D&D Discussions

Conner's Journal

Conner leaned back again the crenelatian on top of the small tower battlements, as his companions cleaned up, healed up and took stock of remaining weapons and spells after the pitched battle for the tower. A wry smile touched his lips as he closed his eyes a moment, weary now that the battle fever was passing.

It seemed as though time itself was slowing down as he contemplated the past few days. So much had happened between his last journal entry and now, he dreaded sitting down to write it all. So much it had had a profound impact on his abilities and strength.

A touch on his shoulder caused him to start, opening his eyes even as a cooling, healing wave flowed through him from that touch. Looking up, the stocky form of Kilvarn was just completing yet another activation of the wand against his shoulder.

"Ahhh, that feels so much better." Conner chuckled to Kilvarn as he started yet another activation. Kilvarn snorted when he finished. "I have to admit, fer a human, you sure can take tha damage, lad." his snort turned to a passable smile, for a dwarf, a little humor evident in his eyes. "Though ye sure can't do a lot without yer magic, now canna." He clapped Conner on the arm, bruising the newly healed skin, as Conner winced, more from the comment than the bruise. The battle was a sore point with him. Conner had gotten in a few good hits, but mostly just took hits for the ones actually doing damage to the enemy.

"It is a good thing that I am at least somewhat versed in the use of mundane weapons." he muttered to himself. "It has stood me in good stead as we fight across this accursed and desolate area, devoid of Mystra's gift of the weave."

Turning his head Conner gazed out over the vast desert, from his vantage point between one of the Crenelation. Brown sand, a pale blue sky, with streaks of black flashing through it grated against him. The absolute blankness to his vision had been troubling him since his first sight of this accursed land. Could it really have only been a couple of days?

Conner thought back to his last journal entry where they had just entered another part of the Windsong tower in Myth Drannor, with the blessing of it's guardian. The fearsome undead we faced were no match for the combined might of his magic and his companions martial skills.

Suddenly Conner let out a bark of laughter, remembering the sight of Kilvarn riding on the back of Kor and deflating that undead beholder with a single mighty blow of his warhammer. Kilvarn was bouncing all over on Kor's back and it was only Kor's ability that kept him from flying off before they reached their target, but the two of them we're quite the force that night.

Kor had wanted to do something with the dead body. Something called 'bagpipes' for a bard. Conner shrugged as he continued to look out, reminiscing as he rested his mind.

"At least the Windsong tower was healed, as far as we were capable of healing it." he smiled grimly, his eyes cold at the memory of the desecration of Mystra's statue. It was only natural when he was then told of an even greater threat to Faerun, that of the scrolls containing the lost magic of Netheril, called the Tree of Netherese, he had been so eager to pursue the perpetrators of that defiling. The blasted Sharans.

Another shadow fell across Conner, and he glanced back to see HaveAtThee staring at him. His alien dragon eyes never seemed to blink, which was a bit disconcerting. Despite that he gave the shaman a genuine smile. "Hey there, lizard lips. How are you feeling?" Conner always teased the very serious dragon shaman, but he'd never risen to the bait... yet.

"I am well, master mage." HaveAtThee replied in his soft sibilant voice. Conner couldn't tell if he was smiling or not. As a shiver ran down Conner's spine, he hoped he was. "Do you require any further healing? I have a little virtue left if you have need." HaveAtThee continued.

"No, no, Kilvarn already got to me, but thanks for checking." Conner glanced back over the sand.

"Think we'll make it in time?" he asked softly to the shaman.

"I do not know, master Conner. But I do know we cannot fail. If we do, the world that we know will be no more." came the reply after a moment of reflection from HaveAtThee.

Conner nodded. It had been made very clear to them that the Scrolls of the Netherese held the power, in the hands of the Sharans, to destroy the very fabric of Mystra's weave in Faerun. With catastrophic consequences to the rest of the world.

Even Lady Serahell at Castle Spellguard had been convinced that the Sharans intended to destroy the weave. Enough to lend them her treasured artifact. The only thing that had allowed them to travel the distance necessary to find the Terraseer. And what a piece of work he turned out to be.

Conner shook his head, his agile mind having flicked from one thought to the other as he looked out over the scorched sand, not ignoring HaveAtThee, but distracted by his thoughts.

Lady Sarehell. Now there was someone he'd wished he'd met before her untimely passing. Even as a ghost she left even him a little speechless with her beauty and wit. Ah well, no sense pining over the what-ifs in life. Too much more to live.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by HaveAtThee, "Are you thinking of Lady Sarehell again, master Conner?" he queried mildly, this time Conner swore there was a distinct curl to his slightly scaly lips. Since he'd been doing just that, Conner laughed as he smiled sheepishly.

"Am I that transparent?" Conner asked raising an eyebrow. HaveAtThee actually chuckled, ending in a small hiss as he shrugged slightly. "You always seemed to have a certain... softness when you were talking to her at the ruined Spellguard castle. You just had that same look just now."

Pondering the reply a moment, with a bit of surprise, Conner shrugged himself with a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, she did take my breath away the first time she appeared after we'd repaired that small area for her. I may actually go back there someday, if we survive all this and rebuild her whole castle just for a chance to talk with her more."

Conner looked at HaveAtThee cocking his head to one side, "Besides, I owe her for having to give up her orb to that dead, arrogant, son of a half-orc, Terraseer." He finally turned back from looking out and leaned once more against the cool stone in the shade. "Though he DID keep his word, I must admit and without that aid, we didn't have a chance to disrupt the Sharans plans."

HaveAtThee nodded and turned to leave, hesitating a moment as he turned back and said, "It aggravates me as well. Perhaps I will help you, when all this is behind us." and with that, he walked away to inquire to the health of the others.

Conner grinned as he put his arms behind his head, stretching his back. There were many possibilities if he survived the coming show-down with the sharans. That cave of the Dracolich had great possibilities as well, now that the lich was destroyed. Though finding it's phylactary might prove difficult.

Shaking himself out of the thoughts of the future, Conner stretched once more and stood. Glancing again over the desert, he turned his thoughts to the coming battle. "Who knows. We might even win. " he thought suddenly.

A small laugh just to himself and joining his companions they begin discussing whats next.