Selections from ~Malcolm St. Clair Revealed: [copyright 1622 Candlekeep and Harpers Guild]
Eadwyn_G8keeper
Member Posts: 541
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...
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--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 confidence. 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 a 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...
Post edited by Eadwyn_G8keeper on
5
Comments
The challenge will be to explore a satisfying RP playline for Fighter-Mage-Thief with 4-5 NPCs mostly Neutral-Good. Character development for both Protagonist and Imoen will be the main interest along with the fun of trying to write really well. Finding a satisfying balance between journal and novel and scholarly treatments would be wonderful. A Work-in-progress.
Possibilities involve exploring the whole theme of an Unreliable Narrator. Protag is writing the journal for an imagined uncle, so he/she may not always tell the truth. Playing with that in an interesting way might turn into something interesting. Example: Fuller's Dagger+1. With Charisma 11 we can assume the dagger was stolen.
The Scholar/Editor might also bring forth selections from other memoirs and records written in different voices and styles
You might consider moving this thread to the General Discussions section, where more readers are likely to take notice of it.
Am looking forward to more!
Btw you also make me want to continue my work on my scholar, Ánhaga
After a few miles at a brisk pace, Gorion, with a swift backward glance, left the hard-paved Lion Way -heading South. I noticed that the turf was a bit soft and the extra weight of my armor meant that, despite my best efforts, more than a few clear footprints marked our passage. We rested briefly in a sheltering copse which afforded a generous vantage from which we could observe the grounds we had just traversed. Gorion motioned for silence, listening intently, obviously concerned that we might have been followed.
My mind was racing-- the ill-fated cutthroat who had attacked me intimated that I myself was his intended quarry rather than some random theft and mayhem. But why! ~What was it Parda had said? ~and Imoen, light-hearted as ever had wanted to join us...how had she known? ~Something about a letter. Tethtoril had known...and the Chanters had been--
"Yes, that will do nicely! Thalantyr, I should think...at least", sighed Gorion, shrugging his shoulders.
My ears perked up to hear the name of such a renowned Mage, perhaps that was to be our destination. For I knew his dwelling-place to be little more than a day's journey to the South. Overhead a tiny bat was flickering back and forth, feasting on the insects that had gathered as daylight waned.
"Listen closely", Gorion continued, laying a fatherly hand upon my shoulder, "If, for some unforeseen reason, we should become separated during this night, it is imperative that you make your way to the
Friendly Arm Inn. There you will find Khalid and Jaheira. They have long been my friends and you can trust them."
Then he proceeded to cast a light healing spell upon me, even though I had suffered little more than a scratch from my attacker. And we set off again but this time headed a little East of North ~over firmer ground through a stand of scrub oaks where we left no trace, soon recrossing the Lion Way as evening gave way to twilight.
So it was not to be Thalantyr, I surmised. A false trail, we had laid, which seemed a prudent bit of woodcraft. So much to learn!! But the thought of Thalantyr stuck in my mind, for I would certainly need more spells if I was to be of much help on our journey.
Gorion explained a bit more as we walked. I was impressed particularly that he really had reached no decision about our destination -- a non-fact which greatly complicates my present circumstances. One of many. Just as he had said earlier, being on the move was his first objective. Of course, I wish I had pressed him harder about what prompted this abrupt gambit but I had not developed such a nature, particularly where Gorion was concerned. It seemed best to focus on travelling in silent competence.
Gradually, my nerves began to settle. A full moon rose. My new armor pinched a bit, it would have to be adjusted soon. I should have had Hull check it for me...
I even found a cautious pride in being the chosen companion of my Foster-Father, a mere novice, when any one of the more experienced Watchmen of Candlekeep Fortress would have, no doubt, eagerly volunteered. Particularly if this foray might involve some element of danger...
And so, all too soon it came to pass. I can hardly write the words. Passing through a field of Stone Circles, a ritual site from the Elder Years...I remember an owl hooting. We encountered an ominous party.
"Wait," Gorion whispered, "There is something wrong. We are in an ambush!"
A short parley ensued from which I gathered that they, whoever they were, had been expecting us ~ a mystery which shadows all my present choices ~ and something more I will not yet confide, lest this journal go astray [Ed.note: That the chief purpose of the opposing party was Gorion's Ward (the author) rather than Gorion himself or his affairs.]
Unable to grasp what was transpiring, I strained every nerve. Two of them were large Ogres in leather jerkins, armed with barbed Morningstars. Even some 20 yards away I could smell them... A third was a smaller Magic-user I have little memory of. Their well-armored leader was a tall, gravelly-voiced figure whose head was encased in a strangely-wrought helm. Armed with an unsheathed Great-Sword, he radiated an evil confidence that chilled me. I could not see his face.
I remember almost nothing of the parley now. Gorion, it seemed, had some unpleasant knowledge of the Armored Figure. It was all inexplicable.
"You're a fool" , Gorion declared, summoning his years of authority, "if you think I would
trust your benevolence. Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt."
"I am sorry you feel that way, old man" the menacing leader snarled, stepping forward.
And suddenly, without further warning, violence erupted. I took some small damage at the outset from the magic-user and Gorion urgently bade me,
"Run, child!! Get out of here!
I readily obeyed, knowing my poor skill to be vastly overmatched. Finding shelter nearby, I watched with awe, confident that my foster-father's potent mastery could lead to but one result, whereupon, shaken but undeterred, we would resume our journey.
The 2 Ogres and the smaller magic-user were quickly dispatched by rapid barrages of arcane power. But the perilous leader of the unknown party still stood and endured the full arsenal of Gorion's spells, though he was surely much damaged. A moment's pause, heavy breathing. And then, unfazed, the Master of Candlekeep continued to press his attack ~ with nought but a dagger. No!! ~This could not be happening!!!
~~~But Gorion fell, ruthlessly murdered by one fell stroke from the Armored Figure's Great-sword.
I will not attempt to convey a sense of the long hours that followed under the glare of that moon. The desperate listening, yearning for clouds to cover the sky. Knowing my slightest movement might be all that Death needed to seal my witless fate. Each unfamiliar noise a possible doom. A nightmare night in a nameless wood. Long hours, indeed. I survived.
Dawn, at last, began to reveal the shapes of trees, stony outcrops, mist. The sun rose. Birds flew. But I no longer knew how to name the days, so changed had all things become.
-B) Acceptable with a "good" story-line
-C) Questionable: Guilty conscience will compel donating 2 White Wolf pelts for Joseph's grieving widow
. or accepting a random result at next 2HP levels
-D) A fairly serious RP violation unless party contains at least one Evil NPC.
-E) Out of Bounds
-F) And the ever-popular... Other!
Primarily to get Imoen equipped with Archmage Robe-Good ASAP. Later I plan on skipping the second set of Ankheg Plate from Thunderhammer Smithy and using the Ankheg bounty for Archmage-Neutral
With 90pts in Pickpockets, 18Dex, Potion of Agility and Potion of Master Thievery it would also imho be a reasonable course of play in a no-reload campaign.
And thanks for the encouragement.
Well, there was nothing for it but to gather what courage I could find, get through, say, the next 4 hours and then...whatever!! I made my way south back toward the Lion Way which offered some semblance of normalcy at least. But, though the road was closer than I thought, the 'normalcy' part was seriously lacking.
For this was the road to Candlekeep...where I could not go, so strong was my faith in Gorion...and behind me, not half a mile distant, were the Stone Circles and a bloody scene I knew needed to be investigated.
Aaaarrgh! It was not that I was afraid, more that it was just hard to get moving ~ so hugely determined I was to execute the next 24 hrs as perfectly as possible. And also, dear Uncle, to still be alive at day's end..!
Thus it was that Imoen found me, listening to the winds, invoking the 4 directions. Apparently she had spotted me some few minutes earlier and scouted around stealthily a few minutes, checking for other hidden observers.
But the manner of her greeting was a bit odd, something about getting out of Candlekeep "because the monks never had any decent coin in their pockets.". I mean, what was that all about...
"I...I saw Gorion and I am SO sorry! Kinda figured somethin bad might happen to you out here., she imparted, which was, in itself a shock. To think of her viewing that scene at some point without my knowledge, over the last few hours... How had she discovered it, unless she was...
"But how did you know, Imoen!! ~And, fer Oghma's sake, how could you be wandering around out here alone, even if you are a pretty good sneaker! Still, I am very glad for your intuition, may it turn out well. ~~You said something earlier about a letter...one which, if I recall correctly, you most definitely had NOT seen on Mr.G's desk..."
"Can't remember exactly what it said, but he might still have...it might be on his...his body. Anyway, I am Not gonna let YOU, what was it, -'wander around out here all alone'. Stickin' with ya until you say otherwise."
And so it was decided, though questions remain unanswered. The extra hauberk of Studded Leather, which I had thought to bring along, fit Imoen just as well with some adjustments and I shared some of my arrow sheaves as well as the heirloom dagger from Fuller. Between us we had a number of Healing Potions and 1 Oil of Speed.
And it seemed somehow fitting that She and I should be together in that space, as if together we might know more of that space -where Gorion's body lay- amid the old Stone Circles, than either would alone.
For quite a while, we just stood there, heads bowed. There was some presence around us. It was not threatening. It was peaceful. Blue autumn lupines were still plentifully in bloom.
I sensed that we could easily fall into some mild state of enchantment here that would not be healthy in our precarious situation. We needed utmost clarity even though all natural feelings were in full flood and our feet scarce anchored in the soil. I reached for a scroll in the pocket of Gorion's bloody robes. Perhaps it was the letter Imoen had seen, or a rare spell-scroll.
It was the letter [I have it before me] -- My friend Gorion,
. Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short
. and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come
. to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the
. proper time frame. As we both know ~ forecasting these events has
. proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith.
. We have done what we can for those in your care but the time nears
. when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We
. have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point.
. Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in
. good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning.
. The other side will move very soon and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep
. this very night, if possible....A fighting chance is all that can be asked
. for at this point.
. Should anything go awry do not hesitate to seek aid from traveler's
. along the way....Should additional assistance be required, I understand
. that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know
. little of what has passed.......
The signature, if that is what it is, is a large capital 'E', not overly embellished, judging by the standards of Candlekeep, but suggestive of a strong and self-reliant nature. As must be immediately obvious dear Uncle, this letter poses many questions involving a matter of some weight and importance. "A fighting chance...all that can be asked for" !!!!
"though not in the manner foretold" What the heck?? If I did not know better it would sound like some sort of prophecy [a la the wise Alaundo] is involved. Rubbish -- more likely some midwife's foretelling or a diviner's scrying.
"We have done what we can....my desire to remain neutral....the other side" ????
~So, there it is! How did that letter get to Candlekeep, I wonder. And who, of course, is this 'E' person who has done all he could??
~We were forced to leave Gorion, Master of Candlekeep, his bloody deep-gashed corpse, that well-loved visage, unburied. Well that was how it was for us.
There was no time. At any moment, this 'Other Side' could return with reinforcements. Hurriedly I and Imoen scouted the area trying to reconstruct events. There was little evidence as the stony ground took few impressions, even from Ogre feet. But I had little patience for such things and less idea what I might even be looking for.
Imoen gathered a few flowers and some fragrant Juniper branches for Gorion which she formed into a sort of wreath. It was at least something. We said a few words. Tears were a luxury we could ill afford. The rest is private.
It was time to go.
At least, we had the blood-stained letter from E. that mentioned their names but, really speaking, no other means of introducing ourselves, no letter of reference, nothing to prove that we were even from
Candlekeep. Nothing to prove we were Lord Gorion's wards. Perhaps someone who had been a visiting scholar at Candlekeep would turn up...
Soon we came upon an odd pair resting in a sunny spot. One of them, tall and slender, dressed only in a green robe and carrying a Quarterstaff had dark markings on his face, greasepaint probably, and a distinctly unsettled manner, as if he were only partially present. The other was a halfling with a nasty scowling face, wearing Studded Leather Armor with an unsheathed Short Sword. An unpleasant pair indeed, I thought, but of little consequence.
Intending to pass them by in a wary silence, I was utterly surprised when Imoen, unfazed by our circumstances, started to chat with them in her careless manner, or so it seemed.
"Hello there, kid! Rather strange place to be wandering ain't it?", the short one said with an air
of concern that set my teeth on edge, "My companion has somethin' to say to ya."
"A child wandering the wilderness?! Surely you must not be too bright to be travelling these roads." ,the taller one exclaimed.
Somewhat alarmed I deftly brushed Imoen aside and fairly got up into the weirdo's face, "You got something to say, say it to me ya daft wannabe!"
"And ye look a bit scuffed too.", he rejoined.
Which I must admit was probably true.
"A fine pair of troubles all your own!", he said with a dismissive sneer.
"Says who? And what precisely are you two doing here? This road leads only to Candlekeep Fortress which ain't exactly your cut of mutton or more likely 'possum, if you catch my drift..."
~Mystra's Goiter but the guy positively reeked of Patchouli oil.
"Indeed, I am Xzar and my esteemed companion here is Montaron. I can offer you healing potions, if you wish, as a token of good will." he said, suitably chastened by my boldness.
With some misgivings I accepted his offer. Such potions, if genuine, could turn out to be a life-saver. Not the sort of offer one lightly refuses.
"Nothing to fear from these simple potions", he said in his best soothing voice, "and I'll not even hold you in debt, though your conscience knows otherwise..."
"Just like all good people!",his companion, Montaron, chimed in unctuously, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other.
Honestly, in the strange whirl of that morning, I could hardly repress an outright spasm of laughter. The duo were such obvious misfits in any normal world that their earnest attempts to appear upright paragons were touchingly comic. ~Or so it seemed compared to the menaces I had so recently endured. I looked at Imoen, pointedly jerking my head down the road and motioning with my thumb for a hasty skedaddle from this weirdness.
"But perhaps", the one named Xzar briskly continued, "in a similar spirit of generosity you might go with us to Nashkel. Surely you have heard of it. A troubled area little more than a few day's journey to the South. We mean to investigate some disturbing rumors about the local mine...a matter of some importance in these times of a serious Iron Shortage and the expansion of Amn....We are to meet the Mayor of the town, a man named Berrun Ghastkill, I believe."
Now Jaheira and Khalid, of whom I will say more shortly, are inclined to believe Xzar and Montaron to have been genuine, if unsavory. It is even possible that we might run into them again. Oghma's Will. When I politely declined to join them...as IF...the psycho Magus, if I deem correctly, was practically babbling mad.
"You won't do this for me?!? You're BAD...and I'll have someone HURT you! You'll see!!", pointing a wagging finger at me, "That one's a MEANY, Monty, not a NICE child at alll..."
Nervously I reached for my Sword! This guy was such a goofball that I had no idea what he might do.
The halfling grimaced and gestured with a restraining hand,
"Now you've gone and set him off!! Blasted mage will be blithering for hours...", he muttered, turning to catch up with the Magus striding haughtily towards a gooseberry bush.
"What was THAT??", Imoen gasped. "They must be some of those fungus eaters Ole Puff Guts keeps talking about."
We were alone in a great big deadly world and Imoen was Imoen. I thought the silent treatment might be as good a way as any of making my point and stalked off down the road shaking my head. She got it, I think.
About half a mile down the road she ventured to break the ice, successfully I might add.
"Heya, have I just had a slammin' idea!! Didn't you just get that bow from Winthrop yesterday?? I bet you haven't had a chance to really check it out yet. A little target practice. You know every new bow has it's own little quirks and all. Whadda y' say?!?"
I grinned and nodded encouragement, glad that she had found a way to restore our spirits. That pair following on the events last night had really begun to sap what little reserves of spirit I retained.
"What about that little tree just on the left, must be about 20yds, at least...and if I hit the tree first, you are the first designated Latrine Engineer!!!!! Yaaay!!
"Don't tell me you have got a shovel in that puny little daypack!! HA!! Yer' on little sister!",
Of course, I won, as she expected. It was after all a peace offering of a sort. But it had a MOST astonishing outcome.
I went to retrieve my arrow, which had come very near the mark [a slice of bread we had affixed to the tree],
We probably should have chosen some other target. I almost bent the arrow shaft working it loose. And then I saw it. A brief sparkle of light in the bark above my head. "OMG, what is that!!", I thought.
It was a Diamond. A very fine one, indeed. I suspect that at some time in the past a caravan must have been attacked by bandits and a Nobleman travelling with the group had taken the chance of hiding his most valuable possession with hardly an instant to spare. Oghma's will. It turned out to be worth quite a bit of money, 500GP. Oghma knows how much that has helped, both practically and as a morale boost.
.