now. Maybe we will share another story soon.”
And he slipped back into the ethereal to watch his Jester a moment longer, her happy smile restored as she once more watched the clouds glide by.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: An adorable cup of tea and sweets with smiling faces on them.]
MyFirstDOTY Transcript
Start Transcript: Provided by MyFirstDOTY 830
Jester (J): Hello? Is this thing on? Oh I hope it works. I hope it does. Oh, this will be so great if it works. Hey, Traveler, look at this. It’s my own DOTY-can you believe it? I mean, I know it doesn’t look all that special, but just wait. It will write down whatever we tell it-isn’t that just the greatest thing ever?
Traveler (T): How marvelous, little sapphire girl.
J: So I was thinking, you have told me so many jokes in the past, but I have so much trouble remembering them because, you know, a lot of times they are plays on words or use words I don’t really understand, but they sure sound funny or whatnot, so maybe today could you retell some of your favorite jokes, please please please please?
T: Certainly, now let’s see…What forest animal helps the druid color their armor?
J: Ohmygosh! I dunno, what is it?
T: A Dyer Wolf.
J: Oh, DYE-ahr wolf! Oh, that was a good one. What’s next?
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A dashing figure in noble clothing with an oversized donut in place of a head. Jester has written “Lord Donut-Head” next to it.]
T: Why was the musician kicked out of the tavern?
J: What? I dunno. I mean, most people like musicians in the tavern.
Why? Why?
T: He was barred!
J: Well of course he was a bard, you said music-oh not “a bard” but barred. Oh my, that’s clever!
T: An orc walks into a bar with a parrot on his shoulder, and the bartender says, “Wow! Don’t see something like that every day. Where’d you get it?”
“In a cave,” replied the parrot.
[Illustration: We see from the MyFirstDoty’s point of view as he transcribes. Young Jester sits on the floor across from a young Traveler as he tells her jokes. Above, thought bubbles depict some of the jokes. An elf, human and dwarf at the bar each with flies in their drinks, a wolf and a druid with tie-dyed shirts, a parrot riding on the shoulder of an orc, and Jester holding a toy horse while in a tub filled with colorful flowers.]
J: Wait wh-Oh! The parrot answered? Oh, well isn’t that clever, I wasn’t expecting the parrot to answer! Go on, more!
T: An elf, a human, and a dwarf are all enjoying drinks in a tavern when each notices a fly in their glass. The elf places a napkin over his glass and pushes it off to the side. The human removes the fly and continues drinking. The dwarf pulls out the fly and starts screaming, “Spit it out you nasty thing! Spit it out!”
J: That’s kind of a weird one. I mean, who wouldn’t just pull the fly out and keep drinking? What’s the big deal really? Are elves really like that, Traveler? The dwarf sure was funny though. Spit it out!
T: What do you call a gnome psychic who’s escaped from jail?
J: Well, I mean, who was even guarding the jail and, oh what?
T: A small medium at large.
J: A small…ummm. Oooohhh! I get it.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A tiny hamster unicorn with wings surrounded by sparkles.]
T: I once submitted ten puns to a pun contest, hoping one might win. No pun in ten did.
J: You totally intended to…Oh, wait, I see.
T: How many dwarves does it take to change the wick in the oil lamp?
J: Why would a dwarf change the wick? I mean, it’s so high up on the ceiling, and he is so short-
T: It’s only a joke, dear Jester.
J: Oh, ok, how many?
T: Five. One to hold the wick, and four others to drink until the room spins.
J: Wait! Why would the room spin? Oh, because of the drinking? Oh. Ohhhh!
[Illustration: Young Jester in her childhood bedroom, extensively decorated with bright art on the walls and floors. The Nicodranas coast is visible through a window. She’s showing off her MyFirstDoty’s stylish costume to the Traveler.]
T: How many High Elves does it take to screw in a new wick?
J: Well, that’s more like it! I mean, at least the elf could probably reach the wick…Oh yeah. Just a joke. Ok. How many?
T: Just one. He holds the wick and the universe revolves around him.
J: You don’t think very highly of elves do you, Traveler? That’s ok. They’re kinda weird. I mean, pale skin, and they don’t even have a tail, so…Wait! I have one for you, Traveler. I heard this from a Chateau visitor, a very flamboyant man. Ok, ok, ok. How many tieflings does it take to change a lamp wick?
T: Hmmmm. Well, I don’t know, Jester. How many?
J: Three. One to hold onto the horse, and two to fill the bathtub with a variety of colorful flowers! Isn’t that funny? I don’t think it says anything nice about tieflings, but it sounds funny to me and it seems so ridiculous.
T: *muffled chuckling*
End Transcript: Provided by MyFirstDOTY 830
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A portrait of the best mama, Maron Lavorre, surrounded by flowers and sparkles with “Mama” in calligraphy and a heart at the bottom.]
Ephemera: MyFirstDOTY Manual
A surprisingly sparkly instructional manual is tucked in the pages. It’s for MyFirstDOTY (TM) Model 830, manufactured by the Golden Grin Co., a subsidiary of TD (TM) Inc.
It’s also covered in doodles and smudges paint. The cover illustration of a MyFirstDOTY and a small child has been transformed into an automaton with curly orangle eyebrows and mustache covered in polka dots and a little blue tiefling, respectively.
Manual (Inside Left Page): Congratulations on becoming the new owner of your very own MyFirstDOTY (TM)! You are about to embark on a new adventure with the most loyal friend you’ll ever have. This is going to be fun, fun, fun!
To wake your MyFirstDOTY (TM) from Sleep Mode, merely press the rune on the back of his neck and speak the command word printed below. Each unique command word is carefully enchanted into your MyFirstDOTY (TM), so be sure to keep this manual in a safe place.(“Darrington115” is handwritten underneath in dark ink.)
Manual Inside Right:
-New! Now Multilingual! Get to know your MyFirstDOTY (TM)’s personality as he communicates to you in multiple languages*!*(MyFirstDOTY (TM) speaks in Common and Gnomish. A perceptive ear can easily pick out the added tone of a Gnomish “Täry.)
-Opposable Thumb: MyFirstDOTY (TM) can hold your hand, as well as your heart, with his new, fully automated thumb! Specifically placed on only the right hand to help you learn which hand is which!
-Soft Finish: MyFirstDOTY (TM) 830 has a huggably soft outer casing, updated from Model 828’s harder exterior.
-Arcane Nightlight: When active, MyFirstDOTY (TM)’s chest cavity can open slightly to provide the perfect ambiance for sweet dreams.
Caring for your MyFirstDOTY (TM)
As always, your MyFirstDOTY (TM) is there to care for you. But to ensure he can stay with you for as long as possible, here are some things to keep in mind.
-DO keep your MyFirstDOTY (TM) clean and tidy by having your servants polish him with a clean, damp cloth.
-DO pronounce MyFirstDOTY (TM)’s name clearly and correctly.
-DO feel free to decorate your MyFirstDOTY (TM) with clothes, accessories, and/or hairstyles.
-DON’T submerge your MyFirstDOTY (TM) for long periods of time. MyFirstDOTY (TM) has historically tested poorly underwater.
-DON’T leave your MyFirstDOTY (TM) on Security Mode unattended.
-DON’T take your MyFirstDOTY (TM) to the Nine Hells or any other abyssal plane.
Manual Back: The back of the instruction manual is unsurprisingly also covered in doodles, with borders of stars, flowers, and hearts. There’s an illustration of Taryon Darrington holding up a copy of his book “The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington”, which has been colored in giving him green hair and a purple, splotchy complexion.
Taryon has also written a note:
Greetings and hello from world-renowned author, adventurer, and philanthropist—me, Taryon Darrington!
You’ve taken your first step to helping your little adventurer become successful too, with the gift of their very own MyFirstDoty (TM). When I built the very first Doty only a few years ago at the age of 27, I could only dream of the faithful companion who would record my every feat and escapade in what would become my best-selling novel, The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington (available across Wildemount and Tal’Dorei). Not only will your little adventurer have gained a party member for their most important quests, but they will have gained a friend for life. And, as my very close, personal friends Vox Machina can attest, there is nothing greater than friendship.
XXOOX ❤ XXOO, Taryon Darrington
Founder/Owner, CMO of the Darrington Family Charity for Wayward Souls, Grand Commander of the Darrington Brigade—Wildemount’s Only Not for Profit Mercenary Group
Also Available from The Golden Grin, Co.—
•Collectible Flashcards: Meet the members of the Darrington Brigade and learn about their powerful abilities! Put names with faces and impress your parents or authority figures! Vox Machina pack available upon request.
•Tary’s Golden Books Library Set: Get the full collection of world renowned author, adventurer, and philanthropist Taryon Darrington’s autobiographical works. Thrill as Taryon battles against countless foes single handedly! Chuckle as he saves the members of Vox Machina from yet another scrape! Weep as Doty makes the ultimate sacrifice! Savor each breath-taking recounting from the legend himself! The set includes the following titles:
The Daring Trials and Tribulations of Sir Taryon Darrington; Cry Tary, Cry: Unlocking the Power of Raw Human Emotion; The Man Who Should Be King; The Blond, the Brave, and the Bold; Taryon Darrington and the Half-Blood Prince; The Turbulent Trials of Taryon Darrington and His Adventurers Vox Machina (an illustrated novelette by Jameson Grome)
The Tragedy of Delilah the Wise
And suddenly, he was there. You know, Journal, the Traveler. I have told
you about him before, of course. He just appears sometimes and tells me stories, and this one was so cool I wanted to write it down. And so this is mostly sorta what I remember, I think.
“My dear friend, Jester, how are you this evening? Are you in need of another story?”
“Oh Traveler, it’s so good to see you again. Yes please, I would love another tale!”
“You’re getting a bit older now, little sapphire girl, so I’d like to relay to you a story the little deRolo girl told me about, which I found quite intriguing. It’s a dark, creepy story, but don’t worry. It’s only a myth, and it’s a story she learned when she was about your age. I call this story ‘The Tragedy of Delilah the Wise.’
“You see, Delilah was a mage in the Empire’s capital and held an important post with the Cerberus Assembly, which is their fancy name for a Magi Council. One day, her husband (whom she loved so very much indeed, you see) fell ill from an unknown disease.
[Illustration: A young Jester listens as the Traveler weaves a tale of tragedy. We see the story come alive behind him as a weeping Delilah holds her husband’s hand on his deathbed in some very dramatic lighting.]
“Well, Delilah was beside herself with worry of course, and sought the best healing help available in her vast city, and even within her esteemed Assembly. Unfortunately, no one was able to help her husband, and he died. Delilah was very sad, as anyone would be having lost a loved one. But she knew there was a way to save him still; she just didn’t know all the details… yet.”
“That’s so sad, Traveler, so very sad. I hope the story gets better.”
“Yes, Jester, it was sad, but that’s not the end of the story.
Ephemera: Dried flowers
Two pressed flowers are slightly stuck to the page. Their long petals are white tipped with purple and they have yellow centers.
“Delilah cried out to no one in particular for help one day, and do you know what happened?”
“Well, no, no I don’t, but please tell me.”
“A voice whispered back and told her that he could help her bring back her dearly beloved husband!”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A red heart surrounds Delilah and her husband cuddling—so romantic!]
“This voice actually… had a way to bring someone back to life?”
“The necromantic side of magic is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be… unnatural.
Delilah listened intently to these instructions, still committed to doing anything necessary to bring back her dearly beloved husband. And you know what? It actually worked! After much hard work and sacrifice, her husband was returned to her!”
“Oh Traveler, what a lovely story! But why do you consider that a tragedy?”
“The special magical art of necromancy was not accepted by her peers in the Cerberus Assembly, of which she was an esteemed member, so they forced her out and ostracized her. And so it was, she and her husband fled their homeland and crossed the Lucidian to the far away lands of Tal’Dorei. So the tragedy, dearest Jester, was the cost of getting back her beloved – complete estrangement from the life she had (friends, contacts, relationships), all forfeited to save her husband. While she found the cost to be acceptable, it was biting nonetheless.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Delilah and her husband are arm in arm leaving their friends and colleagues who shunned her after she brought him back. So mean!]
“And that, Jester, is the lesson. Magic always has a cost, and you must accept the price should you wish to harness the power, even if you don’t know the price beforehand.”
[Illustration: Oh no! Delilah is crying with dark eyes as whispy smoke comes out of them. Her hair is raising off her shoulders as reality breaks around her.]
“What happened to them, Traveler? To Delilah and her beloved?”
“That’s enough for tonight, sweet sapphire girl. Rest easy now, and I can tell more stories another time.”
And with that, he was gone. I drew a picture of Delilah, but it probably isn’t very good. I mean, you know, I don’t really know what an arch mage looks like and stuff, but I know she was in love and that’s really special, you know, so it’s a picture I like because it reminds me of this story.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A picture of Delilah, where she looks happy and in love—aw!]
The Ballad of Artagan
He came through the gateway
Of the place you know as Tal’Dorei.
For a time, he remained alone
In the mountain city of Whitestone
Until he decided to get away.
He made his way across the Lucidian,
Moving through the waters of obsidian.
Searching for an audience for his foolishness
And trying to tap into his inner happiness,
This is the Ballad of Artagan.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The Traveler with sparkles and hiccup bubbles suggesting heavy intoxication as he stumbles around.]
After a cacophonous boat ride with great squally,
He found himself in western Port Damali.
While he loved the facades
In the Gilded Esplanades,
He felt the vibe was far too melancholy.
[Illustration: An epic tapestry that interweaves 4 Pumat Sols offering wares to a hooded figure while waves of water and alcohol crash around them. Artagan overlooks ships in Port Damali next to Artagan downing drink after drink. Above that, a ship sails away from a tree with sunlight shooting out of it in front of a silhouetted castle in the mountains.]
Continuing inland as quick as a flash,
He came upon the Tri Spires of Zadash.
Seeking out flora that was greatly fragrant,
He found that and more at the Invulnerable Vagrant.
But unfortunately, the salve left him with a rash.
What’s this? Another verse to obtain
More tales of his travels again.
Running out of real estate,
Perhaps an adventure at the oblate;
This is the Ballad of Artagan.
On he went to the capital of Rexxentrum-
Just a lone man seeking a good dark rum.
So he visited the Grim Shelf Tavern,
Which left him with one reason to return:
For good food, good drink he would succumb.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The Traveler bent over being sick as he finally finds an alcohol that doesn’t agree with him. But, of course, he’s throwing up sparkles.]
He was reeling from rebuke.
While dizzy, he did puke.
Slipping and sliding he fell
Off the edge of Silberquel,
And that’s how he landed in Hupperdook.
Ephemera: “Ruby of the Sea” Circular
A small circular distributed by the Lavish Chateau. It’s got simple sheet music for “The Ruby of the Sea” (lyrics and music by L.B.W. and arranged for the piano).
Lyrics: “The Ruby of the Sea is the best lay ever!”
He arrived at the port of Nicodranas
Where he heard of a scarlet-skinned songstress.
He took in a show
At the Lavish Chateau,
And found a fan playing tricks on Yussa Errenis.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The Ruby of the Sea singing a beautiful song. The Traveler listens in the distance, very impressed with her performance.]
[Illustration: Epic tapestry depicting young Jester sitting wide-eyed as the Traveler spins a tale. He’s creating an gorgeous gold and orange scene of interwoven fireworks, waves, and leaves all against a starry night sky.]
Though more adventures are sure to write again,
It’s time to kick back with some ice and gin.
Let the mysteries of my curiosities unfurl
As I entertain this little sapphire girl.
This was the Ballad of Artagan.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The Traveler celebrates with three cat-sized unicorns hovering around him.]
Bluud & Sand
“So you want a story?”
Bluud was making a sand castle on the spare room floor, but it wasn’t very good. It was just a circle. The wall wouldn’t stand up by itself, even; he had to shove more sand against it all around the inside. It looked like a big ramp with a flat oval part in the middle.
I had drawn a bright yellow sun on a piece of parchment to put behind it, and a blue sky, and some birds flying around.
One of the birds was pooping.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Jester holds a drawing of two birds flying over the sea under a sunny sky. One of the birds is pooping.]
“Yes, Bluud, I would like a story, thank you very much.”
“I only know one.”
“Then you can tell me that one. But it better be good.” I stuck the parchment into the sand. It fell over. I pushed a chair behind it.
“It’s the only one I know.”
Ephemera: Many Paths Bakery Wrapper
This wrapper from Nicodranas’s Many Paths Bakery is slightly greasy and sticky. It probably once held a huge bearclaw, but the only evidence left of that is sugar and the strong smell of cinnamon. The front of the wrapper has a logo with a central diamond (or eye) and many paths (or legs) coming off of it with the tagline “When you’re here, you’re home!”. The back of the wrapper advertises “Let our Blueberry Crumble Crust erase your worries!”
“Then,” I said, with my finger in the air, “you may proceed.”
“Ok,“ he said.
“There were two Minotaurs. A girl and a boy. They were from another place, far away. They were stolen when they were kids.
They met in the cages.
“Minotaurs are good at fighting. That’s why they were stolen. Men trained them, and they got real, real good. They were allowed to be…friends, because the men knew they would fight even harder.
“One day, they got tired of fighting other things for other people. They decided to fight for themselves. So Bluud…”
“Wait, the boy’s name is Bluud, too?”
“Yeah.”
“Is he you?”
“No.”
“Are all boy Minotaurs named Bluud?”
“No.”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A portrait of a male horned minotaur frowning menacingly. Young Jester has labeled it: “The other Bluud”.]
“The girl better not be named Bluud, otherwise your story will lose some points.”
“Her name was Kaiola.”
“That is ok then.”
Bluud snorted. He poked his finger in the sand in the middle of the castle.
[Illustration: Bluud and Jester sit next to a sandcastle and painting as he tells her a story. The scenes form behind them—a gold heart, Bluud and Kaiola in cages, and the two holding polearms threateningly.]
“Bluud and Kaiola waited for the next fight day. The men let them out. They…got past…the men.” He dragged his finger down to one of the castle walls. “There was a door with some guards. They got past them too.” He poked a hole in the wall of the castle and made another little line on the outside.
“They blinked in the sun. ‘Perfect day,’ said Kaiola. ‘No clouds, no rain. So much blue in the sky.’
“There were sounds behind them. The men were coming. Lots of them. Too many for two Minotaurs in the open. But maybe not so many for one, and one small door, for a short time.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Kaiola and Bluud stand back to back, polearms in attack positions.]
“They looked at the door. They looked at each other. They pressed their heads together.
“Bluud said, ‘When it’s time, I will say your name. Seems a good thing to say, at the end.’
“‘I will…see things through.’
“‘That is good.’ Bluud stood. ‘Now run.’
“Kaiola ran. At first through streets and people. Then fields and wheat. Then forest and scrub and stones. Then, far in the distance, she heard Bluud call, ‘KAIOLA!’ and she knew her…friend was gone.
“She ran a long, long time.”
[Illustration: Light shines from a clear blue sky on Kaiola crying as she flees a distant town, far across a body of water.]
“Did she get away, Bluud?”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Jester, worried, clutches her hands over heart. ]
“Yeah. She decided to leave her name behind though. She didn’t want to be reminded of the last thing her friend said, every time someone called her.”
“What new name did she choose?”
“Urdine. Means blue.”
“Ooor-DEE-nay.” I thought for a while. “You know, Bluud, that’s a pretty good story, I think.”
“Hope so. It’s the only one I got.”
We spent the rest of the afternoon knocking over the castle. Bluud’s a pretty cool guy.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Bluud in rolled shirtsleeves. Three rings dangle from his right ear; a beribboned ring encircles his left horn. Young Jester has written a note next to it: “The best Bluud”]
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A portrait of Urdine with long hair and a ring through her nose. Young Jester has written a note next to it: “Urdine is blue like me!”]
Forever and Never
When I was little, I was told that, one day, far away, there was a town that, simply, appeared.
Now, sometimes towns go away. Mines run out of gold, rain stops falling, a dragon decides it likes the patch of ground you happen to be standing on. Whatever the reason, people occasionally need to pull up stakes and find themselves another home.
The reverse happens too. New towns form over the course of months or years when opportunities or the stars align. This town, though, came into being suddenly, in an instant, with an audible pop.
Pop.
There are stories of wandering shops, stores crammed with odds and ends, mundane or magical, cursed or karmic, eminently useful or as useless as half an evening slipper. They might be staffed by a hag, or a mage in disguise, or a forgetful crackpot eager to usher you out the door, purchase in hand, before their establishment vanishes once more into the night.
Ephemera: Many Paths Bakery Receipt
A slightly wrinkled receipt from Nicodranas’s Many Paths Bakery (tagline “When you’re here, you’re home!”) is proof that someone had a lovely breakfast. It lists 6 bearclaws, 2 dozen assorted pastries, and 2 avocado toast plates to be delivered to The Lavish Chateau. The back of the receipt advertises “Let our Blueberry Crumble Crust erase your worries!”
Not here though.
No stores, just houses, row upon long straight row, and not a person to be seen, halfling nor human, dwarf nor orc. Nothing on two legs stirred.
There were an uncommon number of cats, however, and the barking of numerous dogs.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A cuddly kitten who looks very sweet. Young Jester has written a note next to it: “Princess Krispie” (Jester crossed out her original spelling of Krispey)]
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A Labrador-like puppy who looks very fluffy! Young Jester has written a note next to it: “Fluffle Waggykins”]
Light flickered through the windows, not the warm yellow of hearths, but cold, pale blue. The sound of far away laughter, too, and talking, but… strange and removed, as if coming from deep within a cave.
Strangest of all, the town was without walls. Each house sat upon a square of land, perhaps enough for a kitchen garden, as if the capitol of a meadow, girded with scrub and trees.
[Illustration: Adventurers stand at edge of town, facing a dark cobblestoned alley. Cats and dogs watch them; blue light shines from window.]
A delegation from a village nearby, half asleep and stumbling, ran to confront the marvel, be it threat or boon or, more likely, something between; a gnome hedge witch and a tabaxi priest, a skinny mage’s apprentice and the town’s goliath smith, and a few more brave or foolhardy souls.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Tabaxi priest in robes. Collar hides lower face; feet in wrappings. An open book floats next to head.]
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: An apprentice mage, hood up, slightly pointed shoes. Crooked wizard’s staff clutched in both hands, two diamonds on either side.]
However, as soon as the mage’s prentice — quite often the one that draws the short straw, my heart — put a foot to the town’s strange road…
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A smiling gnome hedge witch in belted dress and wrappings with a shoulder bag. Two leaves and a flower around figure.]
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: A bald Goliath smith in heavy gloves and apron, wielding Thor-like hammer. Smaller mallet floats to his right.]
Pop.
Gone forever, and never to return.
The smith rounded on the boy in the patchwork robe, standing with his foot still held three inches off the ground. “The nine hells you do, flea bait?”
“Cripes, nothing! Nothing! I just took a step and the whole place disappeared!” He waved his hand around the general direction of the vanished town.
“Umm…can I put my foot down?”
That whole week, the prentice denied doing anything, but half the town thought him cursed, either with bad luck or incompetence, and he soon needed to find himself a new town, of the more normal variety.
No one could say what had caused the manifestation or its meaning. Some thought it a relic of the mage wars, others a phantasm, still others an archfey’s inscrutable prank. It was said, though, ever after, odd scraps of paper or indescribable things could be found where it had stood, as if the town had a hole in its pocket and was trailing spare change across infinity.
The Ruby, the Sapphire, & the Coatl
Marion Lavorre put on her long, silk robe and rose from her bed. The windows in her chamber were open just enough to let the ocean breeze flutter through her curtains. Her soft feet padded across the floor quietly as she slipped from her bedroom, taking care to close the door gently. Though the hallway was very dark, she could see candlelight from under the door to her daughter’s room. Jester was still awake and waiting to say goodnight to her. Her Little Sapphire. Her blessing.
She walked on tiptoe to the door, opening it carefully. Jester was in her nightgown, lying on her stomach, writing and drawing in her journal. The candle by her bed was nearly gutted and flickered angrily, which cast eerie shadows along the walls of the room.
Ephemera: A Folded Paper Butterfly Bookmark
A folded paper butterfly bookmark made out of purple paper. Two tiny feathers have been attached as antenna.
Jester’s head looked up as her mother entered the room.
“Mama? Are you here to say goodnight?” Her daughter’s voice was sweet and kind, filling Marion’s heart with a new joy every time she spoke.
This was what love could create.
“I am, my Little Sapphire.” Marion closed the door behind her, careful about making too much noise. Others were sleeping nearby.
Jester closed her journal and slipped under her covers. The quilt was made from Jester’s baby clothes that Marion had pieced and sewn together by hand. Jester lifted the corner of the blanket, and her mother accepted the invitation with open delight.
“Will you sing me a lullaby?” Jester faced Marion in the bed, their heads resting on the same pillow.
Marion thought of the sleeping people on the top floor of her Lavish Chateau and shook her head, her thick ringlets bouncing around her horns.
“Not tonight, my love,” she whispered. “I could tell you a story, perhaps, if you like.”
“Oh, yes please, Mama.” Jester’s blue hair fell over her eyes, and she tried to blow the locks back off her brow.
Marion tucked Jester’s hair behind her horns, her light fingers glinting with heavy platinum rings. She then brought Jester closer, encircling the Little Sapphire with her arms to let her daughter’s head rest on Marion’s shoulder.
[Illustration: Marion Lavorre, the Ruby of the Sea, cuddles her daughter Jester close as they dream of the medusa and the couatl.]
“Many years ago, deep in a faraway jungle, there was a couatl named Veradamnos. He was a being of great power and he had been sent to the world from the celestial planes to hunt a coven of hags that were terrorizing the local tribes. It had taken years to find them, but when he did, they had hidden among the vast ruins belonging to a great medusa named Ipfang.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Decorative scrollwork border of a Couatl.]
“Ipfang was not happy to host the hags as they brought unwelcome attention from the tribes. She had fought many warriors sent to kill the coven, for trespass into her domain was death for most adventurers. The latest champion of the tribes had become her favorite statue to date-a female tabaxi archer frozen in stone, forever aiming her bow. Ipfang, knowing she could not defeat the couatl, told Veradamnos she would cause him no trouble if he planned on killing the hags, and let him search her ruins for the coven.”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Three hags face each other in contemplation. Perhaps of cupcakes.]
Marion looked down at Jester, still seeing her open eyes focused, though sleepy.
“Now, couatls are able to change their shape, and they are undetectable to many forms of magic. Veradamnos chose to take the medusa form of Ipfang to lure each hag away from their lair within the medusa’s ruins and kill them one by one.
“Having completed his purpose on the prime material plane, he began to cast the ritual to return to his home plane. Before the spell was finished, he beheld a statue he could not bear to leave. The tabaxi with her bow and fierce expression entranced him. Her face was calm, a single eye open to aim her arrow aloft, her prey long out of her sight. She was tenacity personified, and it pained him to think the tabaxi’s life was over before it could have possibly begun.”
“That is so sad, Mama.” Jester yawned, blinking back the gentle wave of exhaustion trying to overcome her.
“Some stories are sad, my heart.” Marion pressed a kiss on her daughter’s brow, comforting her before continuing in her soft voice.
[Illustration: Overgrown stone ruins surrounded by life-sized statues in front of an old temple. The medusa stands partly hidden in the temple doorway. The central figure is a stone tabaxi archer in the foreground pointing a nocked arrow as if about to fire. ]
“Veradamnos searched the ruins to find Ipfang to trade her something for the statue, but the medusa was having none of that. She felt the tabaxi was a beautiful warning to the tribes not to bother the ruins of Ipfang. Not willing to accept this fate, the couatl pretended to leave, then circled back and returned to the statue. Wrapping around the tabaxi, Veradamnos cast his last spell for the day to remove the petrification.
[Illustration: The kind, colorful face of a couatl looks upon the surprised female tabaxi whom he has freed from being a stone statue.]
“As his spell finished, he felt the blades of Ipfang sink deep into his scaly flesh. She was no fool and was adept at silently stalking prey. Veradamnos screeched, his wings arching back wide to deflect her mortal blows, knowing she had struck true. But he also felt the warm fur of his tabaxi archer move. His wings curled tightly around her, an iridescent rainbow to shield her as she gathered her wits. Their eyes met, her green ones gaining an understanding as the life began to fade from his own.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The couatl being stabbed by the medusa.]
“The last thing Veradamnos beheld was his tabaxi roaring with life while fatally firing three perfect shots into the heart of Ipfang.”
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: The tabaxi archer drawing her bow with a note from Jester reading ‘So Cool!’]
Marion looked down to see her beautiful daughter had fallen asleep in her arms. She smiled and curled around her, keeping her safe from the world for a few perfect moments. Her whisper quieted to something only slightly more than breath as she finished telling the tale in her daughter’s ear.
“To this day, local tribes warn others away from the ruins, for many have seen the ghosts of Ipfang and Veradamnos still fighting through the statues in the jungle… and the tabaxi clan that now lives within the ruins itself does not like to be disturbed.”
Marion closed her own eyes and smiled as she, The Ruby of the Sea, fell asleep beside her perfect Little Sapphire.
[Younger Jester’s hand-drawn sketch: Decorative scrollwork border of a couatl, an arrow, and the face of a tabaxi.]
Page Feature: A Closed Door
A mysterious glowing door with scrolling golden hinges has appeared in the page. It is closed. Do you dare to pull the golden tab beside it?
As you pull the tab, the door swings open revealing the dark interior of Jester’s room. She and the Traveler are silhouetted against a night’s sky full of stars as he tells her of the wonders of the Exandria.
The Bards
30 Seconds Over Syngorn
Story recorded by bard Jim Snyder.
Illustrations by artist Paula Martini Javillonar. Sending sigils: @artandmartini (Instagram, Twitter)
One Bright Night
Story recorded by bard Tungche Angkham.
Illustrations by artist Shawnna Louise. Sending sigil: @arts_n_dragons (Instagram)
The Castle in the Clouds
Story recorded by bard Janann Davis.
Illustrations by artist Andra Placintescu. Sending sigil: @it.s_just_andra (Instagram)
My First Doty Transcript
Story recorded by bard Michael Davis.
Illustrations by artist Amy Lane. Sending sigils: @AmyLaneDraws (Instagram, Twitter)
My First Doty Manual
Manual dictated to The Golden Grin Co. (a subsidiary of TDTM Inc.) employee Roberta C., sending sigil: @piogal34 (Twitter).
Technical illustrations by artist Amy Lane. Sending sigils: @AmyLaneDraws (Instagram, Twitter)
The Tragedy of Delilah the Wise
Story recorded by bard Michael Davis.
Illustrations by artist Renee Penner. Sending sigil: @insanitysketches (Instagram)
The Ballad of Artagan
Story recorded by bard Michael Davis.
Illustrations by artist Lorène “Kelgrid” Yavo. Sending sigil: @kelgrid (Instagram, Twitter)
Bluud & Sand
Story recorded by bard Jim Snyder.
Illustrations by artist M. Elizabeth Sharma. Sending sigils: @mary_elizabeth_sharma (Instagram), @DndQu33n (Twitter)
Forever and Never
Story recorded by bard Jim Snyder.
Illustrations by artist exmakina. Sending sigil: exmakina.tumblr.com
The Ruby, the Sapphire, and the Coatl
Story recorded by bard Janann Davis.
Illustrations by artist Olivia Hintz. Sending sigils: @oliviahintz (Twitter), @oliviahintzart (Instagram)
Portrait of Marion Lavorre
Portrait by artist Grace Berrios.
Sending sigil: @lassflores (Twitter), grrraace@gmail.com
Ephemera: Feathers
Several long, twisting dark purple feathers. Perhaps they came from a feather boa or an obliging Aarakocra?
Fair Warning
Due to my boundless humility (and an old debt), I must say that the stories in this book would not exist without the group who inspired me to tell them in the first place. They are a source of inspiration and enjoyment for many and, in what may be the greatest trick of all, the reason that I am here now.
- Laura Bailey
- Taliesin Jaffe
- Ashley Johnson
- Matthew Mercer
- Liam O’Brien
- Marisha Ray
- Sam Riegel
- Travis Willingham
This group and their crew of wizards who cast mass sending spells weekly are a guild known colloquially as Critical Role. Their tales and adventures are a siren’s song that are hard to resist and can consume your life. It is their command of emotion, mimicry, and sheer style that has ruined me for the theater forever. Stay far away, my dear Jester.
Colophon
The present copy of Jester’s Bedtime Tales, adorned with gilded capitals, included personal ephemera, and embellished with drawings and sketches from the Little Sapphire Jester Lavorre herself, joined with direction and original artwork from many visiting bards and tutors (listed on the next page), having thus been fashioned by an ingenious method of printing and stamping to honor the Traveler and encourage playful trickery, and has been diligently completed by Roberta C., citizen of Exandria, in the year of 836 Post Divergence on the 24th of Thunsheer.
- Title Font: Laura
- Body Text Font: Sirenne Text MVB
- Paper Transmutation Assistance by Kait Jerome.
Jester's Bedtime Tales 