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Thursday, February 21, 2019
Of comfort, no man speak
Talathel left Beranhund at the gates. He felt the need to be...well, not alone. He knew he didn't want to be alone. But he wanted different companionship. He wanted...
He wasn't sure. The old Talathel would probably be seeking rum or ale. He would have gladly chased happiness at the bottom of a flagon. That had never got him anywhere. Over the past...how long had it been? It wasn't as if he'd abstained from alcohol. But, he didn't seek it out either.
Baldur's Gate hadn't seemed to change since he'd last been there. The buildings looked the same. There were people, even at this hour, going from place to place. He heard a song from an alehouse. It was all so familiar. And yet, not so.
He reflected on his adventures. He had walked around Faerun. He had visited a Dream Plane. He had communed, albeit briefly, with his god, his god that he had thought was probably dead or lost forever.
He knew too much of the world, he decided. The elves that stayed on the Moonshae Isle, now they had it right. They were blissfully unaware of how cruel and unforgiving everything actually was. Leaving one's bubble had it's advantages sure, but suddenly feeling the weight of everything aged him. He stood in the middle of the street and put his weight on his staff.
Maybe being around the cleric wouldn't have been such a bad idea. But that damned cat...
He found his way to Millway's. He recalled, a brief smile on his lips, Lailsan. That may have been the time, in all of this, that he had felt most alive. To find someone, anyone, in this stupid world was the only thing you can ask for, and he had chosen the world over her.
"You owe me," he said, to no one and everyone.
The world responded with silence, as it usually did.
If he hadn't actually spoken to him, he'd swear right now that Kaleal was dead, and the rest of the gods too. Maybe he had just dreamt that.
It occurred to Talathel that he didn't actually know what had happened to Lailsan. He laughed, actually laughed, the sort of laugh gives when cosmic absurdity is revealed to them and them alone. It was a laugh full of regret and contempt.
He moved on from Millway's. He found his way to the docks. He saw the Lady Nareth. Even in the dark, he could tell it still needed work. That ship would probably be the death of him. He walked towards it. He remembered being in the crow's nest with Lailsan. He remembered being at peace there. He boarded the ship and climbed back up to it.
There was no comfort this time, his only companion were the mocking thoughts of the life he could have had. No sense worrying about that though, his decisions had been made. He said a brief prayer for Lailsan, wherever she might be. He hoped that there was still some sort of god out there that might hear it, but his prayer was faithless. He closed his eyes to meditate, and then soon afterwards, allowed himself to sleep.
He wasn't sure. The old Talathel would probably be seeking rum or ale. He would have gladly chased happiness at the bottom of a flagon. That had never got him anywhere. Over the past...how long had it been? It wasn't as if he'd abstained from alcohol. But, he didn't seek it out either.
Baldur's Gate hadn't seemed to change since he'd last been there. The buildings looked the same. There were people, even at this hour, going from place to place. He heard a song from an alehouse. It was all so familiar. And yet, not so.
He reflected on his adventures. He had walked around Faerun. He had visited a Dream Plane. He had communed, albeit briefly, with his god, his god that he had thought was probably dead or lost forever.
He knew too much of the world, he decided. The elves that stayed on the Moonshae Isle, now they had it right. They were blissfully unaware of how cruel and unforgiving everything actually was. Leaving one's bubble had it's advantages sure, but suddenly feeling the weight of everything aged him. He stood in the middle of the street and put his weight on his staff.
Maybe being around the cleric wouldn't have been such a bad idea. But that damned cat...
He found his way to Millway's. He recalled, a brief smile on his lips, Lailsan. That may have been the time, in all of this, that he had felt most alive. To find someone, anyone, in this stupid world was the only thing you can ask for, and he had chosen the world over her.
"You owe me," he said, to no one and everyone.
The world responded with silence, as it usually did.
If he hadn't actually spoken to him, he'd swear right now that Kaleal was dead, and the rest of the gods too. Maybe he had just dreamt that.
It occurred to Talathel that he didn't actually know what had happened to Lailsan. He laughed, actually laughed, the sort of laugh gives when cosmic absurdity is revealed to them and them alone. It was a laugh full of regret and contempt.
He moved on from Millway's. He found his way to the docks. He saw the Lady Nareth. Even in the dark, he could tell it still needed work. That ship would probably be the death of him. He walked towards it. He remembered being in the crow's nest with Lailsan. He remembered being at peace there. He boarded the ship and climbed back up to it.
There was no comfort this time, his only companion were the mocking thoughts of the life he could have had. No sense worrying about that though, his decisions had been made. He said a brief prayer for Lailsan, wherever she might be. He hoped that there was still some sort of god out there that might hear it, but his prayer was faithless. He closed his eyes to meditate, and then soon afterwards, allowed himself to sleep.
Saturday, February 16, 2019
Darvin in the Woods (Past)
Darvin grinned - he had managed to not only distract the black horsemen from Beranhond and Talathel, but he had also managed to lose the black horsemen. "Success!" He said raising a fist. Then he paused. "Wait..." He said looking around. "This doesn't look at all familiar."
He turned his horse about in the darkness, the woods not appearing at all like the woods near Baldur's Gate. Suddenly, to his absolute surprise, out of the edge walked a hobbit.
"It's been a while Darvin."
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Upcoming Quests
I have about a year of quests I'm going to fill in before the great battle at the ruins of waterdeep. There's allies that need recruitment. Here are a couple ideas:
1. Druids of the western Isles
2. The Pirates of the North
3. Dragging the High Elves out of their forest haunts.
4. The Wizards of the Sea of Stars
5. An outside force from a different plane.
If you have other ideas let me know. I'll start working on two of them within the week, so let's say 2/22 is the deadline to make a choice or make a suggestion.
1. Druids of the western Isles
2. The Pirates of the North
3. Dragging the High Elves out of their forest haunts.
4. The Wizards of the Sea of Stars
5. An outside force from a different plane.
If you have other ideas let me know. I'll start working on two of them within the week, so let's say 2/22 is the deadline to make a choice or make a suggestion.
Saturday, February 9, 2019
Every New Beginning Comes from Some Other Beginnings End (Present)
A renegade ray of sunlight slowly made its way across Darvin's face. The half-elf stirred and tried to roll over. Minutes later the sunlight had found his face again. Darvin slowly opened his eyes and stared at the walls of his tent. As he transitioned from sleep to wakefulness he thought about all that had brought him to this tent in this muddy field.
The repair and refurbishing of the Lady Narath had been one of the happiest moments of Darvin's life. When the ship and its crew had set sail for Waterdeep some 20 months ago, he felt like the young man who had ventured out from Secomber those many years ago. The happiness was short lived.
After three years in a drunken stupor, Darvin had no idea how badly the waters around the Sword Coast had become. From the beginning, their voyage had been fraught with one setback after another. First, it had been a storm that damaged their main mast just two days out of Baldur's Gate. They were able to repair it at sea but it was only a temporary fix. Just a few days after that, the Lady Narath came across her first undead pirate vessel. Darvin, being inexperienced and impetuous, ordered the crew to engage in combat. That first sea battle with the undead left a mark on the half-elf that would never leave. The battle was long, it seemed that no matter what the Lady Narath threw at the undead ship it just came back stronger. With every volley crew members dropped and Darvin eventually had to make the decision to outrun the undead ship and head for Waterdeep.
The crew that was lost that day haunted Darvin. He saw their faces in his dreams. He should have been more cautious and willing to get his sea legs back underneath him before rushing into a battle that he had no way of winning.
Once at the staging ground near the ruins of Waterdeep, the Lady Narath did find a role patrolling and protecting the camp. In the confined space of the makeshift harbor, the ship could hold it's own and fight off any undead vessels that tried to approach. This went on for over a year but about four months ago the number of undead ships had become so large that defending the harbor was becoming a seemingly impossible task. So, hesitantly and painfully, Darvin left his beloved Lady Narath sitting in the harbor and retreated to the army camp with what was left of his crew.
"Mornin' captain," said Guybrush as he climbed out of his small cot, "Thinking about Miss Shandri again, sir?"
And then there was Shandri, if there was a more perfect woman, Darvin would not believe it. She had made the trip to Waterdeep and survived the battle with the undead but as he had become more tortured with his decision and his inability to clear the shipping lanes for her father, it became harder for him to talk to her. He had tremendous feelings for her but on the day she came and informed him she needed to go back to Baldur's Gate he didn't stop her. He understood why. All that he asked was that she let him know that she had arrived home safely. She sent the letter when she got to Baldur's Gate. There had been no other letters. That was months ago. He thought of her often. He ached for her. He hoped that one day he could get his act together and see her again.
"Always," Darvin replied to his monkey companion.
However, seeing Shandri again was the last of his current priorities. This day just had one simple goal. Survive.
The repair and refurbishing of the Lady Narath had been one of the happiest moments of Darvin's life. When the ship and its crew had set sail for Waterdeep some 20 months ago, he felt like the young man who had ventured out from Secomber those many years ago. The happiness was short lived.
After three years in a drunken stupor, Darvin had no idea how badly the waters around the Sword Coast had become. From the beginning, their voyage had been fraught with one setback after another. First, it had been a storm that damaged their main mast just two days out of Baldur's Gate. They were able to repair it at sea but it was only a temporary fix. Just a few days after that, the Lady Narath came across her first undead pirate vessel. Darvin, being inexperienced and impetuous, ordered the crew to engage in combat. That first sea battle with the undead left a mark on the half-elf that would never leave. The battle was long, it seemed that no matter what the Lady Narath threw at the undead ship it just came back stronger. With every volley crew members dropped and Darvin eventually had to make the decision to outrun the undead ship and head for Waterdeep.
The crew that was lost that day haunted Darvin. He saw their faces in his dreams. He should have been more cautious and willing to get his sea legs back underneath him before rushing into a battle that he had no way of winning.
Once at the staging ground near the ruins of Waterdeep, the Lady Narath did find a role patrolling and protecting the camp. In the confined space of the makeshift harbor, the ship could hold it's own and fight off any undead vessels that tried to approach. This went on for over a year but about four months ago the number of undead ships had become so large that defending the harbor was becoming a seemingly impossible task. So, hesitantly and painfully, Darvin left his beloved Lady Narath sitting in the harbor and retreated to the army camp with what was left of his crew.
"Mornin' captain," said Guybrush as he climbed out of his small cot, "Thinking about Miss Shandri again, sir?"
And then there was Shandri, if there was a more perfect woman, Darvin would not believe it. She had made the trip to Waterdeep and survived the battle with the undead but as he had become more tortured with his decision and his inability to clear the shipping lanes for her father, it became harder for him to talk to her. He had tremendous feelings for her but on the day she came and informed him she needed to go back to Baldur's Gate he didn't stop her. He understood why. All that he asked was that she let him know that she had arrived home safely. She sent the letter when she got to Baldur's Gate. There had been no other letters. That was months ago. He thought of her often. He ached for her. He hoped that one day he could get his act together and see her again.
"Always," Darvin replied to his monkey companion.
However, seeing Shandri again was the last of his current priorities. This day just had one simple goal. Survive.
Sunday, February 3, 2019
At Daybreak on the Last Day [Nym/Johan] 2.9 update (Present/Past)
Tigrisclawu wove in and out of his steps as he moved through the fog hovering in the air, the slight light of dawn giving just enough light to make his movements through the mud easier.
"So, did you expect what happened to Johan and Nym?" Tigrisclawu asked purring.
"Did anyone?" He paused, and swallowed, then shook his head, he had heard about the Crinti slaves, but hadn't expected the truth.
Two years prior.
As Nym and Johan examined the names on the shipping manifests near the Crinti they found few names they recognized. A few belonged to some of few nobles in Neverwinter and a few former ministers of Waterdeep. However, these names were far from the standard as the general names were numbers presumably standing for merchant quarters and shipping sections of Neverwinter.
Along with the destination addresses and numbers were rows and columns filled with statistical numbers of height, weight, age, and a few other numbers intended to hide any names or humanizing features.
Still, despite the dark reality, the list was nothing more than a normal shipping document - aside from the dark reality that the numbers and facts represent. As they were searching the captain of the vessel - apparently on a late night guilt trip - worked down and sobbed outside of one of the boxes.
"You." Johan shouted raising his fist.
"Ahhh…" The captain shrieked and turned tripping on the steps. Johan slipped into mistform and appeared in front of him. With a sneer he grabbed his shoulder and tossed him back toward Nym.
"I'm sorry.. I know it's wrong, but the money's good and the magicks of Neverwinter - they are terrible!" He sobbed, turning to face Nym, Nym. "They threaten all of us and they are in league with the foulness that haunts the ruins of Waterdeep. I have heard that..." He said between sobs. "That they are turning these slaves into automotons that are then sent to join the army of the dead that surrounds Waterdeep!"
"Great." Johan said restraining the urge to kill the man in case he had more information. "More monsters on the west coast." Johan said cracking his fingers as he eyed the captain.
"We need a solution."
"Drop us off near Daggerford and then turn this ship around and sail to Baldur's Gate and free them." Johan said drawing his sword. "I'll know if you don't."
The Captain nodded, squealed, and then got up and hurried away.
The next day the Captain dropped them off north of Daggerford - he even helped to row the dinghy personally to the shore before promising that he'd follow through and free the captives. Johan and Nym gave him glares but let him go on his way.
The region north of Daggerford had once been a collection of hamlets and independent farm-holds. Yet, as Nym, Esme, and Johan made their way foward they were met with naught but barren lands and abandoned buildings.
"This place is creepy, even for a vampire..." Johan observed. "It reeks of death and of the undead." He paused then reflected. "The other undead I mean."
Nym nodded gloomily.
"So, did you expect what happened to Johan and Nym?" Tigrisclawu asked purring.
"Did anyone?" He paused, and swallowed, then shook his head, he had heard about the Crinti slaves, but hadn't expected the truth.
Two years prior.
As Nym and Johan examined the names on the shipping manifests near the Crinti they found few names they recognized. A few belonged to some of few nobles in Neverwinter and a few former ministers of Waterdeep. However, these names were far from the standard as the general names were numbers presumably standing for merchant quarters and shipping sections of Neverwinter.
Along with the destination addresses and numbers were rows and columns filled with statistical numbers of height, weight, age, and a few other numbers intended to hide any names or humanizing features.
Still, despite the dark reality, the list was nothing more than a normal shipping document - aside from the dark reality that the numbers and facts represent. As they were searching the captain of the vessel - apparently on a late night guilt trip - worked down and sobbed outside of one of the boxes.
"You." Johan shouted raising his fist.
"Ahhh…" The captain shrieked and turned tripping on the steps. Johan slipped into mistform and appeared in front of him. With a sneer he grabbed his shoulder and tossed him back toward Nym.
"I'm sorry.. I know it's wrong, but the money's good and the magicks of Neverwinter - they are terrible!" He sobbed, turning to face Nym, Nym. "They threaten all of us and they are in league with the foulness that haunts the ruins of Waterdeep. I have heard that..." He said between sobs. "That they are turning these slaves into automotons that are then sent to join the army of the dead that surrounds Waterdeep!"
"Great." Johan said restraining the urge to kill the man in case he had more information. "More monsters on the west coast." Johan said cracking his fingers as he eyed the captain.
"We need a solution."
"Drop us off near Daggerford and then turn this ship around and sail to Baldur's Gate and free them." Johan said drawing his sword. "I'll know if you don't."
The Captain nodded, squealed, and then got up and hurried away.
The next day the Captain dropped them off north of Daggerford - he even helped to row the dinghy personally to the shore before promising that he'd follow through and free the captives. Johan and Nym gave him glares but let him go on his way.
The region north of Daggerford had once been a collection of hamlets and independent farm-holds. Yet, as Nym, Esme, and Johan made their way foward they were met with naught but barren lands and abandoned buildings.
"This place is creepy, even for a vampire..." Johan observed. "It reeks of death and of the undead." He paused then reflected. "The other undead I mean."
Nym nodded gloomily.
At daybreak on the last day [Present & Past] Darvin/Talathel 2.11 edit
BOOM.
Beranhond's eyes flicked open and, out of habit, his hands reached out to take hold of Aesahaettr before letting and returning it to its place beside his cot. The cannon blasts against the walls of teh stronghold were intentional, and expected, and nothing to worry about at the moment. In a few hours perhaps they would be of concern, but for now he shut his eyes and tried to return to sleep. Before he could, Tigrisclawu jumped onto his cot and prodded him.
"Perhaps, since you are awake, and because it is probably our last day on this plane, we should go and check on your remaining companions. It is a clerical duty after all!"
Beranhond nodded and sat up.
"Very well. Have you been chasing rats?"
"Chasing rats?" Tigrisclawu looked bemused by the question. "No, they've been serving me from the mess pots at the central army kitchens. I think they find me to be a good luck charm."
Beranhond smiled, reached up, and scratched the cat's head. "Well, you've always been one for me." He turned, smiling, as Aelysin remained fast asleep to his side. "To think," he thought to himself. "At one point she refused to talk to me and now we go to face our deaths together."
"Let's let her sleep for now." Before he slipped from the cot and started to don his robes. The robes were worn, threadbare in section, Narath's insignia battleworn, but still visible. He belted Aeshaettr to his side and grabbed his shield, swinging it behind him, before stepping out to find his companions.
"How far we have come together..." He thought, before his mind slipped back to that day that changed everything when they finally found the elves and then sought the treasure beyond....
Two years prior.
The elves at the archaeological dig did not give them any songs, travel goods, or outlandish gifts to help them in their journey. Instead, they quickly escorted them to the boundary and sent them on their way all the while trying to block their vision of the pits of the shoveling equipment.
"Well, they were very welcoming." Tigrislcawu mentioned as they headed down the path.
"Extremely." Beranhond said in agreement.
The three of them traveled up the path for a day, stopping only for a light meal break, before they came to a part of the woods where the technicolor storm had caused lasting damage. The vegetation along the path was covered in numerous pastel hues, almost as if the hails had melted and covered the trees and foliage in dyes.
Tigrisclawu scampered underneath a bush in search of a rat - when he emerged a moment later he too was painted in a dozen pastel hues.
"Don't... say... anything." He hissed.
Beranhond just grinned winking at Talathel and Darvin. "Nothing at all." Before he moved forward and peered into the distance. In a clearing in the trees, not too far from the trail proper, the storm had lashed into the soil causing deep ruptures.
"It's almost as if the sky was trying to tear open the earth itself." Beranhond observed. He looked upward as if expecting a sign. While he did Darvin's careful, treasure hungry, eyes noticed a glint of gold. Darvin sprinted forward and reached down to tug out bars and coins aplenty.
[OK. So. That wraps up the side quest to the woods for the stupid treasure of Eel Skin Jack that Darvin and Co were getting to refit a fleet to go off to Waterdeep...]
Bernahond smiled, remembering how that moment had reawakened his faith and reminded him that though the God's were busy, Narath could still work a few miracles. As he walked toward his companions tents, he nodded at the passing soldiers and his mind slipped into memory. One miracle that Narath was unable to help with was making it easy to slip treasure into Baldur's Gate undetected...
"Darvin! You said you could pass off as a slaver." Beranhond said as he tried to urge the horse on, the cart behind him bouncing from the speed.
"I would if you hadn't wanted to smite that merchant for trying to cheat us and supporting the undead army up north. Great time to go all Paladin again." Darvin said shaking his own reigns of his horse.
"Well, to be fair..." Talathel said from behind them as he bounced on the top of the wagon. "Darvin is terrible at disguises and you are terrible at not smiting things. But for now let's stop arguing and try to get away from whatever it is chasing us." As he looked over his shoulder hooded figures on ghostly horses chased them barely twenty yards behind.
"We are only a mile from Baldur's Gate - I think we can make it. I'll do what I can to distract them." Beranhond said turning around in the saddle and raising his shield. He shut his eyes and a wave of blue light burst from the shield and toward the dark shapes. They slowed to avoid the blue light, a few hissing in anger.
"Well, that at least gained a couple of seconds. Make haste!" Bernahond once again turned forward in the saddle and shook the reigns encouraging them forward.
Darvin shook the reigns, guiding his cart and wagon free horse with ease forward. "Come on ye scallawags."
"Darvin, some of us are carrying the treasure we worked so hard to get." Talathel said shaking his reigns to encourage the horses. They neighed their protest but picked up the pace slightly.
"We can't keep this pace up - we need to split them up." Beranhond called. "Darvin, can you try to pull them away and then catch up? You will be faster than us and that could buy us some more time."
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