Role Playing Related Fiction by The Company of Strangers

The Journal of Calamar Eldanil:

Part 1 - The Journey Begins:

The Beginning…

The two elves walked through the sun-dappled forest, following the trail that led through the hills and vales of the Hestmark Highlands. The older of the two, the woman, walked placidly and calmly, occasionally lifting her face to receive the caresses of the summer sun peeking through the trees. Her face was tanned and showed a small creasing around the eyes, a small smile played about her lips. She had the look of a woman who was at peace with herself and the world.

The man beside her was anything but at peace. His brow was furrowed in thought and he seemed to not take any notice of the sunlight sprinkling across his tanned button face and deep blue eyes or of the slight breeze riffling through his long blonde hair as it brushed his finely pointed ears. At last, he turned to the woman beside him.

“Tell me again, my teacher, my istaron. What is the difference between our service of the cause of good and that of the dwerfolk?”

The woman smiled. “You certainly have been a good apprentice to me, Calamar. I could not have asked for a better forien. Your questions and search for the meaning and patterns of nature have been what has kept me going these many decades.”

The man smiled a small smile of modest satisfaction. “But istaron I have not even begun my travels on the journey the Lady of Dreams has set out for me…”

“…And I am nearing the end of mine. You have learned far more than you think you have in our travels from the Grandwood. Certainly, you started out accompanying me on my journey to the isles as a neophyte in the order. But in the months we’ve travelled you have learned much from me, my forien.”

“But there is so much more for me to learn, Lissriel,” blurted Calamar in exasperation.

Lissriel Antamar chuckled and looked at her student, her forien. “All of which – and more – you shall learn in the time to come. You must trust that Labelas Enoreth, the Sage at Sunset, will provide you with the opportunity to learn it all. You should know by now, Calamar, that the Seldarine will reveal the answers to the mystery of nature in their own time. Your journey will be part of that.”

“For instance, the dwarves follow and support the path of good; but in doing so they adhere to a rigid code and rules. Have you never wondered why the dwerfolk hold grudges so long? Or why they have a tendency to withdraw into their holds deep within the earth? The Creator says that ‘beauty must die when it is constrained within artificial boundaries and wards.’ One’s spirit dies under the same conditions. The dwerfolk are bound by the ethics that tie them to their rigidity of tradition. Our beliefs allow us to embrace the multitude of variety in nature.”

Lissriel stooped to pick up a leaf fallen from one of the tall ipp trees. Holding it up to Calamar she said, “I’m not saying that a dwarf may not be flexible, instead look at it as a point of view of the nature of dwarves. By their belief system they are less adaptable to the vagaries of nature.” She turned the leaf in her hand. “The elves are blessed by the Creator in appreciating every different vein of life, as we can appreciate the veins in this leaf even though they are inherently different from every other leaf.”

Calamar paused. “Then is it the reason that we are here to help our people in the outlying communities against the possible subversion to the rules of the dwarves and humans?”

“No, my young one, aside from accompanying me on the last leg of my journey you should be aware by now that there are dark forces working throughout the land.” Calamar looked at her quizzically.

“The region of the Hestmark Highlands has long been claimed as part of the Kingdom of Ahlissa. You will remember our talks on the history of this region.”

“Yes, my istaron. I remember that this region has many people interested in controlling it. But we’ve also seen that our communities here would not take well to having their independent spirit bridled by anyone… especially Ahlissa.”

“Not to mention those other factions which vie for the region.”

Calamar nodded at this. “And of course there are the remnants of the rise of the evil races that followed the Greyhawk Wars.”

“See?” said Lissriel. “You have learned much in the months of our journey. You may have started out as a mere novice acolyte but you have learned much.”

Calamar reached down and patted the small belt pouches at his side that held the bottles of potions that he had brewed under the supervision of his istaron. He wasn’t sure that he was ready to strike out under his own power. Of course, if that were what the Coronal of Arvandor wished for him, then he would do his best to follow that path. He thought to himself, ‘May the Daughter of the Night Skies hold me within the folds of her cloak.’

His istaron, Lissriel Antamar was about to depart these lands for the mist-shrouded isles of the Moonbow herself. She had served long in the service of the Creator and the Seldarine. Her time of departure was coming near. Calamar stole a sideways glance at his teacher and mentor. She had changed so much from his early days in the temple. She almost seemed to be approaching her journey with a spiritual quality that he had never seen before. She had become something almost serene in her nature. Her health was robust, she was more resilient, and she was approaching the time of her Leaving with an infinite calm he knew could only come from years of introspection and divine communion.

He would miss his istaron very much. Embracing this part of the mystery of the cosmos would definitely be the hardest path he had travelled yet. He could only trust in the Seldarine to guide him as they would.

*~*~*~*~*

On the Chosen Path

28 Yellowillow 591

Two days have passed since my istaron took her Leaving.

I had travelled back inland some to see if I could administer to some of the small outlying communities, thereby continuing on my path to enlightenment.

Just as dusk approached, I was set upon by a band of orcs that were ravaging the countryside. By the Creator's hand, I managed to lay out four or five of them before they had me surrounded. I was forced to defend myself from atop a stump until one of the foul beasts clubbed me from behind and laid me out. I would have surely been done for but for the timely arrival of some new friends.

I awoke soon after to a priest of Pelor the Sun God, leaning over me in a concerned fashion. He was just finishing asking for the divine power to heal me and was pleased when I awoke, as was I - to be sure.

My warm and friendly manner soon earned this group's trust and I had found four new companions. With Narion, a strong and stoic spearman of my people from the ranks of the elven army of Sunndi, I found someone of my culture who was firm in his beliefs and sound in his confidence of his ability to perform his duty. Rache Bladefist was a half-breed, elf and human, from the hard country of the far North (I believe it was Ratik … somewhat north of home). He seemed a little hesitant about his spirituality, not having been raised by his elfblood parent. I soon learned that he was a follower of Kord, the Brawler, god of Strength, though not very devout, and I feel that I should take him under my wing and help him to find his feet on his Chosen Path.

The priest of Pelor, a human called by the name of Krellan, was a hearty fellow and we had much discourse on spiritual matters. He is fairly rustic in his outlook but I can't fault any of his presentation of his points of view. The last of my new friends was a stern elven lass named Anastriana. She was much removed from my attempts to get to know her and, although quite striking in looks (only marred by an old scar running down her cheek) was extremely standoffish in her approach. She must be carrying a deep pain inside her.

That night my Pelorian friend and I were put to the test as a small band of ghoulish undead attacked our camp. These foul consumers of the flesh of the dead had probably tracked our group from the carnage of my rescue earlier that day. Although we tried to turn back these decrepit creatures, our earlier trials had left us both weak and without the divine spark necessary to succeed. My other companions jumped into the fray and handily defeated the ghouls, Narion proving he is quite adept at the use of his marvellous short spear (probably the best that I have seen) and Rache became a veritable whirling mass of steel with his twin elven scimitars. Anastriana, aside from her ability to melt into the shadows and appear out of nowhere, also showed a spark of arcane ability. It seems that my new companions are very competent and I think I shall travel with them while we visit the countryside.

The rest of the night, thankfully, passed uneventfully.

*~*~*~*~*

1st Snowflowers 591

Just past the Exploits River, as the road we were taking to the town of Wardlow split around a copse of trees, we came upon a wounded traveller at the side of the road. As I went forward to see if I could be of service to the poor wretch, our group was ambushed by a small group of bandits. Either the intended focus of my healing attentions turned out to be in league with the band of two brigands who leapt from the woods - or perhaps he was their leader.

We fought the two brigands - a human woman, a rather large half-orc - and their devious accomplice until the former lay dead on the road and the latter was dropped with grievous wounds. All this time we were taking crossbow fire from the surrounding trees and when he went to investigate, Narion discovered a small gnome who had apparently been operating a number of the weapons through the use of magic.

While the elf spearman and Rache used their prodigious talents (and not a little intimidation) to question the gnome, I focused my attentions on healing the wounded bandit. It was my intention to take him and his dead compatriots to Wardlow and turn them over to the local justices.

The others discovered the bandits’ camp and we decided to camp there that night. It was a fine camp in a small bowl of land that had been cleared, obviously for just this purpose.

That night we discovered that it was actually the ancient site of a temple to a demonic god who invaded our minds with a communal dream. We were all, including the wounded bandit chief and our gnome prisoner, brought to the temple during its heyday and put to a test. We were to simply refuse to be given anything by anyone within our own specific dream or face a dark and terrible future.

My test began with hearing a sudden feminine scream from outside. Trusting in my faith in the Lady of Dreams, I rushed out to see what was about. An elven woman being chased by a mad horde of goblins came around the corner of the square. Interposing myself between her and them, I drove them off, for they dared not face one who served as the hand of The Coronal of Arvandor.

The lady, who about the eyes reminded me somewhat of Quinellia, one of my former lovers, offered me a bag of gold as a reward. I declined this gift as I felt I was just doing my duty. She then, demurely, offered to reward me with a kiss, truly a sign from Hanali Celanil that I had passed my test. Alas, as I leaned forward to taste her lips I saw too late the sharp canine fangs that were to bite into my neck and drink of my blood.

For some reason I had failed my test. I did not understand and prayed long that evening for an answer from either the Daughter of the Night Skies or the Winsome Rose … but none was forthcoming. While I was left to ponder why my faith had failed me, I decided to continue on as best I could so as not to provide any undue worry to my new companions. I would remain their rock of faith.

*~*~*~*~*

2nd Snowflowers 591

Once more, we set off for Wardlow. During the day, Rache and Anastriana detected movement ahead on the trail just as it crested a small rise. They scouted forward and found an ambush being set for us by a raiding party of hobgoblins. With their timely intelligence and Narion and Rache’s cool head for tactics, we handily outsmarted them, completely routing their position and slaying all the blackguards.

The only untoward event of the encounter was that our gnome captive managed to escape with a small dagger with which I had armed him. While I shrugged this off as nothing of much importance, my elven soldier-friend felt injured enough to give chase and placed one of his javelins between the gnome’s shoulder blades before he rode his small pony out of sight. Ah well! Easy come - easy go.

*~*~*~*~*

3rd Snowflowers 591

Very early this morning, before we had risen from our camp, we were startled by a strange event. Rache heard a running noise from the darkness as if someone were approaching our camp. We stood to arms and prepared to meet any foe. What happened instead was that two people ran out of the darkness … and right through our camp! They were shouting that a large giant was pursuing them.

Soon the reason behind their precipitous flight became evident. A large, two-headed giant came lumbering out of the false dawn. Narion stood slightly before me with his spear prepared to receive the ettin, which I soon learned was what it was called, as I loosed an arrow at its oncoming bulk. Rache had circled around behind it, as had the human male who had run through our camp. His elven female companion stood on Narion’s other side, also shooting at it - and doing amazingly well!

We soon despatched the giant and then, just as the sun crested the horizon to touch its life-giving rays to the face of the world, we were introduced to the two travellers who had brought us the morning’s excitement. They both had the air of the sea about them, possibly both seafarers who were trying out their land legs and exploring the countryside. Or possibly, like Rache, their ship had fallen prey to one of the many pirates on the high seas and was sunk from beneath their feet.

The man, introduced as one Omar du Lac, was indeed a sailor who was seeking his fortune throughout the land. He was a sturdy, roundly built human who had a bluff and hearty way about him. Kirienalla (or Kiri as she preferred to be named), a dark-haired elf woman, also had a fine and confident bearing about her. She too appeared to have been a sailor at one point. Though a little mysterious, she was quite pretty. She also moved with a lithe, cat-like manner that was poetry in motion. The most striking thing about her was how her flashing violet eyes complimented her dark flowing mane of hair. Indeed, she was comely enough that she seemed to spark something in Rache’s breast – or his loins – I wasn’t quite sure.

The two had picked up a rumour of a recent orc raid at a small farming village called Griff, just a little back the way we had come and west of the road. We decided that we should go and see what assistance we could be. Unfortunately, Krellan and Anastriana indicated that they had business to attend to in Wardlow and mentioned that they would meet us in the near future at the sign of the White Swan. I was quite content to follow along to Griff, as I felt it might provide more insight into the peoples of the region than a small town. To my immense pleasure, my newfound friends felt that I was competent enough to fill the role of their healer and let me tag along.

As an aside, it would appear that my punishment for failing the test of the demon has lasting repercussions as both Rache and I share some disturbing dreams. Nothing in my prayers and communion with the Seldarine shows me what is happening. It would also appear that our bandit chief friend also suffered these nightmares as he lay that morning dead as a stone, his hair turned white as if from terror. When I checked him, it appears he died from his heart failing him.

Burying our dead bandits and saying goodbye to our friends, the three of us left with the two sailors for the village of Griff, reaching it just before nightfall. The village headman, a grizzled old dwarf named Grun, met us at the gate and … much to my surprise at least, as he is not known for being glib of tongue … Rache greeted him most impressively by in dwarvish. After receiving us into the village and ushering us to the local “tavern,” (in reality a low-ceilinged common house with a few trestle tables amidst the smoky room) he told us of the raid a couple of days ago. While the others gathered more information, I went out to administer to any sick or wounded of the villagers as they had been without a spiritual hand for some time. Once my goodwill visiting was finished, I went to inspect the point where the village wall was attacked.

It was there that I met up with Rache. The stern northerner was inspecting the damage and checking the area for clues. We chatted while I stayed out of his way and exchanged thoughts on how best to approach the problem. I was again impressed with the young half-elf as he showed some promise of understanding how the gods worked through us and within the world. There is more to him than just a pair of flashing blades.

*~*~*~*~*

4th Snowflowers 591

We set out next day to track the orc band and their ogre leader to their lair to see if we could rescue any of the villagers or outlying farmers who had been taken in the raid. Rache and Narion followed their trail up a small valley to a cave-like entrance, well hidden in a glade by a cliff face. As it was late afternoon, we decided to set watch for the night to see what kind of activity this band was up to.

*~*~*~*~*

5th Snowflowers 591

The next day we entered the complex and began exploring the fortress. I say ‘fortress’ as that is definitely what it was. Hidden galleries and murder holes and such guarded the main entrance. It was evidently a small ruined dwarf hold that the orcs had taken over. They had set a watch of a giant lizard and a handful of sentries in the main foyer. Rache and Omar dispatched these with some quick blade work supported by some keen archery from Kiri and me. We entered through a propped up gate and found ourselves in the fortress proper. The hallway led off in either direction, although a collapsed ceiling blocked the path to our immediate right.

Just beside this rubble was a door with a light coming from underneath. Rache pressed his ear to the door and heard a raspy noise issuing from within. As a group, we burst into the room and discovered a very large ogre running his grotesque tongue up and down an iron poker. He was standing beside a blood-crusted torture rack and I shuddered to think what he might be licking off that poker.

Once again, the martial talents of my friends came to bear and the ogre was slain quickly, quietly, and most effectively. In exploring the room, we found a door opening onto a hallway or chamber of some kind, and another locked and barred door. Opening the barred door, we found a small farming family cowering in terror in a small storeroom. The boy was hurt and as I healed him, Narion and Rache questioned the parents as to the situation within the fortress. It appeared that these were the only surviving members of the prisoners taken in the raid and they were most fearful of their fate. So fearful were they that they were not in any state to be left alone, in neither their locked room nor the glade where our horses were tethered. Much as it grieved me to do so I clearly saw my duty and, handing my potions to Narion, I left to escort the family back to Griff.

I felt confident in the abilities of my companions to overcome anything they encountered in the fortress - although that didn’t stop me from praying to the Coronal to see them safely back to the village. I was not proved wrong for, three or four hours after my small party’s uneventful trip back to the village, they showed up hail and hearty with much treasure. They filled me in on how they went through the ogres and orcs in the fortress like a dose of salts.

Did I mention that I am very proud of my friends?

*~*~*~*~*

CONTINUED IN PART 2 - THE JOURNEY CONTINUES