Title: A Weirdo in Time Saves Nine Source:Start, End Date Taken: 504
There’s a blond woman in front of you with her hair pulled back into a ponytail wearing a cape and pants. She asks you if you know why you’re special. You shake your head no. In spite of this, she says that the Knights of Favonius have another favor to ask of you.
She presses a hand to her chest. “Please accept the title of Honorary Knight… and the gratitude of the Acting Grand Master.” She wants your help in finding out more information about Stormterror’s rage and strange crystals (her words, not yours). If you find anything, she wants you to report back to her.
You head back outside to the cobbled steets of Mondstadt. It’s a perfectly sunny day outside and the city is bustling. You head over to a decorative hedge, where your floating companion accuses you of not having told the whole truth.
“I’d like to investigate it on my own, first,” you explain. (You cannot remember what it is she’s referring to, but—there was something.)
“So you do remember him, that green guy. He looked like that guy, down there!” She points over the wall and down to the plaza. Just past the splashing fountain in the middle, there’s a guy dressed in green (from his cap to his cape to his little pumpkin shorts) dashing off somewhere.
“The exact shade of green, what a coincidence,” you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm. It still takes your companion another ten or fifteen seconds to realize that it’s the same guy.
You two take off in the same direction you saw him go, but he was fast. You end up having to cast your elemental sight repeatedly to track him down, following his small green footsteps up a series of stairs toward a large cathedral. You find him playing a lyre in front of a large statue of a robed figure, surrounded by avidly listening townspeople.
His song is one about a dragon, born long ago when archons still walked among the folk, and his quest for knowledge. He befriended a bard who taught him a great deal with his songs, and for a time they lived happily. However all good things come to an end, and a vile dragon came to threaten the land. The bard called to his dragon friend, singing to him of the peril the people were in, and dragon came to protect them. A deadly battle ensued, and the brave dragon was poisoned by “blood of venom,” sending the dragon into a deep slumber. When he awoke again, the people were afraid of and him, and the dragon didn’t understand why. But there was no Holy Lyre to explain to him anymore nor soothe his pain, and bitterness began to fester within the dragon, the curse expanding silently.
His performance finishes and the crowd disperses, but you two remain behind. He recognizes you both. “You’re the ones that scared Dvalin away.”
His name is Venti and he claims to both be but a humble bard and also apparently close to Dvalin—the dragon also known as Stormterror. Or perhaps not so humble—“Three-time winner of the “Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt, to be precise,” he boasts. He tries to play dumb about it all, so you produce something from your pocket—a tear, glowing a bright teal light. You’re all shocked to see the state that it’s in—it was full of impurities before. He produces another tear, almost identical, just red—and explains that Dvalin has been crying these tears in his anguish.
“Can you purify it?”
You reach out and accept the tear. You use your powers to make the tiny, crystal tear float, and in short order the crimson gem purges soft and green. You catch it as it falls into the palm of your hand.
Both your companion and Venti are impressed.
“You… really do have some wonderful abilities… Someone like you is going to end up getting written into a bard’s poem. ‘Oh, a hero so bright, should she stand in the light. Though stand in the shade, and you’ll be met by a blade,’” he recites off the top of his tongue.
His brief moment of glib poetry fades into an expression of deep concern. “Alas… I’ve really not the time to compose a melody for you at this moment. Anyway, even if Dvalin is not taken down, his life will still wither away in the breeze… He’ll burn himself out in the flames of anger.”
You ask if there’s anything you can do to help, to which he replies that you’ve helped him already by purifying the teardrop. However, he’s already devised his own plan… one that he refuses to divulge, other than to say you’ve reminded him “of a friend of so dear.” With a mischevious giggle he sets off, running to “the symbol of Mondstadt’s hero,” whatever that means.
Your companion wants to know what you think.
“This ‘weirdo’ as you put it—we need to keep an eye on him.”
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.003
Source: Start, End
Date Taken: 504
There’s a blond woman in front of you with her hair pulled back into a ponytail wearing a cape and pants. She asks you if you know why you’re special. You shake your head no. In spite of this, she says that the Knights of Favonius have another favor to ask of you.
She presses a hand to her chest. “Please accept the title of Honorary Knight… and the gratitude of the Acting Grand Master.” She wants your help in finding out more information about Stormterror’s rage and strange crystals (her words, not yours). If you find anything, she wants you to report back to her.
You head back outside to the cobbled steets of Mondstadt. It’s a perfectly sunny day outside and the city is bustling. You head over to a decorative hedge, where your floating companion accuses you of not having told the whole truth.
“I’d like to investigate it on my own, first,” you explain. (You cannot remember what it is she’s referring to, but—there was something.)
“So you do remember him, that green guy. He looked like that guy, down there!” She points over the wall and down to the plaza. Just past the splashing fountain in the middle, there’s a guy dressed in green (from his cap to his cape to his little pumpkin shorts) dashing off somewhere.
“The exact shade of green, what a coincidence,” you mutter, voice dripping with sarcasm. It still takes your companion another ten or fifteen seconds to realize that it’s the same guy.
You two take off in the same direction you saw him go, but he was fast. You end up having to cast your elemental sight repeatedly to track him down, following his small green footsteps up a series of stairs toward a large cathedral. You find him playing a lyre in front of a large statue of a robed figure, surrounded by avidly listening townspeople.
His song is one about a dragon, born long ago when archons still walked among the folk, and his quest for knowledge. He befriended a bard who taught him a great deal with his songs, and for a time they lived happily. However all good things come to an end, and a vile dragon came to threaten the land. The bard called to his dragon friend, singing to him of the peril the people were in, and dragon came to protect them. A deadly battle ensued, and the brave dragon was poisoned by “blood of venom,” sending the dragon into a deep slumber. When he awoke again, the people were afraid of and him, and the dragon didn’t understand why. But there was no Holy Lyre to explain to him anymore nor soothe his pain, and bitterness began to fester within the dragon, the curse expanding silently.
His performance finishes and the crowd disperses, but you two remain behind. He recognizes you both. “You’re the ones that scared Dvalin away.”
His name is Venti and he claims to both be but a humble bard and also apparently close to Dvalin—the dragon also known as Stormterror. Or perhaps not so humble—“Three-time winner of the “Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt, to be precise,” he boasts.
He tries to play dumb about it all, so you produce something from your pocket—a tear, glowing a bright teal light. You’re all shocked to see the state that it’s in—it was full of impurities before. He produces another tear, almost identical, just red—and explains that Dvalin has been crying these tears in his anguish.
“Can you purify it?”
You reach out and accept the tear. You use your powers to make the tiny, crystal tear float, and in short order the crimson gem purges soft and green. You catch it as it falls into the palm of your hand.
Both your companion and Venti are impressed.
“You… really do have some wonderful abilities… Someone like you is going to end up getting written into a bard’s poem. ‘Oh, a hero so bright, should she stand in the light. Though stand in the shade, and you’ll be met by a blade,’” he recites off the top of his tongue.
His brief moment of glib poetry fades into an expression of deep concern. “Alas… I’ve really not the time to compose a melody for you at this moment. Anyway, even if Dvalin is not taken down, his life will still wither away in the breeze… He’ll burn himself out in the flames of anger.”
You ask if there’s anything you can do to help, to which he replies that you’ve helped him already by purifying the teardrop. However, he’s already devised his own plan… one that he refuses to divulge, other than to say you’ve reminded him “of a friend of so dear.” With a mischevious giggle he sets off, running to “the symbol of Mondstadt’s hero,” whatever that means.
Your companion wants to know what you think.
“This ‘weirdo’ as you put it—we need to keep an eye on him.”