3. Lucidious

Lucidious


  • Placeholder for stories about lucidious. I'll move my story from the history archives here.


  • Lucid plays a pattern

    It was a box of polished silver trimmed with red and gold. the red patterns were along the box edges, making them seem sharp as thorns. The gold traced delicately though from edge to edge over its surface in a seemingly endless mess of lines, no rhyme or reason to it. The elf sat in the old chancellors chair staring at it, hoping to pick out something meaningful, a mark or -something- he had missed all those other times toying with the thing. Nothing. He wrinkled his nose and leaned back in the oversized chair. with a quick practiced motion, the elf brought a spell to focus.

    The candle light seemed to dim a moment. Lucidious squinted, as he always did, though he knew the spell had nothing to do with his natural eyes. The gold pattern soon became a series of glowing threads in his mind. They moved, peeling away from the silver box. The threads floated in a space in around and though it. Nothing seemed to hold them in place, but they did maintain a shape.

    He began to rub his chin with his left hand, his right then arching over the box, brushing against the threads. They reacted as they had before, swaying to his will rather than his motion, lifting toward his open palm then settling back into their original shape. A big glowy golden mess of a web. He held his hand over the box a moment, getting a feel for the pattern…following the threads with his mind as far as he could till they blurred together into obscurity somewhere at the center. He knew, if he could not grasp that far, he'd never open it....despite that thought, he tried again.

    Drawing a breath, he held it a moment, then opened himself to the pattern as he exhaled. Unconsiously, the elf worked his fingers, pulling at invisible threads as a puppeteer might work a marionette. He knew it wasent necessary to move a all, but he couldn't help it. It just felt right. The pattern ebbed, bending around his will for a moment, until he was able to grasp at a starting point. Then, drawing just enough from the weave, he focused the power from his pattern to that of the box. The thread he had caught glowed in response. Others in the pattern slowly faded as others then grew brighter. He grinned at that. It felt like a big game to him. A puzzle that begged to be solved. He watched the power from the weave trickle down through the pattern, connecting one thread to another, flowing at his will. He connected the points made sense to him, those that felt right to him. He had only just begun to relax and enjoy the game when a center thread collapsed, fading from view. With a frown, he worked faster, following as far as he could, but the other threads were fading as quickly as he worked. It took but another moment before the thing collapsed completely, growing dark in his mind. The power from the weave slipped from his grasp spilling out into the room. It was again absorbed my nature, becoming apart of that ambient glow always present when he could see magic. The elf sighed, then gave a small smile as whatever empowered the box took hold of the threads again, leaking just enough power to revive the pattern. The gold threads rose up, took shape, and the original pattern came back to life.

    Propping his feet up on his desk, Lucid leaned over to pull a small flask from the drawer with a sigh. He took a mouthful and grimaced, it burned going down. He never bothered to ask Penny what it was, but he made a mental note to ask. He loved the stuff, whatever it was. He turned back to the box, taking careful sips every now and then, considering what to try next with his new toy...


  • The Statue

    The doors to the great hall swung open, creaking and popping at the hinges. It was late in the day, the sun casting a long shadow down the hallway as the elf entered. The guardsmen closed the heavy oak doors behind him. The room went quiet.

    His form shimmered only for a moment longer before the spell expired, changing from a translucent ghostly form to that of a red and white robed elf. Tipping his head forward, he slipped his silver helm off carefully, letting out a small sigh as he did. With a nod to the herald, the elf padded across the open empty hall silently to the door at the back of the room to the next floor. The chancellor's floor. He locked the door shut behind him and tested it to be safe. He already knew far too many sneaks as it were, and he hated being followed.

    Running a hand though his hair, the elf looked over the last few crates to be shipped to Oscrua. They all needed to be accounted for and marked…lucid had decided today would be the day for that. "a vacation of sorts" he had told Ann as he left the gate. "I don't want to be disturbed for the next two days at least." And though he had planned to visit Jiyyd, he never did leave that office.

    He found it in among the odds and ends from one of Milshots chests. Among the bottles of healing and strength potions, scrolls and piles of trading gems, was some small idol. It was wrapped in parchment and bound by black ribbons. "odd" he thought "didn't think Milshot a man of much faith...".

    With an amused smirk, Lucidious held the thing up, testing its weight. It was heavy and solid "perhaps carved of marble" he muttered...and couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Milshot carrying the idol of some patron god or goddess in his trunk. Curiousity got he best of him. He carefully undid the ribbons and pulled way the paper, his fingers gripping in and around the two nubs on the one side of it where he could hold it best with one hand.

    The elf saw flesh. Flesh with as series of scars etched into it. He was holding a statue of lady Nicahh and he suddenly realized his fingers were wrapped around ... her boobs.

    His eyes went wide, he let out a gasp and lurched. He let go and the thing went flying up in the air. He watched in horror as everything came together in his mind.

    "There is something of mine I need from the chancellor's office..." she had told him the other day.

    it spun in the air picking up speed as it dropped

    "...you'll know it when you see it" was all he could get out of her. He thought little of it at the time.

    it bounced off the crate and the elf winced as it continued to tumble.

    In his mind he could see her talking to William later that same day. She handed a healing potion back to Will...

    "Save it."
    "for an elf"
    "who might need it if he doesn't return my statue"

    Suddenly, it all made sense. All he could manage to say in that moment almost frozen in time...

    "oooohhh faaaaark"

    it hit the floor hard. Something small went flying from it. His jaw dropped. He just stood there in awe of his own clumsiness...of his horrible luck...of the statue of lady Nicahh, showing the elf much more of her than he should ever know. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

    "oh, that's good..that's just wonderful!!"

    The elf looked to the celling, narrowing his eyes at the thought of the gods looking down at him amused. he let out an elven cruse, then picked the thing up. The hand that had been strategically place...obviously by some greedy eyed bard...had broken off.

    "oh for the love of...who would..." but his words fell short as he turned the work over and saw her back. A series of scars and a tattoo. Dark black raven wings down the length of her back, or so he thought as he looked it over. He couldn't help wonder why ... but the thought only lasted a moment and with an annoyed groan, he wrapped the thing again and tied it with the ribbon as it was. Then, crawling on his hands and knees, he searched till he found the hand, holding it up with a sigh of relief.

    The elf rolled his eyes. "Great. How in the hells can I fix this?" He slumped in the old chancellor's chair, placing her on the table next to his papers and inkwell. He shook his head and thought a moment. then it came to him.

    "Genzir!" he clapped his hands with a chuckle and started on another word, but the statue cut him off....with a moan. His eyes went wide.

    Lucid just sat there and watched in amused astonishment as the statue of Nicahh writhed about in the paper until it fell over. Then she kicked, knocking a few papers off the desk. He just sat there as she did...her thing. It was a full five minutes before she stopped. It took him a moment to find his words again when it was all over...

    "Ahem ... well that was ... interesting ..." then cleared his throat.

    Lucidious studied the workings of the thing, via magical and mundane methods, for well into the night. It would take a craftsman and an enchanter some time to fix what was broken...if it could be fixed at all...


  • He paused just outside his room at the boarshead and corked his wine bottle before opening the door. His ears perked at the sound of wind whistling though the open window. His pack dropped to the floor and he took a quick step back. The elf's eyes darted about the small room looking for the pseudo dragon, but the room was empty. He let out a sigh of relief then quietly made his way across to latch the window shut.

    Setting the wine bottle on the table, he slipped out his red robe revealing the black form fitting bodysuit underneath. He hung the robe on a peg on the back of the door, then slumped into the chair by the table and closed his eyes a moment. The familiar was free now, and it was silly to expect it would come back for any reason. His eyes opened and focused on the window again. He smiled suddenly thinking it may have been the mephit.

    Again he found himself pouring a mug of wine as he had done for many nights now. Again he was thinking her and their time at the festival. The things he had done, things he should have done. He went over it again in his mind wondering what could have happened if he had stayed … not even realizing his free hand was exploring the grove of the scar on his chest.

    He downed the mug quickly and in that moment wolf's words surfaced in his mind. His lips curled into a frown. He took a drink straight from the bottle, letting out a satisfied sigh at the end and tried to think of something more pleasant. The elf swung his legs up, propping his feet on the table and eased back balancing on one leg of the chair. He rocked himself back and forth there, taking several more draws from the bottle, visibly relaxing more and more each time. He wondered where she was at that very moment … and if she might be having a glass of wine as well.


  • "I awoke to nothing but darkness. I thought perhaps I had fallen to a darker place but after a moment my vision returned and again I was among the living. The priestess Corana was there … she was the one who brought me back."

    She was again storming down the path to jiyyd, war axe in hand. Lucidious stopped cold in his tracks, the wind knocked out of him at the sight of her. He couldn’t breathe as the feeling of panic set in again. It stuck in his chest burned for a moment as his eyes fixed on her ... or rather the mark on her face. His body finally gave and he gasped for a breath. She paused noticing him on the road, then approached with a confidant stride.

    "Good evening Lucidious"

    Having regained his composure, standing straight now he attempted to be civil with the woman.

    "Is there a problem?" he winced a bit as he gesturing to her axe, the blade smeared with red.

    "Not anymore." she replied with a crooked grin.

    The look that followed her response disturbed him. He turned slightly looking past her down the road and wished she hadn't stopped. There was a long pause. He was waiting for her to speak ... for an opportunity to dismiss himself without appearing rude. She said nothing. He could see her grin widen from the corner of his eye. His calm appearance now faded with a nervous frown. She had the upper hand with him and she seemed to enjoy watching him squirm.

    "I was just on my way to peltarch..." He didn’t look at her as he spat out the lie. "...if you would excuse me, I will be on my way." He bowed his head to her, as he did to most, and started down the path not waiting for her reply.

    She couldn’t resist "Of course..." she replied while tapping her chest plate "...do be safe in your travels Lucidious."

    The elf stumbled just slightly, just enough for her to know. He continued at a slightly faster pace than before, a scowl on his face .. and of course, he rubbed his chest. He could feel the impression of the scar beneath and managed to control another panicked gasp for breath.

    "Its all in your head Lucid" he mumbled to himself "Just breathe now. Breathe." His pace slowed, his breathing became normal, and a moment later he realized he was on the road to Peltarch.


  • He made his way back to the Boarshead walking slowly lost in thought. Shay was back from the dead and he had kept his word to her. She seemed healthy and in good spirits… but having held her dead body in his arms, it would take some time for that image to fade from his memory. He had a hard time looking her in the eye today…and an even harder time speaking with her. That in its self was enough to keep him drinking for a few days, but then Wolf showed up.

    He pulled his long silvery hair back behind his ears and looked up to the Boarshead. It was getting dark and he was drained…not from combat or the wine. From talking with Wolf. He was still coming to terms with what he had said. Wolf wanted to know the truth…and Lucid wanted to run from it. But this time, he didn’t run. He spoke his mind expecting to be beaten to a bloody pulp by the quiet druid.

    Lucid let out a slight cynical laugh and paused at the door to the inn. He reached to the door and thought for a moment that it may have been better of for him to take the beating and hide the truth. He hoped he could avoid Raisa and Wolf for a few days at least. He hoped he could find a way to earn back her respect….but really, that was just another lie. He didn’t care about anyone respecting him right now. Right now he just wanted to be Wolf. He knew it was pointless to dwell on it, but he couldn’t shake the thought or the feeling from his mind.

    He shrugged and tried to comfort himself. “Youre still young Lucid. A few centuries from now and they will be but a distant memory…” He was still frowning and went quiet as he opened the door. Seemed today he had a talent for saying the wrong thing, even when talking to him self.


  • Lucid wheeled around at the sound of Drear hissing. His right hand released and went for his crossbow…sending his half empty bottle of wine spiraling to the ground. The crossbow swung on his shoulder strap, raised to his hip and he gripped the trigger just at the bottle crashed onto the rock beneath his feet. He jumped, releasing the bolt high into the air, completely missing his target...a frenzied goblin swinging wildly at the pseudo dragon. Lucid cursed at himself and fumbled for another bolt in the quiver at his hip. That’s when the rocks started flying. The first few came at drear sailing past or bouncing of its hide. By the time lucid loaded the bolt, the rocks were coming for him. He side stepped the first, then took a hit in the chest as he launched another bolt. Again he missed his target hitting a nearby tree instead. He stumbled back, lowered his crossbow and scanned the trees. He could make out three or four of them running forward from the other side of drear, knives and clubs in hand...

    Drear lashed out with his claws, sending the goblin staggering toward lucid. The thing was bleeding, but readied his club to return a blow just as it noticed lucid from the corner of its eye. Lucid reached for another bolt as the goblin leapt at him screaming wildly. Drear launched down toward it, but was too late. It struck a hard blow on Lucid’s right side knocking the wind out of him. The elf threw the bolt into the air and dropped to his knees. The pseudo dragon slammed into the goblin and they hit the ground in a fury of clawing and swinging. Lucid got to one knee and looked to the group of goblins approaching...they were almost on top of him now. Without another thought, lucid arched his arms around into a ball chanting and pulling at the weave with his thoughts. He tore the pattern around him apart, drawing the threads of the weave through his arms down to his hands then into the space before him. He focused his thoughts...his anger and rage on the sparking fire at his fingertips and in that moment he saw his mistake ... but it was too late. The goblins now only a short distance away stumbled and skid to a halt. One squealed and tried to run as the elf spout out the last words of the spell, a ball of sparks swirling in his hands. The elf arched his back, swinging the growing ball of flame around over his head then releasing in an arc to the group of goblins. The fireball cracked with a thunder boom on impact. The goblins blew apart by the sheer force of the blast. Then flames lashed out from the flashpoint. Lucids eyes went wide as they engulfed him, drear and the pack of supplies … including his collection of Romani wine.

    Later, he would recall hearing his pack explode several more times before all went quiet.


  • The wind carried the creature though the night sky to the quiet town of Norwick. It circled the Boarshead several times, getting closer with each pass, then gently gliding and settling on the sill of an open window. It slinked inside the dark room and made a soft hissing to alert the elf.

    Lucidious sat in a chair, his head down on a small table in the room. His ears twitched as the creature slipped into the room. Slowly he raised his head from the table and let out a long weak sigh. His fingers explored his right shoulder, now bandaged and blotched with red…his fingers followed the wrappings down his side and he winced in pain. He let out another sigh as he slowly turned his head enough to look at the thing. He slowly spoke to it in dragon tongue

    “What news?”

    “No sign of Arcome. Nothing of the hin woman. Vescar says they are nowhere to be found.”

    Lucidious frowned and turned away, staring down at the table. A moment later he glanced to his pack on the floor by his chair.

    The creature moved closer into view, getting a better look at the elf and his wounds. Its green eyes flickered back and forth: the elf, his pack, the empty bottles by the bedroll and the nearby coin purse. The creature fixed its gaze at the coin purse. It was full. It turned back to the elf and cocked its head sideways. It narrowed its eyes and hissed:

    “what have you done?”

    Lucidious lifted his head and looked into the pseudodragon’s eyes.

    “I took the gold. I work for Norwick now.”

    “Norwick?” its head swayed back and forth considering him “you mean Rando.”

    Lucidious growled back “No. I work for Norwick…” his eyes moved off, fixing on a spot on the wall where he had left a scratch earlier with his blade. “…Rando just happens to be the Lord Protector at the moment…”

    Drear turned and trotted toward the window, scoffing as it did “Its as if you beg for death. If you toy with this one, he will not hesitate to kill you.”

    Lucidious reached out to the spot on the wall exploring it with his finger very carefully, a lost look on his face. “…yes, I know” he finally replied. Drear looked back a moment “Boy, you had best find your place here. You would do well to follow that Oreth, or even that other Penny character. Those you can make sense of. With them you would be safe. But rando…”

    Lucidious barked back “Know your place Drear!”. The pseudodragon went quiet and watched him there in the dark a moment. It seemed their more meaningful conversations always ended this way. Drear hissed and leapt out the window, disappearing into the night sky.

    Lucidious glanced back, then turned to the mark on the wall. He was thinking of Raisa again. She had heard him out before and given him good advice. He felt more lost now than ever before. The elf rubbed his face with both hands and looked to his pack.

    “Not sensible enough to know when to shut your damn mouth Lucid.”

    He chuckled and pulled back his silvery hair before slowly making his way to his pack.

    “You can’t talk to her. She’ll tell wolf, then Oreth…”

    He shivered at the thought of what Oreth might do and hastily pulled a bottle of Romani wine from his pack. He quickly popped the cork and took a deep drink from the bottle, backpedaling toward the chair. He slumped down into it with a moan and kicked his feet out onto the table. He shook his head and let his mind wander to more happy thoughts.

    “I should have danced with her” he looked back to the scratch on the wall and chuckled “If only I had a bottle of wine that day.” He held up the wine and watched it swirl as he shook the bottle gently.

    “Then I could have been someone else. Not an investigator. Not a wizard studding someone else’s theory on this or that. I could have been like everyone else.” He paused to take another drink. He nodded to himself and questioned the mark on the wall. “What if she had said yes? Even with everyone standing about watching…I think I would have enjoyed that moment.”

    Lucidious went quiet staring at that spot on the wall, considering what he had said. Slowly a smile spread across his face. He could see himself with her, holding her in his arms, simply watching her as they moved in the firelight. He could hear penny’s song perfectly in his mind. He could see himself with her…but not Elredrith. His smile faded and he looked back to his bottle.

    “You're a damn fool lucid.”

    He shook his head and took another drink. He sat quietly the rest of the night thinking only of what could have been.