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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1938636" data-attributes="member: 143">Happy New Year to all of my readers. * * * * * The Shackled CityA Campaign Story by Ken “Lazybones” McDonaldBook VII: “Lords of Oblivion”Chapter 293Dannel felt some of the stress that had accompanied him as a nearly constant companion ease from his shoulders as he entered the relative quiet of the grove.  This place, so near to the bustle of the town, indeed seemed like a different world entirely.  It was a shame that more of the townsfolk didn’t come here, he thought.  This day there was a cool breeze off the lake rustling through the dense, overgrown brush that formed a low wall to either side of the twisting path.  The sun was already well on its way to touching the curving black line formed by the hulking wall that ran around the entire circumference of the volcanic caldera in which the city of Cauldron rested.  The elf walked down the path, making no effort to conceal the noise of his passage; indeed, he began to whistle the melody of an elvish song of traveling as he penetrated deeper into the grove. When the bushes ahead began inevitably to shake, he stood his ground, trying not to look worried. It became somewhat harder, when they parted to reveal a snub head with jaws big enough to take off his head in a single bite. “Hello, Bristle,” he said.  “I’m just here to see Shensen.”As the dire wolverine peered at him, he wondered just how “tame” the druid’s animal companion was.  But finally the thing leaned in to give him a good sniff, then, as if satisfied, it turned and disappeared back into the brush.  “Disappeared,” that is, if you considered the noise of the passage of an eighteen-hundred pound animal through dense bushes to be unremarkable.  Dannel did not follow the creature; he already knew his destination, knew where he would find Shensen. The hillock was as he remembered, a grassy knoll surrounded by trees, topped by a single lonely blueleaf whose boughs spread out over its slopes like protecting arms.  She was there, her back to him, watching the sunset.  His booted feet made barely a whisper as he walked through the grass, but she knew he was there nonetheless. “Hello, Dannel,” she said, without turning.  “I told Bristle I didn’t want to see anybody; damn but that beast has a stubborn streak a league across.”“Maybe he knows you need a little company now and again,” he said, sitting down next to her, facing in the same direction as she.  “We all do, you know.  Even hermit-druids.”He shot a covert glance at her, thought he saw the faintest hint of a smile. “Why did you come today?” she asked, finally. “I just wanted to see how you were doing,” he said.  “What you went through... it’s not easy, for all that veteran adventurers like to make an almost cavalier reference to resurrection.”She shuddered.  “You cannot understand.”He touched her shoulder, lightly.  “I’m afraid I can.”She looked at him then, delving into his eyes with hers.  Her eyes were a bright blue, the color of the lake under the full sun.  “You were raised?” she asked. “Yes,” he admitted.  “It was ten years ago; I had only just become a Harper.”  Her eyes widened slightly; that in itself was an uncommon admission.  That society was known for keeping close counsel and weaving secrets; it was said that by the time you knew you were dealing with a Harper, they likely had already attached a few strings to you.“What happened?” she asked.  “If you want to talk about it.”“I was shot in the back with a Zhent crossbow,” he said.  “It was my own damned fault,” he said quickly.  “I dismissed someone as harmless who turned out to be anything but.  Fortunately I had friends close by, so the Zhents did not have time to dispose of the body.  Still, it was not something that I would want to go through again, understand.”She nodded.  “Why did you decide... to come back?” “It wasn’t an easy decision,” he said.  “For all of the emphasis upon the power of the cleric... or druid,” he added, “very few people talk about the agency of the soul.  Ultimately, even in that, we have choice...”“Not everyone does,” she said, turning back to the sunset.  “People die every day across the Realms... thousands, more.  Not everyone is lucky enough to know a High Priest.”“I’ve thought about that often.  For all that our clerics have dominion over life and death... whether they follow the path of good, evil, or the balance, order or chaos... for all that, the ultimate power to draw someone back across the veil is rare.  And I think that’s a good thing.”“Oh?”“Consider our lives,” he said.  “We know that our time here is transitory, but we also know that our souls will continue after our physical bodies end, that we will have... something... waiting for us after this life.  And yet we fear death.  Why?”“It is because life is precious to us, because of that very fact that we cannot easily tread that boundary between realities.  Whatever our beliefs, whatever our causes, or struggles, we know that every moment here is vital, and ultimately limited.  Thus it’s a terrible, terrible mistake to waste any of it.”“I had no idea you were a philosopher as well as an archer,” she said.  “Most bards I’ve met are a little of both,” he replied with a smile.  “Although in some cases the philosophy can be a simple one, such as ‘wine, women, and song,’ or somesuch.”“I’ve heard of worse approaches to life,” she said, her own mood lightening.  She turned back toward the setting sun.  “I’ve always loved this part of the day,” she said.  “I do not know how my people, the drow, have managed to live, cutting themselves off from this beauty.”“Many who live up here on the surface cut themselves off from it as well,” he said.  “Maybe we can help at least a few remember, what it means to enjoy a sunset, in peace.”She turned to him.  “How is Zenna?” she asked. Dannel lowered his head.  “She is... she has had a difficult time.”“We all have, of late,” she said.  “If... if you love her, you cannot let her use that as an excuse.”The elf chuckled wryly.  “She doesn’t need excuses to be mad at me.”“What are you going to do now?”It was one of those questions that could go in a few directions, and Dannel clearly chose one in his response.  “We’re not certain.  Mole and I have continued to try to track down leads on these ‘Cagewrights’, while Jenya has been talking to the heads of the other churches, trying to learn what they can via divine means.  But the gods have not been wholly forthcoming with hard info, it seems.”   “Helping those that help themselves,” she said. “Yeah, something like that.”“This is my favorite part,” she said, turning back as the sunlight touched the horizon of the wall.  The golden orb seemed to flare brightly, as if resisting its decline, and the inevitable return of night.The two sat there, silent, for some time, sharing a quiet moment in a chaotic time.</blockquote>

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