A Calling

The rest of the Keepers had long since gone their own ways. Families to reunite with, homesteads to tend to, their own  lives to live, away from the blood and toil of exploring the  realms.  Bosch himself had decided to rest his weary body as well, settling down to the comfort of a soft bed and warm fire, reading and studying the volumes of books and manuscripts that had accumulated over the years.

On his visits to the bustling cities he had heard many stories of new places and people that had been discovered in the Great Realms.  There were the lost ruins of Dlabraddath deep within  the Drannor forest, found by a group of treasure seekers, many of which did not make it out alive; seafarers reporting the emergence of mysterious islands in the far reaches of the Sea of Swords; nomadic merchants who came in contact with a group of isolated sylvans high in the treetops of Nordahaeril; and hushed whispers of an island believed to inhabited by lycanthropes. Where in the past such things may have stirred the inner  adventurer within, this time they had done little to motivate the weary wizard to leave the comforts of home.

But then one day in the din of a crowded pub in Waterdeep, he overheard a conversation, several actually, about a portal that had appeared in the skies, one which transported people away to crumbling ruins.  Ruins where a voice was heard by all who entered, where those familiar with the legacy of magic in the realms knew what the ruins represented.  The markings on the walls, the symbols etched in the masonwork, the writing on the crumbled archways.  These were the remains of the Netheril Empire.  And if the legends held true this these ruins would contain the secrets of the greatest mage in the spoken and written history of Faerun: Karsus.

A New Beginning

Many years had passed since Bosch had last made the journey to the outskirts of Drannor Forest.  The path was familiar, but he could sense it had been quite some time since the path had seen any travellers.  As he stepped out of the woods he  peered through the low fog which had covered the small clearing up ahead in a dense haze.  Streaks of light cut through the forest  canopy, casting beams of shimmering silver as it reflected off of the thick mist.  Looking upwards he could see the outline of the pillars as they casted their shadows on the forest below.  He had arrived at The Archives.

As he approached he could see that the great library had remained undisturbed since his last visit, and the forest had begun to take back what was once hers.  The majestic black marble pillars were now covered by twisting vines as thick as tree trunks, winding their way up the columns.  The facade, now camouflaged by a layer of green moss with patches of bluish-grey lichen interspersed throughout, was alive as denizens of the forest had now made it their own.  Bosch raised his ancient staff and whispered a few soft words...

The ward protecting The Archives was still active.  While his whereabouts were unknown, he knew Clausius lived.  A subtle grin  of acknowledgement passed Bosch's lips as he nodded his head and took one last look at the structure before him.  As quickly as he arrived he turned around and went back into the woods for the journey home, having found what he came here searching for.

Current Character Description - Bosch Bignus

With a short, matted, beard growing from his chin and a long red ponytail tightly tied behind his back, this stout hippie dwarf shuffles quickly along his way.  A cache of wares hang from his body every which way, more junk than most would own clanking with each glide.  Metal loops attached to straps of leather secure tools forged of mithril, weathered from years of use, while a bulging sun-faded sack is slung over a broad shoulder, carried with remarkable ease.  A swatch of leather is stitched onto the bag bearing one singular word: "Bignus"

-9- Loose Ends

It was four weeks since Bosch set out for the northern lands, and at the start of the fifth week, Clausius received a message. Thanking the kenku courier once again, Clausius opened the brown envelope and scanned over the letter written hastily on parchment. "Is that from Bosch?" asked Arrhenius as he stood nearby packing away the contents of a shelf. "Yes, and it is very good news that I must share with everyone." Clausius pulled himself up atop his desk and stood out over the main collection. One by one, the Keepers turned to acknowledge him as he cleared his throat and read the letter out loud: Keepers, I cannot begin to explain how, but I have reached the end of the Long Road where I now am given word that there are several abandoned mines available for our cause. I have also met an interesting individual who has joined us in hopes that we can help him out as well. He is a podrikev of exceptional intellect and command of the weave, and I am certain that with his help, we can have the archives reassembled very quickly. I wish I could give more detail, but Dagon and I are preparing to leave for the mines as I write this to you. By the time this reaches the archives in Myth Drannor, we will have found a place and will most likely be on our way back to help in any way we can with the move. An appropriate spell anchor will be left for our transportation needs. With warmest regards, Bosch Muffled conversations erupted from the Keepers as Clausius lifted his hand to gain their attention once again. "I have communicated with the Wizards Council and they have concluded that Bosch is who he claims to be. Success in his quest has proven him to own a true Keeper spirit, and I would now ask that the faction discuss the terms of his reinstatement as leader of the Keepers of Antiquity." The conversation resumed among the faction as Clausius stepped down from the desk. As he made his way through the collection, he passed the rows of boxes and displaced artifacts. "It is rather sad to see the archives in such a state," commented Traelith as Clausius passed by. "I sympathize with you Trae, but greater things necessitate change. All of us working together now offers the resources to create something more splendid than ever dreamed of before. We just need the courage to uproot ourselves from how things are." Traelith nodded as Vaishu broke into the circle. "Clausius, dont you think one month is not enough time to have all of this moved and resorted? I mean, we can get it there in a week, but putting it all back together is going to take some time." Nodding, Clausius replied, "And that is where we have been very lucky to have found a podrikev. With Dagons help, we will have it assembled very quickly." "And what future does this place have once it is empty?" asked Dusk. Clausius stopped at this question and turned his head. "There are some loose ends to tie here in the ruins. I have an appointment with my dreams."

-8- Sleight of Hand (Pt. 2)

A small lantern hung from the center support pole of the tent. A tall man with a pointed moustache sat across from Dagon, who crouched to meet him eye to socket. Bosch took a seat on the small crate which was nearby, watching as the man began to set up his table. "Branam must think highly of you two to offer you admittance. I am Suglios the game leader, and I am here for your amusement" he said as he dusted off the table and smiled. Reaching from beneath the table, he pulled out three tortoise shells and a small ball of string which he placed in front of them. "The game is simple: I will shuffle the ball beneath one of the shells, and when I am done, you tell me where it is. If you guess correctly, I will offer you my help. If not, then you will offer me your platinum." Suglios smiled and covered the ball with one of the shells. "And despite our hospitality, we do not take kindly to those who try to skip out on a deal. So what do you guys say?" Bosch stood up, but Dagon quickly pulled him back down. "I can do this Bosch," he said. Though Bosch knew this was a scam, he also wanted to trust Dagon, and reluctantly agreed to the terms. "Very well gentlemen!" Suglios said as he began to shuffle the shells about. "Watch the ball carefully as it moves from one end of the table to another..." Suglios began to ramble as Dagon watched his movements intently. Bosch paid little attention as he sat there rather unimpressed at the display. After what seemed like a long time, Suglios stopped moving the shells and leaned back proclaiming, "Now tell me which shell the ball is hiding." "The middle shell," Bosch whispered to Dagon. "I saw him put it under the shell with that chip at the bottom." Dagon shook his head. "No, the middle is too obvious. It is not the middle shell." Bosch sighed. "How much platinum do you have on you Dagon?" he asked. "Just a few platinum bearings in my waist. Why do you ask?" "Well, I sure as hell am not paying for your wrong guess. You had better not need those bearings." Dagon let out a puff of smoke. "Well gentlemen? Have you made a decision?" Suglios asked. "Yes. I would like to tell you where your ball is." Dagon replied. Bosch covered his face. "Go on then my metal friend." "The middle shell would be too obvious a choice, so I would then guess it is either to your left or right. Seeing as how you are left handed, I can assume you would pull the heavier shell, and thus the shell with the ball, towards your strong arm, but you made twice as many moves to the right as you did to the left. That leaves the right shell. But on the other hand, is your left hand, which was too busy holding the ball to pull the shells any more than necessary to keep the ball hidden." "I beg your pardon?" Suglios asked in astonishment. "Your left hand, where the ball of string is conveniently tied. You pulled it right out from beneath the shell in the first move to the right. That is where your ball is located." Dagon proclaimed with satisfaction. Bosch looked up to see the troubled face of Suglios searching the face of the podrikev which had no expression to give. With a sigh, the man opened his left hand to reveal the ball of string. Bosch could do nothing but laugh. "You two are the first to beat me in seven months. I am humbled to say the least." Suglios cleared the table and leaned forward with his hands folded together. "As I am a man of my word, tell me what you need of me and it will be done." Dagon began to explain their situation and how they needed to reach Mirabar within a few days--something that both knew was near impossible. Suglios nodded with a smile, "Say no more, for I have the answer you need." Reaching over, Suglios produced a jewel-encrusted box. He placed it on the table and unlatched it, turning it towards them. "There is your answer," he said as Bosch pulled forth a golden horn from within the box. "What is this," he asked. "It is a unicorn's horn. Wizards such as yourselves would know what to do with such a rare and valuable thing. Cast your gate spell while holding it and you will not fail." Bosch and Dagon thanked Suglios and Branam for their hospitality and entertainment. With the unicorn's horn, they would reach their destination before the coming of the next day, bringing the Keepers that much closer to finding a place for their cause.

-8- Sleight of Hand (Pt. 1)

Bosch and Dagon traveled the Long Road on foot, as neither was very fond of horses. It was five days since the two left Rassalantar, and their journey had taken them through two more towns and out of the protection of Waterdeep, where the land was lawless. To the east, the Hills of Jundar rolled into the horizon and to the west the edge of the Sword Mountains gave way to long stretches of plains and forest. This was one of the longest stretches of the road, where two days were required just to reach the next town of Triboar. They were aiming to be at the gates by morning. "Do you think the Keepers can help me?" Dagon asked as they walked. "I think if anyone can help you, they can," Bosch replied. "Some years ago we found a wizard's text in the Ruined City of Myth Drannor that detailed spell formulae for golem magics. I spent the better part of a year deciphering them with little success, but the text along with my notes should still be at the archives. If we can finish the work, then I know we can help you out." Dagon smiled as podrikevs do in the most peculiar manner. "Then I will do my best to help the Keepers and their cause. If we keep on this road and at this pace, we will reach Mirabar in another week, and there you will see these mines I speak of." The dwarf swore at Dagon's assessment of the situation. "We don't have a week to get there, much less get there and back. We are going to need some help." "Maybe Branam can help us," Dagon replied. Bosch stopped and turned back to see the podrikev reading a wooden sign. On the sign was painted the words 'Branam's Traveling Show' and it pointed to a small path down to a group of tents in the distance. Before Bosch could consider it any longer, he turned to see Dagon halfway towards the tents, talking to someone. "Well do consider my offer metal fellow," the man said as Bosch sprinted towards the two. "I will pass Branam, but thank you. Me and my friend need transportation to Mirabar. Do you know where we can find such a thing?" The man laughed as he swirled his cane. "Well, I can tell you to try hitching a ride with one of the caravans that run the trade route from Waterdeep, but without platinum, you have about as much of a chance getting them to agree as you would have if you were a troll." Bosch glared at Branam, who stood a good foot taller than him. "C'mon Dagon. We're wasting our time here." "Whoa, now wait there fellows. I never said I couldn't help you. Step into the booth of chance, and my friend Suglios will make you a deal you cannot resist." Branam pulled back the opening to the nearest tent which sat beneath a battered, wooden sign that read 'Suglios' House of Chance'. Before Bosch could reply, Dagon was already inside sitting across from a tall man in a black coat. Reluctantly, Bosch joined him.

-6- The Broken Machine (Pt. 2)

"Ahh. A dwarf! Such a long time since I've seen a dwarf!" Bosch had seen at least two more since his arrival in Rassalantar and considered asking it if it had lived in a cave its whole life, but then the answer may very well have been yes. "Yes, I am a dwarf, and would I be right to guess you are a podrikev?" It bobbed its head in agreement. "There are not many of your kind left in the realms. Is there any particular reason why you were crawling around beneath my innroom?" he asked. The podrikev looked down. "It is cold and dry there, and while it can postpone my eventual failure, I had to find other means. I am broken." Bosch looked the podrikev up and down. It was shorter than most he remembered and badly rusted, though its brain seemed to be working normally. In fact, it articulated speech very well for most. "How are you broken," Bosch asked. The podrikev shuddered as it rose up from its resting position. With a loud grinding sound, it moved its arms and legs until smoke began to rise from them. "I am seven years due for maintenance and three years past my life expectancy. It was my hope that expending the energy to come up to the surface would afford me the opportunity to find someone who could help. Do you know golem magic?" "I think I know some people that may be able to help you out," Bosch said after a moment. "How fit are you to accompany me north?" The podrikev looked northward and then back at Bosch. "I think can make the journey. How far are we going?" Bosch smiled at the question, because he didnt have a good answer for it. "Your guess is as good as mine how far I need to go, but I cannot return without finding something." Bosch looked out over the Long Road as it disappeared into the darkness. The moon rose high in the sky as it waited for the sun to chase it away once again. "Tomorrow at first light, I will set out. If you are here then, I will tell you more about my quest and you can accompany me. My friends can help you." In reply, the podrikev bobbed its head and let out a whirl. As Bosch walked back to the inn, he turned to ask the podrikev his name. "The gnome who built me gave me the same name as the gnome who I once was. The name was Dagon. You can call me Dagon." "Well, Dagon. I will see you shortly then." "Shortly, yes."

-6- The Broken Machine (Pt. 1)

The silence of the night broke with the sound of grinding metal. Bosch darted up from his sleep just as it ended without the slightest hint of where it came from. It took a few moments for the dwarf to realize where he was at--a feeling he was very familiar with now. With the least amount of commotion, Bosch slipped his hand into his bag and felt around for his ball of light. Finding its smooth contours, he sat and waited Vwrrrrr... Bosch stood up, pulling the ball of light out such that he was temporarily blinded by the sudden brightness. The innroom was empty. He listened for a moment, but there was nothing but the sounds of the insects outside. Sitting back down, he covered the ball of light and leaned back against the wall with heavy eyes. Thinking about the sound, he could almost place it. It was a sound that reminded him of when he was young and working in the mines. The ore carts when full would travel with such momentum that the operator would have to apply the brakes, which made a rather awful noise, accompanied by the smell of charred leather. But then it didn't sound like grinding metal. What was it that he remembered? In later years, they brought in machines to do the mining, as the inhospitable conditions began to take their toll on the dwarves and their health. They were fashioned from metal and given humanoid shapes and sentience. To each was assigned a dwarf who would be in charge of maintaining them by keeping them properly oiled and enchanted with golem magics such that their nonmetal brains would not die. On occasion they would expel exhaust though a relief port on their backside. The smell was near unbearable, almost as unpleasant as the sound they made... Vrwwrrrr... The sound woke Bosch from his dreaming. There was no mistaking it: it was coming from beneath him and much fainter than the first two. Leaning down, Bosch put his ear to the cold wooden floor. The faint sound of clanking metal could be heard echoing from below. Bosch followed it as it moved towards the door and out into the tavern. Vwwrrr..rr..ckkk Feeling no malice, Bosch opted to knock against the floor. It was solid, suggesting there were no rooms beneath him. And then it knocked back. "Thrun? Fick?" a neutral voice called out from below. "Anyone up there?" Bosch was decidely puzzled at this new development. It's not every day voices call out from underground. "Umm...Do you need assistance?" he asked. "Do you need an assistant?" the voice replied. Bosch was taken back by the reply. "What if I say yes?" he asked. The sounds became louder and Bosch followed the movements outside where they made a beeline for the road. It traveled near as fast as his dwarven legs could carry him and he was quickly winded just as it stopped short of the Keep Woods. There the ground began to rumble as a mound of dirt rose up. In a few moments, a metal arm broke through, followed by another. A head poked out, and then a large metal body. As it heaved itself out of the hole, several bare rotors expelled dirt from its underarm. With a quiver, the loud noises ceased, and glowing eyes looked at Bosch from two skeletal sockets.

-5- Correspondence

Clausius closed his eyes and the world fell around him like a house of cards. Without focus, the thoughts rebuilt themselves into visions, though fuzzy and lacking in substance. As verified by the Entity, these visions were prophetic, but what good was a prophecy if the writing remained undecipherable? For perhaps the better part of a year he had them off and on. When luck was with him, he could make out images, and sometimes faces, though they were often confused with people he had known such that it was difficult to tell at any given time whether the face he remember was from a dream or from his memory. One face in particular haunted his dreams for many months. She was a young girl, with jet black hair and dark robes; human in appearance, though the wicked gleam in her eyes betrayed a heritage that was anything but innocent... A knock at the door broke Clausius from his dreams. It was well past the ninth hour, yet someone found it necessary to pay him a visit. Reluctantly, he opened the door to the face of a familiar kenku courier bearing a large scroll tube. "Pardon the intrusion Clausius, but this message came with the instruction that it be delivered immediately upon receipt." Clausius nodded and accepted the tube, which bore the seal of the Wizard's Guild along its side. It was the reply he was waiting for, within a week of sending it as his friends in the guild were always quick to answer his correspondence. "Come in a moment," he replied to the courier, who was soaked from the rain. Clausius walked to the main archives, with the kenku close behind, and made his way over to the desk which still sat cluttered with various objects. Scooting them to the side, he broke the seal on the tube and tipped it over. A roll of heavy parchments fell out onto the table, each bearing the seal of the Guild. The first he read near the fire: In response to your letter received on the second week of Eleasias, we have convened and discussed your inquiries: To your first question, by our methods, this one you call Bosch is who he says he is. His records in the guild are also in tact, as there was never a claim made to his wealth. We shall expect a visit from him shortly to have his records updated or otherwise removed from the repository. To your second question, it is curious you know of the details of our encounter with this girl you so vividly describe. She was declined the opportuntiy to study here due to an impure bloodline that we cannot place, though her skills with the weave are exceptional. Attached is our report on this girl, which you should find more informative that I can make it to be. It is also convenient that you should send us this inquiry, as we have something that we need to discuss with you and your faction. Some recent information has come to our attention concerning the imbalance of powers in the realms. While we would like to have you come in person to the High Tower, we realize that you are not as fit for travel as you may have been 200 years ago, and so we will accept any trusted representative to appear before us at either's convenience. The next few pages were the official reports on Bosch and the girl who remained nameless on all pages. Clausius pulled a piece of paper from his desk and prepared a reply: To the High Council of the Wizard's Guild, I will make preparations to send a representative you are no doubt familiar with. The Simbul is currently attending to clan affairs in the east, but I will ask that she convene with the council at her earliest convenience. In regards to the information you have provided on both of my inquiries, I thank you for the help in these matters. The business with Bosch's records will be reconciled as soon as he returns from a trip of the utmost importance. The future of our humble faction relies on his success in this journey, and so I ask that you be patient until such time as the plans are finalized. With warmest regards, Clausius Sagacus Sealing the letter in wax, Clausius imprinted the Sagacus crest upon it and handed it to the courier with confidence that it would reach its destination with the greatest of speeds.

-3- NorthBound

The autumn sun hung low over the horizon as Bosch made his way into the small hamlet located just north of Waterdeep. It was his final stop on a long journey northward, where he would search out the future of the faction. His decision to search in the northern lands came rather spontaneously as he stood in the square in Waterdeep. The south was infested with trolls, and the east was a wilderness he would just as soon forget. The west had potential, but only after crossing the Sea of Swords, which would open up more options than he had time to consider. That left the north, of which little information was still known, and that was a definite selling point for his decision. While he had a long journey ahead of him, he knew that it would be much easier to manage if he rested up for the evening. Passing by several farms, he noticed a group of buildings set up in what he only guessed as being the center of the settlement. The Long Road passed directly through and opened up into a crude square with several water troughs and hay. A crude road stretched to the east across the fields and down into a swampy area below. Just a few paces from the road sat an inn which seemed to be doing quite well, as patrons frequented it more so than they did anything else. Bosch made his way in. At the front desk stood a stocky, middle-aged man who was busy with an angry patron. The patron, obviously drunk, was busy yelling at the innkeeper and beating his fist against the desk while rambling on about his room. When he grew tired, the innkeeper leaned forward and whispered in the patrons face, such that it became white with fear. In another instance, it was all over, with the patron stumbling quickly out the door, but not before setting down a few platinum pieces on the desk. "Greetings! What can we do for you here in the Sleeping Dragon?" Bosch was taken aback for a moment at the sudden pleasantness of the innkeeper, but it was only for a moment. "I've been on the road for several days without a decent place to rest. I was wondering if you had a room?" The innkeeper laughed. "You are fortunate. One just became available. The price will be 5 platinum, and that includes a meal and drink. Bosch counted out five platinum coins and placed them onto the desk. With one hand, the innkeeper slid the money towards him and tossed Bosch a key with the other. This switch happened so quick that Bosch nearly lost his bag trying to recover the flying key, causing the innkeeper to laugh. "You'll like this room. Breakfast is served within an hours of sunrise, so don't miss it. And losing that key will cost you much more than I think you can afford. Have a good night!" Bosch made his way through the tavern area toward the back where the rooms were. Opening his room number, he found the accomidations less than pleasant, with half eaten food still on the table and an unmade bed complete with beer stains. But Bosch never quite got used to beds again, having spent a decade sleeping on beds of leaves and soft earth. Pulling the straw mattress from the bedframe, he made himself a place to sleep and quickly settled in for the night.