3. "Raising a Rock" (For All of Us Raising Rocks)

"Raising a Rock" (For All of Us Raising Rocks)

  • G

    Three dozen pancakes, under the tree in peltarch's commons. María is sitting there and takes out Felmar with one hand, as the other is busy holding half a pancake

    This is wondenomnomwrfull!! you should twrswallowsy them too, Felmawr!!

    She says, greedily eating pancakes as if there was no tomorrow.
    Sewriosly, these awre ammunchmuchazing…swallows

    She hands Felmar a pancake Fowr you!

    …

  • G

    Few light, warm and comfortable. Peltarch's spa seems to be the next place where María has decided to bring Felmar
    María is in bath suit and the rock is on her hands, slightly above water

    This is one of the best places, Felmawr. It's wreally wrelaxing and it helps with stwress a lot. With the whole lot of things going on lately, I thought it'd be good to bwring you hewre fowr you to be able to know that, even in situations like these, one HAS to find time to wrelax and blow stwress away.
    That helps youwr body, and youwr mind too.

    She puts the rock underwater for two seconds, then puts it out again

    Isn't it wreally nice? So..wawrm…. so quiet in hewre... yes.
    But even then, thewre's time fowr leawrning, so let me tell you how did I leawrn to pick a lock fowr the fiwrst time!

    And that's how they spent the evening, María telling him about Silea, how she taught her to pick locks and other things, and laughing about some fun stories of the old times when she lived in candlekeep…

  • G

    María is at her tower, and takes the ladder that leads to the tower's roof. She reaches for the gem inside the pouch and holds in on her hand, both facing Norwick

    You see this? It used to be a humans town. The bugbeawr's took it ovewr, allying themselves with hobgoblins, gnolls and othewr cwreatuwres… even fwrost giants!! We couldn't defend the town, they wewre too many, and we wewre too few and unpwrepawred. Few people suwrvived.

    We wreally awre wowrking hawrd on planning to get the town back, you see, and we can still fail... but people is all so detewrmined to help, puting difewrences aside and twrying to wowrk as single body.

    I'd like you to look fowrward to know people, and tightnes bounds between them, between fwriends. Because the wreal powewr doesn't lay in a swowrd, owr in a spell... but in the numbewr of people that you have that would give theiwr life to fight with you.

    She pets the rock, and heads back into her tower through the roof

  • G

    María stands in the center of Arnath, a pile of dead Quagoths all scattered around the place, presenting several marks of burnings.
    María reaches for her stone-bag and takes Felmar out of it, holding it on her hand.

    "This is one of the most dangewrous places of the undewrdawrk, Felmawr. A place that you will twry to avoid unless in company of expewrienced adventuwrewrs…owr if you become powewrful enough."

    She glances to the right, and waves her free hand in circles, saying out loud something in an ancient language. Shortly after, from a corner a crouching quagoth falls on his knees, dead.

    "And they awre sneaky too. Powewrful cwreatuwres" waves her hand and vanishes from the place…


  • Sirion's hunk of shaped and polished volcanic glass sits in a bag. Perhaps on a shelf.

    It is offered no tea.

    But that does not mean he never spoke to it.

    "It is of no consequence to me if the gnome lies or tells the truth.

    I have planned for both eventualities. To that end, I offer you the best wisdom I can.

    Never trust anyone unless you're prepared to deal with the consequences of their betrayal, up to and including your own death.

    Never eat anything you find on the floor of an outer plane.

    When bargaining with devils, always assume they have the better hand.

    When you find what you're willing to sacrifice yourself for, either tell no one…or tell everyone.

    Never admit to anything except when entering a plea in court.

    Lying is easy. Truth is where the challenge is.

    Do not plan to win. Plan to ensure your opponents fail.

    Paladins are like honey badgers. Useful when aimed properly. Cantankerous always.

    Never open a door or box, read a boo, or put on an item without checking for traps, curses, explosive runes.

    ...that is all. Have a good life. Or not."


  • The gnome… how remiss of her not to have invited that he share his name... has interest in creation.

    He sorrows for the loss of skills which must be taught by the old to the young. It is his belief that a person desirous of something ought to make it themselves from start to finish. He seems to live much in the past.

    He asked what they knew of the gnomish life; little. He spoke of there being too few gnomes to continue their culture and expressed the need for more. He shared the gnomish creation story; life breathed into gems as the Seldarine breathed into clay. He charged the six to raise their gems as gnomish children and gave Eluriel soft pouch to keep the girasol warm as she spoke to the it with love until such time as a well raised gnome produced.

    Eluriel, was not impressed. And that was before mention of soul traps left her concerned. It crossed her mind that she might have cast alignment detection spells…

    But magi gave her assurance that her talking to a gem could not result in any fell thing. As the gnome himself said, his folk love pranks. Maria recalled to mind that you can talk to folk trapped in gems. Perhaps, the gems were to serve as this old gnomes eyes and ears that he might be reacquainted with the world outside the Valley, and his insight into the lives of the other races and their opinions on his own. Perhaps. Perhaps not, but she could reach no conclusion more feasible.

    As one who herself works toward the careful preservation of lore and of the belief that without the alliance of goodly races will the evil ones gain strength, this explanation is one with which she is content.

    Eluriel’s gnome travels far and wide as she ranges. The cord she added to the pouch sees it hang at gnome eye-height and the pinprick holes allow sight. But not a sight of everywhere to which she goes by any means; when heading to certain of her haunts Girasol and the old gnome are left far behind.

    Of gnomes she reads in the Peltarch library. This she is happy to, for the barrier of misunderstanding is one which has oft led to distrust and resulted in conflict.

    She reads, “Ever curious, gnomes are drawn to adventure by a desire to see the world. Gnomes who leave their home to seek an adventurer’s life are rare. Those that do are motivated by a number of factors, but the impulsive race is often driven by curiosity more than anything else.” and thinks her surmise correct; an old gnome using the gems for armchair adventuring. “Their society is based on art; all gnomes must take up some form of art whether music, painting, cooking, building, or any other form that is considered creative.” Well! It is the way of her own People to devote themselves to one pursuit or another in spates of years. Eluriel finds great joy in the creation of create things of beauty whether that be food, jewellery, armour, or whatever else.

    The gnome is with her when she and Rasuil scout the dangerous Threespires pass. He is with her as she speaks to Ardent of the fall of Myth Drannor. And later, when she speaks of fallen Myth Drannor to the gem as high point in the history of Toril. He is with her as she hunts the Aurilite druid who is hated foe, there to see the orc caves, and there to see the destruction wrought by them on the masonry of Peltarch.

    He sees her and her companions gather the hides and steel he requested of them, and her ‘mining silver from the earth’ that becomes a battle axe as agreed, then her long candlemarks of work to produce the greatsword that was the man's true yearing – this from a desire to see him equipped with a functional weapon more than from any real desire for the amulet. So too does he watch her make a quiver more extravagant than any she would herself use.

    He is with her as she spends time shadowing groups in the wilds and to hear her resultant high approval of the order squire Hope. Guardian. How small her meaning of the word when she had taken that name. She recalled very well the substance of the conversation with Adlanail which had proved to be her Wolf interview, Ohtar’a listening in unseen. She called herself protector of the wilds and those who travel them without causing harm. Her given task had been to guide Essembra’s human hunters through the forest and instruct them on which animals they might kill, and why. In their shared journeys she showed them the beauty of the wilds that they too might come to act as its guardians. So too did she scrutinise the activities of strangers until such time as their purpose clear. She might shoot a warning arrow to direct them away from hazards, show herself to deliver instruction and careful warning to careless hunters, or to offer basic healing or herself as guide. She would clear trails, watch for fires, deal with injured animals, and cull as required. It was more than once that she had to run home for help when hunting groups paid no heed to her words. A Forest Guardian who performed her service to Solonor, her People, and the Wilds, as she saw fit.

    And a child. In thirteen years of life Thalassa learned more of the world than Eluriel had in as many decades. But even then she had the confidence that comes with knowing ones purpose. It was simply that her purpose a thing which expanded along with her knowledge of the ills of Toril.

    An expanded purpose working against what is wrong wherever it is found. Doing things which in the past she might have reviled others for and for which she has herself felt the sting of censure from those she would call ally. Things which her younger self would have thought black, that others may yet see as grey, that are in truth white. To simply attend the Oscuran revel let alone remain and answer the questions of Banites. To knowingly protect the cleric of an evil god. To present herself as the follower of one. Things with which she remains ill at ease. But to be Guardian now is to do whatever it takes for the common good.

    The gnome is with her when Nelor visits the treehouse that she might sing a Dalelands song to him with the most simple of picked mandolin accompaniments. And so too when she spoke that night of things better left unsaid had she considered her gnomish listener.

    Towards the end of the period, Girasol joins Eluriel on an extended horseback scouting mission North. Eluriel of an eve by the campfire speaks to the gnome in the trade tongue of the elven creation story, of the lives or her people, and of the gods.

    He is with her on the rare night when all her confidence takes flight. Crisp and clear on a Nars plane the occasional flurry of snow has Eluriel sitting at the edge of the small tent which is made from the light waterproof canvas that the elves call honey leather. Facing the glowing embers of her campfire, Eluriel holds the fire opal between finger and thumb, remembering the gnome’s words; Girasol will grow to be a natural beauty full of a natural fire within. In the gem she sees the reflection of a girl with coppery hair and is stricken by melancholy. An anguish that sees tears flow cold against her cheeks as the fire grows yet dimmer. Until a rare whinny pierces the other sounds of the night and Eluriel feels such jubilance at the possibility of meeting asperri that she’s out the tent in a flash and scanning the dark sky without a further thought to her cares. Only a moon elf.

    Perhaps the gnome saw all of this. Perhaps not.

    The month at its end, it was time for Eluriel to return to the Silver Valley along with Girasol and the materials reqested by the gnome.

    The Yew Tree
    http://www.candlekeep.com/library/articles/milil/yewtree.mp3
    (lyrics adapted from a Scottish song of the same name)

    _Close by the Ashaba, on the Rauthauvyr’s Road
    Stands a yew tree two thousand years old
    And the old women swear by the grey o' their hair
    That it knows what the future will hold
    For the shadows of Dalesfolk stand round it
    'Mid the kale and the corn and the cows
    All the hopes and the fears of two thousand long years
    Under the Dalelands sky

    Chorus:
    My bonnie yew tree
    Tell me what did you see

    Did you look through the haze o' the long summer days
    Tae the South and the Sembian border
    Or the great pans of salt on Sessrendale’s fields
    Did they march by your side in good order
    Did you ask them the price o' their glory
    When you heard the great slaughter begin
    For the dust o' their bones would rise up from the stones
    To bring tears to the eyes o' the wind

    Not once did you speak for the poor and the weak
    When the Zhentish troops lay in your shade
    To count out the plunder and hide frae the thunder
    And share out the spoils o' their raid
    But you saw the smiles o' the Network
    And the laughter of Tyrants at pains
    When the poor hunt the poor across mountain and moor
    The rich man can keep them in chains

    Did you no' think tae tell when nycaloths freed
    That the Army of Darkness was grown
    To the City of Song who lived in unity
    O’ the races who thrived in its walls
    But you knew the forces who came then
    All the deaths in the Weeping War
    Trio free from their jail due to forgotten lore
    To take revenge for those years

    And I thought as I stood and laid hands on your trunk
    That it might be a kindness to fell you
    One kiss o' the axe and you're freed frae the racks
    O' the sad bloody tales that men tell you
    But a wee bird flew out from your branches
    And sang out as never before
    And the words o' the song were two thousand years long
    And to learn them's two long thousand more

    Last Chorus:
    My bonnie yew tree
    Tell me what CAN you see_

  • G

    _María enters her Tower and goes to the living room. "Pwrepawre table fowr one mowre pewrson, Elva"
    She drops her bagpack on a corner, and quietly sits, waiting for the dinner to be served. Once Elva arrives with dinner she takes a small pouch and takes a cat's eye gem from it, putting it on the table, next to the bowl of soup.
    "Felmawr, this is Elva, my daughtewr." makes a pause "you can eat as much as you want. I will show you to youwr wroom latewr, and intwroduce you to someone vewry deawr to me."

    They eat in silence, María not speaking a word about the gem, and Elva not asking at all either, perhaps due to the glares María would give her if she tried. When they are done with dinner she asks politely "Awre you done with this, Felmawr?" After waiting a few seconds, María nods and takes the soup bowl away along with hers and Elva's.

    After a while washing dishes she gets back to the table and takes Felmar, showing the tower to the gem, even the enchanting laboratory. After that , they go to the first floor and enter the library. She produces a cage with a pillow and a small piece of cloth as a blanket, and tucks the gem in.
    "In case you can't sleep, you can wread this book hewre" She says, while she reaches for a Book about Mystra and magic from one of her bookshelves. She places it standing, next to the stone, opened by the first page.

    "Now I'll intwroduce you the wreason why I picked you and youwr name"

    María raises her hand, and draws a cat's face in the air with her index, murmuring some words. A short brief moment of nothing, then a large black panther appears out of thin air. Kitty.

    "This is Kitty, my best fwriend, my familiawr. It's a feline, hence the fiwrst pawrt of youwr name. Fel. The second pawrt of youwr name, mawr, it's beacuse of my own name, Mawría. I wanted to wreflect in youwr name the bound between Kitty and myself. He'll take cawre of you tonight"

    That said, María leans forward to kiss kitty's forehead. Pats him on the back of his neck and heads off to her room.
    Kitty spends all the night next to Felmar, and every now and then, Kitty flips a page from the book. Whether he's reading or he's doing it for Felmar… welll.. who knows._


  • Aelhaearn secures the pouch in one of his many pockets and sets off on horseback for a tour of the Nars.

    In Peltarch he brought his garnet child to the docks district and showed her (for he had started thinking of the red gemstone as "her") how to manufacture a disguise with which to blend into the corners of a seedy watering hole and gather information from the loose-lipped drunkards and gossipy barmaids and whores that plied their craft there. Here he introduced her to Fenz and demonstrated a game of dice.

    He brought Cor'Azon to the gates of Oscura where he whispered into the pouch that this blight under the land was very dangerous and for her to keep her eyes open and her mouth shut. He quietly showed her the well, the evil churches, the slave market, and that horrible hole the dark spirits came out of beyond the long bridge. They quickly stole away back to the surface and fresh air and he shared a knowing look with her. He confessed his sadness that the City of Evil was allowed to flourish while other towns, good towns with good people, would face their destruction.

    He brought her to the Camp, the ghostly, empty reminders of what it once was and what it came to be. He told her of Jerr and Cera and the dark days when the fires of people's hearts and hearths were extinguished. He clambered up to the roost and spoke to Cor about romance and love and why this place was special to him. Here too the sounds of laughter and music and magic - only occasionally carried on the breeze to the Camp below - could be heard from where the Shesae elves were busy developing their new home.

    He carried her next to the Long Road, to see where the Shesae used to call home when he had been Coran, where Eluriel and Meril's home was, and then showing her the great scar in the land and telling her how the ruined town on the other side used to be his favorite town in Narfell and home to some of the noblest heroes in the land. They took the boat over and he dispatched some undead that haunted the empty ground where the Sisterhood had stood. He told her what little he knew of the war with N'Jast and how sad it was and how sometimes the powers that be decide that a town is going to die and there is nothing that mortals can do about it.

    From there it was on to Norwick, the town where most adventurer's stories began, the start of it all, the last link to Narfell's barbarian past. He told her about the wild magic, the rogue's guild in the second-hand store, the crafty gnome merchant in the center of town and his half-vampire wife. He told her about delivering invoices and payments, and about the vermin infestation in the old barn. He slipped into the barracks and showed her his old locker. Next was into the town hall to show her his office, where he introduced her to the lovely Belinda. Afterwards, Cor gushed about how pretty Belinda was and how taken with Ael'haearn she seemed to be. Before they left, Ael left an arrow on Locrian's desk. The elf and the garnet laughed about it all the way home.

  • T

    Making the rounds was a fairly normal activity for the young half elf. Generally this included a trip to the shrine of Chauntea to check for any reports of missing loved ones, ducking into the barracks to dump an armful of random goods within her packed locker, read the reports, and then deliver some remains to somewhere. For years she had clamored for some way to show her dedication to Kelemvor and had almost no opportunity to do so. Recently, she had come across more abandoned remains in a year than the previous five combined.

    Today, it was a dwarf skull to return to the Dwarvan Hold, handing the cloth wrapped and rune scarred remains to the priest who furrowed a heavy brow at the orc insult to his people. It was good she did not understand dwarvan because it just all sounded awful as he expounded dramatically while she stood there feeling rather awkward. He had all manner of ham fisted gestures, declaring this and denying that was all she could pick up from this exchange until she was able through small steps backward to escape.

    "Yeah Horizon, I'm not really good with comforting people in grief. I really should be, I deal with a lot of grief. I just always feel so awkward and want to let that person just be sad. I figure, if you lost your loved one you have a right to be sad without me telling you all kinds of empty platitudes about it. But then I look heartless because I stand there staring like a deer. Maybe you can invent some proper way to deal with sad people you barely know that both eases their pain and my overwhelming awkwardness. " She remarked dryly to the rock as she made a hasty path out of the hold.

    She stretched in the afternoon air and observed the sun high in the sky.
    "Well, what to do now? I feel like I am not really educating you in anything practical. I want to try but i realize I don't do anything practical or wise with my life. The other day, I took you to my almost certain demise to an orc army. I have taken to my almost certain demise to an Aurilite. To my almost certain demise in an entirely different orc cave. I am really just teaching out the many and varied methods to kill yourself. Which….which is not my intent!" She sighed and jogged toward Spellweaver, heading up the hill and through the gate.

    Once inside the lower level of the structure she set her hands triumphantly on her hips.
    "Here! Here I can teach you something worthwhile!" Omar gave her a look, brief and polite, he must deal with a healthy amount of crazy people talking to themselves.
    "This is a smart decision, invest in your education. All my work is not getting killed, some of it is research. I spend a fair amount of time here, I see these books as filling in the gaps for me. Sure, I can go find the crystals or dig up the history of the Defiler, but I can also read about it in safety. These people made sacrifices for your knowledge, may as use it." She walked to a shelf and pulled down a book, opening it with a creak of the leather binding.

    "I used to come here a lot when I was too weak to find anything myself. These words were all I had beside brief forays to be scared off by goblins. " She smiled fondly and ran her fingertips over the page before glancing around the grand Spellweaver library. A well lit and clean place, meticulous as the mages who called it home. It seemed the opposite of her own dirty and haphazard work and she admitted a fondness for it.

    "I always wanted to be a wizard, you know? I would greatly admire you if you went that path or had some innate magical talent. Not everyone is made to be a scout and certainly your magic could do wonders if you were a craftsmen. It seems particularly gnomish to imbue your creations with magical force. So perhaps this is a good place to show you, to teach you about."
    She chuckled, thinking for the first time she had taught Horizon something useful.
    "Much safer than where we have gone recently!" She then lifted another text, this one on poetry and began to read to the gem, books piling upon books as she read from this one or that. As the unruly book collection around her grew, the afternoon wore on until with the dusk she could be found asleep with her head on a dusty tome and the gem in her palm.


  • A home wrecking garnet gnome…

    "You know how you said you'd like to have another baby?"

    Nicahh's eyes lit up as she looked to her husband, him peeling off the too tight leathers he was wearing. "Yes…You are ready?" She said as she hopped up to help him out of his leathers faster.

    He softly shook his head with a smile. "I have something better."

    "Better than a baby?" She said tilting her head, then added with an impish smile. “Better than making a baby?”

    "Oh, it's a baby..." He said before the rest of her comment had set root in his mind. He grinned then barely able to control himself as he then held out a hand. "Of sorts."

    Dropped in her hand was a little leather pouch lined in fur, the center of it hardened as if containing a tiny rock. "Her name is Cor'azon and we should speak kind words to her, and teach her about the land we live in." He said as he then stepped up and started kissing on his wife’s neck.

    Nicahh stepped back opened the leather pouch, her looking over the shimmering garnet inside, then back to her husband. Once again, she looked down at the gem, then back at Aelhaearn. Finally after a bit of thinking, she walked over to her dresser and laid the pouch on it before picking up a hairbrush and began to gently comb through her hair.

    Aelhaearn smiled, him looking over at her. "Nicahh... what are you doing?"

    "Brushing my hair."

    "Why?"

    "Because I have a date."

    "A date?" He said arching a thin eyebrow.

    "Mhmm. I never thought the day would come that I would find Locrian Danister to have more sanity than you. I'm going to go see if he is still single."

    A well-known twitch came to the corner of Aelhaearn's mouth. Standing in silence for a few moments, debating whether to explain the gem or not, Aelhaearn finally made up his mind as he stepped over to his wife. With his hands on her shoulders her leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

    "Tell Locrian I said hello and I'd still love to have him over for dinner sometime."

    Without any further words, Nicahh stood up and walked out of the room, then out the front door.

    Picking up the pouch, Aelhaearn smiled as he spoke to the gem. "That's the love of my life... she grows on you. Or you'll hate her. Honestly, it could go either way..."

    And with that, the mismatched eyed elf smiled as he told the story of his life, his family and his time in Narfell to Cor'azon.

  • A

    Romulus is raising a gem as a gnome baby too. His is an amethyst, chosen for the dazzling colors and named "Darlene" after the most dazzling woman he knows. He didn't say whether that was the name of his wife, his mother, or some other woman.

    Rom hasn't taken Darlene out of the pouch that much. He has carried her everywhere, but preferred to keep her safe. He did show her to Gnarl, who thought it was a little wierd and asked if this was a joke. Not enough imagination.

    But Rom has been busy composing a song. He first mentioned it during the initial meeting with the old gnome, when the rest of the party was growing impatient and didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Rom passed Ardent a bottle of Halfling beer and suggested she give it to him. That seemed to please the old gnome, so Rom offered to sing a song called the Tale of the Whale and the Washer Woman.

    He meant it as a joke, but Eluriel took him seriously and has asked about it several times. So Rom decided to compose the tale for Darlene and sing it to her. It's not quite finished yet, but the opening verse is done.

    There once was a lady named Bright
    Whose girth was as great as her height.
    She labored all day
    Doing laundry for pay,
    And folded and ironed at night.

    Now he has to figure out how to get the whale in there.

    Login: AubreyMaturin
    Character: Romulus Grey

  • T

    Stubbing a toe hurt. It hurt in an almost unfair way, far more pain in comparison to far more serious injuries. It lurked there at the end of her foot, pulsing occasionally with an annoying amount of sensation. Had she been patrolling the goblin woods, she would not have cared as much. But she was up to her neck in spiders wandering their hunting paths through the wood or seeing to their webs. She did not have time to fixate on her wayward digit!

    She grumbled as she picked a careful and precarious path through the the underbrush, moving as silently as a ghost past hair thin almost invisible strands that festooned this place. She would pause on occasion to press tightly to a tree trunk as one of the creatures passed. Eight eyes she could see the leaves reflected in shone like gems set into a crown, hair covered delicate legs picked their path precisely, and their rounded bodies bobbed between. She had to admire them and whispered to Horizon as one magnificent white one paused to groom itself.

    "A spider is a very good predator. You see, they aren't looking for me with their eyes, they are feeling for me. If I brush one of these strings, they will feel it on the hairs on their legs and body. See." She outstretched a slender finger to just lightly twang a length of spider silk and as she did, moved smoothly behind the tree. The white spider stopped cleaning it's two rows of eyes and turned toward her direction. Pedipalps moved eagerly near it's fangs and it slowly picked a path to investigate the string as she slipped southward to the next tree. Finding nothing, it continued to groom.
    "always assume they can see you. Always assume they know you are here. So you will move thinking they actively are hunting you, which they might be. Never think you are hidden because then you grow complacent. Then you make a mistake, Horizon. She continued onward, hugging cliffsides and trees, going flat on her belly in shrubs. All the while cursing her stupid toe. The pain faded in time and she could climb a tree to examine a tightly woven sack of eggs.
    "You can feel them moving inside sometimes, like a steady thrum under your hands. They will consume one another when they hatch. So while they are good predators, we shall never be ruled by wicked spider overlords. It is why the drow just cannot achieve that much. A society built around backstabbing will never do as well as one built around cooperation. These spiders are so fixated on their bellies, they will never be a serious threat." She said absently and slid down the bark to land with a soft thump in the dead leaves.

    "ah but why do I keep coming here? What really draws me to this place time and time again? Ah Horizon, I say it is to watch them or to scout or to …keep an eye on the goblins but really? It is because I can. So curse me for my foolish pride but maybe a little pride is not so bad, okay? Just keep it to yourself." She gave a great wide grin and set her hands on her hips, looking over the chasm at the field of creatures that could slay her in a wayward blow.