Gabe3e

Entries 52-57 (Ches, 1359DR): Pathways of Choice Rarely Lead to Roads Less Travelled, They Often Simply Lead in Circles

I have witnessed it more times than I would have liked over these perilous months, yet cheating the permanency of death through The Weave continues to strike me to the core, both in wonder and in terror. Divine power reshaping broken, bloodied, burned, and hopelessly mangled flesh – sometimes conjuring the body from thin air—and reinserting the elusive and incomprehensible soul, if that should be the proper name for it, is in itself not to be believed. But I wonder if mortal eyes were ever meant to actually watch the process of a soul filling a vessel that is changing. And yet when I witnessed Delven’s reincarnation into a Kobold I felt compelled to use my talents to improve his stature (even if it was only slightly).

However, I recently learned of a druidic magic that can not only reincarnate a soul into a different body, but in itself gives the soul a limited choice of what humanoid race their body would assume. I knew that such magic was, at least at it’s heart, as wild as the magic I strive to finesse, and suspected that planned use of my beloved spell might widen the choices just enough to give my friends a body they could, pardon the expression, live with.

I put this theory to the test when G’kar was banished to the Positive Energy plane, his body perishing at the overwhelming energy while his soul remained trapped there. When the Great Druid Thystleheart summoned G’kar’s soul back to the Prime, I braced myself with multiple paths of reality that G’kar could choose from. Slowly out of the ground a grey mist swirled into the vague shape of a humanoid, and I winced as it first resembled that same foul lizardly creature Delven had become. Then the small features morphed into beastly muscles, and the voluptuous gasses coagulated into hair and fangs.

When G’kar first spoke in a voice gruffer than even a dwarf can muster, I did not waste any time asking him if he would enjoy the body of a half-orc. With a flick of my wrist I lay my hand upon the druid and altered reality.

My heart leapt as I saw the tangible flesh dissipate back into gaseous form and assemble slowly into pointed ears and a slender build similar to mine. But surely, it was me living in an alternate reality, for that very pleasing form morphed back into the hideous monstrous half-orc again!! My quarterstaff beckoned to be thrust into G’kar’s skull for his choice, but instead I touched the Druid’s arm again and hoped that G’kar wisdom had not been left on the Positive Energy Plane with the rest of his gear.

Luckily for him I watched that beast transform into a much more familiar beast, though I thought not possible, that of a stockier, hairier dwarf. I had known that G’kar would always be a dwarf at heart, and thank Mystra I had a way to carve for him a dwarven path.

As if that was not unique enough a reality, moments later held me for the, first time, on the other side of my spell! In an instant I watched Jaran raise her hand with the ring that harnessed one of my alternate reality magics, and yet I was not privileged to watch things change. It wasn’t until the evening’s fire that she described how she watched the gases begin to form into a most dreadful form—that of a Kobold!—before they gratefully permanently assembled themselves back into the dwarf. Her shocked look at my fits of laughter was a clear reminder that, once again, I alone was privaledged to that irony.

Yet that was not the end of the transforming and mutating bodies of gas and smoke.

For as Tymora had clearly not been watching over us, Jarl had been banished to that same Positive Energy Plane, our recourse to rescue him limited to the same choice as was poor G’kar. So we all assumed our now familiar positions and watched in horror as we seemed ever destined to have another Kobold warrior in our party. Until the most wondrous thing happened!—a handsome and angular elven man sat up with a start, dirt seemingly repelling itself off his shining long blonde hair. “Wow, I feel different!” Jarl said.

I winced at the thought of losing such perfection, but I had resolved myself to give my new ally the opportunity to choose his own path. So, with a grimace and a flick of the wrist, the beauty before me instantly melted and, to my horror, began to resemble another uncivilized half-orc until the mist, thankfully, amazingly, elegantly reformed back into the same gorgeous elven man.

I admit that, if it had not been for Jaran goading me to give him another choice, my own selfish desire would have staid my hand too long to give Jarl another path to follow. But her young voice awoke me from my lustful stare; I watched mournfully as the gas reformed into ears slightly less stately, hair slightly less flowing, and stature slightly less strikingly slim. I discovered the disappointment was mine alone when Jarl awoke and began inspecting his half-elven body with an approving nod. My last hope was further squashed when I waited for Jaran to activate her ring once again, and instead heard a verbal component I’ve never heard before.

What is this spell called “Meh.”?

Entry 51 (30 Hammer, 1359DR): Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Maralith

I have managed to survive several encounters with Balors, even while being the maralith magnet, and stood on death’s doorstep several times (though fortunately not long enough for Him to actually answer the door). Yes, I endured long enough to find myself at last face to face with Leech-infested Jarl.

I lied in wait for Jaran to lower his spell resistance so that I could hurl my most powerful and seductive version of her demonic de-possessing spell. Unfortunately, Jarl seemed braced for such an attack, Leech digging his claws into Jarl’s soul tighter than ever. He resisted the effects of the spell, and I had no recourse to do another.

Jarl then turned to G’kar, who, in his own affection for his former friend, had tried to hold him still rather than attack him. He was now fenced in an arena of whirling blades, his friend now turned into his most deadly foe. With a tri-material alloy sword forged naively from Delven’s own hands, Jarl cut deeply and cleanly through the magical barrier Jaran had cast around his dwarven body, and within seconds G’kar’s body lay lifeless in a pool of his own blood. Everyone looked on aghast, almost unable to act at the sight. All appeared lost.

None-the-less, I then utilized the opportunity given me by G’kar’s sacrifice and sent my spectral hand through the blades to touch him from behind while Jarl’s attention was, well, elsewhere. Unsure I might change anything, I held up my beloved golden ring and shouted over to the pixie, “Quickly, use the ring to revivify G’kar’s body!”

However, reality did change. It had changed to one where Jarl was indeed momentarily distracted, and had not the will to resist my spell.

As often as it has happened to me, I am always in awe of the sight of time running backwards, of watching events become undone, and then redone differently based on different circumstances. The large winged beast, once gloating over his prey, now yielded a black fog and shrunk down to a man I’d not yet met but whom my friends immediately greeted as Jarl. G’kar, who once lie in pieces on the floor, queerly fell upwards to standing and held his bastard sword at the ready, his fervor fueled with his comrade once again at his side. An arrow sailed backwards from the wall and ricocheted in reverse off Jarl’s armor onto Gwynn’s bow, and then as time turned forward on itself she instead unleashed her sword on the maralith nearby. Jaran both times sent blasting ice at the maralith, but the second time she also flung herself through the wall of blades and with a flick of her wrist enveloped Jarl in a magical protection from Leech’s evil. Murdock, who had presumably been so shocked at his ‘friend’s’ demise that he did nothing but utter ‘Should I open the Gate now?’ now held a conviction of will to open a Gate for our escape. The tear that before glazed Delven’s face as he pleaded “Jarl! Don’t you recognize your own brother?” was oddly sucked back up his cheek, and then it streamed down again as he exclaimed “Brother! How wonderful to see you again!”

It was only Kalcrix, who was busying himself with the Glaberzu on the ground, who seemed unaware that circumstances were vastly different. Oh, and the pixie? Well, once again Rowen’s plain utterance held humor for no one but myself. “Revivify G’kar? Shouldn’t I wait until he’s dead first?!”

Yes, it would have been more humorous indeed if, in the moments following, I did not stand helpless to watch the leech cloud then inhabit the maralith—who had now doubled in size. And who turned his gaze….to me.

Knock knock.

Entry 50 (30 Hammer, 1359DR): The Best Laid Plans

After witnessing the death of a comrade in one cunning blow, I knew I needed to make preparations that might allow me to alter reality should that Balor deliver another such an unlucky strike. Especially to one of the party members I have a deeper affection for (I say this with no ill will toward Delven, who seems brave and kind enough, though each time I see him I am only baffled on what drew him to Sylvia? She was such a heartless, stoic, shell of a wizard who held no dedication to anything… I saw no virtue in her other than her spellbook, for which I admit I still pine…).

Anyway, as we readied ourselves to return to the Abyss in search of Jarl, I made certain this time I had a magical hand of life force with me. I planned it to deliver my beloved spell through its ghostly touch to that foul creature should he again kill a party member in one fatal swing of his sword. Being a pessimist, I even made certain I had ready two spells to alter such a seemingly inevitable reality.

As luck would have it, the balors were slain before there was any loss of life, though it was certainly not lucky how they exploded in a chain reaction when Kalcrix slayed the first, wounding us all doubly in the process. Therefore, later when I saw a most unlucky turn of events as Kalcrix attempted to trip his opponent so he might more easily strike him on the ground—only to himself be tripped, disarmed, and greivously wounded—I felt free to reach out my spectral hand and alter this reality so that he would not be in such a dire situation.

Sadly it appears the best plans go to waste for those lying on the ground, for I was forced to watch the events unfold precisely the same way the second time around. How much more painful it is to see misfortune continue when you know it is coming…and are yet powerless to change it.

Entry 49 (25 Hammer, 1359DR): Saving Face

Alas if there was only a way to AR a decision I made under duress. I can only blindly hope that one day I will again turn to write in this journal and see this entry and think back with a laugh. I will chuckle at my own naivete and recall the days when my soul was cursed and forever bound to Mephistopheles. “Ha!” I will laugh in spite of myself. “Remember how hopeless it looked? Thank goodness all is right again!” The thought of that reality, however unlikely, is all that brings me comfort in these days of woe and worry. I can only hope I remain alive long enough to see it. But with the task I have ahead of me, I suspect I will often be closer to death than I am to life.

But I digress. For my beloved spell has not, nor will it not, aid me there. Though it is this situation that did bring me to perhaps the most queer use of my spell to date. In traipsing through Hell and high water in pursuit of possessed Jarl, we were struck by a Balor with a most cursed sword, who, with one fell swoop of his blade, sliced the head clean off of poor Delven, Jarl’s half-brother. With no way to get to him in time and not daring to touch the Balor who dealt the killing blow, I was not able to alter that reality. We were forced to flee the Abyss without taking his body with us.

My party members asked me to use a wishing spell to ask his fingertip be returned to us from the abyss, in order that Rowen might reincarnate him. Though I used a ‘baby-brother’ version of this spell, it was none-the-less very draining to me, and I was appalled when my efforts yielded not a strong, formidable half-elven man, but a foul, scaly, verminous, mindless kobold!!

I wanted to save face—both mine and the pixie’s and, well, literally Delven’s. I reached out my hand to Rowen and altered reality. Before my eyes (and my eyes alone) I saw the lizardly snout mold into a humanesque face, the claws transform to stubby fingers, the tail retreat into stout legs. Delven was now…a gnome. I felt a surge of power to witness such a magnificent and permanent change from my own hand. Though it was not ideal, I had at least saved him from a more terrible fate, and though once again it went unappreciated, at least this time it was Rowen who was the recipient of Delven’s confused and annoyed glance.

Entry 48 (13 Nightal, 1358DR): What In Nahal!?!?

Now that The Weave is restored and some sense of normalcy has settled in, I felt it important to smooth out some of the wrinkles I made along the way. First most being Theodore, where the last time we saw each other the turn of events was…unfortunate. I hoped that the ends might justify the means in his eyes, and I prayed he’d no longer ban me from his church for my fervor in finding Our Lady in Her greatest time of need.

Gwynn spoke in my behalf and he agreed to an audience, where I offered in my defense that my occupation requires me to persist after failure, and though that is a trait that can occasionally be….annoying, it has also aided me in what small part I played in restoring the Weave. For that I beseeched he view his sacrifice and pain a small price to pay for fulfilling that noble quest. Fortunately, in the time after our parting, he came to realize that the chaotic side-effects of the spells I had cast were not intentional, nor were they isolated incidents, but were due to the current state of the Weave. He revoked my ban on the Temple of Mystra.

Nonetheless, in good faith I offered the church my Controlling the Chaos book for its library—my compendium for shaping raw magical energy. Though his experience suggests otherwise, I told him these skills, when mastered, can be very beneficial, and it is my belief that there will be others who will be drawn to the great power and flexibility of wild magic.

Little did I expect that that possibility would soon become a reality—but one more alternate than I had ever imagined! As I was walking past the church, I heard an older man with a queer accent speaking to Theodore about my book. “Interesting, interesting!” he mumbled as he leafed through its pages. “Sir, can you tell me, is there a bibliography for this book? My name is in it, but I can’t find a bibliography.”

I rushed into the temple, knowing there was only one man’s name prominently mentioned in my book! I arrived only in time to watch him flee with what suspiciously looked like a quickened-Nahal’s-teleport. Could it possibly have been…?

I must put this here in my AR journal, since no one else is likely to believe what I heard and saw. You would think after meeting Mystra herself in person I would be immune to an impossible happenstance such as this. But I can’t help but shake in anticipation of the slightest possibility of one day meeting Nahal face-to-face. My comrades catch my smirkful expressions, and eye me quizzically as I fantasize about what havoc the two of us could wreak together!

And I can’t help but wonder…do I cast Nahal’s more than Nahal does?

Entry 46 (24 Elient, 1358DR): Turning a Con into a Pro

With magic not working for so many months, I was apparently out of practice. As we walked through Khelben’s portal to the Abyss, we were suddenly ambushed by several devils. My trusty quickened Nahal’s finger of death turned on me, and I suddenly felt drained, weaker, without the constitution to fight effectively.

Luckily my alternate reality did not fail me, and my strength returned with new vigor, and the spell came off heightened! How truly wonderful to have magic again…even if it must be in the Abyss!

Entry 44 (14 Tarsahk, 1358DR): Giving Myself a Hug—and a Disintegrate

Mages in melee. Now that is an alternate reality.

It seems that fighting another Lyta on 12 Tarsahk was not to be the last time. On our way to Castle Kilgrave I found myself trapped in a box of mirrors, unable to proceed forward or backward. When I broke one of the mirrors I saw my own image in the glass move independently toward me, and do exactly what I find most annoying in combat.

She grappled me.

After multiple attempts at using a dagger, I quickly realized this other self was more skilled with the blade than I was and I was doomed to be defeated. Tired of that Hornung, I disintegrated her ass. Hoping I had bested my enemy, I broke the next mirror, only to find myself face to face with another annoying grappling Lyta.

I heard my comrades nearby tell me that when they downed their foes they told them clues of how to conquer the puzzle…alas, one reality when disintegrate was apparently not the best course of action. I thus used a cone of cold to down the second Lyta, and upon her dying breath she moaned “your….”

Some clue.

Entry 43 (12 Tarsahk, 1358DR): The Prophecy is Realized

Though I alone experienced a reality too amazing to be believed, this was, for once, not because of my beloved spell. This was a situation, presumably at the hands of Gods, where my comrades were suddenly no longer by my side, and that I alone stood in a shroud of fog. “You are attempting a quest of the Gods. You will be tested in front of me, the One who is hidden!” bellowed into the stillness from an unknown origin.

Far in the distance, one lone figure emerged from the fog, and my Arcane Sight told me this half-elf was an arcane caster of comparable skill to myself. I cut the awkward silence and exclaimed, “Greetings, fellow caster!” but I received no reply. Closer still the figure came, and I began to realize that she, too, was a wild elf. But…then…this was not just any wild elf. It was…me!

This realization slowed my otherwise faithful insight, and this Lyta attacked me with my own most powerful spell, magically extracting life-giving water from my body. And it seemed she was equally skilled with metamagic, for before I could react she also sent forth painful magic missiles with a mere flick of her wrist.

Though her actions proved her a foe to me, I would challenge anyone to not hesitate at such a queer circumstance, and I second-guessed the wisdom of battling myself. “I don’t really want to kill you!” I proclaimed, and merely aimed to impair my opponent’s abilities to attack me multiple times with a newly-acquired spell that burned her blood.

Seeing its success gripped me with an odd satisfaction, and I told the sky above, “…though I admit this is somewhat entertaining.” And I attempted a more powerful wild spell at her with my own quickened wrist movement. If it was fate that prevented it from working or a faltering in my own resolve, I do not know.

I would have thought that my opponent wincing in pain would make her reevaluate this fruitless battle, but it did not, and she composed herself enough to send forth more missiles at me with that familiar wrist flick. Since I had already sustained much damage from the vile insects that swarmed our path mere hours before, my survivor instincts showed me that I had little time left, and that I must kill…or be killed.

With a deep breath I conjured the most powerful Energies I had, pulling forth my skills at metamagic to make it hardest for her to resist it’s deadly force. “I hope this is the right decision” I muttered to myself as I shot that familiar green ray at her. For a moment I saw her face, frozen in pain before she crumpled to dust, and I knew that ironic illusion reminiscent of a looking glass would remain with me forever.

I know I will be spending the rest of my life pondering those 12 mere seconds. This Lyta was my duplicate, yet she did not utilize any wild magic spells! Perhaps this illustrates to me that that is the source of my greatest strength. They turn the tide in a heartbeat, and though frequently they fail or increase my obstacles, the power they offer upon their successes provides me with an added edge. This Lyta could have twice prevailed by using wild magic instead of time-tested spells, and her choice to stick with what ‘just works’ was actually her downfall.

As I sit here in an inescapable purgatory, I still do not know if I passed this “test”, or if in destroying my own image I have destroyed my only chance for escape. I can only try to maintain a humorous view of this, and now I can whole-heartedly tell my comrades, should I ever see them again, that the prophecy with they have often goaded me has indeed been realized.

I indeed disintegrated myself.

Entry 40-42 (8 Tarsahk, 1358DR): The Cloud of Clangeddin

Oh, but these entries are getting tiresome. The state of Chaos in the Weave is so much now that AR is part of my daily life. Trying to frantically correct chaotic effects is like scurrying to stack marbles.

After the “success” of two sendings, I offered the same to G’kar so he could speak with Clangeddin, whom he witnessed falling at an Elven Avatar’s staff. Upon his first attempt, the pixie’s invisibility was purged. Not a pretty sight to see a pixie covering himself and screaming in a high voice, “Quick! Change it! Change it!!”. So I AR’d that result, which gave G’kar utterly useless low-light vision.

Though that was not a disastrous result, I suspected that G’kar would want to keep trying. I altered reality again, and as I was about to touch him, I saw a blackish glow upon my hand, and knew I was about to disjunct one of his beloved magic items!! I quickly touched a glowing rock (courtesy the experimenting pixie) and discharged the most foul of spells!! Thank Mystra for the permancy of my newly-invented Surgical Sight Spell!

Determination fueled my resolve, and I tried one last AR. A wisp of smoke enveloped in front of G’kar, and turned into a shadowy figure of a dwarf. Not just any dwarf, but Clangeddin himself!!

Sadly, when G’kar spoke his words of sending, the smoke dissipated, and he received no reply. This earned me a quizzical look from G’kar—a look all too familiar to me—and an annoyed, “You sure that wasn’t wonky magic?” from the pixie! And to think that they didn’t even experience the other three “wonky” results!! What would they say if they realized just how much more chaotic this Chaos can be? Do they think I cause it on purpose? Sigh…

Entry 38-39 (8 Tarsahk, 1358DR): History Repeats itself/Starry Eyed and Breathed

After my failure with Theodore, I thought I would not find someone else willing to try to send to My Lady. But it seemed that, finally, Gwynn has seen my wisdom in risking much for much to gain, and asked me to again cast my “wild sending” into Jaran’s ring. When she released The Energies, the first attempt left her wisdom-drained and loopy. I altered reality just as I did before, and history was truly repeating itself, for once again I dazed My Lady—only this time it was extended!

Luckily I was ready for it this time, and quickened one more AR. I then found us both surrounded in a blue and red vapor, and as she spoke the words of the sending, tiny stars fluttered from her mouth. And Mystra responded to her! Success indeed.

It took much longer for the stars to clear from Gwynn’s eyes.