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Seluus
Acolyte
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 Posted - 02 Sep 2004 : 16:58:13
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The party of a lifetime.
Dargonoth Galron stood over the priceless jewel. His eyes transfixed on something within the glowing sphere, beyond the realm of normal sight. The concentration required for the scrying caused the mage not hear the rumblings behind him as a creature stirred from its restful slumber.
Dargonoth swept away a clouded image with the wave of his hand and a few arcane words. Finding the heretic was always a physically draining experience for the arch-mage. His expertise with the school of divination spells was limited. The mage never had reason to practice the spells, until now. The man that he searched so diligently for had eluded him many times already, and would not so easily do so again. The cleric would not escape his judgment, for Dargonoth held the highest ranking within the order of dragons; and he always got what he wanted.
Finally a smile came to the wicked ones face as he found what he was looking for. The defiler, as many within the order now called the man, was fully visible within the magical globe. The mage was in a small alcove connected to a large underground cavern. The air was chill and damp but the wizard felt none of it, so intent he was upon his crystal ball. “There you are my elusive friend,” he hissed, as the image became clearer showing a travel weary group of adventurers upon the open road.
Mountains could be seen to the north and the outline of a small town to the west. The group, traveling by horse, had their cloaks pulled tightly about them keeping them warm from the cold bitter wind. The vision moved closer the one called heretic, as his white and gray warhorse threw its head back and voiced its opinion of the weather. The shrouded figure patted the spirited horse on the neck and continued to stare straight ahead.
Dargonoth could hear nothing for his spell selection was lacking for that kind of application. He usually let his clerics do this tedious work for him, but they were busy this day, as they had been for the last two weeks, readying the high ritual. Nine years in finding and preparing the ingredients that would make up the potion had about worn the mage to his wits end. Dargonoth was also a priest of his order but his god had refused to allow him any spells that would aid him in a time like this. Cyric, the mad god, always seemed to try to teach his subjects lessons, especially former worshippers of Bane. How Dargonoth wished that Bane had not died in the time of troubles, for the mage/cleric’s power had been unmatched before then.
Dargonoth saw the image flicker for a brief moment and then begin to go dim. The mage cursed his lack of concentration and resourcefulness and wished he had someone to strangle to curb his anger. A chuckle echoed within the main cavern area carrying into the alcove where the mage was. The power of the bellow caused the mages body to vibrate within. The bass of the laughter lower than any musicians voice could ever dream of going, the tone even reverberating the stone walls that surround them. The wizard knew that Screzz had awakened.
As Dargonoth stepped out of the smaller side cavern, he overcame the vertigo he was beginning to feel as he approached the powerful creature. With hardly any light in the great cavern, as Screzz had pointedly requested, it was difficult to see the wyrm. The fear, however, was always was there. Like a barrier, it announced the fearful creatures presence long before getting close enough to touch it. A scraping sound from in front of the mage caused him to stop abruptly. Dargonoth would have bumped into the beasts snout had it not been for Screzz’s foul exhale that blew the half used scroll out of the wizards hand. Dargonoth had forgotten he was carrying the parchment so preoccupied he was with his other problem.
The Dragon lifted its large wagon sized head and hovered it over the powerful magic user. “You waste your resources so casually on a priest of no consequence, while I have waited almost ten years since your promise to change me.” Screzz spoke in the mages mind, using its own innate powers of telepathy to convey the old wyrms displeasure. “I am growing tired of waiting, your incompetence is offensive. Perhaps I should expel your whole sect out of my cave until someone of your order chooses to complete what you have begun.” The anger in the voice was readily apparent even though no words were spoken; a low grumble from the Screzz’s throat reinforced its threat.
Dargonoth knew the Dragon was becoming inpatient. Screzz was to have become a Dracolich, a fearsome undead dragon that kept its powers from life, and gained more in unlife. Screzzliniattvaxum, (Skrez’–lin-ee-at-Vax’-um), was an ancient white dragon that had suffered many battles amongst its own kind over the range of mountains it currently held. Four hundred years it had reigned supreme over its territory, the peace and tranquility not keeping the wyrm from accumulating a respectable hoard. The thrill seeking adventurers that had made it this far into the cave had provided the dragon with most of its current treasure. Most never made it past the lower monster filled caverns and the dangers that they provided. Only the best made it to Screzz.
Dargonoth knew he must placate the beast for a little while longer, while he found someway to expedite the last component of the potion back for the ceremony. The evil mage chaffed at the past nine wasted years he had spent remaking the potion. The time of troubles had been the worst of times to the mage, truly a time of troubles. For when the magic had gone awry, the potion that had been prepared for Screzz was already complete and the ceremony but a couple days away. When the potion had been offered to the dragon, the mage had no idea of the extent that magic had gone bad. The Dragon had taken the liquid willingly and nothing happened. The relic that had been magicked to hold the beast’s spirit while the potion prepared the body for unlife had lost the enchantments placed upon it.
The clerics had finished the changing spell at the time the potion had been taken. A flurry of sparks floated up above the beast and disappeared turning the beast red in color. Screzz killed thirty of his men that night and went on a rampage that took him out of the cave for the first time in four hundred years. The white dragon turned red, killed everything it had seen that night and flew back toward the cave to finish off the rest of the cultists. Somehow, Dargonoth had coaxed the beast into believing that what had happened was a mishap not caused by the Dragon cult, but by something else, perhaps the gods themselves were to blame.
Screzz seemed to be intrigued by that notion, for he too had felt a ripple in the very fabric of magic that held Toril together; but still held the arch-mage personally responsible for the disaster. If the dragon hadn’t killed his best men, the forty or so cultist left over would have been done by now with the potion and the beast would have been undead already.
Dargonoth missed the light of day for he hadn’t seen the sun, or a cloud in almost ten years. Only when scrying on the defiler, did he catch a glimpse of the beautiful rays of sunlight he had taken for granted his whole life. Screzz would not let the wizard leave. The possibility of the mage fleeing was ever in the Dragons mind. Perhaps it was punishment for his failure, or penance for his betrayal, it did not matter for Dargonoth. He was a trapped mouse praying for release. Soon though, he would have it for the squad was bringing the last component of the potion back to the mountain. Less than three weeks away and the High ceremony would take place.
Chapter 1: The Cleric of Selune
Seluus stared at the dying form at his feet. The mortally wounded man was squirming with intense pain as the cleric pressed his weight on his shattered arm. The defeated mans ragged breathing betrayed his condition, the steam of his breath visible in the late winters cold air. Seluus knew the man was going to die soon. Brain fluid was seeping from the head wound the clerics mace had inflicted moments before. The blow finally ending the drawn out melee, which had attracted many of the locals. Seluus was bleeding steadily from a gash in his left shoulder that was now adding to the pool of blood forming at his feet. The clerics white and blue metallic armor hadn’t stopped his enemy’s blade this time, for the hilt of a finely crafted dagger could be clearly seen protruding from the gap between his breast and shoulder plates. Seluus knew he had to get the blade out, so he braced himself and gripped the intricately carved hilt with both hands, wincing at the pain that shot up his injured arm. The priest screamed as he yanked outward, throwing the knife accidentally as his brain was overwhelmed with the shock of pain. His body tensed keeping him from falling over from the dizziness that sought to over take him. The flesh ripping sound of the dagger exiting his body was enough to make many of the gathering crowd become nauseated. The intense heat from the burning building behind the cleric was the only thing that kept his mind from giving way to unconsciousness.
Aroura Dawn, Seluus’s companion and friend, saw him pull the short blade out from his shoulder and physically cringed as the imagined pain raced through her mind. The half-elf thief shook her head in disbelief that the stubborn priest still stood there hovering over his prey. Never in the two years she had known him, had the cleric of selune shown any weakness while the enemy could still see.
Aroura complemented Seluus perfectly in this rag-tag adventuring band the cleric had put together several years ago. Seluus, the uncompromising leader and spiritual guide, took care of the unity of the group; making sure that there was no undercurrent of strife or dissention that would harm any member of his adventuring band.
Aroura would take care of some of the less reputable necessities. Seluus had no problem with being underhanded, as a matter of form the priest let Aroura take care of the problem people they encountered in the delicate way she had for making them disappear. Only those judged dangerous to the groups survival were ever dealt with in such a way, for the cleric was good at heart and hated the evil of mans ways more than anything in the world. Seluus would never settle for a high priests calling, or the bore of temple administration. The Cleric loved his goddess and wished to serve in this manner till he was laid to rest by the blade. Aroura knew the clerics stubbornness and lack of temperance when he confronted the evil of the world, but she knew Seluus had no idea how ruthless she was when threatened. Aroura guarded herself continually against the wicked desires of men who saw her only as an object to be used. Many had died horribly by her wicked short sword without ever knowing the deathblow was coming.
Once, Aroura had been threatened by three disgusting locals, (perhaps they were adventurers), at a tavern in northwestern coastal city of Luskan. Had Seluus not entered the common room at the moment he had, Aroura knew she would have been dragged to some private back room and taken advantage of. The three had already touched her chest and grabbed other areas that were not appropriate. Had the three known that Aroura had been raped as a youngling barely seventeen years in age, they would have noticed the stare that she gave them as Seluus intervened. The mind of the beautiful half-elf already had visualized the death she had for the men, her eyes the only window to those damning thoughts.
Seluus had wanted to settle it there, pulling out his mace and advancing on the three as if they were going to be easy pickings. As the barkeep threatened warnings, Aroura slightly slapped the cleric on his cheek. He turned, somewhat surprised, at Arouras action but understood when she gave him a look of total control and no emotion. Seluus knew she had an idea and would wait to hear what it was, so he slipped the shaft of his weapon back into its holder and gave the three unwashed miscreants one last look and turned to follow Aroura out the door. Many in the crowd voiced their displeasure of the clerics benevolence, but soon got over it as the couple left, for they were only slightly disheartened that the fight had been stopped.
Later that night, the three men slept soundly for the rest of their lives as Aroura slipped her blade across each of their necks as they slept. Of all misdeeds in the world, murder, slavery, and pretty much any-other injustice that deprived the victim of their sacred freedoms, she would punish all males who took from women that which was not freely given.
That was why she surrounded herself with as much magic as she could find. She had taken up adventuring to toughen herself up and find a reason to live. She had no idea that her memories were the worst enemy of all, for they often caused her to freeze in battle or misjudge someone whose intent was pure and honest. She relied on magic as a subconscious means of overcoming her insecurities. She knew she wasn’t a superior being capable of one day changing the universe for the betterment of all mankind. Her studies as a mage showed her flaws mentally and her stint as an indifferent thief showed her flaws physically; as she was barely able to stay ahead of the law, much less, make a living at it.
Seluus, on the other hand, hardly cared for anything magical to help him. Besides the armor and mace he carried, he had hardly anything enchanted on him. His shield was magical, she knew, and the holy symbol of his god, selune, had some mystical properties as well.
His armor and shield had come from the Temple of Selune in Waterdeep, where Seluus had studied as an acolyte. They were magically enforced for better protection and had been sent to the chapter at Waterdeep where they had been given to the cleric when he had reached the rank of Patriarch within the Church. The symbol of Selune upon the breastplate had been what had captured Seluus’s attention. The deep blue markings of the goddess’s eyes out shining the star filled sky that lay behind the striking orbs. The beauty and divinity of the armor had been the only reason the priest had agreed to wear it. Once he had put on the suit of plate mail, he had realized its full power. What other magic it had, was unknown to the thief and Seluus never mentioned what, if any, special powers it had. She was sure, however, the cleric had something of great power.
The clerics mace was enchanted as well, flaring with a soft white glow when the evening was full. Aroura did not know it gave the wielder perfect vision at night as if the moon were full. The thief barely cared what a mace from Selune could do and other than those few items, Seluus just used his spells. He had a conviction of only relying on his internal powers to face what the world threw at him, “for that showed true leadership and bravery.”
He had coined that phrase to the skeptical half-elf more than once, leaving her feeling somewhat ashamed of her reliance on magic. Having a magical ring for every month of the year and two wands to complement them was Seluus’s idea of a coward that would never become a powerful difference maker in the world. But that feeling lasted only for a moment, for Aroura would not let anyone, especially a headstrong human male, dictate what was truth even if he was a priest.
Aroura enjoyed being that coward.
She knew she wasn’t as gifted in the arts of thievery as some others she had seen in action, and her practice in the magic arts was finally beginning to pay off. She had learned much in the last year of mage casting and magical study. She was now able to memorize the lightning bolt spell, one she had been trying to conquer for the last three months. She was a proud woman and her half-breed status only made her stronger.
Elves tended to be a little more hateful than humans when prejudice reared its ugly head, but on the whole, she enjoyed her life. Seluus made her every day living very interesting and her life as an adventurer had paid off. She could retire with just the gold and platinum she had stashed away in her backpack. Not to mention the wands and other magical items they had found along the way.
That was another reason she appreciated the cleric. With her magical backpack that could hold just about anything, she was in-charge of the treasure and magic the group found along the way until they could identify what it was and split it accordingly. Legin had fumed about the arrangements, but to no avail. Legin, being the only other mage in the group, found the favor Seluus gave Aroura very unfair. Seluus attributed that feeling to the fact that Legin was a Gold Elf with as much, if not more, arrogance himself. The elf’s distaste for Aroura and what she stood for racially was also a reason for the clerics rigid stance. And since Seluus was the final authority as far as group decisions were concerned, that meant get used to it or leave.
Aroura knew if Seluus wanted anything from her, he basically got it. That was not a problem at all, for the cleric rarely asked. She was set, and she owed it all to the strong cleric of Selune. Her life couldn’t be any better. Aroura and Darvin would travel with Seluus to their own end if he but asked, for they respected him and knew he had the ability to get them all out of any jam they found themselves in.
They knew he was protected by his goddess, for the group had seen him delivered too many times out of the hand of death not to attribute it to the divine intervention of the gods. The four adventurers were a powerful group that was gaining no small fame. With that fame, however, came challenges and responsibilities.
The burning trade center made a loud cracking sound that brought Aroura back from her contemplation. The half-elf thief slowly turned and looked about, seeing the local folk staring in awe at the building that was quickly becoming a mere shell of its former self. “Where was Darvin and where was Legin?” The elf softly said to herself as she surveyed the area around her. A feeling of dread took hold of her heart; Darvin had been in the building with Seluus when it had caught fire and she had only seen Seluus emerge.
After swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat, Aroura once again looked around the open area that was quickly becoming crowded. Darvin was nowhere to be seen, and with that horrid yellow tunic he wore, he would not be difficult to spot. Aroura bowed her head and said a quick heart felt prayer to Selune, whom she rarely prayed to but found it somewhat appropriate this time, “You watch over your cleric like a hawk,” she started, her tone thick with emotion, “bring my Darvin to me as you have delivered Seluus time and time again. I think I deserve it.” She added the last with a semi-defiant glare to the heavens, as her arms wrapped around herself. She felt a sudden chill when she turned back, only to see Seluus finish off the dying man with one swing of his mace. She hoped that was not an omen to her prayer.
Darvin could feel the heat of the burning building but it did not burn him. As he walked through the flames, his transparent body allowed the searing red fire to flow through him. His psionic powers of body manipulation had been growing significantly with the help of Aroura. She had been the guiding light to uncovering the dormant powers within him. Once just a thief like the beautiful half-elf, he was now becoming something much more. She was his life now and he would do anything for her because of the selfless help she had given to him when he didn’t deserved it. They were to be married when they reached Waterdeep before the end of the year. A time he looked forward to with great anticipation.
Ever since Seluus had freed him from a group of slavers, he had owed him his life. Aroura had shown a spark of interest in him from the start, but Seluus staunchly refused to help Darvin after his initial freedom was gained. Seluus didn’t free Darvin as an act of kindness; the thief had just been the lucky recipient of the slavers that had imprisoned him, irritating the wrong man.
Seluus did not suffer foolishness easily, and after the group of slavers had charged the cleric for passage to proceed past them on the open road, Seluus had paid them and acted as if nothing was wrong. The slavers out numbered the clerics group almost three to one, but that made no difference to the angry priest of selune. After just a couple of minutes, the clerics troupe turned around and began a ranged assault of the slavers campsite.
Darvin had been held inside one of the wagons away from anyone else for his condition was bad. Disease ridden from the filth he had been forced to endure at the hands of the half-orc slavers that had captured him, he could only speculate that the slavers had decided to attack the unknown group they had just charged to pass.
The cell that was his home for several months was a death sentence to all but the most hardy of men. The fact he had survived the three-month incarceration had even impressed the morally devoid traders. They had talked about selling him to some mage in Luskan that needed human subjects for experiments. They had reasoned if the little thief could survive this long, just think how many foul testings he would endure at the hands of a mage. Darvin could only hope to die before they reached the far off city.
When the battle had ended, Darvin only recalled hearing some gruff voice asking for some healing and the sounds of bones being crushed by a preceding thump as if someone were making sure the dead were actually dead. When the wagon was uncovered, he realized the slavers were dead and the hope he had of dying soon would come now or he would be saved. The cleric of selune looked at the malnourished prisoner and stepped back as the smell from the cage assaulted his senses.
Darvin remembered that day well and his mind easily brought back the image of the group opening the lock and letting him out. The memory of Seluus not wanting to get involved with Darvin brought a smile to his face. He really didn’t blame the cleric for not wanting to help, for the dying thief wouldn’t have helped someone else in that condition either. With Seluus only being a journeyman priest at the time of Darvins freeing, his powers were not sufficient to heal him. If he had been found now, however, he had no doubt that Seluus would have cured his diseases.
“A weak person would only be a liability on the road,” the cleric had stated, “and I won’t endanger my group for anyone.” Darvin hated remembering those words but he knew they were true. Aroura then began to speak with Seluus on Darvins behalf, about getting him to a place of safety before abandoning him. So Seluus had agreed to take him back to Mirabar, the rough mining town just south of the spine of the world, where they would drop him off and give him a little money to get started again, and perhaps find a temple to help cure him.
Had a group of hobgoblins not attacked them on the road to Mirabar, Darvin knew his destiny would have changed. For in that scuffle, Darvin had almost died and his powers were awakened. Darvin remembered that day well, the day of change.
An arrow had sped toward Darvin knocking him off Seluus’s horse as it penetrated his right upper lung, just below the collarbone. Seluus turned to see Darvin hit the ground with the arrow shaft protruding out of him. Darvin screamed in pain then went unconscious. The last thing he remembered was thinking that his body couldn’t handle anymore trauma and that he would, hopefully, float away to whatever afterlife a godless freebooter would have. At least that is what he remembered. Aroura had told him of the rest of the battle and the strange events that had followed him being knocked out…
Seluus had begun his casting as soon as the hobgoblin bandits began their rush from the forest. Mostly armed with short swords and daggers, they charged Legin and Aroura for they were obvious spell casters from the clothing they wore and the fact that Aroura had been showing Legin a wand he couldn’t have. Aroura giggled inside, for taunting the Elven Mage was an enjoyable past time the half-elf looked forward to. Legin deserved it for he was a pompous ass and constantly demeaned Arouras half-elf status.
Luckily the wand was of actual use for Aroura pointed it at the charging goblinoids and spoke the command word “rainbow.” Small balls of light flew from the wand outward in a fan like shape. As the goblins realized their error, they tried to stop and retreat from the multicolored spray. Their momentum, however, took them right into the center of the magic. Of the four monsters that were attacking the mages, three became confused and began barking out pitiful sounds of despair as they stumbled over each other, obviously blinded by the light of the wand. The mistimed and inaccurate lashings from the frantic Hobgoblins began taking a toll on the beasts as they struck each other repeatedly with their own blades.
Meanwhile, Seluus completed casting on the three larger Hobgoblins that were attacking him. As the spell completed, one froze in its running position and fell forward to the ground with a loud thump. The goblin made a grunting sound as he landed face first into the hardened forest floor. A cracking sound gave away that his nose did not break his fall. The other two stopped briefly to see their fallen comrade lie still, its arms stuck in a double handed over head chop that never happened. The cleric looked toward the remaining hobgoblins and noticed out of the corner of his eye, that Darvin was changing. The cleric could have sworn that he could see the ground on the other side of the fallen human.
Legin looked at the hysterical hobgoblins and knew immediately which spell to invoke. With the four creatures bunched together in confusion, the mage quickly spread his fingers out, touching the thumbs of each hand together and pointing toward his attackers. Flames shot from each of the mages fingers as he completed the incantation. All four of the goblinoids were ignited in flames, the three that had been blinded by Arouras wand fell in a heap as their skin and clothing crackled from the fire. The other Hobgoblin had seen the mage start the spell and had been scrambling to get as far away as he could when the flames leapt at him. Luckily he had tripped and escaped the full fury of the spell. Still the creature had been singed, and counted himself lucky to be alive at all. However, as he looked up toward the Elven mage, he knew he was doomed. For the elf stepped up and began another of his spells, smiling the whole time for the creature’s death was assured. The hobgoblin made one more frantic move toward the casting mage, only to be struck by four pulsating balls of magic. The red missiles struck the downed creature, stealing the goblins last hopes of life. Legin looked down in triumph at the four defeated hobgoblins, and after a moment of spasmodic convulsing, the final creature lie still; its clawed hand twitching one final time as if in disbelief that its attack had failed so miserably.
Aroura began to move to where Darvin was laying after discharging the last of the magic from the wand. It didn’t mater to Aroura as the wand disintegrated in her hand; she had a couple more where that had come from. She also knew that Nigel could finish off the last of the goblin raiders. Seluus, of course, would be offended if she had interfered with his chosen adversaries.
As the half-Elven thief rushed over to Darvins unmoving form, she noticed he was becoming less and less corporeal the closer she got. Within a couple seconds, she could see the ground through the shimmering transparency that had become Darvins body. Another arrow buried itself into the spot that had once been occupied by the fallen changeling and Aroura looked up to see two more obvious hobgoblins with bows behind the tree line. As she dismounted from her light warhorse, Annabelle, she un-shouldered her bow and knelt close to the imprint of where Darvin once was, she noticed a shimmering in the air in-between herself and the archers. It moved quickly toward one of the creatures, touching the leather armor it wore. The less than intelligent creature didn’t even notice the apparition as its armor began to smoke. It looked down just in time to see his jerkin ignite in flames. The fire burned his eyes causing it to howl in pain. The hobgoblin dropped his bow and began beating himself with his claw-like hands in a futile attempt to put the flaming armor out. Its face was soon melting from the tips of the fire lashing it with its heat and soon, the creature dropped to the ground. The only sounds that came from the corpse were the occasional popping noises as flesh gave way to the fire.
The other Hobgoblin bolted at the sight of the ghost as it neared him, also dropping its only form if weaponry. The fearful creature ran as fast as it could but it could not escape its pursuer. When the specter caught the goblinoid, there was a yelp of fearful pain and then silence. Aroura could not keep up with the pursuit but knew the fight was over when she came upon the dead goblin, which had a fist size hole in the center of its chest. What ever made the hole had passed right though its leather armor as if it hadn’t been there.
Meanwhile, Seluus saw Legin flame the other monsters with another of his fire spells, and soon there were only his two left. They approached the cleric and took two wide swings with the sword and daggers they wielded. Seluus maneuvered his medium warhorse between the two stupid beasts. It was obvious the goblins had no skill fighting two handed, for they almost cut themselves preparing for a defense to Seluus’s next attack. Instead of attacking, the cleric began another of his spells aiming it at the larger of the two creatures. When the spell completed, the large hobgoblin froze in place unable to move. The fear in the goblins eyes, the only outlet showing it knew full well what was happening.
The last of the three took one more halfhearted swipe at the well-armored cleric and then ran. Legin had an answer to that as he completed his own spell, sending a burst of lightning through the retreating hobgoblin, cooking it quickly before it ever hit the ground. The remnants of the blast disappearing into the heavy foliage beyond the battleground, the only signs of its passage, the smoke left by the dead goblin.
After the Cleric saw Aroura dash into the woods, he began to bash in the heads of all the paralyzed goblinoids, making sure each was dead. Seluus then moved to where Darvin was so he could heal him. Only then did he realize the man was gone and that the arrow that had knocked him from his horse lay on the ground, blood still stained halfway up the shaft.
Seluus turned toward Legin, only to see him kicking at some sparkling silvery dust on the ground, swearing about how insensitive all half-elves were concerning magic and the lack of respect the half breed race held for items of power. Seluus wouldn’t have called himself learned in the ways of the mageries, but from what Aroura had told him, that wand was not that powerful.
A shimmering near the forest line caused Seluus to turn and he froze as he saw the form of Darvin returning to him but transparent. As the ghostly form stopped, Darvin solidified back to his normal self and then collapsed to the ground. Seluus ran to his side and immediately rolled him over. As the cleric was about to cast a spell of healing, he noticed that under the tear on Darvins shirt, there was no wound. Seluus tore the shirt open about the time that Aroura returned, only to see that where the arrow had unmistakably struck the unconscious man, there was nothing but smooth skin and a little dry blood from where the wound had once been. Aroura looked at Seluus and shrugged her shoulders not knowing what to say. Seluus was also perplexed concerning Darvins diseased condition, for the welts and open sores were gone and no scars existed in their place. Aroura and Seluus’s thoughtfulness was interrupted by the voice of Legin yelling for an explanation for the loss of the wand.
Darvin was reminded that it was not time to daydream as the heat within the house was becoming even unbearable for him. Darvin quickly found what he was looking for buried under the burning floor. Seluus had told him something magical was there soon after they had entered the guild house, for he had cast detect magic spell right outside the guild front door before entering. As Darvins spectral hand reached through the planked wooden floor, he touched the box and turned it transparent like himself and pulled it through the floor. Darvin heard one of the main timbers crack and hurried toward the nearest wall. No sense in testing the limits of his power when the fighting was going on. The x-thief stepped over the other dead adversary, which was quickly becoming dust due to the hot flames. Once he had exited the inferno, he began to feel weak minded and drowsy. The psionist knew the fatigue came from his mental upkeep of his bodily form. Darvin surmised he couldn’t keep up his invisibility much longer, so he came up behind Aroura and solidified.
As soon as the shadow formed behind her, Aroura lashed out with her short sword, not realizing whom it was. Arouras lover ducked easily and moved inside her defenses easily wrapping his arms around her highly toned body. He unceremoniously gave her a kiss that took her breath away.
She was so happy that he was alive that she gave in deeply to the kiss, which made Darvins knees buckle. Aroura felt him go weak in her embrace and decided not to excite him too much out in public, so she ended the kiss with a slight moan that showed Darvin what he meant to her. They both looked up as a respectful “Ahem” was sounded with the cleric looking somewhat red faced at having to interrupt them. The kiss had been long enough for the cleric to cast some healing on himself, so Seluus looked at them both and smiled mischievously, “I thought you would like to know that the patrol guard is on its way and we have little proof other than our word on why this attack took place.”
Aroura smiled back and chuckled softly, ”Is the great and mighty Seluus afraid of a local sheriff and his posse?”
Darvin looked up at the intense cleric eagerly awaiting his nasty comeback. The psionist always liked the way these two argued. But instead of the religious, condescending reply, the cleric was actually thoughtful for a change.
“Do you think I go on these little side shows for nothing?” Seluus asked with a slight trace of irritation in his voice. For Aroura and Darvin both knew he wanted nothing more than to be back home in Waterdeep. “I just want to secure any loose ends before heading to the sword coast. You know how I hate to leave enemies at my back.” Seluus looked toward the oncoming contingent of guards who were having trouble passing the throng of locals watching the fire. “All of this was for Arc.” The cleric stated to the couple as the guards broke through the crowd. “It was always for Arc.”
Aroura and Darvin looked at Seluus and smiled halfheartedly. Arc had been a favored companion of the group and they all missed the Dwarf Fighter’s crude remarks and often-hilarious antics. An assassin sent to kill Seluus; the poison on his blade being strong enough to put selunes favored cleric in the grave forever, had killed the short nasty dwarf instead. Seluus had blamed himself for the loss and had convinced the others to help him finish off the last of those involved in Arc’s death. The two dead men that had run the now burned down building, were responsible in part for giving the information of the groups whereabouts to the assassin. There was still one more part to take care of before returning to Waterdeep. Seluus always saved the best for last.
The jingling of chain mail armor announced the approaching guardsmen, the leader coming to the front as the patrol closed in on the group. Seluus knew the sergeant in charge for the cleric had become well known by most of the local law keepers for his lack of respect toward established order of the town. The file on Seluus back at the constable’s office was the largest of any free man in the area. Had it not been for the circumstances surrounding each infraction the cleric had committed, the defiant priest would have been behind bars ages ago.
Hamlet was a small village of about four hundred townsfolk about sixty miles west of the mining town of Mirabar, nestled at the base of the spine of the world. Dwarves, gnomes and Humans made up the local populace with a few half-elves scattered amongst the people. During the summer months, the colony would grow to over six hundred, with merchants and treasure seekers coming to pay a visit for the town was not poor at all. On the contrary, most of the residents had ties to or once were adventurers in their past and now were retired. A lot of gold was here, but so were some powerful individuals.
The mining was lucrative with gems being the main commodity found. Two of the most respected residents were the mages Barrow and Liel Fallbright. The two funded much of the new mining operations and were personally responsible for the town’s growth from about two hundred less than three years ago. Their vision of wanting to see the village rival Mirabar was gutsy and had most of the town folk dreaming of better times to come from their hard work now.
About the only problem the town had was the close proximity of a suspected dragon lair less than ten miles into the mountain range. The cavern that housed the supposed worm had been a main attraction of the town of Hamlet, bringing in fifteen to twenty adventurers a year. Any that visited the mountain cave was never heard from again. They either just vanished or never came back through the area after they set off, either way, adventurers were quickly hit for every coin they possessed and then just as quickly forgotten. The rumors and gossip had given the town an allure for the danger seekers, which unfortunately had a detrimental effect on common folk taking up permanent residence.
The sergeant hated confronting Seluus for the priest’s gaze bore a hole through anyone not seeing circumstances from his own point of view. This group was one of the local favorites, so the guardsman had to be diplomatic in his dealings with the cleric for the common people were close about.
The hardened soldier really disliked the cleric of selune. He knew their reputation for compassion for the good folk of the realm, often helping others with money or time and even an occasional free healing. No matter, the sergeant couldn’t stomach the methods Seluus used to achieve goodness in his town.
The clerics respect for the law was non-existent and he constantly broke many of the decrees of the town leadership to achieve his own personal goals. The cleric always seemed to have a good reason and the proof to back up his actions to where the most that could be done was to extract a small fine for the thoughtlessness he often showed for the town’s property. With the main merchant guild house in flames, it was obvious who had struck again. An occasional chant of “Seluus, Seluus,” could be heard by a few of the more rebellious people in the crowd enjoying the priests calling card; for this was the third building in the last two years that had burned down due to Seluus’s escapades. The guardsmen came within speaking distance and the crowd hushed so that everyone could have a chance to hear the confrontation.
“So my wonderful sergeant friend has decided to investigate after all,” Seluus started, after seeing the scowl on the patrol leaders face. “Surely you know, Glen, why this has happened?” His cocky stance and smug manner only caused the sergeant to become more irritated.
“You will follow me to the magistrate and give an account for your actions there.” Glens voice was rough and deep, showing no signs of the personal feelings he had for arrogant clergyman. “You will give a full statement to me and two other witnesses, then be held until morning when the judge has had time to weigh the facts.” The other guards chuckled to themselves, for they shared the same feelings as their superior toward the boisterous cleric.
“Perhaps a day in a jail cell would make Seluus a little more pliable when the questioning took place.” One soldier thought as the clerics face changed from smug amusement to open disbelief. “One thing for sure,” Glen said with an emotionless voice, “the evening at Criers Yard will be the most interesting in years.”
Criers Yard was the building where law-breakers spent their jail time before being tried for their crimes, so named after the buildings first resident. The locals thought the wailing of the doomed criminal was a perfect and suitable name for the ominous building set in the northeastern corner of the original circle of buildings. Seluus had never spent a single minute in the place even though most law-abiding citizens thought he should have. Most in Hamlet were indifferent to the comings and goings of the cleric and his troupe. They simply liked the excitement each visit from the cleric seemed to bring.
Seluus and his friends were the only adventurers that had returned to the town more than once. They had stayed for the whole winter season the first year they showed up, actually befriending some of the more influential members of the town. The cleric had used those connections in times past to soften the blow of his actions to the law keepers of the town; but he would be hard pressed to get out of this predicament.
The merchants that were killed had been upstanding citizens since the inception of the town, never once causing an incident or committing an unlawful act. The crowd truly wondered why Seluus would do something like this, for his reputation was founded in rooting out evil. The frown on Seluus’s face betrayed the anger in the clerics heart, and it was also evident to the commoners, for whispers of a fight began to spread amongst the crowd.
To say Seluus was not happy might have been the greatest understatement of the New Year. The patrol made a circle around the priest and began moving him toward the constable’s office, which connected to Criers Yard by a small overhang built for easy passage. The press of the populace made their journey a slow one as many of the people hollered for Seluus’s attention or reached out to touch him as he passed by.
As the patrol escorted Seluus across the central part of town, Aroura and Darvin tried to speak to the head guardsman about how unnecessary it was to incarcerate their companion. Glen turned to face the two thieves and simply stated, “Nothing you will say this day will revert my decision.” He then did a moving about face and was still in perfect step with the rest of his squad.
Aroura fumed openly as Darvin just smiled away to the chagrin of his lovely partner. “What are you smiling at Darvin?” Aroura asked angrily as their destination came into sight. “I would hope you picked up that this is not a laughing matter.”
Darvin continued to smile as the two of them walked with Seluus the last hundred feet to the building. Darvin knew he could get Seluus out if he wanted to; he was just enjoying seeing the priest of selune in a bind for a change. Darvin knew the cleric did not want to spend the night behind bars being mistreated and laughed at by the lowly guards. In-fact, Darvin knew the priest would be expecting the psionist to help him get out if the penalty or judgment was in any way harsh.
Darvin bent over to whisper softly in Arouras ear, “we need to find Legin more than worry about Seluus, the cleric is a big boy and can handle himself.”
Aroura knew Darvin was right for the wizard had disappeared right before the fight began outside the guild house. She couldn’t, for the life of her, remember where the other mage had gone. She knew that Seluus would have regrouped and come up with a plan for dealing with the unexpected problems, so she conceded her argument and softened her countenance somewhat.
They were escorted inside and made to sit in some hard wood chairs before the magistrate’s desk, which was impeccably clean and organized. A perfect representation of the man seated behind the desk.
Carlnal Olgrenstem was a middle-aged man in his early forties. The mustache he wore was perfectly trimmed, the length of which reached down below his jaw line. His brown hair was long and reached down to the middle of his back. A small amount of gray could be seen in his facial hair, but that only added to his air of professionalism. His clothes were no exception to his well-kept appearance. Pressed and form fitting, his dark brown heavy tunic covered a muscular upper torso. The black trousers he wore tucked neatly into brightly polished knee high boots. His sword belt was black leather with silver studded trim around the length it.
The lawman sat impassively as the sergeant gave his report. Carnal never took his eyes off of Seluus as Glen gave his brief recounting of the incident. Several times Seluus attempted to amend some of guard’s observations, only to have the magistrate hold his hand up to signal silence from the frustrated cleric. Seluus fumed openly, his face hot and red as he barely kept his anger in check. The head guardsman continued, but left out much of the beginning of the conflict for he had not been there until the building had been mostly aflame. Carnal looked questioningly at Glen after he had finished recounting what he had seen. The sergeant saw the look and quickly added his men were questioning the common folk on what they had witnessed as well.
The Magistrate studied Seluus and his friends for a moment. He knew instinctively that something was out of place. Of the previous five times the priest had sit in that chair he had always kept eye contact. Seluus was also very fidgety as well, another trait that Carnal had never noticed in the cleric. As he finished studying them, he said with a commanding voice, “Sergeant, leave us and take the clerics companions to the Stone Wall inn and make sure they do not leave.” As Aroura and Darvin began to object, Carnal gave them an uncompromising look and stated, “Or they may stay here if they like.”
The two knew better than to argue so they took their leave and departed with the patrol that had brought them.
Seluus looked curiously at the magistrate as the others left the room and only the two of them remained. Carnal stood and walked around the desk his boots making almost no noise as he gracefully placed himself in the other chair. When he turned to Seluus, he let his air of superiority fall and simply asked the headstrong cleric, “What in the nine hells went on out there,” the look on his face showing the jailers frustration with the repetitive nature of Seluus’s exploits, “and don’t give me the typical anti-evil bashing you always spill out of that sanctimonious mouth of yours.” The magistrate gave the cleric a hard stare that assured Seluus that he had been given his last break. Only the truth would get him out of this predicament, so the selunite priest reclined as best he could in the hard backed chair and began to tell the story.
to be continued...
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Winterfox
Senior Scribe
895 Posts |
Posted - 08 Sep 2004 : 12:04:10
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As usual: the following is opinion (well, aside from some of the grammar corrections -- those are facts and, like gravity, you have to deal with 'em whether you like it or not), blah de la blah, take it or leave it as you will.
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The concentration required for the scrying caused the mage not hear the rumblings behind him as a creature stirred from its restful slumber.
Awkward sentence, and missing a "to." Try, "The scrying took up all the mage's concentration, so he didn't hear the rumblings behind him..."
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Finally a smile came to the wicked ones face as he found what he was looking for.
One's, not ones. I spot... uh, practically all your possessive nouns are wrong. Remember: apostrophe + s == possessive. Regular noun + s == plural. And they are not interchangeable. Take a look through your text; I highly recommend correcting this, because it can get irritating fast. (No, I won't point them out individually. The post's going to be long as it is.) Punctuation mistakes also abound -- semicolon instead of comma, comma instead of semicolon, and loads of sentences that seem to be experiencing a shortage of commas.
As an aside: I implore you -- don't tag characters with adjectives like "wicked" or "evil." Show, not tell. Besides, saying repeatedly that this person is evil or good has all the subtlety of a two-by-four to the reader's head. In other words: don't do it. (Yes, I'm aware some popular authors do it. Doesn't make it good.)
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The vision moved closer the one called heretic, as his white and gray warhorse threw its head back and voiced its opinion of the weather.
I'm guessing that the horse is snorting or making other horsey sounds, but this sentence makes it sound like the horse can talk.
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The fear, however, was always was there.
The fear, however, was always was there.
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for Screzz’s foul exhale that blew the half used scroll out of the wizards hand.
Exhale. Exhalation.
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The Dragon lifted its large wagon sized head and hovered it over the powerful magic user.
"Hover" is an intransitive verb, so "hover it" most definitely does not work. Try "The dragon's wagon-sized head lifted and hovered over..." (And notice the apostrophe and "s" after "dragon".)
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Screzz spoke in the mages mind, using its own innate powers of telepathy to convey the old wyrms displeasure.
Is there another dragon aside from Screzz? No? Then tell me the point of using "old wyrm" instead of "it."
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Screzzliniattvaxum, (Skrez’–lin-ee-at-Vax’-um), was an ancient white dragon that had suffered many battles amongst its own kind over the range of mountains it currently held.
Tip: if it's in parenthesis, it shouldn't be there at all. Boot things like pronunciation guide to footnotes or author's notes. Putting them in narrative is extremely jarring.
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The evil mage chaffed
*smites own forehead* Oh, no, not the alignment neon sign again. How about show the mage's actions and let the reader judge for him/herself how evil/virtuous a character is?
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Aroura would take care of some of the less reputable necessities. Seluus had no problem with being underhanded, as a matter of form the priest let Aroura take care of the problem people they encountered in the delicate way she had for making them disappear. Only those judged dangerous to the groups survival were ever dealt with in such a way, for the cleric was good at heart and hated the evil of mans ways more than anything in the world.
Waitaminute. So this man's a priest of Selune who "hates the evil of man's way"? And at the same time he's all okay with having his party's rogue assassinate people? I'm sorry, but hypocrite much?
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Had the three known that Aroura had been raped as a youngling barely seventeen years in age, they would have noticed the stare that she gave them as Seluus intervened.
Stop.
If the fact that she's been raped does come up again or is significant to character/plot development, please deal with it sensibly; I hope you've done some research on post-trauma effects of rape victims. It's a sensitive subject, and is all too often used as a throwaway plot device.
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He turned, somewhat surprised, at Arouras action but understood when she gave him a look of total control and no emotion.
I hope you know what you're doing. I've read a rant from an author whose ability I highly respect, and she recently did a rant on assassins which included: Create an Assassin instead of an assassin, and she’ll be just like every other Assassin out there. Her “emotionless eyes staring into the depth of his soul” won’t be anything new. Nor will her tendency to wear black, or be jaded and empty, or have other people fear her. All are “characteristics” of assassins.
In short, if you're going to use a known cliché (i.e., the fantasy assassin archetype), make sure you can pull it off well.
The paragraphs detailing Seluus' and Aroura's background/motives/etc? Sheer info-dump. By the time I'm done with it, I've lost all track of the story's "present" event. This kind of background information belongs to a character sketch or a sourcebook, not narrative.
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He had a conviction of only relying on his internal powers to face what the world threw at him, “for that showed true leadership and bravery.”
Uh, like I said above: hypocrite much? Does he think that sending his party's rogue to assassinate people consitute bravery, perhaps? If you do intend for him to be a self-righteous, hypocritical arse, then by all means go ahead -- I love flawed characters as much as the next person. But recognize that he is a hypocrite. Don't turn him into an author's darling by excusing his actions. Make his hypocrisy have consequences.
The flow of the story's interrupted again when you go into details about Darvin and his relationship with Aroura. Like I said, I've lost all track of what's happening in the present, as the story's swamping me with an information overload of what's taken place in the past.
Okay, I'm more than halfway through the text and, despite the excessive info-dump, I find that I still can't get a feel of the characters' personalities. There's very little actual interaction/dialogue between them; background information and seeing them in action are not the same. |
Edited by - Winterfox on 08 Sep 2004 12:05:54 |
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Seluus
Acolyte
15 Posts |
Posted - 08 Sep 2004 : 15:10:03
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I thank you for the generous corrections. It is amazing what 10yrs out of school can do to your grammer. I agree with the information overload, and I appreciate your time in bisecting it.
Thanks, Curtis |
Edited by - Seluus on 08 Sep 2004 15:12:57 |
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A Story of Seluus (One of Many)
