Revelations, Voices, and Death
Posted: Mon Aug 27, 2012 12:11 am
Omar Mu'awiya laid in the sand on the beach south of Candlekeep. He had shed the red clothes he had been wearing over the past few years of being exiled from his homeland. Wearing his traditional Mu'awiya warrior garb, he would have been difficult to see even though he was in plain sight. The beach had become a place of calm for the desert warrior because the sand reminded him of his home - and the great waters were truly a miracle to behold. He pondered on his far away homeland, and those he had come to love since leaving that place. Varlok Banlin, the elven wizard. Vich Unders and his son, Virr Churr. The woman he had come to love, Elvalia Rathfayne, who had disappeared. Where had she gone?
As the water flowed in and out, and the tide began to recede, a strange thing occurred. A trickle of water made its way up the sand, defying the slope. It slowly drooped and rose over the miniature sand dunes until it rested in front of the devoted Mu'awiya. His heart was filled with peace within him as the small trickle of water came to rest in the sand before him. A picture of his people flashed before his mind, his family waiting for him. A smile crossed his face. "Istishia willing", he said aloud. On both knees, he bowed himself forward and kissed the spot of wet sand. He stood and looked across the strange landscape. The ways of the Oasis Dwellers had never fully made sense to him, but he was surprised to discover that he would have some sadness leaving this place. He had learned many lessons in the lands surrounding Baldur's Gate - things that would help him be a greater Provider for his people.
He made his way off the beach and began to make his way south. Finally, Omar of the Mu'awiya was homeward bound at last.
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Kelburn Ironfaar was shivering, despite sleeping next to the fire. The windshield of snow Hoihe had made helped block some of the frigid wind, but there was only so much that could be done to combat the harsh conditions of the top of the Cloud Peaks. He looked over to where Hoihe was sleeping out in the snow, far away from the fire. He looked as comfortable as though he was sleeping in a nice warm bed, the snow a snuggly blanket. The stubborn dwarf knew he had to last the night, it was one of his trials in becoming a true warrior of Bahamut. He would not ask for any help.
A sudden gust of wind blew sent snow across the fire and slowly doused it, until all was dark.
The warrior of Bahamut wore almost nothing, just his cotton pajamas, and they had been completely soaked through by the snow and frozen. The cold bit every part of him. As he fought pain and sleep deprivation, his mind began to wander. "Bahamut", the dwarf whispered. "I know I dun be supposed to pray to ye, especially in me own tongue. Ye prefer deeds over words n' all dat. I jus' wanna let ye know, I ain't givin' in and I ain't be givin' up. See me through dis night, eh?"
Minutes seemed like hours as he shivered and began to lose feeling in different parts of his body. In his despair, he heard a faint roar roll across the sky, it was faint, but audible over the shriek of the winds and storm. The power of the blizzard until it was difficult to keep his eyes open. He did manage to catch a glimpse over at Hoihe, whose slumber was not being disturbed as if by some magic spell.
A flash of lightening illuminated the night sky, allowing Kelburn to catch a snapshot image of a massive beast soaring through the air high above him. He heard another roar come from the skies.
"Come", a voice in his head said powerfully. It was a familiar voice, one that had called him many times throughout his life. It sounded like the old sage from the dream of his youth, the old sage who had been followed by the seven yellow canaries. "Come", the voice repeated.
Kelburn rose slowly to his feet in defiance of the storm. It would have been an odd site, seeing a dwarf in his scivvy's, barefoot on top of a mountain in a raging blizzard. Casting one last glance over to where Hoihe was, the dwarf stumbled out of the campsite, following the voice further up the mountain.
The snow quickly covered his tracks.
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"I had a good run", the old pirate said to himself quietly before coughing. His health had quickly deteriorated over the past few months to the point that he could hardly walk. After collapsing at the fire outside of the Friendly Arm Inn not but a few days earlier, a group of younger men had brought old Daniel Tyndale to the inn. He had appreciated the room they rented for him to recover in. A room which he was sure he wouldn't be leaving anymore. He thought about his life, the adventures he had had, the people he had robbed, the pirate ships he had served on, and the gold he had made. All of it gone.
He chuckled to himself one more time and smiled, contorting the scar that went across his right eye.
"Well, it was a pirates life for me, savvy?" He drank a final swig from the whiskey bottle on the bedside table next to him before dozing off to sleep. He wouldn't wake up.
As the water flowed in and out, and the tide began to recede, a strange thing occurred. A trickle of water made its way up the sand, defying the slope. It slowly drooped and rose over the miniature sand dunes until it rested in front of the devoted Mu'awiya. His heart was filled with peace within him as the small trickle of water came to rest in the sand before him. A picture of his people flashed before his mind, his family waiting for him. A smile crossed his face. "Istishia willing", he said aloud. On both knees, he bowed himself forward and kissed the spot of wet sand. He stood and looked across the strange landscape. The ways of the Oasis Dwellers had never fully made sense to him, but he was surprised to discover that he would have some sadness leaving this place. He had learned many lessons in the lands surrounding Baldur's Gate - things that would help him be a greater Provider for his people.
He made his way off the beach and began to make his way south. Finally, Omar of the Mu'awiya was homeward bound at last.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kelburn Ironfaar was shivering, despite sleeping next to the fire. The windshield of snow Hoihe had made helped block some of the frigid wind, but there was only so much that could be done to combat the harsh conditions of the top of the Cloud Peaks. He looked over to where Hoihe was sleeping out in the snow, far away from the fire. He looked as comfortable as though he was sleeping in a nice warm bed, the snow a snuggly blanket. The stubborn dwarf knew he had to last the night, it was one of his trials in becoming a true warrior of Bahamut. He would not ask for any help.
A sudden gust of wind blew sent snow across the fire and slowly doused it, until all was dark.
The warrior of Bahamut wore almost nothing, just his cotton pajamas, and they had been completely soaked through by the snow and frozen. The cold bit every part of him. As he fought pain and sleep deprivation, his mind began to wander. "Bahamut", the dwarf whispered. "I know I dun be supposed to pray to ye, especially in me own tongue. Ye prefer deeds over words n' all dat. I jus' wanna let ye know, I ain't givin' in and I ain't be givin' up. See me through dis night, eh?"
Minutes seemed like hours as he shivered and began to lose feeling in different parts of his body. In his despair, he heard a faint roar roll across the sky, it was faint, but audible over the shriek of the winds and storm. The power of the blizzard until it was difficult to keep his eyes open. He did manage to catch a glimpse over at Hoihe, whose slumber was not being disturbed as if by some magic spell.
A flash of lightening illuminated the night sky, allowing Kelburn to catch a snapshot image of a massive beast soaring through the air high above him. He heard another roar come from the skies.
"Come", a voice in his head said powerfully. It was a familiar voice, one that had called him many times throughout his life. It sounded like the old sage from the dream of his youth, the old sage who had been followed by the seven yellow canaries. "Come", the voice repeated.
Kelburn rose slowly to his feet in defiance of the storm. It would have been an odd site, seeing a dwarf in his scivvy's, barefoot on top of a mountain in a raging blizzard. Casting one last glance over to where Hoihe was, the dwarf stumbled out of the campsite, following the voice further up the mountain.
The snow quickly covered his tracks.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"I had a good run", the old pirate said to himself quietly before coughing. His health had quickly deteriorated over the past few months to the point that he could hardly walk. After collapsing at the fire outside of the Friendly Arm Inn not but a few days earlier, a group of younger men had brought old Daniel Tyndale to the inn. He had appreciated the room they rented for him to recover in. A room which he was sure he wouldn't be leaving anymore. He thought about his life, the adventures he had had, the people he had robbed, the pirate ships he had served on, and the gold he had made. All of it gone.
He chuckled to himself one more time and smiled, contorting the scar that went across his right eye.
"Well, it was a pirates life for me, savvy?" He drank a final swig from the whiskey bottle on the bedside table next to him before dozing off to sleep. He wouldn't wake up.
