Lazybones
Adventurer
Don't worry, Maldur; I'll keep writing it even if only you, me, and and Horacio are here... I suspect a number of readers are like me, dropping in to visit our favorite threads once every few weeks to catch up on updates. Thanks again for the bumps (I saw the thread dropping off of page 1 yesterday, but I make it a point of honor to never bump my own threads).
Of course, with TttWW, you miss a week and you can miss a lot...
I must still be in "novel mode," for part 2 ended up being longer than I anticipated as well. I generally try for posts that are from 8-12,000 characters long, otherwise it is too much to read given the serial format of a messageboard story. I'll post part 2 over today and tomorrow, like I did with part 1.
Still setting up the story and catching up with our heroes, but I promise we'll get to the action soon enough!
* * * * *
Book VI, Part 2 (1st post)
Cal awoke with a start, the fleeting shards of his dream scattering before the harder edges of reality. He didn’t try to hold onto the departing visions of his dream—he rarely did, anymore—and instead rose and sat quietly on the edge of his bed. It was still dark, the land outside his bedroom window barely glowing with the light of the false dawn, but the gnome’s low-light vision—and his familiarity with his dwelling—allowed him to navigate the darkened room without difficulty as he rose and walked into the outer chamber.
The place was familiar, filled with the little touches that marked a place as being lived-in. He’d only been here six months, but already the place looked as though he’d lived here all his life. That thought troubled him, for some reason.
He walked past his worktable, a long stretch of heavy wood that ran along most of the back wall of the room. He laid his hand on the smooth wooden surface, feeling the familiar grain of the wood beneath his fingers. His eyes traveled inevitably to where his most recent project was laid out across the center of the workspace. It was foolish, but for a moment he felt as though it was mocking him, sitting there unfinished.
He leaned over and picked up the wand from its cradle. Even without its power the slender piece of polished blueleaf felt impressive, exquisitely formed and painstakingly carved with spidery runes of power. Everything was ready, from the wand to the materials that he would need to complete it, but for some reason he’d let this project sit unfinished for several weeks now.
With a sigh he placed the uncharged wand back in its cradle. He knew what the problem was, the reason for his hesitation. It wasn’t uncertainty whether he would be able to complete the wand successfully; he’d made several in his first weeks here, although those were lesser items that were easy compared to the effort that this wand—a wand of invisibility it would be, once he was finished—would require. No, it was more what the wand and its power represented, a reminder of what he was, and what he was doing here. His power had grown, since he and the others had returned from the Underdark, and he had established a comfortable niche for himself here, but...
Well. That was it, in a nutshell, he thought. He was here, in a comfortable home, living a stable and settled existence rather than the chaotic life of the road that he and the others had pursued through much of the previous year. The life of the adventurer. They’d complained so often about the trials of the road when they were on that course, but now that he’d eschewed it that life seemed to call to him, whispering little mutterings of discontent into the edges of his conscious thoughts.
So why was he still here?
Cal turned away from the worktable, and opened the sliding door that led out onto the back patio. The morning air was cold, bracing, even though there was still a fair amount of summer to go before the season could properly be called autumn. For a moment he felt tempted to go back inside and fetch his ring of warmth, but in a tiny little gesture of self-denial he decided to stay, and face the morning on its own terms.
Even in the soft haze of the morning, when the streets were all but deserted, Silverymoon looked wondrous. Or maybe it was the absence of activity that heightened the effect, making the wonders of the northern city stand out in all its stark and magnificent beauty. Massive trees, some of which contained dwellings within their boughs, filled the streets, and hundreds of structures in dozens of architectural styles were visible from his vista. Though the Silver Marches lacked the sense of ancient durability of places like Waterdeep, it had its own majesty, due in part to the presence of such wonders against the harsh backdrop of the Silver Marches. In these wild and largely untamed lands, Silverymoon stood as a glowing symbol of civilization against the constant threats posed against its very existence.
Cal leaned back against the rail of the patio and sighed again. He liked it here. Silverymoon was different, very different, from his home of Waterdeep, but it was a place that had its own diversity and character. Those features appealed very much to the traveled gnome, and he’d made friendships here, and earned respect among those who possessed power.
But he still missed his friends.
He hadn’t seen Lok in nearly a year, ever since they had parted company on their return to the abandoned underground town of the urdunnir. The parting had been a sad one, for even though Lok had been returned to them from death they had to give him up once again in the face of his people’s need. The several hundred urdunnir that had survived their enslavement needed a leader now, and Lok’s determination to help them had not ended with their freedom from the duergar. Something about him had changed, although he had not spoken to them of what he had experienced in his brief brush with the afterlife. Cal, who had been there himself, understood completely and gave the genasi the space he needed.
For about the thousandth time, the gnome wondered how his friend was faring, as he went about the task of rebuilding a society from the foundations up. Cal had been researching a new spell, one that would allow him to view familiar persons from a great distance, but thus far its secrets had evaded him. It wasn’t that the spell was beyond his power—he’d already mastered several enchantments of equivalent difficulty—but more a mental block that came up each time he tried to venture the complex equations scribed on the vellum surface of the spell scroll he’d purchased from one of the local mages.
Maybe a part of him didn’t want to learn the spell of scrying, Cal mused as he looked out over the quiet city. He wanted to see his friends, but maybe he was afraid of what he might find if he did.
That realization brought his thoughts to Dana and Benzan. There love for each other was now out in the open, and on the long journey back Cal had seen the bond between the two of them start to flourish and grow. But he’d also seen the tension that still existed between them, a tension that he realized and understood because he felt the source of it himself. A shadow that all four of them shared, the fate of a friend lost to them.
The three of them had parted in Silverymoon six months ago. Cal had elected to remain to study with the mages of the city and see what, if any, lore he could uncover about demons and the possible fate of Delem’s soul. Dana and Benzan, meanwhile, were to continue on to the Sword Coast, to Waterdeep and ultimately to Baldur’s Gate. There they would meet again with Ilyessa Beldarin, high priestess of Tymora in that city, whose mandate had sent them on a journey halfway around the world what seemed like so long ago. While they had sent a message ahead of them explaining the ill fate that befallen that mission, and the death of Ruath, Ilyessa’s agent on that trip, they all agreed that they owed the Lady a face-to-face visit to more fully explain what had happened.
Cal had fully intended to follow after once he was finished in Silverymoon, but as the weeks had crept into months he found himself finding one excuse after another not to go. Perhaps it was the idea of returning to Waterdeep, the place he had so long called home, although he could not fully grasp why the idea of returning there would make him uncomfortable.
Eventually, as more time passed without word from Benzan and Dana, the impetus to leave diminished. And his work here was progressing, with new powers opening to his study. In a way, his explorations continued, just down a new course than before...
No, that was a rationalization, Cal thought, as he shook his head. A cold gust of wind from the north—probably all the way from the Spine of the World—blew over the porch, causing him to shiver. He turned to head back into the house...
...and hesitated, as he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Curious, he approached the object resting on the floor on the far edge of the patio.
It was a bird, or at least it looked like one at first glance, but as he drew nearer Cal could see that it was far more remarkable. It perched on the very edge of the patio, facing toward the interior of his workroom. It was roughly the size of a real raven, and its color was the same jet black, but that’s where the similarity to a living avian ended. For even in the pale glow of the predawn it was obvious that the bird was carved from stone, its outline marked by the rougher edges of the sculptors chisel rather than from the natural lines of feathers and skin.
Cal wondered who might have left the thing here, on the back patio. A low fence separated the back of his house from other nearby residences, but it was not a barrier that would serve to keep out a determined visitor. Another thought occurred to him, and he called to mind the words of a minor cantrip.
Before he could cast the spell, however, the bird figure itself confirmed his suspicion as its head lifted and it stared directly at him.
“Balander Calloran, I bear thee a message,” the stone bird spoke, in a quiet but clear voice. Then, before the gnome could react, it crumbled into a small pile of broken pieces of stone.
Still wary, but with his curiosity now stronger than his caution, Cal crept forward and bent down to examine the remains of the stone bird. He quickly found what he was looking for, a slender metal tube that had apparently been contained within the body of the stone bird. His fingers ran up the length of the tube, outlining the runes etched lightly into its surface.
(continued tomorrow)
Of course, with TttWW, you miss a week and you can miss a lot...
I must still be in "novel mode," for part 2 ended up being longer than I anticipated as well. I generally try for posts that are from 8-12,000 characters long, otherwise it is too much to read given the serial format of a messageboard story. I'll post part 2 over today and tomorrow, like I did with part 1.
Still setting up the story and catching up with our heroes, but I promise we'll get to the action soon enough!
* * * * *
Book VI, Part 2 (1st post)
Cal awoke with a start, the fleeting shards of his dream scattering before the harder edges of reality. He didn’t try to hold onto the departing visions of his dream—he rarely did, anymore—and instead rose and sat quietly on the edge of his bed. It was still dark, the land outside his bedroom window barely glowing with the light of the false dawn, but the gnome’s low-light vision—and his familiarity with his dwelling—allowed him to navigate the darkened room without difficulty as he rose and walked into the outer chamber.
The place was familiar, filled with the little touches that marked a place as being lived-in. He’d only been here six months, but already the place looked as though he’d lived here all his life. That thought troubled him, for some reason.
He walked past his worktable, a long stretch of heavy wood that ran along most of the back wall of the room. He laid his hand on the smooth wooden surface, feeling the familiar grain of the wood beneath his fingers. His eyes traveled inevitably to where his most recent project was laid out across the center of the workspace. It was foolish, but for a moment he felt as though it was mocking him, sitting there unfinished.
He leaned over and picked up the wand from its cradle. Even without its power the slender piece of polished blueleaf felt impressive, exquisitely formed and painstakingly carved with spidery runes of power. Everything was ready, from the wand to the materials that he would need to complete it, but for some reason he’d let this project sit unfinished for several weeks now.
With a sigh he placed the uncharged wand back in its cradle. He knew what the problem was, the reason for his hesitation. It wasn’t uncertainty whether he would be able to complete the wand successfully; he’d made several in his first weeks here, although those were lesser items that were easy compared to the effort that this wand—a wand of invisibility it would be, once he was finished—would require. No, it was more what the wand and its power represented, a reminder of what he was, and what he was doing here. His power had grown, since he and the others had returned from the Underdark, and he had established a comfortable niche for himself here, but...
Well. That was it, in a nutshell, he thought. He was here, in a comfortable home, living a stable and settled existence rather than the chaotic life of the road that he and the others had pursued through much of the previous year. The life of the adventurer. They’d complained so often about the trials of the road when they were on that course, but now that he’d eschewed it that life seemed to call to him, whispering little mutterings of discontent into the edges of his conscious thoughts.
So why was he still here?
Cal turned away from the worktable, and opened the sliding door that led out onto the back patio. The morning air was cold, bracing, even though there was still a fair amount of summer to go before the season could properly be called autumn. For a moment he felt tempted to go back inside and fetch his ring of warmth, but in a tiny little gesture of self-denial he decided to stay, and face the morning on its own terms.
Even in the soft haze of the morning, when the streets were all but deserted, Silverymoon looked wondrous. Or maybe it was the absence of activity that heightened the effect, making the wonders of the northern city stand out in all its stark and magnificent beauty. Massive trees, some of which contained dwellings within their boughs, filled the streets, and hundreds of structures in dozens of architectural styles were visible from his vista. Though the Silver Marches lacked the sense of ancient durability of places like Waterdeep, it had its own majesty, due in part to the presence of such wonders against the harsh backdrop of the Silver Marches. In these wild and largely untamed lands, Silverymoon stood as a glowing symbol of civilization against the constant threats posed against its very existence.
Cal leaned back against the rail of the patio and sighed again. He liked it here. Silverymoon was different, very different, from his home of Waterdeep, but it was a place that had its own diversity and character. Those features appealed very much to the traveled gnome, and he’d made friendships here, and earned respect among those who possessed power.
But he still missed his friends.
He hadn’t seen Lok in nearly a year, ever since they had parted company on their return to the abandoned underground town of the urdunnir. The parting had been a sad one, for even though Lok had been returned to them from death they had to give him up once again in the face of his people’s need. The several hundred urdunnir that had survived their enslavement needed a leader now, and Lok’s determination to help them had not ended with their freedom from the duergar. Something about him had changed, although he had not spoken to them of what he had experienced in his brief brush with the afterlife. Cal, who had been there himself, understood completely and gave the genasi the space he needed.
For about the thousandth time, the gnome wondered how his friend was faring, as he went about the task of rebuilding a society from the foundations up. Cal had been researching a new spell, one that would allow him to view familiar persons from a great distance, but thus far its secrets had evaded him. It wasn’t that the spell was beyond his power—he’d already mastered several enchantments of equivalent difficulty—but more a mental block that came up each time he tried to venture the complex equations scribed on the vellum surface of the spell scroll he’d purchased from one of the local mages.
Maybe a part of him didn’t want to learn the spell of scrying, Cal mused as he looked out over the quiet city. He wanted to see his friends, but maybe he was afraid of what he might find if he did.
That realization brought his thoughts to Dana and Benzan. There love for each other was now out in the open, and on the long journey back Cal had seen the bond between the two of them start to flourish and grow. But he’d also seen the tension that still existed between them, a tension that he realized and understood because he felt the source of it himself. A shadow that all four of them shared, the fate of a friend lost to them.
The three of them had parted in Silverymoon six months ago. Cal had elected to remain to study with the mages of the city and see what, if any, lore he could uncover about demons and the possible fate of Delem’s soul. Dana and Benzan, meanwhile, were to continue on to the Sword Coast, to Waterdeep and ultimately to Baldur’s Gate. There they would meet again with Ilyessa Beldarin, high priestess of Tymora in that city, whose mandate had sent them on a journey halfway around the world what seemed like so long ago. While they had sent a message ahead of them explaining the ill fate that befallen that mission, and the death of Ruath, Ilyessa’s agent on that trip, they all agreed that they owed the Lady a face-to-face visit to more fully explain what had happened.
Cal had fully intended to follow after once he was finished in Silverymoon, but as the weeks had crept into months he found himself finding one excuse after another not to go. Perhaps it was the idea of returning to Waterdeep, the place he had so long called home, although he could not fully grasp why the idea of returning there would make him uncomfortable.
Eventually, as more time passed without word from Benzan and Dana, the impetus to leave diminished. And his work here was progressing, with new powers opening to his study. In a way, his explorations continued, just down a new course than before...
No, that was a rationalization, Cal thought, as he shook his head. A cold gust of wind from the north—probably all the way from the Spine of the World—blew over the porch, causing him to shiver. He turned to head back into the house...
...and hesitated, as he caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye. Curious, he approached the object resting on the floor on the far edge of the patio.
It was a bird, or at least it looked like one at first glance, but as he drew nearer Cal could see that it was far more remarkable. It perched on the very edge of the patio, facing toward the interior of his workroom. It was roughly the size of a real raven, and its color was the same jet black, but that’s where the similarity to a living avian ended. For even in the pale glow of the predawn it was obvious that the bird was carved from stone, its outline marked by the rougher edges of the sculptors chisel rather than from the natural lines of feathers and skin.
Cal wondered who might have left the thing here, on the back patio. A low fence separated the back of his house from other nearby residences, but it was not a barrier that would serve to keep out a determined visitor. Another thought occurred to him, and he called to mind the words of a minor cantrip.
Before he could cast the spell, however, the bird figure itself confirmed his suspicion as its head lifted and it stared directly at him.
“Balander Calloran, I bear thee a message,” the stone bird spoke, in a quiet but clear voice. Then, before the gnome could react, it crumbled into a small pile of broken pieces of stone.
Still wary, but with his curiosity now stronger than his caution, Cal crept forward and bent down to examine the remains of the stone bird. He quickly found what he was looking for, a slender metal tube that had apparently been contained within the body of the stone bird. His fingers ran up the length of the tube, outlining the runes etched lightly into its surface.
(continued tomorrow)
