Gabe3e

Entry 35 (1 Tarsahk, 1358DR): The Tables Turn—The Entire World Lives MY Reality

The day I dedicated my life to the pursuit of controlling the chaos hidden in The Weave was the first day I experienced it. It was not the last. In fact, each day since, when I’ve been around any other living soul, I’ve endured it.

Cringes, disdainful looks, panicked fleeings, apprehensive disapproval, horror, and every reaction in between…each and every time I cast a wild spell. I’ve been the target of many frustrated tongue-lashings and vengeful gazes from comrades on those, uh, rare, occasions when the chaos was more than I could manipulate, and the result was…well…. unintended.

But today all that has changed. Today the tables have turned. Today it is not my reality that has changed, but the reality for the entire world. And yet I take little comfort in it.

As if witnessing G’kar fighting alongside Murdock was not enough to suggest reality was not as it seemed. As if seeing a hideous monster who my comrades claimed was Bane incarnate was not enough to suggest I was under some enchantment spell. Was Our Lady testing me again as I witnessed strong Kalcrix activate his wisdom-restoring wand on me and instead turn a horrid blindness upon himself? And yet I knew that it was not I alone who watched helplessly as G’kar attempt to cure Kalcrix’s blindness with his healing staff, over and over again, maiming poor Kalcrix until a queer pink gas enveloped him and healed his eyes.

I realized that everyone I saw was now living in my world—but without the experience I’ve gained at controlling the chaos, increasingly disastrous results transpired as these spellcasters frustratingly attempted more powerful spells. Say nothing for those who suddenly lost all ability to cast at all.

How ironic it is that I, dedicated to chaos, have seemingly become the world’s most reliable caster—for in my whole life I have never met another who has chosen the path I chose for myself. The path that furthers the work of the wild spellcasters Hornung and Nahal.

I have often pondered where that path began, but now that mystery haunts my every waking moment. For it would seem that Hornung and Nahal would be more at home here, now, than from the myth and legend they’ve rumored to live in. I’m beginning to wonder: Is this part of one, elaborate alternate reality, that Time itself is bestowing on the whole world?

(~1 Tarsakh 1358)

There can be no doubt. This hulking abomination can be no other; it can only be Bane himself. My hands tremble. My guts twist around themselves. My lungs seize up and I almost choke, as if a miasma of undilute malevolence rolls off him in waves.

He turns to us and commands us. If evil itself could speak, it would speak with this voice.

“You will help me find Fzoul.”

I feel his words hook into my mind, clawing into my soul, but he will not have me. I am Mystra’s.

“I will die before I help you!”

My protest does not trouble him –I am but one mortal, after all– and he walks on to the east gate and the Wealdath beyond. Silvia and Murdock trail behind him obediently, as do my companions.

I stare after them in horror.

G’Kar stops at the east gate, asking why I do not follow.

I ask how he can follow.

He speaks with hope of finding an easy escape, a way to satisfy the terms of the geas on a technicality. He speaks of the possibility of betrayal, of finding an opportunity to thwart the fiend in whatever he plans. He asks me to come with him.

I make no move forward. “My place is here. My duty is to my people and my goddess, as yours is to Stormaxe and Clangeddin!”

“Do not lecture me on my duty. My place is with my friends, as is yours. Are you coming?”

I return to my duty, to my place.

I find it with my lord, Brother Theodore, and Zonas, in council in the temple. Their faces are carefully calm, but I read the pity in their eyes.

Somehow, they know.

There is no time to discuss it. The ruins of the tower must be removed, the crater from Bane’s descent must be filled, Amn’s army is still to the north, and there is… something wrong with the Weave. We think of Bane, earthbound and disoriented, and we fear for Mystra.

We push aside our fears. We plan.

Rather, I watch them plan. I am wounded, exhausted, and still I must fight against the words clutching at my spirit. I hear them –it is not memory. I hear them as if he speaks them in my ear: “You will help me find Fzoul.”

My lord touches my hand. My fingers curl around his, and I almost begin to weep. I had so many hopes for us.

Too soon his fingers leave mine and go to the map, encircling hypothetical forces. I miss their warmth… I want them back! But I must not be selfish.

I sigh, though I don’t mean to.

Zonas insists I sit down. Brother Theodore brings a chair, clumsy with his haste, as if I am already so frail that the need for a chair is an urgent one. I protest, but I am helped into the seat like a woman nearing labour. Or an old man nearing death. My lord and Zonas support my elbows; my lord’s hand is on my back, though I can’t feel it through the mithral. I sigh again, this time on purpose, this time in protest. Zonas scowls at me. My lord smiles at me too kindly and brushes a few stray hairs from my face.

I love him.

I love them.

I want to tell them, but I remain silent. I won’t delay more important words with my useless sentiments.

They return to their business. They are efficient with each other, seeming almost to speak in a code I do not know. It is an effort to understand them, and I comment less and less. Eventually, they forget even to ask for Lady Athunsun’s opinion, and I see that I am not necessary here.

It is good, but also sad.

Mosstone will survive without its lady.

In a way, I am already dead.

Brother Theodore leaves the room for more ink. He turns back again, not two steps out, to kneel in front of me and ask if I need tea or something to eat. I tell him I need nothing. My lord asks if I wouldn’t let him help me out of my armor, again smiling too kindly. Zonas does not ask, but loosens my greaves, apparently deeming them too tight.

This time, I try not to sigh. It helps them to think they’re helping me.

I pray for patience, wondering how long is left to me. Months? A year? How long must I be half-alive, grieving my loved ones, making them awkward with their concern? It is the most horrible death I can imagine, and I have died horribly before.

Yes, twice before, as far as this world can know, and I have nearly died more times than I can remember. But I died without regrets in the service of my Lady, and I would die for her again. It is a fair trade, my life for her cause. But this death gains her nothing… Bane cheats us both.

And still, like the incessant rhythm of a wheel, or a grindstone, I hear that voice: “You will help me find Fzoul.”

It is not fair!

Why must they still torment me? He has won already… No matter what I do, he steals me from my mistress, and no matter what I do, he steals everything from me!

No… not everything, no matter what I do. Only nearly everything, if I choose.

Oh… no. No, I wish I had not had this revelation. It was better that all was hopeless. It was better to nobly accept my fate, to die uncompromised.

I weep for my weakness. The words pierce through my heart and claim it.

I will help him find Fzoul.

I will look for the loophole in the law. I will look for the opportunity to stab him in the back. I fear my brothers in the faith will shun me, Zonas will look on me with contempt, my lord will be lost to me forever, and my mistress… I fear I will never feel her love again.

But if I choose to live on, I may still at least work for her good, if not in her name.

He can never take that away from me.

I am sorry, Mother Mystra. I do not ask for forgiveness, for I do not deserve it. But I am sorry.

I am too weak to die this way.

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continued field trip with Bane

Bane assumes Silvia’s body and flees via teleport
Gkar and Lyta end up in Waterdeep
Jaran saps Murdock

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Field-trip with Bane

(~30 Ches 1358)

The air around me comes alive with writhing colours. They catch me. They throb with the rhythm of my heart, seeming to twist around me and through me. I feel them more than I see them.

Are my eyes even open?

Yes, there is G’kar. His mouth opens. He seems to scream, but if he makes any sound, I cannot hear it.

White crosses my vision… Hot white, burning white, like the sun above me. Blues and greens flank me, spinning, like the horizon canting, the ground rising up to meet me.

In my mind, I am a child again, a pole in my hand, an enemy before me –Amem, my own brother’s son. I lunge forward, feeling the pride of strong arms and speedy legs.

His eyes dart to the right. He grins.

I am struck.

He had an ally! An honourable challenge, an honest test of our skills, the Calishite and the Tethyrian, and he secreted an ally in the tall green hay to our right? My mind reels with indignance as I discover the trap, too late.

The world wobbles. The hidden ally laughs and steps forward, another rock ready in his hand.

Zonas.

Of course.

Blue sky and green hay cartwheel, the world pitches on its side. My vision dims to black, and I think, “Father will never forgive you for this.”

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Storming Silvia’s tower