dungeons and dragons 2

[WP] D&D, You are a warlock who doesn't use eldritch blast, since to use it you must say the name of your patron, and you have kinda forgotten their name after they introduced themselves, and have been calling them by "master", "my liege", "dude"...

*****

The Eldritch section of Candlekeep was fairly well kept and even more used. Turns out ancient beings of unknowable darkness were something of a staff favorite amongst the librarians and some of the post-docs. Nevertheless, my mission was one of secrecy and self-interest. My party was not in the know.

“My lord!… Dendahhhh!” I screamed the last of my acknowledgment as unseen shocks of sheer pain rippled through my core. Coughing and gasping for air as I hunched over the ground, I tried my best to stay hopeful. I could hear laughing. My lord enjoyed my pain as expected but hopefully, he would not be too offended by my action.

“You are amazing,” the elf, Silva, chuckled softly to me in a shocking similar tone to what was in my head, “That is the last of the well-known Eldritch Horrors of the Dark. Ready to try the lessers?”

“No,” I squeaked out before entirely collapsing on the floor. My entire core hurt for the first time that wasn’t due to extreme hunger. Or exercise. We did have that climbing day in the mines that made my entire side hurt. That wasn’t the same though. This was like someone was digging into me and injecting pain into my bones.

I felt a pat on my back and then saw Silvar's slender form and white gold hair put the cursed, leather-bound tome back in its holder. Silvar's was nice, you know, for an elf. His answers were very noncommittal but when he did have information he was willing to share it was exact and deep. The Eldritch being he talked about seemed fearsome and terrifying. The voice in my head was more otherworldly. I spent a lot of time balancing things or placing objects for unknown purposes rather than manipulating people directly.

Other than the pain that I was currently in, I hadn’t actually heard my lord's whispers in quite a long time. Actually, it hasn’t been since Baldur's Gate that my lord made me collect several small trinkets that he last spoke to me. Maybe there was nothing here to be collected?

“Is there an Eldritch Horror that doesn’t like Candlekeep?” I asked after groaning into the hardwood floor.

“Not that is known to us,” Silva offered. I looked up and gave him a bit of a glare but accepted the elf’s explanation. If he had his suspicions, we’d probably start with those next anyway. “Is there anyone you are thinking of specifically?”

“I didn’t know any of the ones I have called upon,” I grunted, trying my best to drag my head up to see what the elf was doing now.

“And yet you sold your soul to it,” Silva stated more to the room to me, “For what? The knowledge you can not keep or powers you don’t remember?”

“Adventures that I never had,” I explained, “Ow! Umm. I spent my life moving from one town to another but never got to see any of it. I just wanted to be something more.”

“You definitely are that now,” Silva chuckled, “More an oddity than anything else though.”

“Hey!” I complained, “I took down the Red Dragon that was terrorizing the something-something Mines!”

“Razor Ridge?” Silvar offered.

“No,” I muttered, “I don’t know what those are but it wasn’t them.”

“How long ago did you defeat this dragon?” Silvar asked.

“A couple of months ago?” I said, trying my best to remember but couldn’t pick out a date specifically, “I think. It’s hard to tell the time in the mines.”

“That’s why Dwarves don’t keep a schedule,” Silvar chuckled to himself and it set off a chorus amongst those around me. Tapping another book before pulling it off the shelf he stopped and asked, “Maybe we are going about this the wrong way.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, rather desperately, “Is there a way with less pain? Possibly with food?”

“No,” Silvar said, shook his head, and looked at the floor around me, “Maybe it would be better to channel your lord and see if we can get him to speak his name.”

“Okay, look,” I panted, coughing a little as I put my back up against a bookshelf, “Silver, I like you. Honestly, I do.”

“It’s Silva,” Silver retorted.

“You sure?” I asked, getting a glare. Well one day, I’ll be right. Might be right. “Okay, Silva, if my lord was going to speak he would have done it already. Wouldn’t he? I haven’t heard anything for a long time.”

“That’s because you're in Candlekeep,” Silva explained like I was supposed to know what he was talking about. The elf was full of mysteries. I was full of mysteries. Maybe this made sense to someone but not to me. “Look we’ll need to set up a circle to get passed the barrier but we should be able to contact a lesser creature from the balcony.”

“AHHH!” I yelled as another ripple of pain flowed through me, “HE Doesn’t Liiike being called… Ow that hurt. That was bad. Wow. Okay, ummm, I don’t think he liked being called a lesser creature.”

Another ripple of pain ripped through my spine and I fell over.

“Everyone, take note,” Silva told the rest of the elves around him, “This creature does not like being called a lesser creature.”

More pain.

“Maybe it’s just being called a creature?” Silva asked.

Less pain but it was still uncomfortably close to searing pain.

“Why would you do that?” I asked, breathless and coughing.

“Research,” Silva explained and a chorus of agreement went out amongst the others.

—-

After the pain, searing amounts of pain at that, and some food, we made our way to a balcony. The elves were kind enough to help me up the stairs with only a small amount of dragging on their part. My feet now hurt on top of the ache in my spine and the twisting sensation in my lungs. Do I need new kidneys? If I did, Candlekeep would probably be one of the better places to find replacements.

It was bright out, a cloudless sky that reached into the horizon as the gentle breeze brought waves in with the tides. Everyone agreed it was completely the wrong atmosphere to communicate with a Great Old One. An elf, a Storm Sorcerer, was kind enough to bring gale-force winds and a cell large enough to produce lightning but not enough to pelt us with hale to our location.

Silva warned that it would take upwards of a half hour for it to work so they prepared the circle and the rituals needed to break through Candlekeep's barrier. No one was warned and no one really seemed to care. That seemed odd but librarians usually do their own thing and work on their own schedule. Maybe a random tropical storm wasn’t that out of place.

The only thing I really didn’t like about this whole thing was the fact that my skin burned from my bruises but the wind chilled my bones. I wasn’t supposed to be freezing inside but hot to the touch. That didn’t seem fair. Good. That didn’t seem good either.

Being dragged to the center of a circle didn’t seem like a good thing either but needs must and I needed a name. The elves made quick work of utilizing the storm and fire magic and some language that sounded like when I forgot my grocery list to produce a seriously uncomfortable effect. Being lifted into the air by an unseen force, I felt the air in my lungs being pulled out of me until I lost all sight and sound of those around me.

For a moment, I was entirely alone floating above a runic circle surrounded by elves trying to contact a dark lord.

That didn’t seem like a good guy thing to do.

The next was better. Air rushed back into me and life returned for a brief moment of peace. Then I hit the floor. My legs gave out, and my arms didn’t move to brace my fall but thankfully my unfortunately long nose was there to save me. The sound it made though wasn’t what it should have been.

“So good news,” Silver said, he sounded suddenly tired and panted as he spoke, “Your lord did give us a name. Two actually-“

“I think my nose is broken!” I cried out, interrupting Silver and rolling onto my side, “Silver what did my lord do to my nose?”

“Okay, so this goes into why we have two names,” Silver, now sounding significantly more disappointed than before, “His true name was very long. It makes sense though but we will need an etching of the brand you have for our notes. The second name, the one that he has reluctantly allowed you to use is Tim.”

“Tin?” I gargled as my mouth watered and my face burned.

“No, Tim,” Silver explained, “With an M. Like meat. You like meat right?”

“Neat,” I whined, “That’s good.”

“I’m going to make sure it’s written down for you,” Silver scoffed.

“Thank you,” I groaned before begging, “Can I get something for the pain?”

No one responded.

“Silver?” I groaned again, “Silver, I hurt.”

*****

THE END.