Mindartis Bridgehold, third Scion of the Marquis of Ardeep, was not having a good time. While it was always a pleasure to spend a holiday with his family, the questions about his future plans had gotten under his skin far more than he had expected. It was not easy being both the youngest and least talented child in a remarkable family. His brother, Soveliss, was already shaping up to be a highly skilled diplomat, further cementing the good relationship between the council of Lords and the elves of Ardeepwood, thus continuing the good work which had begun the day of their parents’ wedding. Their sister, Jelenneth, was considered one of the greatest sword fighters in the region and had recently been promoted to captain in the Waterdeep guard. And Mindartis, almost as charming as his brother, almost as skilled as his sister, but never quite matching either of them, had just dropped out of the bardic college. Just like he had been rejected by the Lore Masters the year before, after utterly embarrassing himself and his family the year before that by investing in a new trading endeavor which had failed almost immediately. He had come to the winter holiday gathering hosted by his elven grandparents prepared to deal with disappointment and scorn, but he had not expected pity. It was as though this latest failure had not been a surprise to anyone. Which made it all the worse.

Excusing himself after dinner, he had wandered out into the cold winter night for a walk through the old orchard. The cherry trees, some of which were older than even his great grandparents, had always been a safe place for him to go whenever he needed to be alone. However, tonight he needed more space between himself and the family. Pushing through to the far end of the orchard into the area where the cherries became interspersed with other trees before finally blending into the forest, he made his way to the place no one else in the family ever went. The abandoned temple.

Once inside the ruined old building, he looked around to see how it was holding up. Although it had been years since he last set foot here, he figured everything was exactly how he had left it. Although completely unattended except for his rare visits, the building seemed mostly unaffected by the ravages of time and nature. He mused once again on the short , tense answers he had gotten when asking about the place in his youth. Apparently his ancestors had served as high priests of this temple, enjoying great status and power because of it, until one day their prayers were no longer answered and their miracles would no longer manifest. Embarrassed, they withdrew from the temple and hardly ever spoke of it again. Mindartis had always found it somewhat entertaining that in spite of their bitterness over being abandoned by their goddess, the family had kept tending the cherry orchard which had once belonged to the temple, and were now quite wealthy because of it. Perhaps some blessing still remained. Not for him, though.

Sighing, he sank to the ground with his back against the single large cherry tree planted in the center of the temple. After sinking into his own mind for a few moments, he decided to just speak his frustration.
“Well, isn’t this wonderful! I am so disappointing that me being a disappointment isn’t even noteworthy anymore! No, they just try to make small talk as though I hadn’t just failed at everything I ever tried. For the third time! It is so patronizing!” He shook his head. “They keep giving me little suggestions of simpler things I can try, as though I was a child trying to carry a breakable bowl or something! Most families would have tried to just quietly send me off to be a priest at this point, but that’s hard to do when the goddess your family is supposed to serve just abandoned you!”
Suddenly a deep, pleasant voice came out of nowhere.
“She did not abandon you, child! I will not sit idly by and hear you speak such nonsense!”
Mindartis’ head whipped around, looking for the source of the words. Finally, he looked up into the tree and locked eyes with what appeared to be a large snake. As the strange creature resumed speaking, majestic wings unfurled from its back and it floated down to meet Mindartis eye to eye.
“You should know that such words would normally be a cause for retribution, but I know you spoke out of ignorance, not malice. And it is good to finally make your proper acquaintance. There was a time when I feared I would have to take action against you, but each time you came here in years past you treated the temple with appropriate reverence and respect. Each time until today.”
After a few moments of heavy silence, the half-elf realized that he was expected to respond.
“Yes, I’m - uh - sorry. I have had a bad day, and I didn’t know anyone was here. Which - uh - reminds me, what do you mean ‘in years past’? How long have you been here watching me?”
“How long have I been watching you, little one? Since the first time you came here. How long have I been here? Since the day the lady fell.”
Mindartis’ mind was racing, trying to process the situation he had found himself in. Finally, one phrase made it through the fog which was quickly filling his head.
“The lady? You mean…” His eyes darted around. “The goddess? As in the one this temple is dedicated to?”
“The very same! Her last request of me was to guard this place and this tree, and so I have done. Even as all of her priests abandoned their posts and forgot her, I have stayed here. Her last faithful servant.” Although the serpent’s voice stayed even, Mindartis could sense a deep sorrow behind the words. He hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“What happened to her?”


“You spoke of yourself as a disappointing son. My lady Embali, Goddess of Blossoms, knew disappointment far greater. Her son, Nisander the Empyrean, was her great pride and joy, but the pride of a mother can make her blind. Lady Embali was the mildest and kindest among all who walked the Upper Planes, so she failed to act as her son grew selfish and ambitious. By the time she realized he was becoming all that she opposed, she did not know what to do. Finally, she sought the advice of other deities, and they agreed that Nisander should be banished to the material plane for a time in order to teach him humility. Unfortunately, Nisander somehow caught wind of this plan, and he took action before his mother did. He sought out a blade strong enough to strike down a god, and with it he sought to slay his own mother and usurp her divinity. Fortunately, at the time of their confrontation, she realized what was about to happen, and quickly did what she could to prevent her wicked son from gaining powers he was not fit to carry. She split her own essence just as the blade struck her, thus only allowing Nisander a fraction of the power he sought. Part of her essence was trapped within the godslayer blade itself, and part of it was sent to the material plane. Thwarted, Nisander was soon apprehended by the gods and imprisoned in a forgotten corner of the Astral plane. And my lady Embali, with her last breath, commanded me to seek out the power she had expelled from herself and protect it until the day it would once more be needed. So I went, and here I have remained ever since.”

For a while, the temple was quiet. Mindartis mused on the fact that his guess that some blessing might still remain at the temple was seemingly correct while at the same time trying to process the many implications of the story he had just heard. Finally, he spoke.
“Why didn’t my ancestors ever find out their goddess had been killed? That seems like something her followers should have been told.”
“The gods are not keen to show weakness to mortals. They seem to think that telling the masses that the ones they worship have weakness is a far worse image than allowing the memory of a fallen comrade to be sullied by an appearance of abandonment. It is not my place to judge their decisions.”
“But you just told me?”
“Yes, little one. Because I have a feeling you might be able to help me. The blood of her high priests is in you, and I get the impression you might be ready to leave this place behind for a time.”
Mindartis narrowed his eyes. Had this ancient celestial snake just made fun of him? He decided not to press the issue.
“I suppose I could be. The name is Mindartis, by the way. But why would you turn to me for help? I know you just heard me talk about being a complete failure.”
“I am Chikatan, child. You are aware of your failures, and you want to be better. What you lack is what sets you apart from the likes of Nisander. And the fact that you stopped to question me rather than grasping at once for the power tells me that I am right.” Once again, although the voice stayed even, Mindartis thought he could sense some emotion behind it. Except this time the emotion was pure smugness. Undaunted, the half-elf spoke.
“What power are we talking about? And what is the help you need? I feel like I need to know a lot more before I can commit to anything here.”
“Something is stirring, child. Her power is growing stronger here. It might be possible for her to return to us!”
“What do you mean, stirring? How could her power get stronger when she’s been dead for centuries?”
“Look above you, child.”
Mindartis did look up, feeling slightly foolish as he stared up into the old dead branches of the ancient tree. Except the branches were not all dead. Sitting on a branch of a tree which ought to have been dead for over a century, in the middle of winter, was a single blossom.
“Oh. I suppose that means she is coming back.”
“Unfortunately, it is not that simple. If her power grows stronger here, it will be stronger elsewhere as well. Nisander might grow in strength as well, and try to break out of his prison to finish what he started.”
Mindartis swallowed.
“And you want me to… what? Stop him? Bring her back? How?”
“Remember, her essence split into three parts. The blade which struck her down also contains it. Nisander will seek the blade. He must not find it.”
“So where is it?”
This time, Mindartis could have sworn that there was exasperation hiding behind the serpent’s voice.
“How should I know, child? Would you truly expect the gods to let the location of a weapon which could destroy them be known? No, but I expect it to be hidden somewhere on this plane. They would not want it within their realms. Wherever it might be, it will be hard to find and yet harder to reach. Which is why I cannot do it. My place is here, at the tree.”
“But how would you ever expect me to find it, then?”
“There is enough of her here now that I could let you take some of it with you. Within you. Then, if ever you were close to the blade, you would know. But that is not all. There is another thing that she would need. A reason to return. Her temple is abandoned, her name forgotten. Your task would be to recover her essence so that she may return, but your quest is to make her name known so that she will. You will have the power you need, if only you go in her name. Will you go?”
Silence fell once again. Finally, slowly, Mindartis spoke.
“What do I need to do?”
In as much as a serpent could ever smile, Chikatan did.
“You give me your word. But know that when you do, it will be recorded in the Hall of Accordance, and you will be forever bound by it. Do you understand?”
The half-elf nodded, the serpent continued.
“Embali, the Lady of Blossoms, wanted three things to be protected in this world: Gentleness, Kindness, and Light. This will be your charge. To protect Gentleness, you may have to be harsh. To protect Kindness, you may have to be cruel. To protect Light, you may have to walk in darkness. Are you willing to risk your life for the chance to return hers?”
For a moment Mindartis considered the absurdity of his situation. A snake with wings was asking him to dedicate his entire life to fighting for a dead deity which only minutes earlier he had had no allegiance to. It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. But then again, he had spent years trying to do reasonable things, and he had failed miserably. For a moment, he glanced up at the blossom in the branches above him. He dropped his gaze until he was eye to eye with Chikatan.
“I am.”

Besdrin sat – or more accurately cowered – in the corner of his cell. It was not as though he were a particularly fearful man. Far from it, in fact. But no man, courageous or cowardly, would feel comfortable as a slave on a pirate ship. He would feel even less comfortable if, like Besdrin, he were a slave on the flagship of a pirate lord, one of perhaps the three most dangerous beings sailing the seas. Besdrin, all things considered, felt like his cowering was perfectly justified.

Of course, under the current circumstances, Besdrin had less cause to fear than usual. The brig where he was held was on the lowest deck, and when he had noticed water at his feet that morning, he had made all the noise he could muster to get the attention of those guarding him. In doing so, he had alerted the crew that a leak had sprung, and they were able to locate it and, importantly, patch it, before disaster struck.

The captain had granted Besdrin one request as a reward for saving the ship. He had, no doubt, expected the slave to ask for his freedom, for a chance to join his crew. Besdrin had surprised him, and everyone else, but merely requesting permission to ask three questions, but not of the captain. Instead, he wanted to know about the strangest of the ship’s crew, the one the captain had put in charge of the prisoners and slaves: the gigantic turtle-man everybody called Crow.

Besdrin heard the door to the brig creak open and saw the lantern light from outside seep into the cells. A moment later, that light was almost entirely blotted out as a massive, scaly form stepped in. Without meaning to, Besdrin took a breath and held it as he watched the monster slowly approach. Besdrin was a man of learning, and years earlier had read a very small excerpt about these exceedingly rare creatures, these “tortles.” But until he found himself enslaved by these pirates, he had never seen one. To a man who had only ever been around other humans, the sight was horrifyingly unnerving.

The big tortle moved to Bedrin’s cell door and unlocked it, then, slowly and ominously, opened it and stepped inside. The gigantic shell on his back only barely fit through the opening. The tortle stood looming over the slave for a long moment, and then slid a stool over to the center of the cell and sat down facing Besdrin. The stool creaked and complained as the tortle’s bulk settled into it, and Besdrin could almost swear he saw the legs buckle just a bit.

For a long moment, Crow stared down at Besdrin. Then, he smiled, or at least Besdrin had always assumed it was a smile. It was difficult to tell on a turtle face. “So,” the monster said in his usual, surprisingly friendly tone. “I’m told you saved the ship.”

Besdrin hesitated, and then nodded slightly. “I…I guess.”

“And the cap’ain says he offers you a reward.”

The slave said nothing, but nodded to confirm.

“Uh huh,” Crow said. “And of all the things you could ask for, you asked for three questions to me.”

“That’s right,” Besdrin said eventually.

“You know you could have just asked me, right?”

Besdrin thought for a second. “I guess, but I wanted to be sure I got answers.”

The tortle made a gesture that vaguely resembled a human’s shrug. “Well, cap’ain ordered me to answer your questions, so I guess you got your wish. So what do you want to know?”

“Okay, I’ve been thinking about this,” Besdrin said, forcing himself to sit up more. “So, my first question is this: how did you wind up on this ship?”

“I’ve always been here,” Crow said. “Next question.”

“Now, come on,” Besdrin complained. “The captain said you had to give me real answers. Complete answers. ‘I’ve always been here’ doesn’t explain anything.”

Crow expelled a gust of air. Besdrin assumed it was his version of a sigh. “Alright, fine. You did save the ship, after all. Now, bear in mind, I don’t really remember most of this. It’s just what I’ve pieced together over the years. See, this was about fifteen years ago. The cap’ain wasn’t cap’ain yet; he was the first mate, and apparently, the ship stopped off on some island or something, I don’t know. Anyway, the cap’ain, the now-cap’ain, that is, not the then-cap’ain, found a couple of tortles on the island.”

“Your parents,” Besdrin said, making sure to not phrase it as a question.

Crow shrugged again. “I assume so. Anyway, he killed them. From what I understand, I was an egg at the time. Don’t ask me how that works. I have no idea. But he took my egg and brought me aboard. The old cap’ain liked the idea of having a pet tortle, I guess, so he kept the egg. Nobody knew what to do with it, though, so they threw me up in the Crow’s Nest.”

“That seems like a terrible idea,” Besdrin said, “to put an unhatched egg up in a crow’s nest in the sun like that.”

“Probably, but I didn’t get a say in it. Anyway, eventually I hatched, and the old cap’ain basically claimed me as a pet. And that’s how I wound up on this ship.”

Besdrin nodded. “Okay, then, question two. You seem pretty loyal to the captain, but the captain seems, well…”

Crow nodded. “He’s a murderous, untrustworthy jackass.”

“Right. But you, even though you’re basically my slave keeper, you’ve always seemed, well, nice, I guess. So why are you so loyal to a pirate lord?”

The tortle closed his eyes tightly for a long moment, then looked over to the door of the brig, making sure he had remembered to close it. He had. He looked back over to Besdrin and leaned forward. “Cap’ain ordered me to answer your questions, but so help me gods, if you ever repeat this to anyone, even the cap’ain – no, especially the cap’ain – I will kill you. Understand?”

Besdrin merely nodded.

Crow took a deep breath, hesitated, then spoke. “I was about three years old. The cap’ain – the old cap’ain – was like a father to me. Sure, I was basically a pet to him, and sure, he was a pirate cap’ain too, so he probably wasn’t much better than our cap’ain, but, well, he was basically my father. And like I said, I was only three. One day…”

Crow trailed off and paused for a long moment, then swallowed air and continued. “One day, the cap’ain was playing with me in the cap’ain’s quarters. I was just having fun. I was a kid. The next thing I know…” Another long pause. “The next thing I know, the first mate, our current cap’ain, was behind him. All I remember seeing is the spurt of blood as he slit the old cap’ain’s throat. The man who was like a father to me. Right before my eyes.”

The tortle was not looking at Besdrin as he spoke anymore. He was, instead, staring at the wall. “After the old cap’ain fell lifeless at my feet, the new cap’ain looked at me. I mean, he looked right at me, in my eyes, at three years old, and held up the knife he had used to kill my father, and he says to me, he says: ‘one day, I’ll slit your throat, too. Or you’ll slit mine. But until that day, you’d better be the most loyal dog on this whole ship, y’understand?’ I was three years old. I didn’t understand much. But you better believe I understood that.”

Crow looked back at Besdrin, meaningfully. “You better believe that bastard will kill me the very instant he suspects I’m disloyal. I see that knife every night in my dreams. My nightmares. That, Besdrin, is why I am loyal to the cap’ain. Because as strong as I am, he’s stronger.”

“And that’s why you use that great bow of yours,” Besdrin said knowingly. “You’re hoping that someday, you’ll be able to put an arrow in his back.”

Crow looked over at the door, as though worried it had somehow opened since he last checked. “I need to be sure. Sure it will work. If I miss, or if he lives…”

Besdrin nodded his understanding. “Well, I guess I have one more question, then. There’s one thing I’ve always wondered. Why do they call you ‘Crow?’”

The big tortle laughed a brisk, chuffing laugh. “Nobody on the ship talked to me much when I was young. At first, most of them thought I was just a tortoise until I started walking on two legs, but even then, most assumed I was little better than a tamed monster. So I heard them talking, but they didn’t talk to me. And because I was hatched up there, I spent most of my time in the Crow’s Nest. When the crew talked about the Crow’s Nest, I thought they were saying my nest. I just assumed my name was Crow. Turns out, I was just never given one.”

Besdrin shook his head, and then moved to stand up. “Well, Crow, thank you for your story. It has been most entertaining. Do not worry. I will be sure to stop by the captain’s quarters to let him know that my escape was no fault of yours.”

“Huh?” Crow said with his typical eloquence.

Besdrin smiled. “Thank you for treating me so well. Good day.”

And with that, Besdrin vanished, leaving behind one very bewildered tortle.