3. Clayton Nightwind

Clayton Nightwind


  • Account: Tyris2222
    Character: Clayton Nightwind

    Clayton Nightwind sat at his small desk an uneasiness overtook him as he unstoppered a vial of indigo blue ink and unfurled a bit of parchment that he retrieved from his desk drawer along with a nearly foot long quill. He looked away from the parchment for a moment, then gazed out over Tantras , Clayton's home for the past five years. Tantras, situated in an area of Faerûn called "The Vast" was well populated, its inhabitants numbered nearly twenty thousand. Tantras's notoriety was gained several years back during a period known as the Time of Troubles, it was here were two very powerful adversaries met, one of the adversaries claimed Tantras as his home.

    Clayton hesitated another moment, looking about his sparsely furnished room, a bed, a nightstand, the desk where he sat, a lantern, which he absent-mindedly reached for and adjusted a bit making the room glow a brighter shade of orange. With the added illumination a lone painting could be seen hanging on the wall near his bed, the painting depicted an upright gauntlet it's fingers upright, palm forward.

    Clayton took another deep breath then dipped his quill aptly into the vial and began to write . . .

    Good tidings to you my brother Nial,

    I hope this letter finds you in good health and great spirit I know that it has been a long time, there were long periods of time where I was prohibited from writing by my teachers whose goals were to fill my head with knowledge and as I remember you saying that my head was empty and in need of filling. My teachers have taught me well brother, I soaked up their words, I have learned much in the seminary and soon, very soon I shall be leaving this place that has been my home for the last five years.

    I have studied much but I have forgotten very little of the twelve years of my life that led to me being where I am in my life, you have been here with me the whole time the things I've experienced you will experience if you so choose. My brother, I have stood on the ground on which "He" had trod so many years ago, those stories that father use to tell us at the campfires, they are all true. How "He" battled Bane, how "Duty's Bond" was forged, how the "Triad" came to be. Nial I have so much to share with you.

    While my studies have opened doors that I never even knew existed they have not been able to close those doors that still haunt me. I still have nightmares brother, every night, always the same. It is not the night I fear, it's sleep's dark and silent gaze which chills me and tortures my soul. Not all of my answers are revealed to me here perhaps we will find my answers together?

    It is said that sometimes to go forward one must go back, so that is where I will begin, If you are able, meet me at the ruins, my goal is to reach them near the 15th day of Marpenoth, tis the day of the True Resurrection, the day "HE" rose from the dead.

    Peace be with thee,
    Clayton

    Clayton put down his quill and blew across the parchment a few times just to make sure the ink was dry before rolling it up and placing it within a scroll case. He leaned back in his chair and went over the timetable he had set forth for himself, a courier would head north to the Moonsea port of Mulmaster where he would turn east and make his way through Damara and finally Heliogabalus where he hoped Nial still resided. In the meantime Clayton would catch a ship that would skirt the northern coast of the Sea of Fallen Stars. He had to make a few stops to make, delivering documents along the way before heading north through Impiltur and then to the ruins where he was to meet brother Nial.

    Clayton smiled at the thought of his brother, three years older than he, he became his protector after their parents were killed. He did his best to help him through the troubled years that followed their passing. The ruins of Fort Vindar were a different matter, returning to the ruins would dredge up the past, Clayton was unsure if that was a good thing. Time would tell.

    Clayton let his mind wander just a little farther down the road, the Long Road actually. East on the Long Road comes Narfell, his final destination. Clayton was unclear as to the reasons why he was dispatched to the area and frankly he really didn't care as to the reason. He was trained to follow the three debts of the Penance of Duty and he would follow the tenants to fruition, his own personal problems mattered not, for he was reentering the world as a servitor of Torm.

    PROLOGUE TO NARFELL

    Clayton Nightwind visually drank in the remnants of the ruined fort, it was early morning layers of mist sheathed the landscape, pierced occasionally by javelins of light which poked holes through the forest's dark cloak. Heaps of rubble scattered around as if by scattered by the hand of some god, in places charred blackened logs that once were the palisade walls jutted upward randomly reminding Clayton of darts thrown at a dartboard by an incompetent's errant throw, tendrils of ivy ensnarled everything that stood caressing the rotting timbers the same way blood vessels weave around muscle and bone.

    For a moment Clayton dared to close his eyes, he heard the cracking of the flames, the clang of weapons, the screams . . . he opened his eyes to the silence of the morning knowing full well that he would not be able to stay here and wait for his brother to arrive. This place had this much effect on him during the daylight he could barely imagine its effect once night fell bringing along the fort's ally, darkness.

    Clayton chose his steps carefully, weaving his way around the rubble perhaps led more by his childhood memories than by his senses, broken bits of pottery, twisted pieces of rusted metal, chunks of rock and debris, there was little that was untouched during the Night of Flames nearly ten years ago. He was just about to leave when out of the corner of his eye he saw a sparkle, hi-lighted by one of those javelins of light that pierced the undergrowth. He followed the light cautiously to the source where he knelt down on one knee, with his bare hands he ripped at the ivy which now seemed to deliberately block his view, feverishly he ripped at the vines until there was nothing else left between him and his quarry, the sparkle. He grabbed at the thing, freeing it from it's hiding place for all these years. For a moment he felt as if the world was spinning then fell back on his rump, all was silent within the ruined fortress.

    Time had passed. Clayton knew that it was later in the day, yet it still seemed dark, he rose and moved through the rubble until he came to a dilapidated yet familiar doorway, he glanced in and scanned the interior recognizing the room for what it was, his home, well the remnants of what he could remember. This would do, thought Clayton, going back outside he carried in an armful of stones dropping them on the floor, he repeated the action twice before un-strapping his backpack and falling to his knees. He rummaged through his pack, found a scroll case and his writing utensils, and within a few minutes he had scribed a message. Once done he placed the message in the tube and sat it on the floor, next to it he placed the sparkling object that he had wrapped up in a piece of cloth, he then piled the rocks around the objects, it was time to get out of here, Peltarch awaited.


  • reviewed, xp pending.