Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. When I started Travels, I knew it was going to just be for myself and for my online readers, given that it is set in a trademarked campaign setting. But maybe I will send the folks at WotC (if there are any left after all the layoffs 
) a prospectus of the story, just for the heck of it.
Of course, if it were to get published, I wouldn't be able to post new updates here for you guys
.
* * * * *
Book VI, Part 2 (2nd post)
He found and broke the seal at one end of the tube with his thumb, and drew out the tightly rolled scroll contained within. Actually two scrolls, he discovered, separating the two sheets of paper. He turned to head inside the house, to find a lamp, but when he looked down at the top sheet of paper he saw that the lines of script written therein shone with a faint but clearly distinguishable glow. A human might not have been able to read by that light, but the words were clearly legible to Cal’s sharp eyes.
It was not a particularly difficult trick, but not especially common, and it let Cal recognize the source of the message even before he read the familiar letterhead at the top of the scroll. It was a design that wove across the top of the page, a collection of whirls and loops that formed the shapes of birds and leaves in a complex pattern. Cal felt a pang of memory as he looked at that letterhead, then his eyes traveled down to the text below.
It was a letter, addressed to him.
To my great-nephew Balander, resident of Silverymoon:
It has been years now, since we have last spoken, my boy, but know that my thoughts have often been with you since you left. I have watched you, from time to time, and so it is that I know to call upon you in my hour of need.
Time is short, so I will get straight to the point. Two days ago, my grandson Nelan—your cousin—in direct defiance of my wishes, entered Undermountain through the gateway in the Yawning Portal in the company of a small band of unproven adventurers. You will recall that your cousin has always been foolish and headstrong, but never has he done anything this reckless. As you no doubt already know, magic works strangely within the halls of Halaster’s domain, and I have been unsuccessful in my efforts to track Nelan or his companions. Reports are that the upper levels have been particularly active of late, so much so that Durnan had sealed his gateway to all passage. Nelan, apparently was able to persuade him to make an exception—you know how disarmingly charming that young rake can be.
The sun sets over the city as I write this, which I hope will reach your hands by the following dawn. Fortunately I had this messenger on hand, and I will be watching to see if you receive it. I was so desperate that I even considered hiring adventurers to go into Undermountain in search of Nelan, but this is a matter best left to family. And so I turn to you, Balander, and implore your aid. You chose to leave us for the wider world, a decision that I understood and supported, but now your family needs your talents.
Enclosed with this message you will find a scroll of teleportation, which I know you are now able to use. You may target the study in my old house—I know you are well familiar with it, and it has changed little since you last were here. I have also sent word to your cousin Pelanther, but he is even more difficult to reach than you in his chosen haunts within the Ardeep Forest.
I ask this of you, not as the matriarch of our family, but as the old woman who you called ‘Nana’ when you were just a child, bouncing on my knee. Fate has been cruel to me, over the years, taking from me so many I loved and called my own. Nelan is all that I have left to me. I ask—no, I beg—please help.
Great-Aunt Alera Calloran
Matriarch of Family Calloran
Cal lowered the scroll, his thoughts jumbled in a confused whirl as he tried to sort out the implications of the message. He remembered Nelan, of course; it took a bit of effort, however, for him to reconcile the image of the irrepressible boy who was always darting around underfoot at family gatherings with the description of an adventurer who would brave the perils of Undermountain. Or maybe the two images weren’t that different, after all; as a Waterdhavian Cal had been particularly familiar with the many tales of the vast halls of the mad mage Halaster, and even in his most adventurous moods he’d never been tempted to organize an expedition to that most deadly of Faerûn’s dungeons.
He hadn’t seen Nelan in... four years? A lot could change in a person over that time, particularly for the young. Whatever his motivations were in defying his grandmother’s wishes, Cal genuinely feared for him. Two days was a long time, in the dark places of the world.
Ultimately, however, he knew that there was only one thing that he could do. He owed Alera, as everyone in their family did. The strong-willed old gnome had been the glue that had kept them together through numerous tough times, and even though part of him rankled at the subtle ways she was manipulating him in the carefully chosen words of her message, he knew that there was no way that he could refuse her.
Resolved, the gnome turned once again to return inside. There would be a lot to do, and little time for preparations. And despite Alera’s praises, there was a real chance that the teleport scroll would be beyond his abilities...
As he turned, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A shadow had detached itself from the lee of the building across the way, and before he could fully shift his attention it crossed to the structure that contained his apartments and vanished around the corner to the back side. It might have been nothing, a trick of the light, or a scavenging animal trying to find a meal before the daylight fully arrived. But Cal was too experienced to dismiss his instincts so quickly.
Quietly he slipped back into his workroom, and crossed to the heavy iron-bound chest that contained his adventuring gear. Twenty heartbeats later he had several of his more potent items in place on his person, their various magical auras settling into place like a familiar second skin. Last he took a final item from the bottom of the chest, the magical lute that his friends had given him.
It’s laid there, forgotten, for too long, Cal thought to himself, strumming a faint melody on the lute that resonated with magical energy as the power of a mage armor spell settled around him. For a moment a pale glow surrounded him, but he knew that it would fade into an invisible field of protection in just a few moments.
A knock came at the door, quiet enough so that it wouldn’t carry to the other dwellings within the building. Cautiously, Cal crossed to the door, where he hesitated briefly. Finally he told himself he was being silly—what sort of marauder would bother to knock?
He opened the door, revealing an apparently empty hallway beyond. The only light came from the windows behind him, but it was enough for him to see that there was no one there waiting.
He nearly closed the door, but just then a tall shadow emerged from the darkness of the hallway, startling him.
“I have come for you, Balander Calloran!”
The voice was dark and menacing, and the darkness that cloaked the tall figure persisted even in the light in the doorway, clearly unnatural. But Cal had already recognized the intruder, and after the first initial moment of shock leapt forward to embrace the dark stranger.
“Benzan!”
) a prospectus of the story, just for the heck of it. Of course, if it were to get published, I wouldn't be able to post new updates here for you guys
. * * * * *
Book VI, Part 2 (2nd post)
He found and broke the seal at one end of the tube with his thumb, and drew out the tightly rolled scroll contained within. Actually two scrolls, he discovered, separating the two sheets of paper. He turned to head inside the house, to find a lamp, but when he looked down at the top sheet of paper he saw that the lines of script written therein shone with a faint but clearly distinguishable glow. A human might not have been able to read by that light, but the words were clearly legible to Cal’s sharp eyes.
It was not a particularly difficult trick, but not especially common, and it let Cal recognize the source of the message even before he read the familiar letterhead at the top of the scroll. It was a design that wove across the top of the page, a collection of whirls and loops that formed the shapes of birds and leaves in a complex pattern. Cal felt a pang of memory as he looked at that letterhead, then his eyes traveled down to the text below.
It was a letter, addressed to him.
To my great-nephew Balander, resident of Silverymoon:
It has been years now, since we have last spoken, my boy, but know that my thoughts have often been with you since you left. I have watched you, from time to time, and so it is that I know to call upon you in my hour of need.
Time is short, so I will get straight to the point. Two days ago, my grandson Nelan—your cousin—in direct defiance of my wishes, entered Undermountain through the gateway in the Yawning Portal in the company of a small band of unproven adventurers. You will recall that your cousin has always been foolish and headstrong, but never has he done anything this reckless. As you no doubt already know, magic works strangely within the halls of Halaster’s domain, and I have been unsuccessful in my efforts to track Nelan or his companions. Reports are that the upper levels have been particularly active of late, so much so that Durnan had sealed his gateway to all passage. Nelan, apparently was able to persuade him to make an exception—you know how disarmingly charming that young rake can be.
The sun sets over the city as I write this, which I hope will reach your hands by the following dawn. Fortunately I had this messenger on hand, and I will be watching to see if you receive it. I was so desperate that I even considered hiring adventurers to go into Undermountain in search of Nelan, but this is a matter best left to family. And so I turn to you, Balander, and implore your aid. You chose to leave us for the wider world, a decision that I understood and supported, but now your family needs your talents.
Enclosed with this message you will find a scroll of teleportation, which I know you are now able to use. You may target the study in my old house—I know you are well familiar with it, and it has changed little since you last were here. I have also sent word to your cousin Pelanther, but he is even more difficult to reach than you in his chosen haunts within the Ardeep Forest.
I ask this of you, not as the matriarch of our family, but as the old woman who you called ‘Nana’ when you were just a child, bouncing on my knee. Fate has been cruel to me, over the years, taking from me so many I loved and called my own. Nelan is all that I have left to me. I ask—no, I beg—please help.
Great-Aunt Alera Calloran
Matriarch of Family Calloran
Cal lowered the scroll, his thoughts jumbled in a confused whirl as he tried to sort out the implications of the message. He remembered Nelan, of course; it took a bit of effort, however, for him to reconcile the image of the irrepressible boy who was always darting around underfoot at family gatherings with the description of an adventurer who would brave the perils of Undermountain. Or maybe the two images weren’t that different, after all; as a Waterdhavian Cal had been particularly familiar with the many tales of the vast halls of the mad mage Halaster, and even in his most adventurous moods he’d never been tempted to organize an expedition to that most deadly of Faerûn’s dungeons.
He hadn’t seen Nelan in... four years? A lot could change in a person over that time, particularly for the young. Whatever his motivations were in defying his grandmother’s wishes, Cal genuinely feared for him. Two days was a long time, in the dark places of the world.
Ultimately, however, he knew that there was only one thing that he could do. He owed Alera, as everyone in their family did. The strong-willed old gnome had been the glue that had kept them together through numerous tough times, and even though part of him rankled at the subtle ways she was manipulating him in the carefully chosen words of her message, he knew that there was no way that he could refuse her.
Resolved, the gnome turned once again to return inside. There would be a lot to do, and little time for preparations. And despite Alera’s praises, there was a real chance that the teleport scroll would be beyond his abilities...
As he turned, he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye. A shadow had detached itself from the lee of the building across the way, and before he could fully shift his attention it crossed to the structure that contained his apartments and vanished around the corner to the back side. It might have been nothing, a trick of the light, or a scavenging animal trying to find a meal before the daylight fully arrived. But Cal was too experienced to dismiss his instincts so quickly.
Quietly he slipped back into his workroom, and crossed to the heavy iron-bound chest that contained his adventuring gear. Twenty heartbeats later he had several of his more potent items in place on his person, their various magical auras settling into place like a familiar second skin. Last he took a final item from the bottom of the chest, the magical lute that his friends had given him.
It’s laid there, forgotten, for too long, Cal thought to himself, strumming a faint melody on the lute that resonated with magical energy as the power of a mage armor spell settled around him. For a moment a pale glow surrounded him, but he knew that it would fade into an invisible field of protection in just a few moments.
A knock came at the door, quiet enough so that it wouldn’t carry to the other dwellings within the building. Cautiously, Cal crossed to the door, where he hesitated briefly. Finally he told himself he was being silly—what sort of marauder would bother to knock?
He opened the door, revealing an apparently empty hallway beyond. The only light came from the windows behind him, but it was enough for him to see that there was no one there waiting.
He nearly closed the door, but just then a tall shadow emerged from the darkness of the hallway, startling him.
“I have come for you, Balander Calloran!”
The voice was dark and menacing, and the darkness that cloaked the tall figure persisted even in the light in the doorway, clearly unnatural. But Cal had already recognized the intruder, and after the first initial moment of shock leapt forward to embrace the dark stranger.
“Benzan!”
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