Bard's Log - The Podcast Brad Gols

A young man walked north from Camelot towards the lands which held Merlin’s machines. His name was Balin, and he carried with him a fine set of magical tools—loaned out to the young man from Camelot’s workshop—hanging from his belt, as well as several parts of different sizes and shapes in his many pockets.

This is not going to do,” Balin said to himself as he stared at the pipe in his hand. He replaced it in his pocket, and slammed the panel door shut. “What am I to do?” he murmured to himself with folded arms. He pondered on the spot. ‘Maybe they’re still back there where I left them,’ he thought to himself and departed from the still machine.

Lady Viviane was still leaning upon the hilt of the Excalibur. Balin reached out a hand to the Lady, presumably as an offer to help her down. “I’ll need some room to try,” he said pleasantly. “Okay,” she replied. She stepped aside, hopped down from the boulder and rolled a short distance upon the soft grass to soften the impact of her landing. Sir Balan applauded.

“Where’s Balan?” Balin’s mother, Catalina, asked her son as he entered the simple, unornamented house. She was scrubbing away at some dishes with a rag. “He’s with Lady Viviane,” Balin responded as he kissed her on the cheek. His mother did not reply. She seethed as she continued scrubbing. “They’re playing with her dirty pets again,” Catalina muttered to herself with a scowl.

“Where are you going?” Sir Balan said to his brother, who was found walking in the opposite direction of their home. “Mother is insane,” Balin huffed as he kept right on walking. “She can be from time to time,” Sir Balan admitted. “Are you alright? You left real suddenly just now.” Balin stopped in his tracks. “You just don’t get it,” Balin said. “Life treats you fairly, brother. But as for me, nothing ever goes my way. Ever.”

A thin and pale Damsel had come ashore off a tiny boat. She walked hurriedly eastward upon the highway through the forest like a crimson blur...