{ Well, technically "He" was an Elf , to begin with, so I am already making corrections. It seems there are many yet to be made...}
The following work draws largely upon long-sealed materials from the heresy trial of Minsc D'Aubrignac [1397] to which the author has been granted access. {~Probably because Duke Sauvignon, Malcolm St. Clair's Great-Great-Grand Nephew, now controls Chatelaan,where His Most-Hated Excellency, The Green Bishop now dwells under an O-So-Courteous domicile arrest~] Chiefly, this new material consists of an actual unedited journal which has never before been available to scholars... As of now, it is considered authentic.
--A brief note for enlightened readers ~In the latter part of the 14th Century of Faerun, Tymora be praised, which is the era in which St. Clair's tale is set, modern concepts of academic life and Universities were still unheard of. Knowledge and Learning, of almost any kind, at that time was a controversial key to powers, some of them Dark-Borne indeed, endowed with a seemingly awesome nimbus. This was the age when certain quite ordinary philosophers and astrologers began asserting that there is an invisible world which exists independently of the creative powers of Deity, the Gods and their respective clergy ~~The very Anti-Nomian Thesis which has led to our present world crisis.
. .Candlekeep, in 1386, was a zealously guarded fortress of the pure truths, dedicated to the Prophet Alaundo, Blessed be His Name. Very few ever gained admittance there unless they could boast of long-years of study and could afford the costs of tuitions. For the ill-favoredweal of Heresy had raised its head and all our hard-won fruits of Certainty were besieged...
* *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** **** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *
--from the Journal
< ~8 Myrtul, Friendly Arms Inn~
. Of course, Jaheira is right. I am certainly in a state of shock, one which her simple healing spells cannot
ease. And perhaps setting down on paper an account of this past week's events will help calm this ongoing explosion in my brain. Most definitely this is not the time to give in to anxiety, let alone despair. I have others to think of besides myself. Imoen, for one, and...well, really, just...we'll leave it at that. Tomorrow will come! And the next day and many days to come.
In time I am hoping to discover some clue that will lead to connecting with my proper relatives, dignified uncles and aunts, gracious cousins completely unknown at present. So, in my mind, this journal is for my Respected Uncle when finally we meet. Greetings to Thee, Kind Sir, and a Flourish!!
. It began, in Candlekeep, like any other day. I had completed my morning schedules and a rigorous set of self-designed exercises with just enough time left to rehearse some arcane mental formulas and affirmations prescribed by Ulraunt ~ I had only begun formal training in the Magical Arts some 6 months earlier ~ when Gorion, Master of Candlekeep, appeared.
This was unusual, as Imoen, my foster-sister and I, normally had little contact with Gorion ~an Initiate Elder Wizard-Sage~ except on Sundays, which included invariably a wonderful half-day set aside for us. Imoen and I were, and had been for almost 20 years, Gorion's wards -though neither of us know how that state of affairs had arisen. Imoen is fully human, so far as we know, while I, for the most part, stem from some branch of the Elven-rood. Sometimes we like to imagine that our unknown parents might have passed each other some day in the Marketplaces of Baldur's Gate, but mostly we just accept that Candlekeep itself has been our family and, as such, a full barrel more than many can boast of. Anyhow...where was I???
Oh, yes! ~Over the past few months, in our Sunday family times, I had vaguely begun to sense a certain cloud gathering, a distancing and mystery gradually arising from some hidden source. Now, it seemed from Gorion's mood and bearing, that disturbance had intensified with an undeniable Force, as if 'twere a sending from some larger Adult or arcane world of which I knew very little, as yet...
. "We are going on a journey, just you and I", Gorion said. "There is a certain perilous situation unfolding around us here which there is no time to explain. Listen closely. We must be on the move ere nightfall. A full moon tonight will serve us well in completing the first stage of this journey before our intentions become widely known."
"Now, take this purse, which must suffice, for no more could I gather without taking others into my perhaps unwarranted conscience. Enough. Use this to purchase what is necessary from Winthrop as if all your young skills might soon be tested. His prices will be fair values but, in truth, I would have better provided for Thee, so be shrewd, choosing ever Timely Substance instead of Counterfeit and Shows."
"But what could possibly harm us here?", I exclaimed, "-this place is a fortress and guarded beyond measure!!", surely there was some large fact I had missed!
"Candlekeep", he acknowledged, "is indeed a formidable obstacle for ne'er-do-wells, but it is not insurmountable. No matter how thick the mesh, at least one mosquito always finds its way through...", to which there was no reply, for who could judge the work better than the foreman and chief of its practice.
"Granted, but, please Father", I implored, "tell me where we will be going??" ~ for 'twould be a burden indeed to prepare all apiece for a Sea-voyage, a Great City, or some Wilderness Retreat??
"Alas, I cannot!", Gorion sighed, stroking his beard. "For I have not truly decided yet. All that is certain is that we will be safer on the move. Perhaps the woods might offer some secluded security, or perhaps the city of Baldur's Gate would offer a cover among its teeming throngs of people. I do not know where we shall end up, but I have a few friends here and there. Hmmm....I will think on this."
"But, a word to the wise in your dealings with Winthrop", he continued, "Comport yourself as if all is as it should be, as if no urgency attended your preparations. Even a few routine errands and duties performed might not be amiss, for surely the sight of thee, enarmored so suddenly and unannounced will be noted by many. But that cannot be helped. Go now, and do not delay o'erlong."
Well, it must be admitted, my first thought was to grab an early lunch, which I proceeded to do, and then I chatted for some time with old Firebead Elvenhair, a regular visitor from Beregost who was staying at the Inn.
Without mentioning directly any developing plans for a prospective journey I quizzed him, perhaps a bit more aggressively than usual, about current events in the greater world beyond the walls of Candlekeep. Just normal curiosity. But Firebead surely knew that something was afoot, for, in parting, he slipped me a sizeable purse of Gold Coins -- more than doubling the funds I had to work with, which very much eased my mind. The kindly old codger raised a finger to his lips forestalling further discussion.
And so, a few minutes later, I emerged from Candlekeep Inn clad as an armored warrior: Splint Mail, Long Sword, Helmet, Large Shield, Compound Long Bow and a generous supply of arrows, plus an extra hauberk of Studded Leather more suited to Stealthy pursuits [Hunting, for example] and, mayhap some few of those skills more proper to common thieves, such as pickpocketing. I hasten to add, respected Uncle, that such skills arose primarily as a sportive expression - in which Imoen was equally involved and Winthrop himself our chief tutor ~ and perhaps also as a veiled complaint, unacknowledged even by myself, against the jealously guarded sequestration of Candlekeep. Really, all that for a big pile of....don't get me started!!
Alas, Well-a-day!! We were hardly more than children. I, myself, really knew so little, -gleanings from Gorion's personal library, vague impressions of certain factions, Zhentarim, Harpers, Red Wizards ~ and, of course, his wonderful illumined map of this part of Faerun, the Sword Coast, though it is but a small thing to know that some place like Athkatla or Waterdeep exists, having seen it on a map. I warrant it to be quite another to have counted all those miles in one's journeying as mayhap shall come to pass ere our meeting, Dear Uncle.
And one thing more, I had memorized the Mage Spell: Grease, for I deemed Lord Gorion well able to wield a goodly stock of offensive spells ~ but perhaps this small effect controlling the ground of battle might achieve the unlikely status of actually being useful. The only other choice I had considered was Sleep, unlikely to be useful in any mischance that might pose a substantial nuisance for the Master of Candlekeep...
I followed Gorion's advice and made a leisurely circuit of the grounds doing odds and ends, some bolts for Fuller- whereupon he was so gratified that he passed on to me an heirloom dagger since he had little use for such an item anymore. Nice!! After the way he had abused me all these years I considered it....well-deserved!! Little things, just odds and ends, one of which was retrieving Scroll for the Level 1 Spell: Identify for Firebead from Tethtoril. Within minutes though, something happened which completely drove that fact from my mind.
I had stopped to make a donation at Oghma's Temple, then ran a couple of errands for Dreppin and Phlydia. Whereupon I thought to find Brother Godfrey in the Priest's Quarters for with him, at least, I wished to exchange a proper farewell, knowing him to be much devoted to silence.
But he was not there. Instead, I found a common thug, who must have been drugged or under some wizard's geas, for he boastfully attacked me with murderous intent, armed with nought but a dagger!! And, though I be but a Novice, paid the price in full... Swiftly I checked his body, mostly avoiding the blood, but found nothing noteworthy. Truly, a Footpad in Candlekeep, unthinkable!! And apparently there had been no trading caravan calling at the Fortress Gate for well more than a week. But wait, I remember now, his speech was not that of a lowlife brigand, not at all!! Something about "exposition" not being his "forte"!?? ~More like an actor of some kind.
Anyhow, my first thought was to go immediately to Gorion as any number of delays would certainly arise from this mischance. A man, however much a fool, was dead!! 5 minutes later Gorion and I were gone. Beyond the Gate.
And I was speechless. Trembling. There had hardly been time to wash my hands. And still I smelled the blood...
The following work draws largely upon long-sealed materials from the heresy trial of Minsc D'Aubrignac [1397] to which the author has been granted access. {~Probably because Duke Sauvignon, Malcolm St. Clair's Great-Great-Grand Nephew, now controls Chatelaan,where His Most-Hated Excellency, The Green Bishop now dwells under an O-So-Courteous domicile arrest~] Chiefly, this new material consists of an actual unedited journal which has never before been available to scholars... As of now, it is considered authentic.
--A brief note for enlightened readers ~In the latter part of the 14th Century of Faerun, Tymora be praised, which is the era in which St. Clair's tale is set, modern concepts of academic life and Universities were still unheard of. Knowledge and Learning, of almost any kind, at that time was a controversial key to powers, some of them Dark-Borne indeed, endowed with a seemingly awesome nimbus. This was the age when certain quite ordinary philosophers and astrologers began asserting that there is an invisible world which exists independently of the creative powers of Deity, the Gods and their respective clergy ~~The very Anti-Nomian Thesis which has led to our present world crisis.
. .Candlekeep, in 1386, was a zealously guarded fortress of the pure truths, dedicated to the Prophet Alaundo, Blessed be His Name. Very few ever gained admittance there unless they could boast of long-years of study and could afford the costs of tuitions. For the ill-favoredweal of Heresy had raised its head and all our hard-won fruits of Certainty were besieged...
* *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** **** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *
--from the Journal
< ~8 Myrtul, Friendly Arms Inn~
. Of course, Jaheira is right. I am certainly in a state of shock, one which her simple healing spells cannot
ease. And perhaps setting down on paper an account of this past week's events will help calm this ongoing explosion in my brain. Most definitely this is not the time to give in to anxiety, let alone despair. I have others to think of besides myself. Imoen, for one, and...well, really, just...we'll leave it at that. Tomorrow will come! And the next day and many days to come.
In time I am hoping to discover some clue that will lead to connecting with my proper relatives, dignified uncles and aunts, gracious cousins completely unknown at present. So, in my mind, this journal is for my Respected Uncle when finally we meet. Greetings to Thee, Kind Sir, and a Flourish!!
. It began, in Candlekeep, like any other day. I had completed my morning schedules and a rigorous set of self-designed exercises with just enough time left to rehearse some arcane mental formulas and affirmations prescribed by Ulraunt ~ I had only begun formal training in the Magical Arts some 6 months earlier ~ when Gorion, Master of Candlekeep, appeared.
This was unusual, as Imoen, my foster-sister and I, normally had little contact with Gorion ~an Initiate Elder Wizard-Sage~ except on Sundays, which included invariably a wonderful half-day set aside for us. Imoen and I were, and had been for almost 20 years, Gorion's wards -though neither of us know how that state of affairs had arisen. Imoen is fully human, so far as we know, while I, for the most part, stem from some branch of the Elven-rood. Sometimes we like to imagine that our unknown parents might have passed each other some day in the Marketplaces of Baldur's Gate, but mostly we just accept that Candlekeep itself has been our family and, as such, a full barrel more than many can boast of. Anyhow...where was I???
Oh, yes! ~Over the past few months, in our Sunday family times, I had vaguely begun to sense a certain cloud gathering, a distancing and mystery gradually arising from some hidden source. Now, it seemed from Gorion's mood and bearing, that disturbance had intensified with an undeniable Force, as if 'twere a sending from some larger Adult or arcane world of which I knew very little, as yet...
. "We are going on a journey, just you and I", Gorion said. "There is a certain perilous situation unfolding around us here which there is no time to explain. Listen closely. We must be on the move ere nightfall. A full moon tonight will serve us well in completing the first stage of this journey before our intentions become widely known."
"Now, take this purse, which must suffice, for no more could I gather without taking others into my perhaps unwarranted conscience. Enough. Use this to purchase what is necessary from Winthrop as if all your young skills might soon be tested. His prices will be fair values but, in truth, I would have better provided for Thee, so be shrewd, choosing ever Timely Substance instead of Counterfeit and Shows."
"But what could possibly harm us here?", I exclaimed, "-this place is a fortress and guarded beyond measure!!", surely there was some large fact I had missed!
"Candlekeep", he acknowledged, "is indeed a formidable obstacle for ne'er-do-wells, but it is not insurmountable. No matter how thick the mesh, at least one mosquito always finds its way through...", to which there was no reply, for who could judge the work better than the foreman and chief of its practice.
"Granted, but, please Father", I implored, "tell me where we will be going??" ~ for 'twould be a burden indeed to prepare all apiece for a Sea-voyage, a Great City, or some Wilderness Retreat??
"Alas, I cannot!", Gorion sighed, stroking his beard. "For I have not truly decided yet. All that is certain is that we will be safer on the move. Perhaps the woods might offer some secluded security, or perhaps the city of Baldur's Gate would offer a cover among its teeming throngs of people. I do not know where we shall end up, but I have a few friends here and there. Hmmm....I will think on this."
"But, a word to the wise in your dealings with Winthrop", he continued, "Comport yourself as if all is as it should be, as if no urgency attended your preparations. Even a few routine errands and duties performed might not be amiss, for surely the sight of thee, enarmored so suddenly and unannounced will be noted by many. But that cannot be helped. Go now, and do not delay o'erlong."
Well, it must be admitted, my first thought was to grab an early lunch, which I proceeded to do, and then I chatted for some time with old Firebead Elvenhair, a regular visitor from Beregost who was staying at the Inn.
Without mentioning directly any developing plans for a prospective journey I quizzed him, perhaps a bit more aggressively than usual, about current events in the greater world beyond the walls of Candlekeep. Just normal curiosity. But Firebead surely knew that something was afoot, for, in parting, he slipped me a sizeable purse of Gold Coins -- more than doubling the funds I had to work with, which very much eased my mind. The kindly old codger raised a finger to his lips forestalling further discussion.
And so, a few minutes later, I emerged from Candlekeep Inn clad as an armored warrior: Splint Mail, Long Sword, Helmet, Large Shield, Compound Long Bow and a generous supply of arrows, plus an extra hauberk of Studded Leather more suited to Stealthy pursuits [Hunting, for example] and, mayhap some few of those skills more proper to common thieves, such as pickpocketing. I hasten to add, respected Uncle, that such skills arose primarily as a sportive expression - in which Imoen was equally involved and Winthrop himself our chief tutor ~ and perhaps also as a veiled complaint, unacknowledged even by myself, against the jealously guarded sequestration of Candlekeep. Really, all that for a big pile of....don't get me started!!
Alas, Well-a-day!! We were hardly more than children. I, myself, really knew so little, -gleanings from Gorion's personal library, vague impressions of certain factions, Zhentarim, Harpers, Red Wizards ~ and, of course, his wonderful illumined map of this part of Faerun, the Sword Coast, though it is but a small thing to know that some place like Athkatla or Waterdeep exists, having seen it on a map. I warrant it to be quite another to have counted all those miles in one's journeying as mayhap shall come to pass ere our meeting, Dear Uncle.
And one thing more, I had memorized the Mage Spell: Grease, for I deemed Lord Gorion well able to wield a goodly stock of offensive spells ~ but perhaps this small effect controlling the ground of battle might achieve the unlikely status of actually being useful. The only other choice I had considered was Sleep, unlikely to be useful in any mischance that might pose a substantial nuisance for the Master of Candlekeep...
I followed Gorion's advice and made a leisurely circuit of the grounds doing odds and ends, some bolts for Fuller- whereupon he was so gratified that he passed on to me an heirloom dagger since he had little use for such an item anymore. Nice!! After the way he had abused me all these years I considered it....well-deserved!! Little things, just odds and ends, one of which was retrieving Scroll for the Level 1 Spell: Identify for Firebead from Tethtoril. Within minutes though, something happened which completely drove that fact from my mind.
I had stopped to make a donation at Oghma's Temple, then ran a couple of errands for Dreppin and Phlydia. Whereupon I thought to find Brother Godfrey in the Priest's Quarters for with him, at least, I wished to exchange a proper farewell, knowing him to be much devoted to silence.
But he was not there. Instead, I found a common thug, who must have been drugged or under some wizard's geas, for he boastfully attacked me with murderous intent, armed with nought but a dagger!! And, though I be but a Novice, paid the price in full... Swiftly I checked his body, mostly avoiding the blood, but found nothing noteworthy. Truly, a Footpad in Candlekeep, unthinkable!! And apparently there had been no trading caravan calling at the Fortress Gate for well more than a week. But wait, I remember now, his speech was not that of a lowlife brigand, not at all!! Something about "exposition" not being his "forte"!?? ~More like an actor of some kind.
Anyhow, my first thought was to go immediately to Gorion as any number of delays would certainly arise from this mischance. A man, however much a fool, was dead!! 5 minutes later Gorion and I were gone. Beyond the Gate.
And I was speechless. Trembling. There had hardly been time to wash my hands. And still I smelled the blood...