A Note for a recently returning Drow
OOM:
Young Zaknafein disappeared three days after his arrival, with far less fanfare than when he arrived. He left behind him a fairly long document, written entirely in drow sigils, signed meticulously, with the year in Faerun-time. It is left with the other notes in the Bar, in plain sight. Hopefully no one else but the intended recipient will be able to read it.
I haven't the slightest idea why they'd like you. Me. This is confusing as the Abyss.
In any case, I had to get a room of my own, it's on the third floor, if that helps. Not very big, leaving the key with Bar for you to pick up.
Anyway, if you're anything like me, you'll know about debts. If you are me, you'll pay them.
As of now? I'm listing them right here, so you don't forget.
You owe that Mage, Talaerion, a very big favor.
And there's a boy, Naruto. You owe him too. He's a good boy, deserves the best. Don't disappoint him!
There's another dark elf in here; Naruto calls him Nait. He gave me a tunic,. left me in peace, surprisingly without mockery or further injuries. He's a mage. A necromancer. And I'm still in one piece. I am frankly amazed. How the hells did you get one of those to not kill you? To be willing to offer you aid? Are you... doing him or something?!
Never mind, I don't want to know.
There's a girl with dark brown hair, pale skin and a wand; another magic user. Dunno her name.
And there's a blond kid named Tyson; nice. Frightened. Brave child. Offered me a healer's kit.
You had better do right by these people, other-me. Or I'll find some way to make sure you do, after all, I am you, right?>>
In Milliways Bar:
Zaknafein of the present has arrived in the Bar, with the silent opening of a door and, keeping his foot in the door as a doorstop, to keep it open, tugs in a line of large sacks, tied very firmly. Some of them rustle softly as they make their way past the threshold, and into the Bar; some have dull thuds of wood, yet some others make a soft clatter.
There is are belts full of glass vials, firmly corked, wrapped around his waist, and over his hips.
He pauses, overcome by a blinding almost-headache, somewhat like having his mind stuffed full of faint shards of memories of things that he knows, intellectually, didn't really happen before. But... apparently they also, actually did happen. And he has the memories to prove it. Well, pieces of them, anyway. Faces. The sensation of warm hands, the taste of wine, the softness of a silk tunic. The sting of antiseptic. The scent of herb poultices.
Apparently what happens to past versions of Zak may affect the Zak of today.
He feels thoroughly disoriented, takes the note, and sinks into a seat the moment the last of the sacks make their way over the threshold.
(OOC: Completely botherable)
Young Zaknafein disappeared three days after his arrival, with far less fanfare than when he arrived. He left behind him a fairly long document, written entirely in drow sigils, signed meticulously, with the year in Faerun-time. It is left with the other notes in the Bar, in plain sight. Hopefully no one else but the intended recipient will be able to read it.
I haven't the slightest idea why they'd like you. Me. This is confusing as the Abyss.
In any case, I had to get a room of my own, it's on the third floor, if that helps. Not very big, leaving the key with Bar for you to pick up.
Anyway, if you're anything like me, you'll know about debts. If you are me, you'll pay them.
As of now? I'm listing them right here, so you don't forget.
You owe that Mage, Talaerion, a very big favor.
And there's a boy, Naruto. You owe him too. He's a good boy, deserves the best. Don't disappoint him!
There's another dark elf in here; Naruto calls him Nait. He gave me a tunic,. left me in peace, surprisingly without mockery or further injuries. He's a mage. A necromancer. And I'm still in one piece. I am frankly amazed. How the hells did you get one of those to not kill you? To be willing to offer you aid? Are you... doing him or something?!
Never mind, I don't want to know.
There's a girl with dark brown hair, pale skin and a wand; another magic user. Dunno her name.
And there's a blond kid named Tyson; nice. Frightened. Brave child. Offered me a healer's kit.
You had better do right by these people, other-me. Or I'll find some way to make sure you do, after all, I am you, right?>>
In Milliways Bar:
Zaknafein of the present has arrived in the Bar, with the silent opening of a door and, keeping his foot in the door as a doorstop, to keep it open, tugs in a line of large sacks, tied very firmly. Some of them rustle softly as they make their way past the threshold, and into the Bar; some have dull thuds of wood, yet some others make a soft clatter.
There is are belts full of glass vials, firmly corked, wrapped around his waist, and over his hips.
He pauses, overcome by a blinding almost-headache, somewhat like having his mind stuffed full of faint shards of memories of things that he knows, intellectually, didn't really happen before. But... apparently they also, actually did happen. And he has the memories to prove it. Well, pieces of them, anyway. Faces. The sensation of warm hands, the taste of wine, the softness of a silk tunic. The sting of antiseptic. The scent of herb poultices.
Apparently what happens to past versions of Zak may affect the Zak of today.
He feels thoroughly disoriented, takes the note, and sinks into a seat the moment the last of the sacks make their way over the threshold.
(OOC: Completely botherable)