Standing at average height is a young man whose face shows the pain of a troubled past. His brown hair is closely cropped and his eyes are a piercing blue, glinting with flecks of silver.
His strong hands hang at his sides, sliding subconsciously to the haft of the large two-handed axe often strapped to his back. With muscled shoulders and a powerful chest, his presence is not missed in a crowded room, or in the heat of a large battle.
Over his shoulder, he carries a pack of essentials.. of which, the corner of a small leather-bound book can be seen.
Showing posts with label Wrack. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wrack. Show all posts
the first step on a long path
Psycho had been in Athktla in the library speaking to Tsaroth about the book that Wrack had given him a few weeks before. The book had been harder to coax into translation that Psycho had previously believed. Even the robot which had translated so much before had no luck. Psycho had another idea but it would require more than magic or wisdom. It would require blood.
Psycho of course had tried blood, the book never stained or absorbed anything but ink. The pages stayed fresh and perfect. Psycho had even tried to rip out a page, but as he hypothesized the pages were not simply bound into the book. The book was an entity in and of itself. The parts of the book such as pages, bindings, and the cover did not make the book, the book had made the pieces to facilitate its being. The book was very much alive, and Psycho would no sooner harm the book than a fellow member of his brotherhood.
While Psycho was pondering how to use the book, he got a very interesting tell from a wizard
'I know you have much knowledge of the Moonshae Isles. I do, Perhaps we can be of some assistance to each other. I feel with some effort between us we can make progress into freeing the old gods.'
Psycho had indeed spent much time in the islands, but when Corleone called Psycho he had no idea how far down the rabbit hole they could really go. The weaver of Fate had plucked his cord and called him to further investigate the islands than he or any other had before.
Psycho of course had tried blood, the book never stained or absorbed anything but ink. The pages stayed fresh and perfect. Psycho had even tried to rip out a page, but as he hypothesized the pages were not simply bound into the book. The book was an entity in and of itself. The parts of the book such as pages, bindings, and the cover did not make the book, the book had made the pieces to facilitate its being. The book was very much alive, and Psycho would no sooner harm the book than a fellow member of his brotherhood.
While Psycho was pondering how to use the book, he got a very interesting tell from a wizard
'I know you have much knowledge of the Moonshae Isles. I do, Perhaps we can be of some assistance to each other. I feel with some effort between us we can make progress into freeing the old gods.'
Psycho had indeed spent much time in the islands, but when Corleone called Psycho he had no idea how far down the rabbit hole they could really go. The weaver of Fate had plucked his cord and called him to further investigate the islands than he or any other had before.
written in magic
Sliver had recognized the runes as those of our Order. The truth was that the inks that the Order used for its most secret documents were derived from old and lost magic inks. The inks were not written upon the page they were placed through mentally acuity and emotional will.
wMuch like any other spell the writer would have to have full control over his mental and physical ability. The experience was not entirely pleasant and the older inks such as this one often left the writer mentally drained, and physically ill. Whomever had prepared this part of the book had paid a heavy price to hide its information. The Order's private inks required much less physical expenditures and they were extended from a single mental force to be group friendly.
Wrack's book held no such modifications. Any who would wish to read it would need a certain level of physical connection with the writer. This additional cost Psycho believed could be found in the boy's blood. Once the book was paid it would be encouraged to share with it's self with the reader.
The pages would provide a vision into the life of the writer. More than a vision the book would fill the reader with personal memories of the writer, ripped straight from their head. Once the book became familiar with the reader or the writer the subsequent costs of using the book would be lightened to some degree.
Psycho realized he had been staring at the book for too long. 'The book you have is called a vision book. They are quite rare because of the cost to the writer. If this is your father's book there may be much about him that you did not know.'
'I only knew him as a farmer, not any sort of wizard.'
'I will require more time with your book before we can read what is written beyond your ink. I can assure you I will hold your book the highest level of respect for both you and your father. If my suspicions are correct this may hold some answers for you about his past.'
'I can tell you what it says on the cover Versel Turasjir Di Mitne Nakta It loosely translated to Greater Book of Candle's Keep. I can assure you it is no ordinary spell book.'
wMuch like any other spell the writer would have to have full control over his mental and physical ability. The experience was not entirely pleasant and the older inks such as this one often left the writer mentally drained, and physically ill. Whomever had prepared this part of the book had paid a heavy price to hide its information. The Order's private inks required much less physical expenditures and they were extended from a single mental force to be group friendly.
Wrack's book held no such modifications. Any who would wish to read it would need a certain level of physical connection with the writer. This additional cost Psycho believed could be found in the boy's blood. Once the book was paid it would be encouraged to share with it's self with the reader.
The pages would provide a vision into the life of the writer. More than a vision the book would fill the reader with personal memories of the writer, ripped straight from their head. Once the book became familiar with the reader or the writer the subsequent costs of using the book would be lightened to some degree.
Psycho realized he had been staring at the book for too long. 'The book you have is called a vision book. They are quite rare because of the cost to the writer. If this is your father's book there may be much about him that you did not know.'
'I only knew him as a farmer, not any sort of wizard.'
'I will require more time with your book before we can read what is written beyond your ink. I can assure you I will hold your book the highest level of respect for both you and your father. If my suspicions are correct this may hold some answers for you about his past.'
'I can tell you what it says on the cover Versel Turasjir Di Mitne Nakta It loosely translated to Greater Book of Candle's Keep. I can assure you it is no ordinary spell book.'
written in ink
Wrack explained to Psycho that the book had belonged to his father. It held incredible sentimental value and its was obvious that Wrack had given the book to few if no other people.
Psycho knew the book was no book of any farmer. Draconian was not only a very old language but a difficult one as well. The pages appeared to be made of fine parchment, and contained simple ink writing at the start of the book. The written words were a journal, that held little details about Beglos's true past. It contained records of the season's harvest and the price each crop received for the harvest. The notes were detailed but was ultimately banal.
After the farming records written on tear stained pages was what could only be Wrack's own writing. It dictated the horrors that the Kobolds inflicted upon the village. The pain that Wrack felt was evident on the pages, not just in his writing but because the book was magical.
Flipping past Wrack's personal information Psycho realized that there was indeed more to this book than first impressions would initially give off. The pages seemed infinite in number, each page of equivalent parchment quality, color and weight. Turning the page did not advance the reader through the book.Each page was at the very center of the book with no apparent numbering.
The pages beyond the handwritten journal was filled with runes that floated and changes on the page. These were the true reason they had brought him the book.
Psycho knew the book was no book of any farmer. Draconian was not only a very old language but a difficult one as well. The pages appeared to be made of fine parchment, and contained simple ink writing at the start of the book. The written words were a journal, that held little details about Beglos's true past. It contained records of the season's harvest and the price each crop received for the harvest. The notes were detailed but was ultimately banal.
After the farming records written on tear stained pages was what could only be Wrack's own writing. It dictated the horrors that the Kobolds inflicted upon the village. The pain that Wrack felt was evident on the pages, not just in his writing but because the book was magical.
Flipping past Wrack's personal information Psycho realized that there was indeed more to this book than first impressions would initially give off. The pages seemed infinite in number, each page of equivalent parchment quality, color and weight. Turning the page did not advance the reader through the book.Each page was at the very center of the book with no apparent numbering.
The pages beyond the handwritten journal was filled with runes that floated and changes on the page. These were the true reason they had brought him the book.
introductions to Wrack, and his book
Psycho had been expecting Sliver when she arrived, but when she entered Psycho could tell she was not alone. She had brought with her, someone that Psycho did not know. If the bug had brought him with her to Athkatla then he must be a strong candidate for membership. The city was a sacred and hidden place, the enchantments built into the city would assure Psycho that there the guest was unable to use illusionary magic. Many of the members had not been seen the walls of the city.
'Sliver, my most trusted Knight, a pleasure to see you as always.'
She held a red rose up and placed it upon the table next to Psycho. The two of them did not speak about the rose, as it was unspoken that they would have private matters to discuss after the guest.
Psycho walked over the the door, opened it and saw a human of no more than 25. His hair was cut short and although he was young life shown itself in his eyes and on his face. His Blue eyes were not just familiar they were nearly identical to two other men that Psycho knew. Purhaps there was more to this young man than any first impressions could provide. 'Please come in, there must be something important for Sliver to have brought you here.'
The young man nodded and produced a book as he stepped into the Library. The book was bound in brown leather with symbols that Psycho recognized as draconian.
'Sliver, my most trusted Knight, a pleasure to see you as always.'
She held a red rose up and placed it upon the table next to Psycho. The two of them did not speak about the rose, as it was unspoken that they would have private matters to discuss after the guest.
Psycho walked over the the door, opened it and saw a human of no more than 25. His hair was cut short and although he was young life shown itself in his eyes and on his face. His Blue eyes were not just familiar they were nearly identical to two other men that Psycho knew. Purhaps there was more to this young man than any first impressions could provide. 'Please come in, there must be something important for Sliver to have brought you here.'
The young man nodded and produced a book as he stepped into the Library. The book was bound in brown leather with symbols that Psycho recognized as draconian.
Introductions
Sliver hesitated after showing the rose to Psycho. Further discussions on that particular enemy would have to wait. The rose wasn't the only issue of late. These days had been full of surprises, and one such surprise resided right outside the library. Meeting up with him in New Thalos had been a stroke of luck, and the discovery that was made was one of great importance as well.
Now that the time had come, Sliver hoped the decision to bring the man with her to this meeting had been the right one.
The bug bowed to her superior officer and introduced this new guest to him, not by name but by association and reason.
'Thisss man holdsss treasure I felt you shhhould sssee...' Sliver motioned for Wrack to come forward, watching him curiously.
Eyes on Wrack, Sliver continued 'He sseekss to join with usss... Hisss heritage issss... Interesssting... I am sssure you will agree...'
When Wrack approached, Sliver stepped back, leaving Wrack to show his own worth to the superior officer.
Now that the time had come, Sliver hoped the decision to bring the man with her to this meeting had been the right one.
The bug bowed to her superior officer and introduced this new guest to him, not by name but by association and reason.
'Thisss man holdsss treasure I felt you shhhould sssee...' Sliver motioned for Wrack to come forward, watching him curiously.
Eyes on Wrack, Sliver continued 'He sseekss to join with usss... Hisss heritage issss... Interesssting... I am sssure you will agree...'
When Wrack approached, Sliver stepped back, leaving Wrack to show his own worth to the superior officer.
Led by a Light - Part 3
Brought back to the room by her voice, "I can not read these runess.. There iss another in the Order.." Their eyes met, and her mandibles were moving excitedly at the discovery of these texts, "He performss most of his studiess within our Order's most holy and hidden city.."
She paused, her face growing hesitant, "But none may know itss location outsside of the Order.." Wrack could see the line of questioning unfurling before him..
The chance to learn about his past, his present, and his future..
Wrack looked to the pages of his father's book, the inks written in a strong hand, a hand that may have belonged to the man he thought he knew..
This Order could be his only chance to know the truth, to repay a debt to the forces that strike fear into the hearts of the innocent.. This could be the answer he sought.
"I wish to join the Order. I wish to fight for justice against evil, and to gain the knowledge needed to protect the realms."
She smiled as she rose form her seat, closing the book and sliding it into the leather satchel. Extending her forelimb, she offered it back to Wrack.
He slid the familiar strap over his shoulder, but it had a different feeling now that he knew what lay within it.. It felt heavier.
"zoriadimm.. halasss.."
The shimmer he had seen before in the alley of New Thalos rippled before her, and the fabric of space and time opened like a curtain.. revealing a vast port city larger than any he had ever seen before..
"Come, let usss learn more together.."
She paused, her face growing hesitant, "But none may know itss location outsside of the Order.." Wrack could see the line of questioning unfurling before him..
The chance to learn about his past, his present, and his future..
Wrack looked to the pages of his father's book, the inks written in a strong hand, a hand that may have belonged to the man he thought he knew..
This Order could be his only chance to know the truth, to repay a debt to the forces that strike fear into the hearts of the innocent.. This could be the answer he sought.
"I wish to join the Order. I wish to fight for justice against evil, and to gain the knowledge needed to protect the realms."
She smiled as she rose form her seat, closing the book and sliding it into the leather satchel. Extending her forelimb, she offered it back to Wrack.
He slid the familiar strap over his shoulder, but it had a different feeling now that he knew what lay within it.. It felt heavier.
"zoriadimm.. halasss.."
The shimmer he had seen before in the alley of New Thalos rippled before her, and the fabric of space and time opened like a curtain.. revealing a vast port city larger than any he had ever seen before..
"Come, let usss learn more together.."
Led by a Light - Part 2
Wrack's thoughts became less jumbled, and sense started to be made, but he didn't quite grasp her point. "My father was a farmer in Beregost, I'll admit I don't know anything about this book.. It changes to many forms as I glance through its pages.. But I didn't even know it existed until the day he died."
"Curiousss.." she whispered, as she slid it between the pair of them, "If thiss iss what I think it isss.." She glanced up at the glowing light, which changed to flames of red.
As she began flipping through the pages quickly, Wrack saw the many notes of his father flip before him, followed by his own.. until empty pages..
Seeing nothing of note, he looked at her questioningly, but her gaze was focused on the pages. Looking back down, he began to see why.. The pages were slowly forming symbols he had never before seen.
"Asss I susspected.." she stopped the pages from turning and looked up at the ball of light, seeming to smile, "Thiss book once belonged to our Order.. It is written in our inkss.."
Wrack paused, his thoughts racing..
Who was his father?
Where did this book come from?
Did his father write these pages?
"Curiousss.." she whispered, as she slid it between the pair of them, "If thiss iss what I think it isss.." She glanced up at the glowing light, which changed to flames of red.
As she began flipping through the pages quickly, Wrack saw the many notes of his father flip before him, followed by his own.. until empty pages..
Seeing nothing of note, he looked at her questioningly, but her gaze was focused on the pages. Looking back down, he began to see why.. The pages were slowly forming symbols he had never before seen.
"Asss I susspected.." she stopped the pages from turning and looked up at the ball of light, seeming to smile, "Thiss book once belonged to our Order.. It is written in our inkss.."
Wrack paused, his thoughts racing..
Who was his father?
Where did this book come from?
Did his father write these pages?
Led by a Light - Part 1
The world spun, at least it felt like it spun.. Darkness surrounded everything, his vision, his body, his spirit.. Every fiber of his being felt as if it was being torn to shreds in anger and then replaced with the utmost care.
Until finally.. it all stopped, and Wrack stood in a large chamber, as if he'd been there all along.
In the center of the room was a polished black marble table, surrounded by stone chairs. Hovering above it all, was a soft white light, shining down upon his leather pack, with the book laying upon it, closed.
Sliver was already seated in one of the chairs, her forelimb extended, inviting him to sit. As he stepped the few yards to the table, his boots did not echo into the vast chamber..
Though he could see no walls, it seemed comfortable, and protected. He took the chair by its back and slid it easily from the table, as if weightless.. and took a seat across the table from the large insect who had led him here.
"Where are we?" he started, "And what do you know about my father?" His questions were disconnected, probably due to the traveling, but they were fair questions nonetheless.
"We are in a protected chamber of my Order.." she replied, "Your father however.."
She turned slightly, facing the book, as if the answer was more complex than before..
Until finally.. it all stopped, and Wrack stood in a large chamber, as if he'd been there all along.
In the center of the room was a polished black marble table, surrounded by stone chairs. Hovering above it all, was a soft white light, shining down upon his leather pack, with the book laying upon it, closed.
Sliver was already seated in one of the chairs, her forelimb extended, inviting him to sit. As he stepped the few yards to the table, his boots did not echo into the vast chamber..
Though he could see no walls, it seemed comfortable, and protected. He took the chair by its back and slid it easily from the table, as if weightless.. and took a seat across the table from the large insect who had led him here.
"Where are we?" he started, "And what do you know about my father?" His questions were disconnected, probably due to the traveling, but they were fair questions nonetheless.
"We are in a protected chamber of my Order.." she replied, "Your father however.."
She turned slightly, facing the book, as if the answer was more complex than before..
Interview with a Thri'Kreen - Part 3
"Run! We mussst flee!" she yelled, grabbing Wrack by the shoulder with a jerk.
Looking at her eyes, he could see no anger, but worry.. Worry for his safety.
They ran north, heading towards the gates.. But two streets along, the cloaked insect before him darted into an alley way on the right, between two buildings.
Just as he turned into the alleyway, Wrack peered back from where they came, and saw the small group of thugs running to catch up.
Stopping quickly a few yards in, she closed her eyes and spoke..
"zoriadimm.. halasss.."
The air flickered like a sheet of transparent silk, then began to slide apart, bending the light and tearing a hole to another city. But.. The city was different from the streets surrounding him.
"Go!" she shoved him through, and turned back to face the mouth of the alley.
Stumbling, Wrack fell through and landed on the dirt street of a darker town. Regaining his balance, he looked north to see a large tower of countless stories in the distance, and turned to see squat buildings and shops surrounding him.
Landing through the rift beside him, the insect landed beside Wrack.. and the ripples of air behind her sealed as if they never exited.
She turned to him, inspecting him and whispered the words, "candusima".. a wave of cold ran through is body, and his worked muscles felt as if he had just awoken from a good rest.
The black blood upon her copper face was drying as she stepped past him, and whispered to a door between the two nearby buildings that he hadn't noticed.
She opened the door slowly.. Holding it open and turning to look at Wrack..
"My name is Sssliver.. Please come inside.." she said as he walked towards the doorway, "I would very much like to ssspeak with you about your father.."
As he stepped into the darkness beyond the door, his flesh felt as if it was being pulled by a thousand hands into the shadows..
Looking at her eyes, he could see no anger, but worry.. Worry for his safety.
They ran north, heading towards the gates.. But two streets along, the cloaked insect before him darted into an alley way on the right, between two buildings.
Just as he turned into the alleyway, Wrack peered back from where they came, and saw the small group of thugs running to catch up.
Stopping quickly a few yards in, she closed her eyes and spoke..
"zoriadimm.. halasss.."
The air flickered like a sheet of transparent silk, then began to slide apart, bending the light and tearing a hole to another city. But.. The city was different from the streets surrounding him.
"Go!" she shoved him through, and turned back to face the mouth of the alley.
Stumbling, Wrack fell through and landed on the dirt street of a darker town. Regaining his balance, he looked north to see a large tower of countless stories in the distance, and turned to see squat buildings and shops surrounding him.
Landing through the rift beside him, the insect landed beside Wrack.. and the ripples of air behind her sealed as if they never exited.
She turned to him, inspecting him and whispered the words, "candusima".. a wave of cold ran through is body, and his worked muscles felt as if he had just awoken from a good rest.
The black blood upon her copper face was drying as she stepped past him, and whispered to a door between the two nearby buildings that he hadn't noticed.
She opened the door slowly.. Holding it open and turning to look at Wrack..
"My name is Sssliver.. Please come inside.." she said as he walked towards the doorway, "I would very much like to ssspeak with you about your father.."
As he stepped into the darkness beyond the door, his flesh felt as if it was being pulled by a thousand hands into the shadows..
Interview with a Thri'Kreen - Part 2
Turning his head to trace its source, he saw a large man with an unkempt beard tossing and catching another stone in his hand. A small group of dirty men gathering up around him, daggers and clubs in their belts.
"THERE's the FREAK!" he yelled, pointing his stone at her, readying a throw.
"Go crawl back to the desert with the rest of you bugs and snakes!"
Glancing back at her, she was regaining her composure, bringing up her sleeved arm to her face, black blood dripping slowly down it..
"You don't need to get hurt, kid.. Get outta here."
Getting quickly to his feet, Wrack watched another stone being thrown, and quickly wipped his pack in an arc, catching the stone mid-air and volleying it back at the small mob.. bouncing and rolling harmlessly at their feet.
Laughter filled the air as the mob grinned like wolves and began stepping forward.. Many bending down to grab stones or draw their weapons.
Time slowed, seconds became minutes.. his tongue grew dry..
"Suit yourself.. 'Hero.'" the leader of the mob said as he grew closer..
Drawing a shortsword from his belt and grinning.. Scanning the market, there were no guards in sight.
Wrack began backing up, his leather pack strap clutched tightly in his hands.. He watched as the bearded thug stalked forward, his blade glinting in the sun.
"kharandisss.. elosss," was all that could be heard before a blast of air exploded between the mob and the pair.
Shutting his eyes against the blast, Wrack felt dust swirl about him quickly and the whoosh of air as it blew past him. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw that it was no ordinary wind.. but an elemental of air, and it had slammed into the group of thugs-- knocking them all on their backs.
"THERE's the FREAK!" he yelled, pointing his stone at her, readying a throw.
"Go crawl back to the desert with the rest of you bugs and snakes!"
Glancing back at her, she was regaining her composure, bringing up her sleeved arm to her face, black blood dripping slowly down it..
"You don't need to get hurt, kid.. Get outta here."
Getting quickly to his feet, Wrack watched another stone being thrown, and quickly wipped his pack in an arc, catching the stone mid-air and volleying it back at the small mob.. bouncing and rolling harmlessly at their feet.
Laughter filled the air as the mob grinned like wolves and began stepping forward.. Many bending down to grab stones or draw their weapons.
Time slowed, seconds became minutes.. his tongue grew dry..
"Suit yourself.. 'Hero.'" the leader of the mob said as he grew closer..
Drawing a shortsword from his belt and grinning.. Scanning the market, there were no guards in sight.
Wrack began backing up, his leather pack strap clutched tightly in his hands.. He watched as the bearded thug stalked forward, his blade glinting in the sun.
"kharandisss.. elosss," was all that could be heard before a blast of air exploded between the mob and the pair.
Shutting his eyes against the blast, Wrack felt dust swirl about him quickly and the whoosh of air as it blew past him. Opening his eyes a crack, he saw that it was no ordinary wind.. but an elemental of air, and it had slammed into the group of thugs-- knocking them all on their backs.
Interview with a Thri'Kreen - Part 1
Landing hard on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, Wrack rolled on to his side to survey his surroundings..
His pack emptied onto the busy market streets of New Thalos, his waterskin, some dry rations, and.. his book lay at the feet of a tall figure in a large robe. The collision knocked the figure's hood down to reveal an insect-like face of copper skin with sharp lines, mandables, and eyes of black.
The figure eyed Wrack with fear, and quickly closed its robe, as if ashamed of what he might have seen.. But Wrack only inspected her inquisitively as he gathered his breath.. Leaving the figure standing with its hood down.
"I'm... sorry... I wasn't.. looking where.. I was going," he tried to breathe deeply, slowly returning his breathing to normal.
"The fault isss mine.. young human.." she spoke as she bent down, grasping the book carefully with enrobed forelimbs, her eyes flickered to it with interest, as if she recognized its gilded cover.
Wrack's jaw clenched with worry, his eyes watching his book with the eyes of a mother watching her infant being picked up by a stranger.
"Thisss book.. Who gave it to you?" she questioned, her mandables clicking lightly with some kind of excitement, extending her forelimb and handing it back to him.
"It belonged to my father," he replied, taking the book protectively as he slipped it into his pack, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Yess.. A ssscholar from Candlekeep.." she nodded slowly.
"Candlekeep.. ? No, my father was a farmer in.." the tightness of worry gone, he looked at her confused.
Mandibles still excited, she was about to speak again, then a hand-sized stone struck against her face, knocking her head back with a shriek.
His pack emptied onto the busy market streets of New Thalos, his waterskin, some dry rations, and.. his book lay at the feet of a tall figure in a large robe. The collision knocked the figure's hood down to reveal an insect-like face of copper skin with sharp lines, mandables, and eyes of black.
The figure eyed Wrack with fear, and quickly closed its robe, as if ashamed of what he might have seen.. But Wrack only inspected her inquisitively as he gathered his breath.. Leaving the figure standing with its hood down.
"I'm... sorry... I wasn't.. looking where.. I was going," he tried to breathe deeply, slowly returning his breathing to normal.
"The fault isss mine.. young human.." she spoke as she bent down, grasping the book carefully with enrobed forelimbs, her eyes flickered to it with interest, as if she recognized its gilded cover.
Wrack's jaw clenched with worry, his eyes watching his book with the eyes of a mother watching her infant being picked up by a stranger.
"Thisss book.. Who gave it to you?" she questioned, her mandables clicking lightly with some kind of excitement, extending her forelimb and handing it back to him.
"It belonged to my father," he replied, taking the book protectively as he slipped it into his pack, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Yess.. A ssscholar from Candlekeep.." she nodded slowly.
"Candlekeep.. ? No, my father was a farmer in.." the tightness of worry gone, he looked at her confused.
Mandibles still excited, she was about to speak again, then a hand-sized stone struck against her face, knocking her head back with a shriek.
Introduction by Flame - Part 3
His father's chest slowed, the flow of blood from his side had stopped, and his eyes stared emptily at the dark sky, the flames from the burning homes lighting the scene in lights of yellow an orange.
Wrack wrapped his arm around the body before him, clutching him close, burying his face in his chest.. the scent of the man who raised him, taught him, and loved him, mingled with the scent of smoke and blood..
Pulling himself back, he looked at his father, the pain had ended, the kobolds were gone, and his home was burning..
Glancing down, to his father's clutching hands, a bundle of dark cloth was wrapped around something with squared edges..
...
His eyes were lightly filling with tears once again at the thought of the eventsof the months passed as his booted feet trod silently upon the cobblestones leading from the ports to the central market of New Thalos.
Absent-mindedly rounding a small corner bordered by a tall stone wall, his eyes watching his feet, and not the street before him, he collided with an encloaked figure. His pack fell from his shoulder, its meager contents spilling onto the street before him, and he stumbled, glancing up..
Sharp angles made up the face hidden in the shadows beneath a hood, two protrusions growing from its forehead and the glint of surprised black eyes..
Wrack wrapped his arm around the body before him, clutching him close, burying his face in his chest.. the scent of the man who raised him, taught him, and loved him, mingled with the scent of smoke and blood..
Pulling himself back, he looked at his father, the pain had ended, the kobolds were gone, and his home was burning..
Glancing down, to his father's clutching hands, a bundle of dark cloth was wrapped around something with squared edges..
...
His eyes were lightly filling with tears once again at the thought of the eventsof the months passed as his booted feet trod silently upon the cobblestones leading from the ports to the central market of New Thalos.
Absent-mindedly rounding a small corner bordered by a tall stone wall, his eyes watching his feet, and not the street before him, he collided with an encloaked figure. His pack fell from his shoulder, its meager contents spilling onto the street before him, and he stumbled, glancing up..
Sharp angles made up the face hidden in the shadows beneath a hood, two protrusions growing from its forehead and the glint of surprised black eyes..
Introduction by Flame - Part 2
His feet moved quickly as he ran down the path, weaving around and even under ancient trees, whose immense roots showed the forest's age to be in the centuries of being undisturbed.
Trees began to thin and the path grew grassier as he neared the southeastern edge of the village and the smell of smoke and sound of shouts grew stronger.
Topping the small hill that marked the edge of Beregost, he was able to see the cause: a group of dog-snouted beasts walking on their hind legs, holding spears and swords were fleeing to the south as a group of militia chased them into the trees, and the smoke was rising in plumes from the four homes nearest him.. The smallest one was his own.
Dropping the rabbits, he sprinted towards his home, seeing the flames lick at the rooves, and noticing the bodies of these beasts and a few of his neighbors alike were strewn about on the matted grass. Some of the villagers stood bloodied, wearing makeshift bandages and tourniquets over their wounds, carrying pitchforks and rusted weapons that attics once held, their coughs muffled by the loud crackling of flames.
An older man, Mr. Cosley, his neighbour for the entirety of his sixteen year old life was on his knees, bent over someone familiar with a deep cut in his side, holding a blood-soaked bundle of fabric to the wound.. his once-white shirt torn and blackened by soot.. and a bloodied pitchfork at his side.. It was his father.
"Dad!" he yelled, collapsing beside Mr. Cosley, glancing at the pale face, sprayed with dried blood,
"Wh.. What.." the words stammered from his lips, as tears welled up in his eyes, his mind grasping to make sense.
His father's flesh was pale in the dimming light, failing to raise his head weakly, he rolled it over to look at his son.
"Kobolds.. They came.. From the south.." his throat was hoarse from the smoke, "I got one.. with the fork.. but he cut.. deep.."
Kobolds? Those were just stories to scare children!
The bundle of cloth on his wound was dripping into the grass into a growing pool.
"You can't die," sobs shook his body, his face trailed with tears.
"We all do.. son.. We.." a harsh cough brought up blood, halting his words.
Lifting an arm, Wrack wiped his face of tears and sat up..
Trees began to thin and the path grew grassier as he neared the southeastern edge of the village and the smell of smoke and sound of shouts grew stronger.
Topping the small hill that marked the edge of Beregost, he was able to see the cause: a group of dog-snouted beasts walking on their hind legs, holding spears and swords were fleeing to the south as a group of militia chased them into the trees, and the smoke was rising in plumes from the four homes nearest him.. The smallest one was his own.
Dropping the rabbits, he sprinted towards his home, seeing the flames lick at the rooves, and noticing the bodies of these beasts and a few of his neighbors alike were strewn about on the matted grass. Some of the villagers stood bloodied, wearing makeshift bandages and tourniquets over their wounds, carrying pitchforks and rusted weapons that attics once held, their coughs muffled by the loud crackling of flames.
An older man, Mr. Cosley, his neighbour for the entirety of his sixteen year old life was on his knees, bent over someone familiar with a deep cut in his side, holding a blood-soaked bundle of fabric to the wound.. his once-white shirt torn and blackened by soot.. and a bloodied pitchfork at his side.. It was his father.
"Dad!" he yelled, collapsing beside Mr. Cosley, glancing at the pale face, sprayed with dried blood,
"Wh.. What.." the words stammered from his lips, as tears welled up in his eyes, his mind grasping to make sense.
His father's flesh was pale in the dimming light, failing to raise his head weakly, he rolled it over to look at his son.
"Kobolds.. They came.. From the south.." his throat was hoarse from the smoke, "I got one.. with the fork.. but he cut.. deep.."
Kobolds? Those were just stories to scare children!
The bundle of cloth on his wound was dripping into the grass into a growing pool.
"You can't die," sobs shook his body, his face trailed with tears.
"We all do.. son.. We.." a harsh cough brought up blood, halting his words.
Lifting an arm, Wrack wiped his face of tears and sat up..
Introduction by Flame - Part 1
Entering New Thalos proper from the east, the sights and were welcome in comparison to the open seas. It was also nice to be on his own two feet again against firm ground. His stomach grumbled, for hunger or being unsettled at the thought of his rocking cabin, he could not tell.
Markets surrounded him with the clanging of blacksmith hammers, the weaving of looms, the shouting of bazaar hawkers, and the haggling of the potential buyers. It was all very eminiscent of Baldur's Gate if to a smaller scale, a place he had only briefly visited in his travels, but it was much cleaner here, and guards appeared to be more useful, as he peered at a man who stood against a wall, his eyes scanning the small crowds.
In the distance to the south west, wisps of smoke and shouting could be seen from somewhere far off as something large appeared to be burning, and the light waft of wood smoke filled his nose..
...
Cool air ran over Wrack's skin as he loped down a small bend in the well-worn path. Slung over his shoulder, the two rabbits would make a fine meal for him and his father tonight, perhaps a stew.. His mouth watered lightly at the thought of the meal.
Overhead, a canopy of large trees blocked out the sky, which was growing darker as dusk slid over the quiet forest of Beregost, and the smell of pine and cedar filled the air, with a hint of campfire off in the distance.
Light birdsong from the branches grew less frequent as the sun dipped lower.
A few deer in the distance could be seen grazing-- he would have to bring his bow next time-- until suddenly their heads looked up as a twig snapped under his foot. The small family of four, three doe and a buck, stared at him in unison, as he stopped dead in his tracks to watch them, surprised by his own misstep.
For only a few moments, they all stood motionless and watching each other, the deer clearly ready to bolt at the slightest movement. Suddenly, the deer all turned their heads northwest.. and a shout could be heard off in the distance.
The campfire smell was stronger now, Wrack smelled at the air and paused, holding his ear in the direction the deer were looking.. towards the village.. and another shout, louder this time, and a howl he did not recognize.
The deer bolted into the trees, disappearing quickly around thick trunks and into dense underbrush..
Something was wrong.
Markets surrounded him with the clanging of blacksmith hammers, the weaving of looms, the shouting of bazaar hawkers, and the haggling of the potential buyers. It was all very eminiscent of Baldur's Gate if to a smaller scale, a place he had only briefly visited in his travels, but it was much cleaner here, and guards appeared to be more useful, as he peered at a man who stood against a wall, his eyes scanning the small crowds.
In the distance to the south west, wisps of smoke and shouting could be seen from somewhere far off as something large appeared to be burning, and the light waft of wood smoke filled his nose..
...
Cool air ran over Wrack's skin as he loped down a small bend in the well-worn path. Slung over his shoulder, the two rabbits would make a fine meal for him and his father tonight, perhaps a stew.. His mouth watered lightly at the thought of the meal.
Overhead, a canopy of large trees blocked out the sky, which was growing darker as dusk slid over the quiet forest of Beregost, and the smell of pine and cedar filled the air, with a hint of campfire off in the distance.
Light birdsong from the branches grew less frequent as the sun dipped lower.
A few deer in the distance could be seen grazing-- he would have to bring his bow next time-- until suddenly their heads looked up as a twig snapped under his foot. The small family of four, three doe and a buck, stared at him in unison, as he stopped dead in his tracks to watch them, surprised by his own misstep.
For only a few moments, they all stood motionless and watching each other, the deer clearly ready to bolt at the slightest movement. Suddenly, the deer all turned their heads northwest.. and a shout could be heard off in the distance.
The campfire smell was stronger now, Wrack smelled at the air and paused, holding his ear in the direction the deer were looking.. towards the village.. and another shout, louder this time, and a howl he did not recognize.
The deer bolted into the trees, disappearing quickly around thick trunks and into dense underbrush..
Something was wrong.
Landing Ashore - Part 2
The young man wavered onto the deck, his stomach queasy from the ship that no longer rocked in the open seas. Grabbing at the railings where he could, he stepped down the gangplank to the New Thalos docks. The air was thick with salt and the fresh catches of fish of the lesser vessels, mingled with the exotic herbs, spices, and tobaccos of the larger trade ships.
At the end of the long dock, he could see the bald-headed Captain Drogol of the ship he was disembarking, The Maiden of Light. The captain finished his quick talk with the dockmaster, tipped his large-brimmed hat, turned on a heel, and walked towards the first inn in sight, an open door into a dark room with a worn and unreadable sign hanging over it.
Approaching the dockmaster, the young man held tightly at the sling pack over his shoulder, but was greeted by a wide smile.
"Good day! I am dockmaster Elbrim, what business brings you to New Thalos?"
"My name is Wrack.." the young man replied, his hands easing into calm, loosening his grip, "and I come seeking knowledge.."
The dockmaster scribbled words into a small notebook, paused, and peered up, "Knowledge, you say? What sort of knowledge?"
"I seek knowledge against the enemies of good in the realms."
Looking at Wrack's face, the dockmaster paused before writing, "That is a noble deed, young man. Where, might I ask, do you hail from?"
"A small village called Beregost, near to Candlekeep," his blue eyes glazed over lightly with a sheen of distant thought.
"Near Candlekeep.. my, you are far from home. I hope you find what you seek.. We could all do with more peace in these realms."
A few more words entered the dockmaster's book, he beamed another smile and turned, walking to meet the captain of another ship just arriving.
Turning to face the city, Wrack began his trek west..
At the end of the long dock, he could see the bald-headed Captain Drogol of the ship he was disembarking, The Maiden of Light. The captain finished his quick talk with the dockmaster, tipped his large-brimmed hat, turned on a heel, and walked towards the first inn in sight, an open door into a dark room with a worn and unreadable sign hanging over it.
Approaching the dockmaster, the young man held tightly at the sling pack over his shoulder, but was greeted by a wide smile.
"Good day! I am dockmaster Elbrim, what business brings you to New Thalos?"
"My name is Wrack.." the young man replied, his hands easing into calm, loosening his grip, "and I come seeking knowledge.."
The dockmaster scribbled words into a small notebook, paused, and peered up, "Knowledge, you say? What sort of knowledge?"
"I seek knowledge against the enemies of good in the realms."
Looking at Wrack's face, the dockmaster paused before writing, "That is a noble deed, young man. Where, might I ask, do you hail from?"
"A small village called Beregost, near to Candlekeep," his blue eyes glazed over lightly with a sheen of distant thought.
"Near Candlekeep.. my, you are far from home. I hope you find what you seek.. We could all do with more peace in these realms."
A few more words entered the dockmaster's book, he beamed another smile and turned, walking to meet the captain of another ship just arriving.
Turning to face the city, Wrack began his trek west..
Landing Ashore
The two-masted ship slid calmly into the bay, banners of the eastern trading fleet flapping overhead as the crew checked and tied away ropes. Overhead, the sun beamed warmly down from a sky dotted with white clouds, and over a railing, a young man emptied the few remnants in his belly into the calm waters.
A strong tan hand clapped him on the back, "We be landin', boy. You can stop tryin'a paint the side o' me boat now."
"Thank you... Your pay..." he started, as he pulled a small bag of coins from his coat pocket, but the captain stayed his hand.
"Ye've done more than enough to pay yer passage. Ye go on wit' yer coin and spend it on a pretty lass.. Once ye clean up, a'course," the gruff man chuckled and turned, then began barking orders at the crew to prepare for the unloading of cargo in the trade city of New Thalos.
The purse went back into his coat pocket, and he went below-deck to gather his meager belongings from the cramped cabin that had been his home for the past weeks: a wide-brimmed hat for sun that he would definitely need, a cape for cold weather that he wouldn't, steel, flint, dried rations, and a dark leather-bound book sitting on his bed.
Lifting the flap of his pack, he loaded it all in, pausing last on his book. Flipping through all of its pages from front to back, he peered at its blank pages. Reaching the back cover, he flipped the book in his hands and traced his finger over its bindings and edges, then slowly turned it back to its front.
He closed his eyes, visualized the pages of notes he had written the night before, and opened its covers... the writing and diagrams slowly inked themselves onto the pages as he thumbed through them, admiring his drawings of the boat and its design.
"New Thalos docks! Tie it off! Gangplank down! Start unloading the cargo!"
He emptied his mind and the writing faded to blank pages again an he shut it tightly, sliding it into the pack as he threw it over his shoulder and stumbled towards the door-- growing dizzy as he realized the swaying had stopped.
A strong tan hand clapped him on the back, "We be landin', boy. You can stop tryin'a paint the side o' me boat now."
"Thank you... Your pay..." he started, as he pulled a small bag of coins from his coat pocket, but the captain stayed his hand.
"Ye've done more than enough to pay yer passage. Ye go on wit' yer coin and spend it on a pretty lass.. Once ye clean up, a'course," the gruff man chuckled and turned, then began barking orders at the crew to prepare for the unloading of cargo in the trade city of New Thalos.
The purse went back into his coat pocket, and he went below-deck to gather his meager belongings from the cramped cabin that had been his home for the past weeks: a wide-brimmed hat for sun that he would definitely need, a cape for cold weather that he wouldn't, steel, flint, dried rations, and a dark leather-bound book sitting on his bed.
Lifting the flap of his pack, he loaded it all in, pausing last on his book. Flipping through all of its pages from front to back, he peered at its blank pages. Reaching the back cover, he flipped the book in his hands and traced his finger over its bindings and edges, then slowly turned it back to its front.
He closed his eyes, visualized the pages of notes he had written the night before, and opened its covers... the writing and diagrams slowly inked themselves onto the pages as he thumbed through them, admiring his drawings of the boat and its design.
"New Thalos docks! Tie it off! Gangplank down! Start unloading the cargo!"
He emptied his mind and the writing faded to blank pages again an he shut it tightly, sliding it into the pack as he threw it over his shoulder and stumbled towards the door-- growing dizzy as he realized the swaying had stopped.
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