The Road from Candlekeep - A Creative Writing "Let's Play"
Calemyr
Member Posts: 238
This is a project I've played with doing for ages, but now that SoD's out, I'm really considering giving it a shot. This is the opening of it. Let me know what you think:
The Road from Candlekeep
-----------------------
Jackson "Jax" Silvermaine sighed as he looked out the window. The view was excellent, he had to admit: the city of Waterdeep, in all of its glory, spread out beneath him like a blanket of light fit to challenge the stars above. It had been worth the expense for the room, he told himself. After all, it was not as if another day would have mattered. He was never going to find her. Better than he had tried and walked away poorer for their eff-
Perhaps he had heard it, in the back of his mind: those quiet, echoing words of a spell about to come into being. As he instinctively turned to follow the sound, he felt the air around him constrict as a massive hand of silvery light wrapped its fingers around him, squeezing him tightly as it lifted him off the ground and turned him to face his guest. It was a woman, a human woman in her early thirties. Pretty, too, in a way that ignored the scars on her face. She scowled as she looked up at him, readjusting her robes to display the short sword hanging at her side. "I hear you've been askin' about me." She said, in a tone that conveyed annoyance and curiosity at war. "Thought I might introduce myself."
His eyes raced across the face and form of his captor, trying to make some sense of it all. The sword, the robes of an archmage, purple and pink... Pink! Her hair, also pink. The cocky smirk as she watched his mind race. They tripped over his ears as they fought to tell the same story. "You're Imoen, aren't you." It wasn't a guess. Jax had studied hard before beginning this journey. The stories had painted a distinct picture of the woman, and even a decade later she lived up to them.
"Heya." She answered, simply. The fist tightened its grip even further as she took a step forward. "You're not the first to come lookin' for me. I woulda been happy to let you leave disappointed, but you're not the only one who asks questions. I'm just better at getting answers." The grip tightened once again, to the point Jax imagined his bones creaking. "You seem like a decent guy, so I'll give you one chance to tell me what you want."
"I-I want to know about t-the Scion." Jax wheezed. He felt the fist's grip loosen ever so slightly as Imoen sighed her disappointment.
"Don't know the guy." She answered, flatly. "Never did."
"You grew up with him! In Candlekeep!"
The fist clenched again, quickly bridging the gap from uncomfortable to simply painful. "No!" The woman snapped. "This 'Scion' of yours is a myth. A legend made up by fanciful liars who thought they could make a name for themselves by making a folk hero. I never met nobody like that. I only knew Neithan, my best friend. And for once I'm glad he's not around to hear the stories idiots like you tell about him. You wanna hear about the Scion, go talk to Minsc. He loves that stuff. Better yet, look for Volghiln. He's probably responsible for half the crap you people spew. But leave me out of it. I ain't never met your 'Scion', and I ain't gonna talk 'bout what never was." She turned to leave, dismissing the magical hand with a wave of her own. Had he been able to see her face, he would have seen the mischievous grin as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Then tell me of Neithan." Jax asked with a groan as he struggled to get up.
Imoen turned with lightning speed, sword in hand and aimed for his heart. "Why should I?" She demanded. "You bards are all the same! Usin' a man's life to pay your tab, fillin' in lies where the truth ain't good enough? Don't you realize what all this 'Scion' crap does to people who remember the guy? The real guy? The one with hopes and fears and friends and loves and didn't never ask for anything this world gave 'im?" Tears were forming in her eyes as she spoke now.
"No." Jax said simply. "But I want to know the truth. It doesn't have to be dramatic, it doesn't have to be exciting."
"Never said it wasn't dramatic or exciting." Imoen said dismissively. She found her way to a chair and made herself comfortable. "Things we actually did? You probably wouldn't believe 'em. But if you wanna tell this story, and tell it right, you might just be worth my time after all. But get all that 'Scion' crap out of your ears first, okay? Play the bard with me, and I'll just have to show you a spell I cooked up that can reduce you to dust and spread that dust quite finely across the sea from here to Kara-Tur."
"Uh, r-right. So where do we begin?"
"Now there's a smart question. We could go back to the Time of Troubles, where a bunch of gods got turned into mortals. Not all of them survived to the end. Or we could fastforward to the Forest of Wyrms, and a Harper raid that turned a century of divine planning on its head." Imoen paused, thinking carefully before nodding to herself. "No... yes. I know where to begin. The day we left Candlekeep. The day Neithan finally became his father's son. The first time he took a life."
The Road from Candlekeep
-----------------------
Jackson "Jax" Silvermaine sighed as he looked out the window. The view was excellent, he had to admit: the city of Waterdeep, in all of its glory, spread out beneath him like a blanket of light fit to challenge the stars above. It had been worth the expense for the room, he told himself. After all, it was not as if another day would have mattered. He was never going to find her. Better than he had tried and walked away poorer for their eff-
Perhaps he had heard it, in the back of his mind: those quiet, echoing words of a spell about to come into being. As he instinctively turned to follow the sound, he felt the air around him constrict as a massive hand of silvery light wrapped its fingers around him, squeezing him tightly as it lifted him off the ground and turned him to face his guest. It was a woman, a human woman in her early thirties. Pretty, too, in a way that ignored the scars on her face. She scowled as she looked up at him, readjusting her robes to display the short sword hanging at her side. "I hear you've been askin' about me." She said, in a tone that conveyed annoyance and curiosity at war. "Thought I might introduce myself."
His eyes raced across the face and form of his captor, trying to make some sense of it all. The sword, the robes of an archmage, purple and pink... Pink! Her hair, also pink. The cocky smirk as she watched his mind race. They tripped over his ears as they fought to tell the same story. "You're Imoen, aren't you." It wasn't a guess. Jax had studied hard before beginning this journey. The stories had painted a distinct picture of the woman, and even a decade later she lived up to them.
"Heya." She answered, simply. The fist tightened its grip even further as she took a step forward. "You're not the first to come lookin' for me. I woulda been happy to let you leave disappointed, but you're not the only one who asks questions. I'm just better at getting answers." The grip tightened once again, to the point Jax imagined his bones creaking. "You seem like a decent guy, so I'll give you one chance to tell me what you want."
"I-I want to know about t-the Scion." Jax wheezed. He felt the fist's grip loosen ever so slightly as Imoen sighed her disappointment.
"Don't know the guy." She answered, flatly. "Never did."
"You grew up with him! In Candlekeep!"
The fist clenched again, quickly bridging the gap from uncomfortable to simply painful. "No!" The woman snapped. "This 'Scion' of yours is a myth. A legend made up by fanciful liars who thought they could make a name for themselves by making a folk hero. I never met nobody like that. I only knew Neithan, my best friend. And for once I'm glad he's not around to hear the stories idiots like you tell about him. You wanna hear about the Scion, go talk to Minsc. He loves that stuff. Better yet, look for Volghiln. He's probably responsible for half the crap you people spew. But leave me out of it. I ain't never met your 'Scion', and I ain't gonna talk 'bout what never was." She turned to leave, dismissing the magical hand with a wave of her own. Had he been able to see her face, he would have seen the mischievous grin as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
"Then tell me of Neithan." Jax asked with a groan as he struggled to get up.
Imoen turned with lightning speed, sword in hand and aimed for his heart. "Why should I?" She demanded. "You bards are all the same! Usin' a man's life to pay your tab, fillin' in lies where the truth ain't good enough? Don't you realize what all this 'Scion' crap does to people who remember the guy? The real guy? The one with hopes and fears and friends and loves and didn't never ask for anything this world gave 'im?" Tears were forming in her eyes as she spoke now.
"No." Jax said simply. "But I want to know the truth. It doesn't have to be dramatic, it doesn't have to be exciting."
"Never said it wasn't dramatic or exciting." Imoen said dismissively. She found her way to a chair and made herself comfortable. "Things we actually did? You probably wouldn't believe 'em. But if you wanna tell this story, and tell it right, you might just be worth my time after all. But get all that 'Scion' crap out of your ears first, okay? Play the bard with me, and I'll just have to show you a spell I cooked up that can reduce you to dust and spread that dust quite finely across the sea from here to Kara-Tur."
"Uh, r-right. So where do we begin?"
"Now there's a smart question. We could go back to the Time of Troubles, where a bunch of gods got turned into mortals. Not all of them survived to the end. Or we could fastforward to the Forest of Wyrms, and a Harper raid that turned a century of divine planning on its head." Imoen paused, thinking carefully before nodding to herself. "No... yes. I know where to begin. The day we left Candlekeep. The day Neithan finally became his father's son. The first time he took a life."
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