2022-05-03 The Stonecutters - Gerhard
May 7, 2022 11:45:14 GMT
Velania Kalugina, stephena, and 4 more like this
Post by Gerhard on May 7, 2022 11:45:14 GMT
Continued from Catching Up
The moon hangs low, a lazy crescent cutting through the night as I make my way back to the Three-Headed Dragon. I cut through the side streets, dipping past the commotion out front of the Temple of Selûne and around the back of the Gilded Mirror.
The city is quiet tonight; the assembled audience waits for the act to finish, for the players to take their bows. Rholor, spirited away in the dead of night by the Heralds. Kundar, under siege by the gith.
The low din of the Three-Headed Dragon is a welcome return to reality as I push my way inside the front doors. At the bar, I toss a few gold for a room and a hot tea.
The latter in hand, I trudge upstairs. It is late, but there is more yet to do.
I sip my tea. I close my eyes, the mint sharp on my tongue, and set the cup back down. The small candle on the table in front of me casts shadows onto my travelling cloak and all of its scraps of parchment, notes, and maps, and sketches as it lays on the bed behind me. This time, though, I do not reach for it. Instead, I pull out of my bag a pristine leaf of parchment. Snow white, I set it on the desk in front of me. I arrange my ink and quill next to it, moistening the nib on my tongue, and hover a centimeter above the paper.
And I begin to write.
Dear Henri,
I begin, each stroke carefully laid so as not to soil the paper.
Today I journeyed to Kundar. Oh, you would love it. The deep, red stone buildings overlooking the great cliffs are a sight to be seen. The kobolds never disappoint in their skills as builders, though it pains me to see how they use their architecture to keep their fellow citizens, the dragonborn, separated.
Luckily, though, I was there to help repair some past wrongs. Kavel, a friend of mine here, got wind of some renovations that were happening in Kundar from one of the more experienced adventurers here, Ghesh. He's a mason by trade, as is the rest of his Iron Strong Company, and he thought it might be a good change of pace for them all. His company.. they've had a tough go of things. That blessing and curse of Lycanthropy has been visited on them, and not in equal measures.
I'd never been to Kundar, though I was north recently to one of their outposts, Aylan Vondar. I also hadn't seen Kavel in a while, so it seemed like a good chance for my own change of pace. Some others came, too. Silvia, and Celina. Adventurers from jobs past. Ivan, who I'd not met before. They too all seemed to be after a change.
The work wasn't too difficult. The renovations in Kundar were going well, expect while the top floors of the buildings were being raised, the lower floors were being vandalised. Magically. In the end, the Earth Dao (Henri, you would love them. Just think what we could do if we could shape the earth like they can, the things we would uncover. Maybe we could have even excavated that ruin...)
Sorry.
The dao, well, their presence attracted these galeb duhr, too. Fantastic creatures. The townsfolk thought they were just... disappearing boulders. Turns out they just roll up like that when they sleep.
Terribly fast, too, when they get rolling. I've gotten a bit quicker on my feet, but not that quick.
Anyway: we Kavel convinced the dao to take the galeb duhr on as (paid) labourers, and the problem was solved. They have fantastic potential, they just needed a bit of pushing in the right direction.
You are probably smiling now. Yes, I heard that in your voice, too.
I hope that this letter finds you well, when you find yourself able to read it. I know I have not written to you in a long time. I suppose you know that. This time, though, I see a future worth recording the present for.
Henri - much is happening here in this place I now call home. Daring Heights. And, well. I am not sure what my future holds.
But I write this with the conviction that you will be able to read it one day.
And that I will be there, sitting at the foot of the bed, while you do.
Yours,
G.
4 Mirtul 1499
The letter, now complete, I fold over itself. I take out of my breast pocket the few pieces that I cannot bare to lose: the sketch of Henri on the day he disappeared; the etchings of the runes on the gates to the Staircase; and now, a letter.
I place them back in my pocket, tapping it with my palm to ensure it is secure.
The tea, cold in its cup, I leave on the table. I lick my thumb, and in a swift motion, snuff the candle.