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Session Stories - Moments in Roleplaying (updated 6/15/2023)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 8393215" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Story XIV</strong> - In the Stacks</p> <p style="text-align: center">9/6/2021</p> <p style="text-align: center"></p><p>Opening note:</p><p>So...Arnara is now in Thay, and that is a interesting tale.</p><p></p><p>But it's not this one. This, and the next several is a collaboration on what happened to those folks left behind, while adventurer's do great deeds.</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"></p><p></p><p>Inside the Hearth the fire blazed, sending waves of warmth throughout the Inn. It was perhaps half full, if one considered that one of the tables in the corner was occupied by a large ogre wearing a silvery headband with a vast amount of food in front of them and a book in hand. The presence of ‘Little One’ and his smell dominated the room most of the time. Fortunately, one of the visiting wizards had used a spell to keep the odor down to tolerable. So, the room became separated into three distinct sections, Little One’s side of the room, the other side, where most of the guests of Candlekeep gathered, and the bar itself, where several the patrons drank and chatted with their neighbors.</p><p></p><p>The Inn catered to two groups of people; the first were the academics such as the Avowed, and the visiting scholars here to glean knowledge or copy a rare book. The one thing in common was that each one of them would happily discuss their research in vast detail. It wasn’t uncommon for a pair of obsessed scholars to talk past each other never hearing a word of their peer. Eventually some hours later, they would realize how ill-mannered they each were and apologize, drink and try again. The other group were merchants in the book trade, looking for copies for resale or otherwise providing needed supplies for Candlekeep. While normally only those with a hefty gift of knowledge were allowed inside the walls, there were some key exceptions. Fine paper, leather and other items needed for the creation of books were allowed in. Sellers of inks, food, and necessities of life were welcomed into the Court of Air occasionally to sell their wares to the Avowed.</p><p></p><p>Rafelor was not a member of either group. He sat alone at the bar, with only the barkeep as a constant companion. They poured from a bottle, a dark brown liquor into a glass and placed it in front of the half-elf. Rafelor nodded at the barkeep, quietly grabbed the glass, swirled it around a few times, and took a drink. Behind him, a young crimson Tiefling, with a thin whip like tail and hooves approached apprehensively. She took a deep breath and then spoke trying to get his attention. "Um, sirrah...are you Rafeelur?"</p><p></p><p>"Raf. Rafelor."</p><p></p><p>"Raf..fee...lor. Right, got it. Sorry to bother you, but...did you come into Candlekeep with a a twist...er a handi...um...an elf to do research here?" She asked with a look of concern on her face.</p><p></p><p>"Yeah....yeah..." Rafelor's words trailed off focused on his drink.</p><p></p><p>“Ah good…yes. Well…we need your help. Or I need your help,” the tiefling spoke quickly.</p><p></p><p>"You need help? Heh, well I wanna help, but it looks like we always have to do things the hard way,” and Rafelor took another drink from his glass, finishing it. "What's up?"</p><p></p><p>"Um...well...the elf. She...she isn't answering the door. And she won’t give me permission to come in with food, so I am forced to leave it outside the door all untouched. I'm...kinda of responsible for her while she is inside the Inner Ward. But I don't know what to do."</p><p></p><p>Rafelor lets out a deep sigh "...#$%^!." he mumbled to himself. "Alright, I'll go head up there now. At least this time, I won't be sent away at the gate."</p><p></p><p>"Great...I mean thanks...she's been...well...I don't know exactly. Erm maybe you should just follow me."</p><p></p><p>The tiefling girl led the half-elf outside and headed toward the gate that was called ‘The Emerald Door.’ Nine days ago, the ‘Other’ Arnara limped in front of it and handed the Avowed guard a sealed scroll with the sigil of House Ustina. It wasn’t long before they offered her a chamber inside the Inner Ward. And after a long confusing walk, through the towers, over the bridges and up and down stairs, Rafelor had helped Other Arnara settle into the small private chamber for one. He dimly recalled seeing the Tiefling there being introduced, and Arnara handed her a list of books to be pulled. But just like that Rafelor was whisked away by a stubborn dwarf and was forced to find his own room at the House of Rest, next to the Inn.</p><p></p><p>But since then, when Rafelor asked to see and check in with his charge it was the same story; a messenger was sent to ‘Other’ Arnara about having a guest visit, and each time it was declined. ‘Too busy,’ ‘Not a good time,’ ‘Please later.’ And all Rafelor could do was cool his heels at the inn, drinking and avoiding intellectual discourse with Little-One.</p><p></p><p>After following the confusing and twisting tunnels and stairs, finally they arrived at the same chamber door where he last saw the elf. And on the ground were a pair of trays, with food that seemingly hadn’t been touched.</p><p></p><p>"Sorry about the mess...but she told me to just ‘leave it out here’, even though she can’t get to it and well...that's what I did."</p><p></p><p>Rafelor became immediately concerned when he saw the untouched plates, pushed his way past the tiefling, and tried the door. To his dismay, the handle refused to move.</p><p></p><p>"Sirrah...its locked."</p><p></p><p>"Damn it I can see that." He looked back at the Tiefling. "Open the door; I need to speak to her."</p><p></p><p>"I...I...Can't. She ordered me not to unlock the door—"</p><p></p><p>The girl was cut off by a scream of pain, and then the sound of wooden furniture tipping over, and a body hitting stone. Rafelor swiftly looked at the Tiefling, now expecting her to open the door.</p><p></p><p>"—And I have to follow the rules!"</p><p></p><p>“You asked me to help, and you won’t open the damn door?” Rafelor said angrily.</p><p></p><p>The tiefling turned around and started to tear up, "I'm compromised; I have to follow their instructions, and she instructed me not to let anyone in! That’s the rules!" As she turned around, Rafelor caught the sight of a brass key which she juggled between her hands behind her.</p><p></p><p>"Even if she's in danger? I'll cover for you! We don't have much time!"</p><p></p><p>"I simply cannot do that!" she said crying. But as Rafelor watched, he noticed that she was wiggling the key in a single hand. It was almost like she was trying to get his attention on the key.</p><p></p><p>"Fine, I'll do it myself then!" and Rafelor snatched the key out of her hand.</p><p></p><p>"Oh my...you can't do that!" she said, but her actions told a different tale. She didn’t resist or even fight to retake it. And as she turned back around to face the door, she quickly hid a sly smile along with the tears. But Rafelor wasn’t interested on the nuances of the technicality, and he quickly unlocked the door and flung it open.</p><p></p><p>"What the hell is this!?" he said as he almost tripped over a haphazard stack of trays, scattered in front of the door.</p><p></p><p>"Well...that was breakfast from three days ago, that there was lunch...looks like she nibbled that. That there is dinner, but she took only the dessert---"</p><p></p><p>"You're telling me she hasn't been eating for three days!?"</p><p></p><p>“She ate the dessert!” The girl said defensively “And other things, if you look closely at the meal from yesterday you can see---"</p><p></p><p>Rafelor ignored her and looked around. The room was a rectangular chamber, with a desk with about seven different musty tomes on it, with two open to pages, a chest for her things, a chamber pot and a feather bed that clearly hadn’t been touched. Looking around, he then saw next to the desk, a chair on its side, and next to it, the frail mishappen form of ‘Other’ Arnara convulsing on the stone floor.</p><p></p><p>"Arnara!" And Rafelor ran over and fell to his knees beside her and lifted her head and torso onto his lap. It had only been nine days, but the sight of her was shocking to the half-elf. Her hair was loose and unkempt, dark circles were visible under her eyes which seemed to be sunken back into their sockets. While she was never a picture of health before, she had clearly lost weight. As she lay there, she drew in ragged, labored breaths as she stared past Rafelor and gazed at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. As Rafelor held her, she began to shake and mutter.</p><p></p><p>“A..a...acid...ow ow ow…make…make it stop...please...please…” she quietly whimpered.</p><p></p><p>“As I said I never break the rules...oh my! ...What's wrong with her?!” The tiefling asked in a panic.</p><p></p><p>“Dra...dra...dragon. No…No! I can't move...no I can move...can't I?” the Other Arnara said twitching.</p><p></p><p>"I don't know. Get me some water, QUICK!" Rafelor shouted as he propped up the unresisting elf higher on his lap. All the while, she continued to shake and murmur unintelligibly to herself. The tiefling went to the open door and grabbed a pitcher of water and a pair of glasses from one of the unused trays. She quickly filled one and handed it to Rafelor, who grabbed it from her hand. She then poured herself a glass and quaffed it down.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly the ‘Other’ Arnara spoke again “Oh no...no...no you don’t!” her hands started to make motions with a look of concentration on her face. Finally she sat up an pointed a finger at the now panicked tiefling as she started to scream out a incantation, “Vas FLA—” But before she could finish, Rafelor dumped the contents of the glass into her mouth, causing her to gag and cough. Finally, the elf shook her head and spoke, “R..Raf? I...Irony? Who...who..." she looks down at her own twisted and bent form. "It’s me...not me in Thay." She collapsed back onto Rafelor’s chest gasping for air and muttered aloud. "She's...she's stopped now. I can think clearly..."</p><p></p><p>Rafelor cradled the shivering elf and sighed, giving himself a moment to relax. "That's what I thought. It's the connection."</p><p></p><p>Breathing heavily she continued, wincing as she spoke, "It hurts...no...that's not right, the memory hurts. I didn't notice it in the tomb...I was already in pain, already being tortured. And Arnara wasn't hurt as often...But now she has been injured...she keeps getting hurt.</p><p></p><p>"Connection?" Irony asked. "Are...are we...are the books in danger?"</p><p></p><p>"Candlekeep is fine. It's her that's the concern here."</p><p></p><p>"I...I...need to...but...so...so...tired..." the elf wheezed and struggled to rise. “Running...out..of...time...”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor held her and kept her from standing, "You need to lie down. That mind of yours isn't going to retain much information in this state."</p><p></p><p>But she shook her head "No...don't need to...retain...just find the books...only...two days...left."</p><p></p><p>"Sorry, um...one more day," Irony said looking a little guilty.</p><p></p><p>“What is she talking about?” he looked at Irony.</p><p></p><p>“Access to the stacks is permitted for only a tenday,” Irony started. “After that, we would need another text and permission from either the Master of Tomes, or the Great Reader that sponsored her, V'ziir-Ag. Otherwise, she...must leave and come back another time. And I have to say, she has been having me run ragged looking for tome after tome after tome. Even ones from the...restricted stacks. I haven't had a good night rest in days. At least the chamber pot duty has been light."</p><p></p><p>"Well, isn't this just great? Arnara's been reading herself to death, about to get the boot out of here, and there's not enough time to handle anything of this.” Rafelor buried his face in his palm, groaning<strong>. </strong>“Oh, man, Kylan's going to kill me..."</p><p></p><p>The elf lay there limply shaking her head on Rafelor’s lap. "Not...not...Arnara...I'm...I'm not...Arnara...Or am I?...Can't...keep...us...str-straight."</p><p></p><p>Rafelor let out a deep, forlorn sigh. “You should've asked me to help.”</p><p></p><p>“I'm sorry....that's why I came to find you," Irony said. “But I don't make the rules....I'm sorry. I'm trying to help her as best I can.”</p><p></p><p>“Not you, girl. Her,” Rafelor said pointing at the elf with his head.</p><p></p><p>“No... no... don’t want you...to see...Arna...me...like...this...” the elf said still laboring to breathe.</p><p></p><p>“And you'd rather me see you keeled over, starved, and convulsing?” Rafelor retorted.</p><p></p><p>"I'm...stronger...must be...don’t…want to…burden…you. Was...fine....but she started fighting...in Thay. Unexpected. So...much pain...it’s not real...but it hurts. Fireballs. Steam. Life… drains. Dragon’s…breath. Vrock spores. And the pigs...oh...the pigs squealing.... dying...I'm <strong><em>killing</em></strong> them...she's killing them…I can’t stand it. It barely makes sense. No libraries...nothing...nothing yet. Just petty...Red Wizards and liches."</p><p></p><p>"Believe me,” Rafelor said shaking his head. He then awkwardly tried to lift Arnara alone when Irony moved over to help steady her as Rafelor stood up. “I'd love to hear all about that, but this really doesn't seem the time. You need to rest, collect yourself, at least eat something that isn't a bunch of sweets."</p><p></p><p>“She's worried...scared...won't show it to Chewy, or Glint...especially not Zinetra.” She said her knees wobbling. Finally, her shoulders drooped, and she let her head fall forward in submission. “Alright...l’ll rest. Take me to...the bed...I'll try to Reverie...But...please there is...a book we might trade...talk to...Irony.”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor lifted the elf and was shocked on how light she was compared to the Arnara who danced and leapt with him in the Chult, teaching him the art of Bladesong. He gently carried and set her down on the feather mattress and watched. Once on the bed she laid there limply, eyes half open, breathing softly. Her face twitched momentarily and started to relax as her awareness of the here and now faded away for the memories of the Reverie.</p><p></p><p>Rafelor stood up straight and rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This is great. Just absolutely great. It's only been nine days and I've already failed.” His eyes turn back to Irony. “So, what's this book that she almost killed herself for?”</p><p></p><p>“Pardon? It’s not a single book sirrah,” the tiefling replied. “She has been emptying the stacks of most of the books on black necromancy. But that’s the problem; there are <strong>a lot </strong>of books. She's read over two hundred of them already and hasn't found what she wants. I've been getting them for her, and V'ziir-Ag has pointed her in directions to narrow it down. But...she's probably only read...a third of what she wants. Each book tends to reference another two or three...and sometimes she hits a dead end. She's relentless...following a trail of texts almost a thousand years old.” She turned and moved over to the bed where the Other Arnara lay and looked at her with sympathy. “And tomorrow is her last day she will be permitted in the Inner Ward and have access to the restricted stacks. She's looking into some very dark material...you do know that right?”</p><p></p><p>Before Rafelor could reply, a raspy voice like a flint on stone spoke, “IRONY! What has happened here!?!” A tall slender figure with a tight tonsured braid, and skin like yellowed parchment, who now stepped over the piled trays.</p><p></p><p>“Oh crap,” Rafelor bluntly declared as he prepared himself to be immersed into another hot mess.</p><p></p><p>The githzerai looked at the half-elf in confusion. “Who is this...wait, you are her...valet are you not? What is going on?”</p><p></p><p>“She had...” He looked at the Other Arnara, trying to think of a reasonable explanation, “...health problems.”</p><p></p><p>"Oh. I see.” The gith then looked at the desk nearby and moved over to it. He looked at the tomes laying on the desk, and reviewed the titles assembled there. “Ah...'Imaskari Rite of Life'...and a treatise of Netherese shadow magic...She is digging deep. Too deep perhaps. Well...she can get more rest after tomorrow I suppose. It could be worse, if she started delving into Far Realm materials...but she is very determined based on the texts she is asking for.”</p><p></p><p>“Now hang on a second,” Rafelor stomped towards the Githzerai “There's no way she's going to get more time?”</p><p></p><p>The gith arched an eyebrow “She could of course ask for an extension. It just requires a unique text of value. She came in with a spellbook penned by an Arcanaloth. What does she offer now for evaluation?”</p><p></p><p>“An extension, huh? How long would that be? Another tenday?”</p><p></p><p>“Of course. That is the standard arrangement we make.”</p><p></p><p>"Hmmm," Rafelor thought for a moment "Now what could I possibly have that would…” Rafelor’s voice trailed off and his face’s color drained away. “So uh...what exactly would be a...valid submission?”</p><p></p><p>“The Avowed accept several things, like spellbooks for entry into Candlekeep,” The githzerai began. “But for the Inner Ward, we require a substantial gift such as, rare editions of tomes already in the collection, journals of those who recount unique or insightful experiences, or the odd work that has been annotated by a prominent scholar outside the library. Being unique or special is important here.” The Gith then tilts his head regarding the half-elf. "Are you alright? You are looking a bit pale. Perhaps you should get some rest. Please take care." And the Avowed moved to leave the room, carefully avoiding the trays.</p><p></p><p>"So uh...where do I go for a submission?" Rafelor asked.</p><p></p><p>“Irony can run it to me or another Reader. You have a day to consider options of course. Please help your charge...we don't need another ghost in the halls." And the gith left the room, as quietly as he had entered.</p><p></p><p>After a few moments, Irony exhales sharply and leaned against a wall, "I thought I was going to be in trouble...he's stern, but he's a caring man...as long as you don't ask him to show it."</p><p></p><p>"Is that that the V'ziir dude?"</p><p></p><p>Irony nodded, "V’ziir-Ag. He is one of the eight Great Readers, and he specializes in ...unnatural things. Aberrations, undead, and Far Realm materials and artifacts.” Irony looks down and chuckled, “I want to be the Master of Tomes one day...but that stuff gives me the shivers. I don't know how she read what she did." And Irony glanced at the elf softly breathing, with a small smile on her delicate face.</p><p></p><p>"Well, she clearly seems better than before. About gave me a heart attack as soon as I walked in."</p><p></p><p>Irony bowed her head, "I was just following the rules...I didn't think that it was as bad inside here. I would have fetched you sooner...I'm sorry,” and she made a sniffling sound.</p><p></p><p>“Don't sweat it, kid. I should've been the one up here to begin with. No need to go crying my tears.”</p><p></p><p>“I...thanks. I just want to be the best help I can...I don't want her to fail...let alone die under my care."</p><p></p><p>“You're doing your job fine. Now, it's about time I do the same.” Rafelor said with confidence but a certain degree of glumness.</p><p></p><p>The Other Arnara twitched momentarily, but her breathing was still soft and regular. “I hope she will be alright, but what did she mean by 'not...not...Arnara...I'm...I'm not....Arnara...Or am I?' Who is she?”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor was silent for a moment, as he chewed on his lip before finally responding. “She's a friend, one who's been stuck in the shadow of another. She's trying her best to find her own path, but she's struggling.”</p><p></p><p>“Shadow of another? I don't understand.”</p><p></p><p>"She’s a clone; created by a coven of hags and…well…let's just say their minds are connected too close for comfort."</p><p></p><p>"Oh...And that's why she's here?"</p><p></p><p>"Right.” Rafelor sighed. “So...did he say you could help with a book submission?"</p><p></p><p>Irony nodded, "Yes...I can run it to a Reader and they will evaluate it. I would start with V'ziir-Ag of course.”</p><p></p><p>“Well uh...” Rafelor quietly mumbled to himself "Damn it...What if I had something to submit right now?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh...well if you do I can deliver it now...but I'll have to lock you in here until I return. Neither of you are allowed to wander the Inner Ward alone...the extradimensional spaces are plentiful, and you could get lost. And Miirym can be touchy about that.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, as long as you do return...But answer me this; If I submit this, can you ensure that she gets to stay for another tenday?”</p><p></p><p>Irony’s jaw opens mockingly, “Of course I would come back. But as to your question...It isn't up to me...but a Reader. I could take you to him if you want or fetch him if there is a question.”</p><p></p><p>“Might as well take me to them.” He turned again to look at Other Arnara, deep in her Reverie, "Best to do this while she's still in the trance."</p><p></p><p>"As you like.” Irony said cheerfully. “I'm sure she will be safe...um, she <strong><em>will</em></strong> be safe like that?" she asked, as Other Arnara, flopped over onto her stomach with an arm now limply hanging off the bed.</p><p></p><p>“Uh....” Rafelor moved over to the Other Arnara and put her arm back on the mattress. “Yeah..."</p><p></p><p>Irony motioned to the door, and Rafelor evaded the trays and left Other Arnara’s room. She then took the key back from Rafelor and locked the door behind them. Pocketing the key, she led Rafelor back down the stairs and then then meandered throughout Inner Ward and its byzantine stairwells. Eventually, they proceeded downward into the lower levels of a tower. The passage beneath closed in and the torches on the walls grew farther apart. Finally, they reached an iron bound door, covered in sigils and runes. Irony rapped her knuckles three times on the wood, and then there was the sound of a bar sliding and then the door swung open.</p><p></p><p>Rafelor and Irony stepped inside, and to no great surprise he found himself in a laboratory. It had shelves and shelves of books. Laced in between the volumes were things in glass containers, canopic jars and other macabre items under a layer of dust. The room had several empty slabs that looked like they were for embalming. V’ziir-Ag, The Great Reader stood in the back, cleaning a flask in a basin. He turned to glance over his shoulder and said in the same raspy voice. “Ah...the Valet...well...what does your mistress want?”</p><p></p><p>“Heard you guys like to do borrowed time here, and it looks like Arnara here needs a little more."</p><p></p><p>“Time is the enemy of research for many reasons. But access to perilous knowledge is...well perilous. Are you sure she can handle another tenday?”</p><p></p><p>“I got no reason to start doubting her yet. That tenday is what she needs to keep a focused, yet healthy mind.”</p><p></p><p>The gith arched an eyebrow, “Well, if this is what she wants...did you have something to offer to the Avowed?”</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Rafelor's confidence when he entered the room starts to waver. Someway, somehow, he thought there was a chance he could get out of this. But, now it didn’t look like it's going to be the case</p><p></p><p>"Well....uh...yeah I do." The gith puts down the cleaned flask and waits expectantly. Rafelor's body tensed as he pulled something from underneath his coat. His face flushed to a bright pink as he sheepishly slid over a worn leather book, with a title inscribed with a mixture of black and red inks:</p><p></p><p style="text-align: center">‘<s>Pyrite's Journal </s></p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">RAFELOR'S KICKASS LOG OF ADVENTURES</p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">Corrected by Arnara, 1st Daughter of House Ustina</p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center">(Repeatedly)’</p><p></p><p>The Gith frowned “What is this then?" He opened it up and started to flip through the page, skimming the contents. “Damaged, missing some pages here and there. Not what I was expecting. Irony, didn't the elf say she had more of the Arcanaloth spellbooks?"</p><p></p><p>After thinking a moment, the tiefling nodded, “She did yes. I am sure of it.”</p><p></p><p>“Well...I don't see how...this...Acererak?” The Gith whispered in a mixture of fear and reverence. “No...this can't be...no it is...and its recent...” The Gith looked up "This. This is <strong><em>your</em></strong> journal?”</p><p></p><p>“Uh......” Rafelor stood there, unsure what to say to the scholar, as he continued to flip pages and read further. “Come now...you must tell me. You all faced Acererak? And survived?”</p><p></p><p>“Well...uh....I...um...Yes.”</p><p></p><p>“And the elf...she annotated it as well. A first hand encounter with one of the most dangerous liches known...and you survived and wrote something down. Remarkable. I had heard rumors of a band that went to the Chult recently...and that was you? And her?”</p><p></p><p>“Well...” and Rafelor took a long pause, “I guess rumors do spread around then.”</p><p></p><p>The Gith made a low whistle. “This...this...is something worthy indeed.” And he nodded approvingly. “But I cannot accept it.” And in a smooth motion, he clapped the book shut and turned it around to Rafelor.</p><p></p><p>The stunned half-elf blinked their eyes before sputtering, “WHAT!?”</p><p></p><p>“I can overlook the missing pages I suppose...but the problem as I see it, is that it is incomplete. A journey half finished. However, if I could have a <strong><em>copy</em></strong> of this volume and a promise that you will...donate the subsequent ones on their completion, I think we can grant her the time. But it must be the originals!” and the Gith wagged a finger at Rafelor.</p><p></p><p>"Well, I thought that volume was fully complete, but if it's a volume II you're asking for..."</p><p></p><p>“Of course...a complete set is more valuable.”</p><p></p><p>“That...could work,” Rafelor said with a lump in his throat.</p><p></p><p>“Well then...Irony, please take this journal to the House of the Binder and have it copied. Then deposit it in the restricted section under 'Close calls.'” Irony took the book from the Gith and clutched it confused. “And please escort the esteemed Rafelor back to...the First Daughter.”</p><p></p><p>Irony moved to Rafelor and tugged on his sleeve, attempting to pull him with her. “Uh...alright.” They walked back to the door. As the door started to creak shut, the githzerai spoke again. “And Rafelor...thank you. Thank you for saving my life.” Before Rafelor could respond, the door creaked closed, and they could hear the sound of it being barred from the inside.</p><p></p><p>“Wait what?" Rafelor said as he stared at the door in confusion. “What's he talking about?”</p><p></p><p>“I’m not sure,” Irony said. “He was sick for a while though, wasting away in fact. The other seven were getting ready to name a replacement, when he suddenly got better."</p><p></p><p>“Holy @##%!...”</p><p></p><p>Irony looked at Rafelor “What did you do?”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor stood silent for a moment, before deciding to answer Irony as straight as possible<strong>.</strong></p><p></p><p>“I destroyed the Soulmonger. The source of his illness.”</p><p></p><p>Irony blinked a moment before gushing, “Seriously...wow. That must mean you are a...a real hero! And the elf? She was there too!?!”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor put on a smug grin, feeling more like himself in weeks. “Sure was, doesn't feel like it, but I guess the actions speak louder than the thoughts.”</p><p></p><p>“That's is ...wow...I've never met a real hero before...a pair even!” She started to skip, down the dark tunnel. “Well...too bad no one will read your Journal for a while.”</p><p></p><p>“Hey! What's with the sudden shade?” Rafelor said in a hurt voice.</p><p></p><p>The tiefling stopped and looked confused for a moment. Then realization crossed her face and she answered Rafelor. “It’s not shade. It’s policy. Journals leave the restricted stacks only on the death of the authors. For…privacy. And since someone has to know it is here all to request it no one will see it. So, unless you tell someone, it will stay pretty private. Come on...let’s get you back to your friend.”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor let out his breath in a huff shaking his head, and followed the skipping Irony, her hooves echoing in the halls.</p><p></p><p>“Alrighty then. And then after that, I'm gonna have to make a stop by The Hearth again. With all this craziness hitting the fan, I think I'm gonna need some of your hardest booze.”</p><p></p><p>Irony chuckled, "I guess I won’t live long enough to read it Rafelor...unless I get a higher rank...OOOooo now I <strong><em>have</em></strong> to become a Great Reader…or the Master of Tomes!”</p><p></p><p>Rafelor kept walking "Guess you got something to look forward to when I croak"</p><p></p><p>“You croak? Don't you mean her? The journal can't be republished or put into circulation until <strong><em>she</em></strong> dies. And don't elves live what...a thousand years? Wow what a story it will be in 2492 DR! Anyway, I'll take you back to her, and I’ll bring you back some drinks from the bar after I drop this off. Come on!” and she started to skip down the hall again.</p><p></p><p>This day just gets crazier and crazier..." Rafelor said to himself, and shrugged as he followed behind, trying to keep up with the excited skipping Tiefling.</p><p></p><p><strong>Story notes:</strong></p><p>A lot of the source material was from <em>Candlekeep Adventures. </em>It was a lot of fun exploring Irony and V'ziir-Ag and bringing...a version of them to life. The other "source" is <a href="https://www.enworld.org/members/wilpower784.7029616/" target="_blank">Wilpower784</a> Journal for Rafelor. It is a real thing, with comedy only the orignal party members understand. But it did need constant corrections, which was the running theme in the 'Tomb of Annihilation' adventure.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 8393215, member: 6971069"] [CENTER][B]Story XIV[/B] - In the Stacks 9/6/2021 [/CENTER] Opening note: So...Arnara is now in Thay, and that is a interesting tale. But it's not this one. This, and the next several is a collaboration on what happened to those folks left behind, while adventurer's do great deeds. [CENTER][/CENTER] Inside the Hearth the fire blazed, sending waves of warmth throughout the Inn. It was perhaps half full, if one considered that one of the tables in the corner was occupied by a large ogre wearing a silvery headband with a vast amount of food in front of them and a book in hand. The presence of ‘Little One’ and his smell dominated the room most of the time. Fortunately, one of the visiting wizards had used a spell to keep the odor down to tolerable. So, the room became separated into three distinct sections, Little One’s side of the room, the other side, where most of the guests of Candlekeep gathered, and the bar itself, where several the patrons drank and chatted with their neighbors. The Inn catered to two groups of people; the first were the academics such as the Avowed, and the visiting scholars here to glean knowledge or copy a rare book. The one thing in common was that each one of them would happily discuss their research in vast detail. It wasn’t uncommon for a pair of obsessed scholars to talk past each other never hearing a word of their peer. Eventually some hours later, they would realize how ill-mannered they each were and apologize, drink and try again. The other group were merchants in the book trade, looking for copies for resale or otherwise providing needed supplies for Candlekeep. While normally only those with a hefty gift of knowledge were allowed inside the walls, there were some key exceptions. Fine paper, leather and other items needed for the creation of books were allowed in. Sellers of inks, food, and necessities of life were welcomed into the Court of Air occasionally to sell their wares to the Avowed. Rafelor was not a member of either group. He sat alone at the bar, with only the barkeep as a constant companion. They poured from a bottle, a dark brown liquor into a glass and placed it in front of the half-elf. Rafelor nodded at the barkeep, quietly grabbed the glass, swirled it around a few times, and took a drink. Behind him, a young crimson Tiefling, with a thin whip like tail and hooves approached apprehensively. She took a deep breath and then spoke trying to get his attention. "Um, sirrah...are you Rafeelur?" "Raf. Rafelor." "Raf..fee...lor. Right, got it. Sorry to bother you, but...did you come into Candlekeep with a a twist...er a handi...um...an elf to do research here?" She asked with a look of concern on her face. "Yeah....yeah..." Rafelor's words trailed off focused on his drink. “Ah good…yes. Well…we need your help. Or I need your help,” the tiefling spoke quickly. "You need help? Heh, well I wanna help, but it looks like we always have to do things the hard way,” and Rafelor took another drink from his glass, finishing it. "What's up?" "Um...well...the elf. She...she isn't answering the door. And she won’t give me permission to come in with food, so I am forced to leave it outside the door all untouched. I'm...kinda of responsible for her while she is inside the Inner Ward. But I don't know what to do." Rafelor lets out a deep sigh "...#$%^!." he mumbled to himself. "Alright, I'll go head up there now. At least this time, I won't be sent away at the gate." "Great...I mean thanks...she's been...well...I don't know exactly. Erm maybe you should just follow me." The tiefling girl led the half-elf outside and headed toward the gate that was called ‘The Emerald Door.’ Nine days ago, the ‘Other’ Arnara limped in front of it and handed the Avowed guard a sealed scroll with the sigil of House Ustina. It wasn’t long before they offered her a chamber inside the Inner Ward. And after a long confusing walk, through the towers, over the bridges and up and down stairs, Rafelor had helped Other Arnara settle into the small private chamber for one. He dimly recalled seeing the Tiefling there being introduced, and Arnara handed her a list of books to be pulled. But just like that Rafelor was whisked away by a stubborn dwarf and was forced to find his own room at the House of Rest, next to the Inn. But since then, when Rafelor asked to see and check in with his charge it was the same story; a messenger was sent to ‘Other’ Arnara about having a guest visit, and each time it was declined. ‘Too busy,’ ‘Not a good time,’ ‘Please later.’ And all Rafelor could do was cool his heels at the inn, drinking and avoiding intellectual discourse with Little-One. After following the confusing and twisting tunnels and stairs, finally they arrived at the same chamber door where he last saw the elf. And on the ground were a pair of trays, with food that seemingly hadn’t been touched. "Sorry about the mess...but she told me to just ‘leave it out here’, even though she can’t get to it and well...that's what I did." Rafelor became immediately concerned when he saw the untouched plates, pushed his way past the tiefling, and tried the door. To his dismay, the handle refused to move. "Sirrah...its locked." "Damn it I can see that." He looked back at the Tiefling. "Open the door; I need to speak to her." "I...I...Can't. She ordered me not to unlock the door—" The girl was cut off by a scream of pain, and then the sound of wooden furniture tipping over, and a body hitting stone. Rafelor swiftly looked at the Tiefling, now expecting her to open the door. "—And I have to follow the rules!" “You asked me to help, and you won’t open the damn door?” Rafelor said angrily. The tiefling turned around and started to tear up, "I'm compromised; I have to follow their instructions, and she instructed me not to let anyone in! That’s the rules!" As she turned around, Rafelor caught the sight of a brass key which she juggled between her hands behind her. "Even if she's in danger? I'll cover for you! We don't have much time!" "I simply cannot do that!" she said crying. But as Rafelor watched, he noticed that she was wiggling the key in a single hand. It was almost like she was trying to get his attention on the key. "Fine, I'll do it myself then!" and Rafelor snatched the key out of her hand. "Oh my...you can't do that!" she said, but her actions told a different tale. She didn’t resist or even fight to retake it. And as she turned back around to face the door, she quickly hid a sly smile along with the tears. But Rafelor wasn’t interested on the nuances of the technicality, and he quickly unlocked the door and flung it open. "What the hell is this!?" he said as he almost tripped over a haphazard stack of trays, scattered in front of the door. "Well...that was breakfast from three days ago, that there was lunch...looks like she nibbled that. That there is dinner, but she took only the dessert---" "You're telling me she hasn't been eating for three days!?" “She ate the dessert!” The girl said defensively “And other things, if you look closely at the meal from yesterday you can see---" Rafelor ignored her and looked around. The room was a rectangular chamber, with a desk with about seven different musty tomes on it, with two open to pages, a chest for her things, a chamber pot and a feather bed that clearly hadn’t been touched. Looking around, he then saw next to the desk, a chair on its side, and next to it, the frail mishappen form of ‘Other’ Arnara convulsing on the stone floor. "Arnara!" And Rafelor ran over and fell to his knees beside her and lifted her head and torso onto his lap. It had only been nine days, but the sight of her was shocking to the half-elf. Her hair was loose and unkempt, dark circles were visible under her eyes which seemed to be sunken back into their sockets. While she was never a picture of health before, she had clearly lost weight. As she lay there, she drew in ragged, labored breaths as she stared past Rafelor and gazed at the ceiling with unfocused eyes. As Rafelor held her, she began to shake and mutter. “A..a...acid...ow ow ow…make…make it stop...please...please…” she quietly whimpered. “As I said I never break the rules...oh my! ...What's wrong with her?!” The tiefling asked in a panic. “Dra...dra...dragon. No…No! I can't move...no I can move...can't I?” the Other Arnara said twitching. "I don't know. Get me some water, QUICK!" Rafelor shouted as he propped up the unresisting elf higher on his lap. All the while, she continued to shake and murmur unintelligibly to herself. The tiefling went to the open door and grabbed a pitcher of water and a pair of glasses from one of the unused trays. She quickly filled one and handed it to Rafelor, who grabbed it from her hand. She then poured herself a glass and quaffed it down. Suddenly the ‘Other’ Arnara spoke again “Oh no...no...no you don’t!” her hands started to make motions with a look of concentration on her face. Finally she sat up an pointed a finger at the now panicked tiefling as she started to scream out a incantation, “Vas FLA—” But before she could finish, Rafelor dumped the contents of the glass into her mouth, causing her to gag and cough. Finally, the elf shook her head and spoke, “R..Raf? I...Irony? Who...who..." she looks down at her own twisted and bent form. "It’s me...not me in Thay." She collapsed back onto Rafelor’s chest gasping for air and muttered aloud. "She's...she's stopped now. I can think clearly..." Rafelor cradled the shivering elf and sighed, giving himself a moment to relax. "That's what I thought. It's the connection." Breathing heavily she continued, wincing as she spoke, "It hurts...no...that's not right, the memory hurts. I didn't notice it in the tomb...I was already in pain, already being tortured. And Arnara wasn't hurt as often...But now she has been injured...she keeps getting hurt. "Connection?" Irony asked. "Are...are we...are the books in danger?" "Candlekeep is fine. It's her that's the concern here." "I...I...need to...but...so...so...tired..." the elf wheezed and struggled to rise. “Running...out..of...time...” Rafelor held her and kept her from standing, "You need to lie down. That mind of yours isn't going to retain much information in this state." But she shook her head "No...don't need to...retain...just find the books...only...two days...left." "Sorry, um...one more day," Irony said looking a little guilty. “What is she talking about?” he looked at Irony. “Access to the stacks is permitted for only a tenday,” Irony started. “After that, we would need another text and permission from either the Master of Tomes, or the Great Reader that sponsored her, V'ziir-Ag. Otherwise, she...must leave and come back another time. And I have to say, she has been having me run ragged looking for tome after tome after tome. Even ones from the...restricted stacks. I haven't had a good night rest in days. At least the chamber pot duty has been light." "Well, isn't this just great? Arnara's been reading herself to death, about to get the boot out of here, and there's not enough time to handle anything of this.” Rafelor buried his face in his palm, groaning[B]. [/B]“Oh, man, Kylan's going to kill me..." The elf lay there limply shaking her head on Rafelor’s lap. "Not...not...Arnara...I'm...I'm not...Arnara...Or am I?...Can't...keep...us...str-straight." Rafelor let out a deep, forlorn sigh. “You should've asked me to help.” “I'm sorry....that's why I came to find you," Irony said. “But I don't make the rules....I'm sorry. I'm trying to help her as best I can.” “Not you, girl. Her,” Rafelor said pointing at the elf with his head. “No... no... don’t want you...to see...Arna...me...like...this...” the elf said still laboring to breathe. “And you'd rather me see you keeled over, starved, and convulsing?” Rafelor retorted. "I'm...stronger...must be...don’t…want to…burden…you. Was...fine....but she started fighting...in Thay. Unexpected. So...much pain...it’s not real...but it hurts. Fireballs. Steam. Life… drains. Dragon’s…breath. Vrock spores. And the pigs...oh...the pigs squealing.... dying...I'm [B][I]killing[/I][/B] them...she's killing them…I can’t stand it. It barely makes sense. No libraries...nothing...nothing yet. Just petty...Red Wizards and liches." "Believe me,” Rafelor said shaking his head. He then awkwardly tried to lift Arnara alone when Irony moved over to help steady her as Rafelor stood up. “I'd love to hear all about that, but this really doesn't seem the time. You need to rest, collect yourself, at least eat something that isn't a bunch of sweets." “She's worried...scared...won't show it to Chewy, or Glint...especially not Zinetra.” She said her knees wobbling. Finally, her shoulders drooped, and she let her head fall forward in submission. “Alright...l’ll rest. Take me to...the bed...I'll try to Reverie...But...please there is...a book we might trade...talk to...Irony.” Rafelor lifted the elf and was shocked on how light she was compared to the Arnara who danced and leapt with him in the Chult, teaching him the art of Bladesong. He gently carried and set her down on the feather mattress and watched. Once on the bed she laid there limply, eyes half open, breathing softly. Her face twitched momentarily and started to relax as her awareness of the here and now faded away for the memories of the Reverie. Rafelor stood up straight and rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, “This is great. Just absolutely great. It's only been nine days and I've already failed.” His eyes turn back to Irony. “So, what's this book that she almost killed herself for?” “Pardon? It’s not a single book sirrah,” the tiefling replied. “She has been emptying the stacks of most of the books on black necromancy. But that’s the problem; there are [B]a lot [/B]of books. She's read over two hundred of them already and hasn't found what she wants. I've been getting them for her, and V'ziir-Ag has pointed her in directions to narrow it down. But...she's probably only read...a third of what she wants. Each book tends to reference another two or three...and sometimes she hits a dead end. She's relentless...following a trail of texts almost a thousand years old.” She turned and moved over to the bed where the Other Arnara lay and looked at her with sympathy. “And tomorrow is her last day she will be permitted in the Inner Ward and have access to the restricted stacks. She's looking into some very dark material...you do know that right?” Before Rafelor could reply, a raspy voice like a flint on stone spoke, “IRONY! What has happened here!?!” A tall slender figure with a tight tonsured braid, and skin like yellowed parchment, who now stepped over the piled trays. “Oh crap,” Rafelor bluntly declared as he prepared himself to be immersed into another hot mess. The githzerai looked at the half-elf in confusion. “Who is this...wait, you are her...valet are you not? What is going on?” “She had...” He looked at the Other Arnara, trying to think of a reasonable explanation, “...health problems.” "Oh. I see.” The gith then looked at the desk nearby and moved over to it. He looked at the tomes laying on the desk, and reviewed the titles assembled there. “Ah...'Imaskari Rite of Life'...and a treatise of Netherese shadow magic...She is digging deep. Too deep perhaps. Well...she can get more rest after tomorrow I suppose. It could be worse, if she started delving into Far Realm materials...but she is very determined based on the texts she is asking for.” “Now hang on a second,” Rafelor stomped towards the Githzerai “There's no way she's going to get more time?” The gith arched an eyebrow “She could of course ask for an extension. It just requires a unique text of value. She came in with a spellbook penned by an Arcanaloth. What does she offer now for evaluation?” “An extension, huh? How long would that be? Another tenday?” “Of course. That is the standard arrangement we make.” "Hmmm," Rafelor thought for a moment "Now what could I possibly have that would…” Rafelor’s voice trailed off and his face’s color drained away. “So uh...what exactly would be a...valid submission?” “The Avowed accept several things, like spellbooks for entry into Candlekeep,” The githzerai began. “But for the Inner Ward, we require a substantial gift such as, rare editions of tomes already in the collection, journals of those who recount unique or insightful experiences, or the odd work that has been annotated by a prominent scholar outside the library. Being unique or special is important here.” The Gith then tilts his head regarding the half-elf. "Are you alright? You are looking a bit pale. Perhaps you should get some rest. Please take care." And the Avowed moved to leave the room, carefully avoiding the trays. "So uh...where do I go for a submission?" Rafelor asked. “Irony can run it to me or another Reader. You have a day to consider options of course. Please help your charge...we don't need another ghost in the halls." And the gith left the room, as quietly as he had entered. After a few moments, Irony exhales sharply and leaned against a wall, "I thought I was going to be in trouble...he's stern, but he's a caring man...as long as you don't ask him to show it." "Is that that the V'ziir dude?" Irony nodded, "V’ziir-Ag. He is one of the eight Great Readers, and he specializes in ...unnatural things. Aberrations, undead, and Far Realm materials and artifacts.” Irony looks down and chuckled, “I want to be the Master of Tomes one day...but that stuff gives me the shivers. I don't know how she read what she did." And Irony glanced at the elf softly breathing, with a small smile on her delicate face. "Well, she clearly seems better than before. About gave me a heart attack as soon as I walked in." Irony bowed her head, "I was just following the rules...I didn't think that it was as bad inside here. I would have fetched you sooner...I'm sorry,” and she made a sniffling sound. “Don't sweat it, kid. I should've been the one up here to begin with. No need to go crying my tears.” “I...thanks. I just want to be the best help I can...I don't want her to fail...let alone die under my care." “You're doing your job fine. Now, it's about time I do the same.” Rafelor said with confidence but a certain degree of glumness. The Other Arnara twitched momentarily, but her breathing was still soft and regular. “I hope she will be alright, but what did she mean by 'not...not...Arnara...I'm...I'm not....Arnara...Or am I?' Who is she?” Rafelor was silent for a moment, as he chewed on his lip before finally responding. “She's a friend, one who's been stuck in the shadow of another. She's trying her best to find her own path, but she's struggling.” “Shadow of another? I don't understand.” "She’s a clone; created by a coven of hags and…well…let's just say their minds are connected too close for comfort." "Oh...And that's why she's here?" "Right.” Rafelor sighed. “So...did he say you could help with a book submission?" Irony nodded, "Yes...I can run it to a Reader and they will evaluate it. I would start with V'ziir-Ag of course.” “Well uh...” Rafelor quietly mumbled to himself "Damn it...What if I had something to submit right now?” “Oh...well if you do I can deliver it now...but I'll have to lock you in here until I return. Neither of you are allowed to wander the Inner Ward alone...the extradimensional spaces are plentiful, and you could get lost. And Miirym can be touchy about that.” “Well, as long as you do return...But answer me this; If I submit this, can you ensure that she gets to stay for another tenday?” Irony’s jaw opens mockingly, “Of course I would come back. But as to your question...It isn't up to me...but a Reader. I could take you to him if you want or fetch him if there is a question.” “Might as well take me to them.” He turned again to look at Other Arnara, deep in her Reverie, "Best to do this while she's still in the trance." "As you like.” Irony said cheerfully. “I'm sure she will be safe...um, she [B][I]will[/I][/B] be safe like that?" she asked, as Other Arnara, flopped over onto her stomach with an arm now limply hanging off the bed. “Uh....” Rafelor moved over to the Other Arnara and put her arm back on the mattress. “Yeah..." Irony motioned to the door, and Rafelor evaded the trays and left Other Arnara’s room. She then took the key back from Rafelor and locked the door behind them. Pocketing the key, she led Rafelor back down the stairs and then then meandered throughout Inner Ward and its byzantine stairwells. Eventually, they proceeded downward into the lower levels of a tower. The passage beneath closed in and the torches on the walls grew farther apart. Finally, they reached an iron bound door, covered in sigils and runes. Irony rapped her knuckles three times on the wood, and then there was the sound of a bar sliding and then the door swung open. Rafelor and Irony stepped inside, and to no great surprise he found himself in a laboratory. It had shelves and shelves of books. Laced in between the volumes were things in glass containers, canopic jars and other macabre items under a layer of dust. The room had several empty slabs that looked like they were for embalming. V’ziir-Ag, The Great Reader stood in the back, cleaning a flask in a basin. He turned to glance over his shoulder and said in the same raspy voice. “Ah...the Valet...well...what does your mistress want?” “Heard you guys like to do borrowed time here, and it looks like Arnara here needs a little more." “Time is the enemy of research for many reasons. But access to perilous knowledge is...well perilous. Are you sure she can handle another tenday?” “I got no reason to start doubting her yet. That tenday is what she needs to keep a focused, yet healthy mind.” The gith arched an eyebrow, “Well, if this is what she wants...did you have something to offer to the Avowed?” Rafelor's confidence when he entered the room starts to waver. Someway, somehow, he thought there was a chance he could get out of this. But, now it didn’t look like it's going to be the case "Well....uh...yeah I do." The gith puts down the cleaned flask and waits expectantly. Rafelor's body tensed as he pulled something from underneath his coat. His face flushed to a bright pink as he sheepishly slid over a worn leather book, with a title inscribed with a mixture of black and red inks: [CENTER]‘[S]Pyrite's Journal [/S] RAFELOR'S KICKASS LOG OF ADVENTURES Corrected by Arnara, 1st Daughter of House Ustina (Repeatedly)’[/CENTER] The Gith frowned “What is this then?" He opened it up and started to flip through the page, skimming the contents. “Damaged, missing some pages here and there. Not what I was expecting. Irony, didn't the elf say she had more of the Arcanaloth spellbooks?" After thinking a moment, the tiefling nodded, “She did yes. I am sure of it.” “Well...I don't see how...this...Acererak?” The Gith whispered in a mixture of fear and reverence. “No...this can't be...no it is...and its recent...” The Gith looked up "This. This is [B][I]your[/I][/B] journal?” “Uh......” Rafelor stood there, unsure what to say to the scholar, as he continued to flip pages and read further. “Come now...you must tell me. You all faced Acererak? And survived?” “Well...uh....I...um...Yes.” “And the elf...she annotated it as well. A first hand encounter with one of the most dangerous liches known...and you survived and wrote something down. Remarkable. I had heard rumors of a band that went to the Chult recently...and that was you? And her?” “Well...” and Rafelor took a long pause, “I guess rumors do spread around then.” The Gith made a low whistle. “This...this...is something worthy indeed.” And he nodded approvingly. “But I cannot accept it.” And in a smooth motion, he clapped the book shut and turned it around to Rafelor. The stunned half-elf blinked their eyes before sputtering, “WHAT!?” “I can overlook the missing pages I suppose...but the problem as I see it, is that it is incomplete. A journey half finished. However, if I could have a [B][I]copy[/I][/B] of this volume and a promise that you will...donate the subsequent ones on their completion, I think we can grant her the time. But it must be the originals!” and the Gith wagged a finger at Rafelor. "Well, I thought that volume was fully complete, but if it's a volume II you're asking for..." “Of course...a complete set is more valuable.” “That...could work,” Rafelor said with a lump in his throat. “Well then...Irony, please take this journal to the House of the Binder and have it copied. Then deposit it in the restricted section under 'Close calls.'” Irony took the book from the Gith and clutched it confused. “And please escort the esteemed Rafelor back to...the First Daughter.” Irony moved to Rafelor and tugged on his sleeve, attempting to pull him with her. “Uh...alright.” They walked back to the door. As the door started to creak shut, the githzerai spoke again. “And Rafelor...thank you. Thank you for saving my life.” Before Rafelor could respond, the door creaked closed, and they could hear the sound of it being barred from the inside. “Wait what?" Rafelor said as he stared at the door in confusion. “What's he talking about?” “I’m not sure,” Irony said. “He was sick for a while though, wasting away in fact. The other seven were getting ready to name a replacement, when he suddenly got better." “Holy @##%!...” Irony looked at Rafelor “What did you do?” Rafelor stood silent for a moment, before deciding to answer Irony as straight as possible[B].[/B] “I destroyed the Soulmonger. The source of his illness.” Irony blinked a moment before gushing, “Seriously...wow. That must mean you are a...a real hero! And the elf? She was there too!?!” Rafelor put on a smug grin, feeling more like himself in weeks. “Sure was, doesn't feel like it, but I guess the actions speak louder than the thoughts.” “That's is ...wow...I've never met a real hero before...a pair even!” She started to skip, down the dark tunnel. “Well...too bad no one will read your Journal for a while.” “Hey! What's with the sudden shade?” Rafelor said in a hurt voice. The tiefling stopped and looked confused for a moment. Then realization crossed her face and she answered Rafelor. “It’s not shade. It’s policy. Journals leave the restricted stacks only on the death of the authors. For…privacy. And since someone has to know it is here all to request it no one will see it. So, unless you tell someone, it will stay pretty private. Come on...let’s get you back to your friend.” Rafelor let out his breath in a huff shaking his head, and followed the skipping Irony, her hooves echoing in the halls. “Alrighty then. And then after that, I'm gonna have to make a stop by The Hearth again. With all this craziness hitting the fan, I think I'm gonna need some of your hardest booze.” Irony chuckled, "I guess I won’t live long enough to read it Rafelor...unless I get a higher rank...OOOooo now I [B][I]have[/I][/B] to become a Great Reader…or the Master of Tomes!” Rafelor kept walking "Guess you got something to look forward to when I croak" “You croak? Don't you mean her? The journal can't be republished or put into circulation until [B][I]she[/I][/B] dies. And don't elves live what...a thousand years? Wow what a story it will be in 2492 DR! Anyway, I'll take you back to her, and I’ll bring you back some drinks from the bar after I drop this off. Come on!” and she started to skip down the hall again. This day just gets crazier and crazier..." Rafelor said to himself, and shrugged as he followed behind, trying to keep up with the excited skipping Tiefling. [B]Story notes:[/B] A lot of the source material was from [I]Candlekeep Adventures. [/I]It was a lot of fun exploring Irony and V'ziir-Ag and bringing...a version of them to life. The other "source" is [URL='https://www.enworld.org/members/wilpower784.7029616/']Wilpower784[/URL] Journal for Rafelor. It is a real thing, with comedy only the orignal party members understand. But it did need constant corrections, which was the running theme in the 'Tomb of Annihilation' adventure. [/QUOTE]
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