Conversations with Friends - Glint - 02/06/22
Jun 9, 2022 22:09:59 GMT
Velania Kalugina, stephena, and 1 more like this
Post by Glint on Jun 9, 2022 22:09:59 GMT
Continued from Uptown Slunk and The Matchstick and the Orchid
No ceiling.
No walls.
Only the cold glow of distant stars and the remnants of the old gods.
Glint squinted his eyes shut, and tried listening to his breaths to ground himself in this strange room.
There was silence.
Of course, he thought, he was inside a mind, breathing here was unnecessary.
He had his apprehensions ever since receiving a letter from Garria inviting him over to Harnash to interrogate the gith mage he helped capturing. Or rather, the one he saved from being killed by a bunch of barbarians. Well, turned out he had to save her again, this time from some form of torture that Berenar was referring to involving mind flayers, intellect devourers and True Polymorph spell. That was the only reason he agreed to this – normally messing with someone's mind would be pretty much off the charts. But they needed to know how to turn the city against the gith, and this option seemed the lesser of two evils.
Still, he had to go and volunteer to actually get into the gith mind… He really wanted to suggest someone else. Sorrel was sneakier, Celina – more persuasive, Kavel – stronger, Derthaad – more observant, Tayz – more likely to survive. But it was his idea in the first place, so it was only fair he took the risk. And thus, he ended up in this place.
A tiled room, no more than 20 feet in diameter. He only knew its dimensions because of the garish furniture, vases and decorations that marked its borders. Beyond those lied the void. Endless space, punctuated by stars and cosmic clouds. The room appeared to be revolving slowly among the debris of the Astral Plane. It gave Glint vertigo.
There were two mist-like doors on either side of the room.
"Of course. There are always two doors, aren't there?" He murmured with an eye roll. There was no answer, of course. Then, a terrifying thought struck him like a jolt of electricity from a Witching Bolt – what if his telepathic bond didn't work as he was technically in someone else's mind?
"Hello?" He called mentally.
"I can hear you," Garria's gruff voice sounded in his skull. "Let me know when you're done, and I'll pull you out."
Glint released a breath he was holding, and looked around the room. The decoration was the worst style of nouveau riche he's ever seen, on par with some of the Zakharan merchants' sarais. The aristocrat in him scoffed at the lack of style. The room didn't appear to contain any clues as to what door he needed to go through, and he was beginning to feel a bit hotter than one would expect standing in a room in an open space. Thus, he tugged on his mental connection again.
"Hey there, how are you guys doing?" He asked the party who stayed outside, guarding his unconscious body.
"Oh, there are dragons, and gith, and-" Celina's panicked voice came in, right before the tiefling remembered herself and added, much more calmly: "Oh, it's fine, we're alright, Derthaad is definitely not dead!"
Glint's eyes darted around the room in panic.
"Right then, no pressure," he thought to himself, dashing towards the door on the left. He didn't have a plan, and imagined any number of horrors can be behind it: from the monsters of the Shadowfell to gith dragons. But he needed to act, and act fast. Hand shaking, he reached towards the handle.
And then the door started changing. As if reflecting his fears, it morphed into a room to his office, to Root's lab, to the Von Wald family manor, into a safe room door on Gadenthor, until none was left, and the only thing Glint was facing was a whirpool of dark fog.
"Damn it, why am I such a coward?!" was the last thought to flash in his mind before he was sucked into the portal, and fell into the vastness of space.
He came to a moment later, (or was it hours?) in what looked like a large throne hall of a castle. All around him, ornate crystalline columns, thicker than oaks, yet transparent as a tear, rushed upwards into the dark void. If there was a ceiling, he couldn't see it. He got up, wavering a bit, and felt something akin to a rush of air. Not a sea breeze of Port Ffirst, but a sharp stab, piercing to the bones.
Out of a well-honed instinct, he cast invisibility on himself faster than the thought 'there's no wind in space' passed through his mind. He snuck behind one of the columns, a transparent silhouette against an equally see-through structure. The wind died down, and Glint felt that whatever presence was looking for him has retreated. Out of caution, he went ahead still invisible, lurking between the columns, not making a sound, until he reached the end of the room. There, he saw a plinth holding up a large throne. It would look impressive, except for the bottom of the plinth was covered with some gooey red substance. It gave the whole area an air of... uncertainty. An air of all the possible things from all the possible planes of existence. An air of trepidation.
Suddenly, the eerie silence of the throne room was pierced by a sound.
Sobbing.
Glint looked around in panic, but saw no-one. The room was empty save for the crystalline columns and the throne on a plinth. The longer he looked at it, the more it gave him chills. There was a presence there, a very unpleasant one. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape it, but it only made the sobbing louder. The wind chilled him to the bones, as the fire on his head almost completely went out.
"If this responds to my fears, it is right. I am very, very afraid. I'm sorry, everyone, I've really let you down," he thought with shame. His cheeky leap across the ocean from Faerun, and his triumphant leaving of Port Ffirst seemed to have happened in a different life. Here, only terror remained, and the more he felt its grip on his soul, the louder the sobbing became, and the further the red goo spread. "It does respond to my fears!" As his more academic side took over, interested in observation more than in feeling, he felt a flame of hope lighting anew in his chest. "Maybe it will respond to my thoughts? This isn't a place to find Netherese technology, this is some failed power trip! Where would the tech be? Why, in a library of course!" He felt a grin stretch his lips, despite the mind-boggling fear. "A library would be next to the throne room," he turned and froze. "Wait, how do I know that? I know it because my friends are fighting dragons, so I need it to be there. Now!"
He took off to the right, not looking for a door, just willing one into existence. A door, a simple wooden door, opened on its own accord, and, sure enough, he ended up in a library. It was massive, and very well organised, with many rows of books, with ladders and brass fittings along the shelves.
"Right! Library. I can do libraries," he grinned at the familiar challenge.
There were letters on the book spines, in different languages, but as soon as he would look at one, the letters would drift, and jumble up, and none of them made up a word. Out of instinct, he closed his eyes, and went along the lines of the books, touching the spines with his gloved hand. Each book gave him a jolt of a memory: a night out at a bar, a bloody sacrifice, some military training, a flight across the Astral Sea…
No.
He had a mission.
Glint took a deep breath.
"Netherese technology," he thought intently, commanding the library rather than asking.
As he opened his eyes, there it was. The book appeared right in front of him. A thick leather-bound tome. He took off his glove, eyes never leaving the worn-out spine. He touched his index finger to it, and an array of images flooded his mind.
Sacrifices.
Experiments.
Notes, almost clinical ones, on success and failure.
The sounds of gith speech, the sensations of so many days compressed into seconds.
He almost fainted from the sensory overload, but persevered, focusing on the memories of another.
And he got it all. The schematics, the locations, the right initiation rituals, a giant city taking flight through a hundred smaller manipulations – all rushing into his head at a breakneck speed. It was like a tidal way, and he struggled to breathe. He gasped for air, but there was none, only more schematics, more plans, more of everything. He held his breath, as if underwater, for what felt like eternity. And then, as quickly as it started, the flow of information stopped. Glint staggered back, breathing greedily, air-deprived lungs burning, vision blurry.
Glint stumbled along the shelves, feeling his way with his hands. He needed to find an exit, to get out of here, to get back to the Dawnlands, and screw Gadenthor, screw Harnash, screw his mission…
The bookshelves came into focus, and he remembered himself. He didn't actually need to find an exit, it was in his brain.
"Garria?" He called in his head with a false cheer that came from habit. "I don't think I know kung fu, but I'm pretty sure I've got what we were looking for. Get me out."
He felt the same pulling sensation that sucked him into the gith mind in the first place, and a moment later he was sitting on the grass in the jungle, his robes slightly singed. He felt dizzy, but managed not to actually throw up into the jade bowl that acted as a mind portal. He glanced around only to see Derthaad, half-dead, dimension door 60 feet into the air with Kavel, who then dove down to elbow-drop a dragon, all the while Celina and Sorrel were taking care of gith, one with apples, another with arrows, and Tayz glowing with radiant healing energy.
"Oh, good, I'm home," Glint thought, relieved.
No ceiling.
No walls.
Only the cold glow of distant stars and the remnants of the old gods.
Glint squinted his eyes shut, and tried listening to his breaths to ground himself in this strange room.
There was silence.
Of course, he thought, he was inside a mind, breathing here was unnecessary.
He had his apprehensions ever since receiving a letter from Garria inviting him over to Harnash to interrogate the gith mage he helped capturing. Or rather, the one he saved from being killed by a bunch of barbarians. Well, turned out he had to save her again, this time from some form of torture that Berenar was referring to involving mind flayers, intellect devourers and True Polymorph spell. That was the only reason he agreed to this – normally messing with someone's mind would be pretty much off the charts. But they needed to know how to turn the city against the gith, and this option seemed the lesser of two evils.
Still, he had to go and volunteer to actually get into the gith mind… He really wanted to suggest someone else. Sorrel was sneakier, Celina – more persuasive, Kavel – stronger, Derthaad – more observant, Tayz – more likely to survive. But it was his idea in the first place, so it was only fair he took the risk. And thus, he ended up in this place.
A tiled room, no more than 20 feet in diameter. He only knew its dimensions because of the garish furniture, vases and decorations that marked its borders. Beyond those lied the void. Endless space, punctuated by stars and cosmic clouds. The room appeared to be revolving slowly among the debris of the Astral Plane. It gave Glint vertigo.
There were two mist-like doors on either side of the room.
"Of course. There are always two doors, aren't there?" He murmured with an eye roll. There was no answer, of course. Then, a terrifying thought struck him like a jolt of electricity from a Witching Bolt – what if his telepathic bond didn't work as he was technically in someone else's mind?
"Hello?" He called mentally.
"I can hear you," Garria's gruff voice sounded in his skull. "Let me know when you're done, and I'll pull you out."
Glint released a breath he was holding, and looked around the room. The decoration was the worst style of nouveau riche he's ever seen, on par with some of the Zakharan merchants' sarais. The aristocrat in him scoffed at the lack of style. The room didn't appear to contain any clues as to what door he needed to go through, and he was beginning to feel a bit hotter than one would expect standing in a room in an open space. Thus, he tugged on his mental connection again.
"Hey there, how are you guys doing?" He asked the party who stayed outside, guarding his unconscious body.
"Oh, there are dragons, and gith, and-" Celina's panicked voice came in, right before the tiefling remembered herself and added, much more calmly: "Oh, it's fine, we're alright, Derthaad is definitely not dead!"
Glint's eyes darted around the room in panic.
"Right then, no pressure," he thought to himself, dashing towards the door on the left. He didn't have a plan, and imagined any number of horrors can be behind it: from the monsters of the Shadowfell to gith dragons. But he needed to act, and act fast. Hand shaking, he reached towards the handle.
And then the door started changing. As if reflecting his fears, it morphed into a room to his office, to Root's lab, to the Von Wald family manor, into a safe room door on Gadenthor, until none was left, and the only thing Glint was facing was a whirpool of dark fog.
"Damn it, why am I such a coward?!" was the last thought to flash in his mind before he was sucked into the portal, and fell into the vastness of space.
He came to a moment later, (or was it hours?) in what looked like a large throne hall of a castle. All around him, ornate crystalline columns, thicker than oaks, yet transparent as a tear, rushed upwards into the dark void. If there was a ceiling, he couldn't see it. He got up, wavering a bit, and felt something akin to a rush of air. Not a sea breeze of Port Ffirst, but a sharp stab, piercing to the bones.
Out of a well-honed instinct, he cast invisibility on himself faster than the thought 'there's no wind in space' passed through his mind. He snuck behind one of the columns, a transparent silhouette against an equally see-through structure. The wind died down, and Glint felt that whatever presence was looking for him has retreated. Out of caution, he went ahead still invisible, lurking between the columns, not making a sound, until he reached the end of the room. There, he saw a plinth holding up a large throne. It would look impressive, except for the bottom of the plinth was covered with some gooey red substance. It gave the whole area an air of... uncertainty. An air of all the possible things from all the possible planes of existence. An air of trepidation.
Suddenly, the eerie silence of the throne room was pierced by a sound.
Sobbing.
Glint looked around in panic, but saw no-one. The room was empty save for the crystalline columns and the throne on a plinth. The longer he looked at it, the more it gave him chills. There was a presence there, a very unpleasant one. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to escape it, but it only made the sobbing louder. The wind chilled him to the bones, as the fire on his head almost completely went out.
"If this responds to my fears, it is right. I am very, very afraid. I'm sorry, everyone, I've really let you down," he thought with shame. His cheeky leap across the ocean from Faerun, and his triumphant leaving of Port Ffirst seemed to have happened in a different life. Here, only terror remained, and the more he felt its grip on his soul, the louder the sobbing became, and the further the red goo spread. "It does respond to my fears!" As his more academic side took over, interested in observation more than in feeling, he felt a flame of hope lighting anew in his chest. "Maybe it will respond to my thoughts? This isn't a place to find Netherese technology, this is some failed power trip! Where would the tech be? Why, in a library of course!" He felt a grin stretch his lips, despite the mind-boggling fear. "A library would be next to the throne room," he turned and froze. "Wait, how do I know that? I know it because my friends are fighting dragons, so I need it to be there. Now!"
He took off to the right, not looking for a door, just willing one into existence. A door, a simple wooden door, opened on its own accord, and, sure enough, he ended up in a library. It was massive, and very well organised, with many rows of books, with ladders and brass fittings along the shelves.
"Right! Library. I can do libraries," he grinned at the familiar challenge.
There were letters on the book spines, in different languages, but as soon as he would look at one, the letters would drift, and jumble up, and none of them made up a word. Out of instinct, he closed his eyes, and went along the lines of the books, touching the spines with his gloved hand. Each book gave him a jolt of a memory: a night out at a bar, a bloody sacrifice, some military training, a flight across the Astral Sea…
No.
He had a mission.
Glint took a deep breath.
"Netherese technology," he thought intently, commanding the library rather than asking.
As he opened his eyes, there it was. The book appeared right in front of him. A thick leather-bound tome. He took off his glove, eyes never leaving the worn-out spine. He touched his index finger to it, and an array of images flooded his mind.
Sacrifices.
Experiments.
Notes, almost clinical ones, on success and failure.
The sounds of gith speech, the sensations of so many days compressed into seconds.
He almost fainted from the sensory overload, but persevered, focusing on the memories of another.
And he got it all. The schematics, the locations, the right initiation rituals, a giant city taking flight through a hundred smaller manipulations – all rushing into his head at a breakneck speed. It was like a tidal way, and he struggled to breathe. He gasped for air, but there was none, only more schematics, more plans, more of everything. He held his breath, as if underwater, for what felt like eternity. And then, as quickly as it started, the flow of information stopped. Glint staggered back, breathing greedily, air-deprived lungs burning, vision blurry.
Glint stumbled along the shelves, feeling his way with his hands. He needed to find an exit, to get out of here, to get back to the Dawnlands, and screw Gadenthor, screw Harnash, screw his mission…
The bookshelves came into focus, and he remembered himself. He didn't actually need to find an exit, it was in his brain.
"Garria?" He called in his head with a false cheer that came from habit. "I don't think I know kung fu, but I'm pretty sure I've got what we were looking for. Get me out."
He felt the same pulling sensation that sucked him into the gith mind in the first place, and a moment later he was sitting on the grass in the jungle, his robes slightly singed. He felt dizzy, but managed not to actually throw up into the jade bowl that acted as a mind portal. He glanced around only to see Derthaad, half-dead, dimension door 60 feet into the air with Kavel, who then dove down to elbow-drop a dragon, all the while Celina and Sorrel were taking care of gith, one with apples, another with arrows, and Tayz glowing with radiant healing energy.
"Oh, good, I'm home," Glint thought, relieved.
