To whom it may concern,
I am writing this letter to show my deep interest in officially joining the forces of The Tripower. My name is Aneh Rhedginsa and perhaps as of right now I am no one of real note. I have a troubled past, much of which I do not remember. I will not bore you with details that are unimportant, but I will say this: I am ready to serve the Tripower in any way that I can. I am loyal to the Tripower and will remain so, doing everything in my power to accomplish any assignment or mission that is given to me should I be accepted among your ranks.
I would very much like to be involved in the field of research for the Tripower and while I have little documented experience, I know that should I be given half a chance to prove myself, you will not be disappointed. Please allow me to prove myself to be the valuable asset that I know I can be.
Thinking by the Waterfall
Aneh sat on the flat rocks near the waterfall, letting the sound of the crashing water flow over her as she thought. She was making some pretty big steps in her new life. Soon she would be married to a man who had not only freed her from her past but who she was sure would support her in becoming her own woman. The thought brought a smile to her face as she stared into the water.
Another, perhaps equally as important decision was the decision to join the Tripower. They were structure. They were a sense of pride. They were a cause she could easily be proud to fight and work for. They could offer her so many things that she never had in her life. So many things she so desperately wanted. But what could she do for them? She knew she could do amazing things, and she was determined to show them.
Aneh slid into the water and swam away from the waterfall, headed towards the beach. She had some writing to do, and her husband to be couldn't help her on this. This had to come from her, she knew. If she was to be her own person, it truly had to come from her and her alone.
Another, perhaps equally as important decision was the decision to join the Tripower. They were structure. They were a sense of pride. They were a cause she could easily be proud to fight and work for. They could offer her so many things that she never had in her life. So many things she so desperately wanted. But what could she do for them? She knew she could do amazing things, and she was determined to show them.
Aneh slid into the water and swam away from the waterfall, headed towards the beach. She had some writing to do, and her husband to be couldn't help her on this. This had to come from her, she knew. If she was to be her own person, it truly had to come from her and her alone.
Questioning
Velentham stepped from his cloaking, changing his appearance into that of a burly young sailor. It fit in this city that stunk with fish and unwashed fishermen. At the docks, ships were anchored in the harbor, cranes and winches unceasingly loading boxes and crates into the bellies of cargo holds with creaking and groaning protest. Velentham walked onto the docks, watching the sailors come and go, before his eyes settled on a portly captain with a thick beard.
The man stood, one eye squinted, puffing away at a pipe. "EY!" he shouted in a thick voice. "Careful there or I'll bust yer head."
"Pardon me, captain," Velentham said with a bow.
"Eh? Got me crew, ain't got room fer more, see."
"I merely wished to ask a question of one as learned of the world's geography as yourself."
"Ain't from ere, eh boy? Speak up, ain't go'tall damnable day."
"Have you heard any stories about a portal under a keep."
The captain stared at Velentham then let out a howling burst of laughter. "Spoke like a damnable child, stories," he said, then his mirth left and he pointed a finger toward his ship in admonishment. "EY!"
"The portal, Captain," Velentham interrupted again.
"Wha... ah, portal unner a keep... mage stuff, an don't let those mages what run this dump tell ya they don' charge high taxes. Damn near sky highest port tariffs, worse 'en Waterdeep, n' that's sayin' a hellufalot."
"Do you know of a portal under a keep?"
"Boy, there's stories abound bout places like that. If yer wise, you'll ask for bedtime stories from the mages, see? I ain't got time. Off with ya."
Velentham openly scowled and walked away. Mages running the city. Mages running economics. One class of people he could understand was mages. He'd passed a short, squat building in the center of the town, laden with official looking flags and a guard. He knew he would have to reveal himself as he truly was - full Celestial splendor - and then seep into the minds of the mages in charge to find what he wanted to know.
The man stood, one eye squinted, puffing away at a pipe. "EY!" he shouted in a thick voice. "Careful there or I'll bust yer head."
"Pardon me, captain," Velentham said with a bow.
"Eh? Got me crew, ain't got room fer more, see."
"I merely wished to ask a question of one as learned of the world's geography as yourself."
"Ain't from ere, eh boy? Speak up, ain't go'tall damnable day."
"Have you heard any stories about a portal under a keep."
The captain stared at Velentham then let out a howling burst of laughter. "Spoke like a damnable child, stories," he said, then his mirth left and he pointed a finger toward his ship in admonishment. "EY!"
"The portal, Captain," Velentham interrupted again.
"Wha... ah, portal unner a keep... mage stuff, an don't let those mages what run this dump tell ya they don' charge high taxes. Damn near sky highest port tariffs, worse 'en Waterdeep, n' that's sayin' a hellufalot."
"Do you know of a portal under a keep?"
"Boy, there's stories abound bout places like that. If yer wise, you'll ask for bedtime stories from the mages, see? I ain't got time. Off with ya."
Velentham openly scowled and walked away. Mages running the city. Mages running economics. One class of people he could understand was mages. He'd passed a short, squat building in the center of the town, laden with official looking flags and a guard. He knew he would have to reveal himself as he truly was - full Celestial splendor - and then seep into the minds of the mages in charge to find what he wanted to know.
a beginning to a new end
It was a dark and cold day the people were not alive at this hour when Pheniox had left the order he knew it was the right thing to do, to be with his love. But with a scar starting to form from the whip. He knew he couldn't talk again. Just write or show hand gestures. He couldn't say that he loved her. He could only could show it in grunts and movements.
The streets were empty being two am in the morning that January as he walked to the square no signs of life at all where they were just a few weeks ago.But no tracks of the priestess was to be found. Where could she be he wondered. He looked high he looked low.The shop fully healed from the battle that was here. suddenly he felt like he was being watched. who could this be? Was it her?! Who was peeking at me? but apon further inspection there was no one not a soul, Not a mouse or a corpse left to rot in this shop. But he felt there was someone or something in this room with him. without haste he begun to casting a spell to make someone show them selves in a cloud of purple smoke.in a flash a unknown mercenary came in to do someones unfinished buisness.
The streets were empty being two am in the morning that January as he walked to the square no signs of life at all where they were just a few weeks ago.But no tracks of the priestess was to be found. Where could she be he wondered. He looked high he looked low.The shop fully healed from the battle that was here. suddenly he felt like he was being watched. who could this be? Was it her?! Who was peeking at me? but apon further inspection there was no one not a soul, Not a mouse or a corpse left to rot in this shop. But he felt there was someone or something in this room with him. without haste he begun to casting a spell to make someone show them selves in a cloud of purple smoke.in a flash a unknown mercenary came in to do someones unfinished buisness.
Blessed Sleep
Velentham caught Sanria as she fell into his arm, deep in a magically induced sleep. 'Thank the Gods,' he thought as he shuffled over to the bed and dropped her onto it. Beside her, he flopped onto the bed, his feet hanging over the end. That would be the first thing he'd enjoy about being back in his own plane - a bed that fit his long body, and a woman who wasn't asking him questions.
Sleep wound tightly around him, and Velentham found himself in a vivid dream. Both he and Sanria walked along a path, sometimes flying, sometimes using their feet, through grasslands and forests. To the north was a high mountain range capped with snow, but they were moving toward a place long forgotten. Sanria kept her arm around him, his adoring follower, as they arrived at a keep blasted under by time. They stopped at a crumbled heap of stone which Velentham moved aside, revealing a long stairway that descended into darkness. They went down into the bowels of the keep, through corridors, until they came upon a gigantic circular room. There, a portal sat, and he looked over at his adoring charge. "Here I can talk to my father from the past, and here he can tell us how to get home." He walked over to the portal and Velentham could sense the energies that merely waited for the right combination of powers to call them to convergence. He put his hands on the two crystals and shot pure energies into their glistening forms. Then he spoke the words...
Velentham sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and sweating. He looked over to his side - Sanria was still there, sleeping peacefully. Then he got up and walked to the window. Time had certainly passed, how much time he didn't know, but he at least had some semblance of his old self. His fatigue wasn't crushing, but was still present, to a minor degree. He looked back at Sanria. She wouldn't wake until he lifted her from the spell. He thought back to the dream. He could sense it had been a message. If this place was real, if he could go back in time to talk to his father, he would know how to traverse the planes, and he could take himself and his wife home.
Still, like a dragon, he stared at his prize and felt sick at the thought of leaving her unattended. He let out a deep sigh and chanted a few words. The walls of the room shimmered blue, then faded, as did Velentham's body. None could get into this space, none would even see the door. He walked to the bed and gave a deep kiss to the sleep-soft lips of his lover, then, casting invisibility, walked out into the city. He would get answers from someone - even if he had to give down to his last platinum piece. He grinned as the voice of his father spoke his own thoughts, "You're getting closer."
Sleep wound tightly around him, and Velentham found himself in a vivid dream. Both he and Sanria walked along a path, sometimes flying, sometimes using their feet, through grasslands and forests. To the north was a high mountain range capped with snow, but they were moving toward a place long forgotten. Sanria kept her arm around him, his adoring follower, as they arrived at a keep blasted under by time. They stopped at a crumbled heap of stone which Velentham moved aside, revealing a long stairway that descended into darkness. They went down into the bowels of the keep, through corridors, until they came upon a gigantic circular room. There, a portal sat, and he looked over at his adoring charge. "Here I can talk to my father from the past, and here he can tell us how to get home." He walked over to the portal and Velentham could sense the energies that merely waited for the right combination of powers to call them to convergence. He put his hands on the two crystals and shot pure energies into their glistening forms. Then he spoke the words...
Velentham sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and sweating. He looked over to his side - Sanria was still there, sleeping peacefully. Then he got up and walked to the window. Time had certainly passed, how much time he didn't know, but he at least had some semblance of his old self. His fatigue wasn't crushing, but was still present, to a minor degree. He looked back at Sanria. She wouldn't wake until he lifted her from the spell. He thought back to the dream. He could sense it had been a message. If this place was real, if he could go back in time to talk to his father, he would know how to traverse the planes, and he could take himself and his wife home.
Still, like a dragon, he stared at his prize and felt sick at the thought of leaving her unattended. He let out a deep sigh and chanted a few words. The walls of the room shimmered blue, then faded, as did Velentham's body. None could get into this space, none would even see the door. He walked to the bed and gave a deep kiss to the sleep-soft lips of his lover, then, casting invisibility, walked out into the city. He would get answers from someone - even if he had to give down to his last platinum piece. He grinned as the voice of his father spoke his own thoughts, "You're getting closer."
Breaking Point
The strain had become too great and she kept asking questions. Every spare moment she was awake, she asked him the damned infuriating and infernal questions, as though cursing every step of the way the progress Velentham had managed to make on Sanria's mind. He forced her to sleep through much of the effort in keeping the tent cool, but without the proper amount of sleep, even the voice of his father had grown louder.
"My son, this is not the way..."
"I know what I want, father!"
"There is no need for - "
"Silence! You're dead! You're gone! You have no right to tell me what to do!" It had to end.
It had been at least a week since they'd arrived on the surface of the Rok. A week and Velentham was absolutely spent. He waved his hand over Sanria's sleeping form, and she woke suddenly. "Come," he said, his voice raspy with exhaustion. "We're going to leave here."
"Are we going home?"
"After a fashion, my love."
"I'll have to stop back at the castle, I'm sure they're wondering where I've been all this time."
"There's no..." Velentham suddenly growled. "You're not going back to the castle! It's just us now! No one else matters! Do you hear me?!"
There was the look he loathed. Her eyes widened slightly and looked down, a beaten animal, as if he'd truly hurt her. "I didn't mean to shout, but your questions are driving me mad."
"I just... I have obligations."
"Not anymore. Soon enough we'll be out of this realm and heading to our true home."
"The cottage?"
"NO!" Velentham grabbed her, seething, barely able to contain his rage. As his ire was raised, so too, did the temperature in the tent rise. He released his cowering lover and expended yet another dose of magic to cool the place. Then he turned back to her. "No more talking about obligations and old places, okay? Only the future. Where we are headed."
"Okay..."
Velentham rose, stooping beneath the tent. His energy was waning fast, and if he were to go anywhere, it had to be while he had the strength left to manage it.
At a wave of his hand, the tent vanished and Sanria audibly gasped. They were cocooned in a bubble as he held a hand out to Sanria. She took it and he pulled her close. They would land where they landed, though Velentham took pains to make it as far from the Great Realms as possible. "Rethink your priorities, my son..." Velentham ignored the sound of his father's voice in his mind and in a flash of light, deposited himself and Sanria back on Toril-firma.
"My son, this is not the way..."
"I know what I want, father!"
"There is no need for - "
"Silence! You're dead! You're gone! You have no right to tell me what to do!" It had to end.
It had been at least a week since they'd arrived on the surface of the Rok. A week and Velentham was absolutely spent. He waved his hand over Sanria's sleeping form, and she woke suddenly. "Come," he said, his voice raspy with exhaustion. "We're going to leave here."
"Are we going home?"
"After a fashion, my love."
"I'll have to stop back at the castle, I'm sure they're wondering where I've been all this time."
"There's no..." Velentham suddenly growled. "You're not going back to the castle! It's just us now! No one else matters! Do you hear me?!"
There was the look he loathed. Her eyes widened slightly and looked down, a beaten animal, as if he'd truly hurt her. "I didn't mean to shout, but your questions are driving me mad."
"I just... I have obligations."
"Not anymore. Soon enough we'll be out of this realm and heading to our true home."
"The cottage?"
"NO!" Velentham grabbed her, seething, barely able to contain his rage. As his ire was raised, so too, did the temperature in the tent rise. He released his cowering lover and expended yet another dose of magic to cool the place. Then he turned back to her. "No more talking about obligations and old places, okay? Only the future. Where we are headed."
"Okay..."
Velentham rose, stooping beneath the tent. His energy was waning fast, and if he were to go anywhere, it had to be while he had the strength left to manage it.
At a wave of his hand, the tent vanished and Sanria audibly gasped. They were cocooned in a bubble as he held a hand out to Sanria. She took it and he pulled her close. They would land where they landed, though Velentham took pains to make it as far from the Great Realms as possible. "Rethink your priorities, my son..." Velentham ignored the sound of his father's voice in his mind and in a flash of light, deposited himself and Sanria back on Toril-firma.
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