On Roads Less Traveled - Tales of Auraxian
terzaerian
Member Posts: 232
Herein will be posted some fan fiction of one of my characters, Auraxian. Comments and criticism welcomed!
Chapter 1 - Exeunt
Candlekeep
The last rays of the setting sun were just fading from Gorion's old room, when the Gatewarden strode in, full of purpose. Holding aloft a candlestick, he went from sconce to sconce, filling the room with light. Setting the candlestick aside, he stood stock still, his bearing still betraying that he was ill at ease.
A few moments later, the Keeper of the Tomes himself, Ulraunt, bustled in. He looked from side to side, as if expecting some fiend to come leaping from what few shadows remained in the room.
"So they are really gone then," Ulraunt said.
"It is as I said, sir," offered the Gatewarden. "Gone with everything it looked like they could carry with them."
"Pah," spat Ulraunt, "a parting long past due, in my opinion." Ulraunt walked over to the chest at the foot of the bed. Kneeling, he tested the lid - which was unlocked. He started, but quickly regained his composure and opened it all the way, peering into its depths.
"Well, let us just see what the old Harper left us, then," said Ulraunt, peering at the Gatewarden, who offered no comment, but looked out the window at the shrinking sun. Ulraunt continued, as if arguing against the Gatewarden's unspoken reproach: "Once he's passed out that gate he's no longer a concern of ours, and whatever he's left here becomes our property. Why, hello there..."
Ulraunt pulled three objects from the depths of the chest: a well-worn notebook, its leather cover frayed and dusty, a letter, freshly sealed, and a cloth sack whose clinking betrayed the coins residing within. One might expect that anyone would count out the coins or unseal the letter first thing, but not Ulraunt: he was a Keeper of Tomes through and through. Setting aside the sack and letter, he cracked open the notebook instead.
"Ah ha," he said, his face cracking into one of his exceedingly rare gleeful grins, "Gorion's own journal. I wonder what Harper secrets could be penned in here..." looking back at the Gatewarden, he continued, with the lightest hint of mockery: "Clearly a case for our manuscript archives - restricted, of course. One wouldn't want such valuable information to fall into the wrong hands."
"No indeed," said the Gatewarden warily. "What of the rest?"
Ulraunt picked up the letter, and wrinkled his nose. "This is addressed to his ward. He must be daft already to have left it, a great deal of good it will do the brat here! And he's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm going to spare a messenger to dispatch it on his behalf." He tossed letter and satchel to the Gatewarden, who caught them deftly.
"I care not what you do with them," said Ulraunt airily. "Dispose of them as you see fit."
"Well then, sir," replied the Gatewarden, "I would leave these effects where they were found. Perhaps Gorion had some purpose in leaving them here..."
Ulraunt rolled his eyes dismissively. "You're not letting him back in again, Gatewarden, not without the standard offering. But fine, do as you will - it's no skin off of my nose. Be sure that I will be renting this room out at the first convenience, however..."
At that moment Ulraunt was cut off as the portly figure of Winthrop burst into the room, his face red with frantic exertion. "Gatewarden, Gatewarden!" he cried, "'Ave you seen Imoen about the keep?"
Ulraunt coughed pointedly, prompting Winthrop to turn and start, bowing only enough as his bulk would allow. "Beggin' me pardon, Keeper," he puffed, "but it's an emergency!"
"Imoen," said Ulraunt coolly. "She was friends with Gorion's ward, was she not? Like as not she's gone off chasing after him."
"I have not seen Imoen all day, Winthrop," said the Gatewarden apologetically, "Keep heart - she does have a habit of sneaking about the keep, though - the watchers have found her tiptoeing about the restricted stacks many a time."
"Oh Oi've already questioned them watchers sure enough!" groaned Winthrop. "Either shes got into a stash of vanishin' elixir or 'as run off, mark me words!"
Ulraunt, clearly tiring of the conversation, tucked the notebook under his arm. "Gatewarden, get this room locked up, and set some watchers on guard for Imoen - I don't care if she has left but I will not have this whelp toying with our rare collections or breaking into the catacombs." He paused and sized up Winthrop.
"As for you, innkeeper, if your assistant has gone that will be no excuse to abdicate your duties. If you require another one, I'll send for another whelp from the Gate or Beregost - they've no shortage of orphans - but in the mean time I expect your operations to continue as usual. Good night, gentlemen." With that, he strode out of the room.
Winthrop stood breathing heavily a few moments before shaking his head. "What a... to think Oy 'ave to bow to the likes of that..."
"Winthrop," warned the Gatewarden, "Watch yourself before you say something we will both regret."
"What was he doin' up in Gorion's room, anyway?" asked Winthrop, looking around as if he expected the room to have been ransacked to a shambles.
"Taking care of what he left here, nothing more," answered the Gatewarden.
Winthrop snorted derisively. "Ye can't pull a fast one on me so easily, Gatewarden - I saw that book tucked under 'is arm as he left. Takin' care indeed."
The Gatewarden sighed. "Yes, he did take a diary Gorion appeared to have left as well, but for safekeeping. It would not do to leave such sensitive information laying about."
"Right, I believe it," said Winthrop sarcastically. He trode over to the window, watching as the last sliver of sun disappeared below the horizon. His expression softened. "Oy hope they'll be okay out there."
"Me too, Winthrop," sighed the Gatewarden. "Me too."
The Next Day - The Gates of the Friendly Arm Inn
The rays of the midday sun beat down mercilessly on Herbert as he stood his post. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his hot, ill-fitting leather armor, looking up at the sky with a long sigh.
"Aw quit yer bellyaching," his fellow guard Randall scoffed from his post opposite. "You just started your shift."
"That's the problem," replied Herbert. "I'd rather be on patrol... standing around gets you so overheated in this old armor."
"I'd count your blessings," scolded Randall. "Better here than out in them woods with all the bandits and beasties about these days. The former'll steall all your iron and gold while the latter takes what's left!"
"Whatever," grumbled Herbert. As if on cue, however, something emerged from behind the trees aways down the road from the gate. Herbert started a bit and shielded his eyes from the sun to get a better look at it.
"The hell is that?" groused Randall, whose poor eyesight could only make out a lopsided blur.
"Two humans," said Herbert. "Man and a woman. Woman seems to be helping carry the other one along."
Catching sight of the guards, the woman called out for help. "Your lucky day, Herb!" chuckled Randall. "Get a move on down the road and see what you can do... and hope there ain't a bunch of bloody bandits hiding back in the woods, bows drawn!"
Herbert clutched the hilt of his sword as a precaution and started towards the two. As he drew close, he got a better look at them: both looked to be rather young, the woman dressed in a pink blouse and pants, while the man she supported as she staggered down the road was dressed in a scuffed up, faded brown robe, which was torn in spots and stained dark brown with blood, ghastly wounds peaking out from the tears. Seeing him approach on guard, the woman gasped and stumbled back a couple of steps.
"Easy there, easy," said Herbert, "I'm not going to hurt you." Patting the hilt of his sword, he continued, "Just a precaution - bandits like to spring ambushes using 'wounded' men as bait."
"Please help," pleaded the woman, "We were ambushed on the way here by a gibberling pack... he was wounded fighting them off! He's lost a lot of blood... he needs a healer, now!"
"You're in luck," said Herbert. "Gellena Mirrorshade is the best healer between the Gate and Athkatla and runs the temple here. I'll give you a hand."
Hefting the wounded man over his shoulder, he started back to the keep with the young woman. "I should also ask, what's your name and business at the Arm?"
"I'm Imoen," she said, "And this is Auraxian, of Candlekeep. We were traveling here to meet up with some friends."
Herbert whistled. "Lion's Way can be dangerous even at the best of times, especially for a couple green travelers like yourselves. You're lucky you both made it here in one piece, Imoen."
As they entered the crowded courtyard of the inn, Herbert bellowed, "Make way, make way! Wounded man here, make way!" Entering the temple, Herbert gently lay Auraxian down on a bench and whistled. "There you go, Imoen, Gellena should be along shortly. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to my post," and left the two youngsters.
Chapter 1 - Exeunt
Candlekeep
The last rays of the setting sun were just fading from Gorion's old room, when the Gatewarden strode in, full of purpose. Holding aloft a candlestick, he went from sconce to sconce, filling the room with light. Setting the candlestick aside, he stood stock still, his bearing still betraying that he was ill at ease.
A few moments later, the Keeper of the Tomes himself, Ulraunt, bustled in. He looked from side to side, as if expecting some fiend to come leaping from what few shadows remained in the room.
"So they are really gone then," Ulraunt said.
"It is as I said, sir," offered the Gatewarden. "Gone with everything it looked like they could carry with them."
"Pah," spat Ulraunt, "a parting long past due, in my opinion." Ulraunt walked over to the chest at the foot of the bed. Kneeling, he tested the lid - which was unlocked. He started, but quickly regained his composure and opened it all the way, peering into its depths.
"Well, let us just see what the old Harper left us, then," said Ulraunt, peering at the Gatewarden, who offered no comment, but looked out the window at the shrinking sun. Ulraunt continued, as if arguing against the Gatewarden's unspoken reproach: "Once he's passed out that gate he's no longer a concern of ours, and whatever he's left here becomes our property. Why, hello there..."
Ulraunt pulled three objects from the depths of the chest: a well-worn notebook, its leather cover frayed and dusty, a letter, freshly sealed, and a cloth sack whose clinking betrayed the coins residing within. One might expect that anyone would count out the coins or unseal the letter first thing, but not Ulraunt: he was a Keeper of Tomes through and through. Setting aside the sack and letter, he cracked open the notebook instead.
"Ah ha," he said, his face cracking into one of his exceedingly rare gleeful grins, "Gorion's own journal. I wonder what Harper secrets could be penned in here..." looking back at the Gatewarden, he continued, with the lightest hint of mockery: "Clearly a case for our manuscript archives - restricted, of course. One wouldn't want such valuable information to fall into the wrong hands."
"No indeed," said the Gatewarden warily. "What of the rest?"
Ulraunt picked up the letter, and wrinkled his nose. "This is addressed to his ward. He must be daft already to have left it, a great deal of good it will do the brat here! And he's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm going to spare a messenger to dispatch it on his behalf." He tossed letter and satchel to the Gatewarden, who caught them deftly.
"I care not what you do with them," said Ulraunt airily. "Dispose of them as you see fit."
"Well then, sir," replied the Gatewarden, "I would leave these effects where they were found. Perhaps Gorion had some purpose in leaving them here..."
Ulraunt rolled his eyes dismissively. "You're not letting him back in again, Gatewarden, not without the standard offering. But fine, do as you will - it's no skin off of my nose. Be sure that I will be renting this room out at the first convenience, however..."
At that moment Ulraunt was cut off as the portly figure of Winthrop burst into the room, his face red with frantic exertion. "Gatewarden, Gatewarden!" he cried, "'Ave you seen Imoen about the keep?"
Ulraunt coughed pointedly, prompting Winthrop to turn and start, bowing only enough as his bulk would allow. "Beggin' me pardon, Keeper," he puffed, "but it's an emergency!"
"Imoen," said Ulraunt coolly. "She was friends with Gorion's ward, was she not? Like as not she's gone off chasing after him."
"I have not seen Imoen all day, Winthrop," said the Gatewarden apologetically, "Keep heart - she does have a habit of sneaking about the keep, though - the watchers have found her tiptoeing about the restricted stacks many a time."
"Oh Oi've already questioned them watchers sure enough!" groaned Winthrop. "Either shes got into a stash of vanishin' elixir or 'as run off, mark me words!"
Ulraunt, clearly tiring of the conversation, tucked the notebook under his arm. "Gatewarden, get this room locked up, and set some watchers on guard for Imoen - I don't care if she has left but I will not have this whelp toying with our rare collections or breaking into the catacombs." He paused and sized up Winthrop.
"As for you, innkeeper, if your assistant has gone that will be no excuse to abdicate your duties. If you require another one, I'll send for another whelp from the Gate or Beregost - they've no shortage of orphans - but in the mean time I expect your operations to continue as usual. Good night, gentlemen." With that, he strode out of the room.
Winthrop stood breathing heavily a few moments before shaking his head. "What a... to think Oy 'ave to bow to the likes of that..."
"Winthrop," warned the Gatewarden, "Watch yourself before you say something we will both regret."
"What was he doin' up in Gorion's room, anyway?" asked Winthrop, looking around as if he expected the room to have been ransacked to a shambles.
"Taking care of what he left here, nothing more," answered the Gatewarden.
Winthrop snorted derisively. "Ye can't pull a fast one on me so easily, Gatewarden - I saw that book tucked under 'is arm as he left. Takin' care indeed."
The Gatewarden sighed. "Yes, he did take a diary Gorion appeared to have left as well, but for safekeeping. It would not do to leave such sensitive information laying about."
"Right, I believe it," said Winthrop sarcastically. He trode over to the window, watching as the last sliver of sun disappeared below the horizon. His expression softened. "Oy hope they'll be okay out there."
"Me too, Winthrop," sighed the Gatewarden. "Me too."
The Next Day - The Gates of the Friendly Arm Inn
The rays of the midday sun beat down mercilessly on Herbert as he stood his post. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his hot, ill-fitting leather armor, looking up at the sky with a long sigh.
"Aw quit yer bellyaching," his fellow guard Randall scoffed from his post opposite. "You just started your shift."
"That's the problem," replied Herbert. "I'd rather be on patrol... standing around gets you so overheated in this old armor."
"I'd count your blessings," scolded Randall. "Better here than out in them woods with all the bandits and beasties about these days. The former'll steall all your iron and gold while the latter takes what's left!"
"Whatever," grumbled Herbert. As if on cue, however, something emerged from behind the trees aways down the road from the gate. Herbert started a bit and shielded his eyes from the sun to get a better look at it.
"The hell is that?" groused Randall, whose poor eyesight could only make out a lopsided blur.
"Two humans," said Herbert. "Man and a woman. Woman seems to be helping carry the other one along."
Catching sight of the guards, the woman called out for help. "Your lucky day, Herb!" chuckled Randall. "Get a move on down the road and see what you can do... and hope there ain't a bunch of bloody bandits hiding back in the woods, bows drawn!"
Herbert clutched the hilt of his sword as a precaution and started towards the two. As he drew close, he got a better look at them: both looked to be rather young, the woman dressed in a pink blouse and pants, while the man she supported as she staggered down the road was dressed in a scuffed up, faded brown robe, which was torn in spots and stained dark brown with blood, ghastly wounds peaking out from the tears. Seeing him approach on guard, the woman gasped and stumbled back a couple of steps.
"Easy there, easy," said Herbert, "I'm not going to hurt you." Patting the hilt of his sword, he continued, "Just a precaution - bandits like to spring ambushes using 'wounded' men as bait."
"Please help," pleaded the woman, "We were ambushed on the way here by a gibberling pack... he was wounded fighting them off! He's lost a lot of blood... he needs a healer, now!"
"You're in luck," said Herbert. "Gellena Mirrorshade is the best healer between the Gate and Athkatla and runs the temple here. I'll give you a hand."
Hefting the wounded man over his shoulder, he started back to the keep with the young woman. "I should also ask, what's your name and business at the Arm?"
"I'm Imoen," she said, "And this is Auraxian, of Candlekeep. We were traveling here to meet up with some friends."
Herbert whistled. "Lion's Way can be dangerous even at the best of times, especially for a couple green travelers like yourselves. You're lucky you both made it here in one piece, Imoen."
As they entered the crowded courtyard of the inn, Herbert bellowed, "Make way, make way! Wounded man here, make way!" Entering the temple, Herbert gently lay Auraxian down on a bench and whistled. "There you go, Imoen, Gellena should be along shortly. Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta get back to my post," and left the two youngsters.
4
Comments
On topic side of things, I like it! I read a lot of Fan created stuff but very rarely comment. I think this is an underappreciated side of the forum to be honest! I always new Ulraunt was an ASS. :P
Auraxian shook his head groggily as he came to. Where was he? Last he remembered he'd just finished pulling his dagger out of the skullcase of a gibberling... Imoen! Where was she? He abruptly pulled himself up from the cot, then groaned as an ache flashed through his body.
"He's up! Settle down now, boy, settle down - you were in bad shape! I've patched you up as best I can but you're going to need to recuperate a bit for the wounds that were too far progressed," said a voice. He looked around the strange room, filigreed with gems, until his gaze found its source - a stout gnomish woman, who was bustling towards him.
"You're lucky you got here when you did," she said as she came up next to him, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Any longer and between the loss of blood and festering in your wounds and I would have been praying for a resurrection instead of healing spells! At least you're less feverish now."
"Where am I?" Auraxian croaked. "And where is Imoen?"
"The Friendly Arm, young master. Don't worry, you're safe now. She's in the main hall - she'd been at your side since you arrived this afternoon."
At that moment Imoen burst into the room, and ran to Auraxian's side, wrapping him in a bear hug. "Rax! Oh my gosh I was so worried! I came here as quick as I could, I didn't know what to do..."
Auraxian tensed for a moment, thrown off both by the sudden public display of affection as well as the unbidden use of Imoen's nickname for himself, but returned her embrace. "It's fine, Imoen - you did great. You saved my life!"
She released him and smiled. "Sure did. You owe me one for that!"
"Now now, dear," said Gellana, placing a hand on Imoen's shoulder. "Let the poor boy rest a bit. I'll talk with Bentley about getting you some accommodations - a good soft bed will do you more good now than these cots."
Gingerly swinging his feet around and placing them on the floor, Auraxian hesitated a moment before pulling himself up, wincing a bit as his aching body protested further.
As the two began to walk together to the door, Gellana added, "Be sure to drop by again before you leave, so we can discuss payment."
Auraxian stopped, and turned, a cold weight settling in his stomach. "Payment?" he asked weakly.
"Aye, for the healing," said Gellana, nodding with a bit of sadness. "Garl Glittergold doesn't work for free, I'm afraid. We gladly take in the wounded and the sick but we have to get paid for our services - otherwise we don't have the money to stock our cellars or pay our guards!"
Auraxian hung his head. "Ma'am, I just got... displaced from my home with little more than the clothes on my back, and my foster father is dead, and I have no idea what else lies ahead..."
She frowned sadly, and shook her head. "It's hard times for everyone these days, young master, and everyone has their story to tell and tears to shed. But stories don't buy bread or repair cracks in the walls. I can offer you this, though - I'll let you pay some now, and some later, trusting you to come back, and I'll see about getting you complimentary room and board for the next couple of days. Take that time to ask around and see if there are any odd jobs you can do - that's a sure, quick way to raise some coin."
Auraxian sighed heavily. "Thank you miss. I'll visit you again before we leave."
As the two walked out of the temple Imoen groaned and said, "I am so sorry, Auraxian... I didn't know we'd get charged for..."
He waved his hand, shaking his head. "No, it's fine. There wasn't any other choice, and it saved my life. Don't worry Imoen, we'll make that money back."
Night had fallen on the keep and now the only souls about were the guards walking the walls and grounds, carefully watching for intruders. But as Auraxian and Imoen drew near to the massive keep itself, a figure stepped from the shadow of the drawbridge. As he approached, Auraxian saw that the stranger was staring at him intently, and felt a little trepidation.
"Hi friend," he said, hailing Auraxian as he walked directly up to them. "Feeling better? You looked a bit worse for the wear when you arrived earlier today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?"
Auraxian stopped, regarding the man cautiously. His eyes roved up and down, as if he was being sized up - or identified. "Business," returned Auraxian. "It's late, and I'd like to turn in." Auraxian turned to step around the man.
The stranger moved to block Auraxian, however, and replied, "Sure, sure. Maybe I can help you out there, friend... what do you say?"
The fear rose in Auraxian's gullet - not the specter of crushing dread that sudden poverty brings as in the temple, but that cold primal terror that comes when one realizes they are being hunted. "Sure, can I talk to you for a moment?" He flashed Imoen a look telling her to stay put while he gently pulled the stranger aside.
He looked directly into his hungry eyes as he hissed, "I know your game, alright? You can stop with the act." He pulled a wrumpled letter from his pocket, and showed it to the stranger. "This look familiar? Someone else jumped me with one of these just yesterday. I don't know who you people are or what you want, but just leave me alone!"
The stranger was unimpressed, his icy gaze still boring into Auraxian's eyes. "So you killed some punk, I don't care. Tarnesh has bills to pay, boy, and no time for dilly-dallying."
Auraxian motioned to the walls. "Are you kidding me? You're in the Friendly Arm Inn, man, the most secure fortress outside of Candlekeep in these parts. Maybe you'll kill me, but these guards are going to be on you in a second! Bills will the least of your worries when you've got arrow quills sprouting out of your chest."
"I can slip out," said Tarnesh, but his gaze flickered a bit, betraying a hint of doubt about his ability to escape. Auraxian pressed on,
"Tell you what. Your bills aren't going to besieging this keep anytime soon - you wait two days and meet me again out on the road and we can settle up there, nobody else to interfere."
Tarnesh sneered, shaking his head. "Yeah right, you think I was born yesterday, kid? You'll come out there with a bunch of cronies in tow, all healed up, or slip out when I'm not looking. Do I look like an idiot to you?"
"Even if I had any money to get cronies it's still better odds for you than trying it here. And on the road, there won't be any witnesses. You win, you get off scot free. And how else am I going to leave the keep but the main gate - jump off the wall and break my legs?"
Tarnesh narrowed his eyes. "I'll be watching you, you punk, make no mistake. You try anything - and I mean anything - to get out of this little arrangement and I'll kill you on the spot on principle, damn whatever comes. Two days. Two days and then you leave this keep and start directly south. You go any other direction and I won't give you the courtesy of a duel - I'll hunt you down like an animal. Got it?"
Auraxian nodded, his heart thundering in his chest. "Two days. Directly south."
He walked back over to Imoen, whose eyes were as wide as saucers. "What was that all about?"
"Nothing," said Auraxian grimly. "We have two days to rest up here. We better make good use of them."