10 Days of R & R

Darvin had a pouch full of gold and so many possibilities. Talathel had disappeared somewhere and the half-elf was realizing that he was going to be spending the next 10 days on his own.

"Well, it looks like I'm on my own again..."

The flashbacks hadn't happened for a long time, but this one came roaring back.

~~~~~~

Darvin was sitting in the house back in Secomber. It was dark and one, single, solitary candle attempted to light the small room. His mother was laying in her bed. Her face was covered in open sores, that were oozing puss. Her breathing was labored, Darvin would come to find out later this was referred to as the "Death Rattle", but she was smiling ever so slightly. Darvin sat there spooning the soup the "doctor" had told him would make his mother well. It had only cost him all the money they had. 

"Darvin...you are a good boy." said his mother, "You are destined for very good things I can feel it. Listen to me, I have do not have much time left..." 

"Oh mother, stop talking like that. That's what this soup is for. You will be better in a few days." Darvin knew he was wrong but didn't want to believe it, she had only been getting worse and she had been drinking the soup for a solid week now. 

"Son, you will do great things. But you must always trust in yourself. You will do good things...yes, very good things..." And with that she faded away. Darvin called out to her a couple of times but he knew she was gone. And there he sat. Alone. A few days later, Thorn had found him down by the docks and had offered him a meal for some manually labor. Soon after that he invited Darvin to live with him. Darvin was grateful for all that Thorn had done for him but realized that that chapter is his life was now closed and it was time for him to move on. 

~~~~~~

Darvin shook himself out of the flashback and continued down the street. He remembered the master work leather armor he had and the necklace Beranhond had given him.

Over the next 10 days, Darvin spent his time resting and socializing with the patrons of the pub in the Inn he was staying at. Things seemed to be calming down a little bit around Baldur's Gate and the people were ever happy to know the wererat problem had been taken care of. They all seemed skeptical when Darvin informed them he was a "Mighty Pirate" though. 

"Well, I've never heard of you..." Was the most common response. When he wasn't in the Pub he had gotten his Master Work Leather Armor affixed with studs so that it became Master Work Studded Leather Armor. A jeweler examined the necklace for him, and he was told that it let you breathe underwater, 

"That's a lot easier than holding your breath for ten minutes." Darvin thought to himself.

On about the 8th Day, Darvin was strolling around town when he noticed a woman selling these funny devices that made a loud boom when the trigger was pulled.

"What are those?" Asked the half-elf.

"These would be pistols, my Piratey looking friend." And with that Darvin was sold. The woman was named Carla, and she was a purveyor of pistols and other firearms. She spent the next teaching Darvin how to use them. They packed a powerful punch, but were not the most efficient weapons ever created. Darvin decided, however, that they would be very valuable in the beginning of a fight and purchased two of them. 

"They're 250 gp a piece." Said Carla.

"That's more than a horse!" Exclaimed Darvin as he paid her the money. As soon as she had called him "piratey looking" he had decided he was buying whatever she was selling.

On the day of the party, Darvin headed to the bathhouse and gave himself a good scrubbing. It was a little early for the yearly bath, but there was a half-elven maid who was going to be at this party that Darvin had grown fond of. He returned to his room and dressed in his best tunic, the red one, with the toggles, and headed out the door.

As he stepped outside he saw a tall human and a stunning half-elven maid holding a cat. Darvin stared for a moment and then realized it was Beranhond and...Nym. Darvin was amazed at how wonderful she looked. The dirt and grime of the sewer was gone and had been replaced with a beauty that Darvin had not seen for a very long time. Once over his initial shock, Darvin called out them.

"My friends! What luck that I have found you on my way to our party!" Darvin walked over to join them.

To really, love a woman...

"Except, perhaps Beranhond, I'm not sure he would know what do to with a woman." Darvin said.

Oh, really.  Beranhond thought and chuckling a bit. It is just as well that he thinks that, and in all honesty it was quite well crafted humor. Beranhond thought guiltily. Most Paladin's and Clerics are not meant to enjoy carnal pleasures, but he thought, I am not sure what Narath's stance is on coitus. After a moments reflection he decided that after that mornings interactions he was positive that Narath wanted Beranhond to have nothing to do with women and decided that he would respect those wishes. At Darvin's words, Beranhond drifted off into the realms of his mind, and of his experience with women, or at least with one woman.


flashback alert... 


The feast of Sturzzin snuck up on no one - everyone awaited it eagerly as it arrived quite rarely. It was always be preceded by a three day period of fasting and introspection followed by parties and feasts of special significance. As a result, their instructors gave them four days off. The novice's, quite unused to such an allotment of time, used their days off to travel, catch up on sleep, or to visit home for a unheard of visit. Their instructors would undoubtedly expect more piety in the future, but it was forgiven for their youth. Ceilith and Beranhond had used the first day two days to explore the surrounding town and were using the last day before the feast to have a picnic in the surrounding countryside.
"Where did you get all of this food?" He asked her looking at the remarkable spread on their blanket.
"That is my secret." She said, lying on her back with her eyes shut, enjoying the light of the sun and the cloudless sky. She was beautiful and on such a day all the feelings that Beranhond had had, and not had, for years grew to an oddly unchecked level. Though they were trained in asceticism, piety, and nobility, love and lust still simmered in their minds. Especially when they were somewhat encouraged by the other party.
They spoke idle banter, his eyes locked on her, when she sat up and looked at him.
"Beranhond..." her hands reached towards him.
"Yes...?" He said nervously, but before he could finish she leaned in and kissed him. Her arms wrapping around his back and pulling him close. His hands took her side.
After a moment, she let go.

"I have been wanting to do that for sometime..."

"I as well."

"I thought this would be my last chance..." She leaned forward and layed him on his back.
I think perchance, that this is not the forum to describe such an encounter. Indeed, neither Ceilith or Beranhond, nor their instructors would be pleased if any heard the description. Thus, for the sake of the wellbeing of the Paladin's of Torm, we shall skip it.

Ceilith lay, again fully clothed and her face flushed, looked at Beranhond. "I am being accelerated. On the feast day I go on the quest." Acceleration often happened for those that the instructors and council decided had special faith or had seen visions. They took the final test of faith early and received the rest of their training in the field. This was not unexpected, but Beranhond's heart still fell. The day had already taken such drastic turns that he should have been ready, but he turned away and looked into the distance.

"Run away with me..., let us run together and actually have a life."

"But we both have a life Eth. We are both dutiful servants of Torm and we are both going to be very successful." She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her. "You have done such wonders in magic and lore, and I know you will be great when you take the final test." She caressed his face and kissed him on the forehead. "They have told me that if I pass I will be assisting in a special mission of great significance. I think it is the one that Torm told me before." She pulled her hands away and reached upwards, her eyes shut in excitement.

"But, Ceilith, there is no future for you in that. There is no love in Torm's world, there is no true life in this. Don't you feel like a cog in a machine? Torm can be such a narrow God, let us go and find life's meaning together rather than just being told that meaning is derived from goodness alone."

At that, Ceilith's face drew dark. "Meaning is derived from faith Eth, you know that. Our lives are meant to be in service to Torm."
"Service! There must be more than just dutifuly following the order of our heirarchs in the name of God. I cannot feel his presence I cannot feel any depth of belief towards this Torm. Don't you see that what we are being told are simply the rapackaged lessons of servitude? The way the teachers talk about other faiths seems to suggest that they simply didn't get the right message." He took a deep breath. "But, our lives must be more than just service to some distant God especially when the message they bring is such a pedantic one. A God is supposed to help bring understanding and revelation - but not through repetition and hostile messages of order and civilization .Where is the diversity, where is the pluralism, where is the truth?" As he ranted on, revealing at last his feelings towards Torm, Ceilith's face grew darker and darker.
"Eth, I care for you deeply, but I don't think you care for me as much as you think you do. I am worried about your faith and I think you are using me to cover that." She stood and pointed at him. "This isn't you! You have never wanted an idle life of domestic bliss. Search your feelings. Don't throw away a promising career just because you have hardened your heart to Torm." At that she stood and started walking away.
Beranhond sat numb, in a fraction of a moment he had gone from sublime bliss to a crashing reality. Though it had hurt, he knew in his mind that she spoke the truth - Ceilith had had his love, but it was not a true love, nor was it all that deep. For some time it had been fading in and out and perhaps it was all the better that it had ended so suddenly. Though, oddly enough, she herself had shown him that his path might not lay with Torm.

Reflections of the self

The city of Vulder's Gate looked just as Beranhond had left it. The square was mostly empty now - just a few stragglers moving about. It seems that his healing miracle had done the job and fewer people were looking for healing from the Priests of Luthadel.
"At least they no one has messed with the graves." Beranhond thought appraising the fresh earth of the graves. The shovel he had used to bury the priests was sitting right where he left it. Beranhond was not sure what to do now. Further, he was still confused from Narath's visit to the tunnel.
"Tigris, do you remember when I first told you about Narath?" Beranhond said, taking a seat on a rock and taking out one of the offerings that he had found that morning. Tigrisclawu jumped up to the rock and looked expectantly at Beranhond.
"Of course I do." He said before Beranhond set a piece of meat down and he begun biting into the flesh. Beranhond, smiling contenly, and taking a bite himself drifted off into the memories of his past.

The room is small, barely six feet by eight feet, a small window looks out into a spacious courtyard and a huge phallic tower. The only furnishings are a small nightstand, a narrow bed, and a trunk. On the bed a younger cleanshaven, Beranhond sits with a book in his hand. He wears a tunic emblazoned with a silver hand and on the sleeves are the brown stripes of a novice. Makings sure that the door was shut and no one was around he breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've made it!" At this early age he had already picked up the habit of talking to himself.
"Mother and Father would be so proud." They never though highly of Tormish as a God, but they thought very highly of the Paladins.
"Yes, you have..." The voice resounded in his head.
What was that? But, the voice had gone.

"The first time you met her was a pretty lame story Beranhond. The next time you meet her was much more interesting." Tigrisclawu had finished his breakfast and was now licking himself. He was a very fastidious cat.
"You are right." Taking a bite of bread he lays back and looks into the sky and drifted back into his mind. It was the day that I had failed the test of faith.


Beranhond had aged many years now. But he was still in the same cell. Though, having passed all of the examinations and the tests he wore the green stripes of a Paladin in waiting. The jovial, exuberant youth had largely disappeared and his eyes wore a tired expression much beyond his years. His cheeks were stained with the juice of the Muckab Mushroom, a hallucinogenic mushroom used by the Paladin for the test of faith. The testers had the waiter eat the mushroom and tell them what they saw. Most saw a vision of Torm, in his righteousness, spreading law, order, and Torm's civilized values. After regaling the testers with this vision they would be drooped with a golden tunic and led out to the springs of Torm where they would be dunked and reborn as full Paladins. However, Beranhond did not see Torm and he failed the final step on the path of a Paladin. After eating the Muckab a woman appeared, beautiful, powerful, and bearing an oddly playfull expression. In her hands she held a cat and across her back she carried a shield.
"Ethelred Beranhond, you are a seeker another path, go to the spring tonight after the evening bell strikes seven." She winked at him and Beranhond knew fear for the first time in his life.
When the vision ended he told the testers about the woman, though something inside of him told him not to tell them about her message. They told him that perhaps he needed to cleanse himself of doubts and cleanse himself of... mischief. They would let him retest in another month.

Now, however, Beranhond was in his cell full of doubt and disbelief. The failure was not unexpected, he had long had doubts about Torm's call, but to fail the final step was the worst of all. In his mind, the woman never left, her playfull beautiful face haunted him. Yet, when he thought back on the face he received a calm that Torm's message of civilized conquering never provided.
"Who was she?" He asked himself. "What does she want with me?"
Outside the bell of the Greater Cathedral of the Greater God Torm sounded out, the ringing echoing throughout the land obnoxiously.
The second bell struck. Yet Beranhond did not move.
The third bell struck. Beranhond looked out, trying to find some resolve.
Finally, on the fourth bell Beranhond stood and collected his meager belongings, his father's sword, his backpack and a few other odds and ends.
The sixth bell struck
Beranhond looked through the window at his home of ten years, the unfriendly pretentious towers and the marble caked in sweat.
The seventh bell struck and Beranhond left the room.

It was not hard to make it to the spring. On tonight all the Paladin's were celebrating the convocation of the new members of the order. The spring of Torm was his alone. As he approached it and set on its ledge it seemed no different than any other night. He sighed, thinking that perhaps this was all just a fantasy of his own making. Suddenly, a light of blue gushed up from the water, boiling it over. He covered his eyes from the light for a moment before daring to peek.
"Do not fear me Ethelred Beranhond." She said, touching his arms and putting them down. Her face was that which had haunted him since the morning. "I am not conjurer of the night, or dark wizard seeking to send you down a wrong path."
"Than who are you?" He asked, in awe, his heart pumping faster and faster.
"I am your future." She said, taking his hand and looking into his eyes. He had the urge to look away, as he realized that she was able to penetrate into every memory and though he had.
"You are beautiful." He gushed without thinking.
"Thank you." She said while laughing in what everyone else would call a giggle, but for which no God would claim. She then pulled on his arm towards the water. He followed without any hesitation, wanting to know more about this beautiful woman. As he stepped onto the water he flew upwards into the heavens until all the Earth was a painted map. He stared at amazement, still holding her hand.
"This world is sick Eth, you have known this for a long time and now the time has come for you to help to fix it."
"Who are you?"
"I am your Goddess, and you are my first prophet. I came into being a millenia ago, but I was silent and asleep until your doubt about Torm, and this world, brought me to consciousness. Now, the two of us will try to set things right as we can. I know this may seem sudden, but neither of us have much time. I will explain more later as you travel, and believe me, we have a lot of time together. Take this book." She pushes a small black notebook into his hands. "It includes some information you will need and is the beginning of the message we will send out to the world. It isn't much, but you will add to it."
"Me?"
"Oh yes, most God's piggyback off the words of their prophet. Fortunately, I have a very talented one." It would always amaze Beranhond later that he managed to blush, suspended on a cloud over the world, and in front of a beautiful Goddess who told him that he was her prophet.
"I.. uh.. don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything right now, Beranhond, you have known me for years, so don't make this some awkward first date."
"Right..."
"Now go!" She leaned forward and kissed his head, letting go of his hand, and he tumbled back to Earth falling down the funnel of light and falling onto the grass of the spring.

When he came to moments later his tunic no longer had the hand of Torm, and his left arm now had a shield on it.
"What the..." He said aloud. He sat down on the grass and opened the book. The first page simply read:
Eth my beloved Prophet. Go quickly - the spring won't work anymore and they might blame you if they find you here. Make your way to something... Gate, I can't remember the name right. It is on the sword coast. I will be with you along the way and we shall chat soon.

At the bottom of the page, in elegant handwriting was the name that changed his life:
Narath

He then rose up, knowing what the Paladin's of Torm would do, and dashed out of the gates of the Citadel and onto the first boat he could find towards Vulder's Gate.

"Ah, that was an interesting time indeed. At least I found you on that ship."
"You mean I found you. As I recall you were a warm body in a bunk."
"Shush... great prophets are aware at all times." He said petting the cat.
"Right..." Tigrisclawu didn't sound convinced, but purred in a satisfied sort of way.
After a moment he asked. "So, what are we going to do today?"
"I have a feeling that we are supposed to remain here and something, or someone, is going to find us. That miracle yesterday probably attracted people's attention and I am sure someone is looking for a healer."
"So, right here?"
"Yes. Right here." At that Beranhond finished off his breakfast, had some water, and then begin taking notes in his journal and working on his healing.