Metamorphosis



  • Entry 1
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    Even after forty years filled with life-altering experiences, it still amazes me how easily my world can collapse around me. I haven't written anything down in some time, but I bought this little journal today with the hope that seeing my thoughts would be instructive somehow and might bring me some sort of direction.

    We set off nearly six nights ago - me, General Grag, Rary, Hedia, Peppy, and Gears - for the peak of the Coldstones in search of the treasure Sharn was rumored to be harboring in his cave at the peak. Sneaking through his lair under the veil of invisibility was Grag's plan. Frankly, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me, though judging by the tentative looks the others were giving him, they were clearly less sure. I had been midway up the mountain once before, but this time our group managed to make it all the way to the peak and into the giant king's home. Invisibility proved invaluable in avoiding the more powerful giants, just as Grag predicted, but it couldn't fend off the bone-chilling cold brought on by the furious mountain winds. With every passing moment at the peak, I felt as though I would seize up mid-stride, frozen from within like some sort of depraved statue to the weaknesses of mortality.

    I still have no recollection of how long we were in the cave, or how deep we had progressed. Gears and I were on trap duty, stealthed much of the time so we could work while the others kept track of the lumbering guards who sought to halt our progress. I know we were careful. Impeccably so. But as we pushed ahead down a long corridor, I saw the electric charge leap between us like a lightning bolt from the heavens. As my heart sputtered in shock and my breath suddenly left me, I had just enough time to curse Tymora for abandoning me again, before my vision went black. We missed one.



  • Entry 12
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    It has been so long since I last wrote that I had forgotten what the smell of fresh, untouched paper actually smelled like. Much has happened since my last entry, but yet oddly, nothing has really changed.

    My baby never survived my brush with death. In the end, it probably was for the best, since it turns out Wolf actually was possessed, and it would have been born a demon. He married Raisa shortly thereafter, and despite some turbulence that followed, we can actually all smile at one another again when we pass each other on the streets.

    Eo is still gone. She lives, I know, because I can still feel her through our bond. Where she is, though, I have no idea. A scout's life can be like this at times, disrupted for some special assignment with no clear-cut timetable or endpoint. I suppose she could be anywhere on Faerun by now, so a search would probably be futile.

    I'll end up searching for her anyway.

    My relationship with Lucidious has turned purely antagonistic at this point. I can't say I really understand why.

    A large ink blot follows that sentence, where a pen was clearly left to linger for too long.

    I suppose it's related to how I've seen him change since becoming Chancellor. Power can do odd things to people. It can take them from awkard individuals who are frightened of even their own shadows, and transform them into individuals who let their circumstances and actions hide their true selves from the world.

    Another large ink blot follows that sentence.

    I can't believe I just wrote that sentence. Me, Penny Lane. Queen of the "Run Away and Forget". But you know what, power isn't the only thing that changes people that way. Greed, lust, anger, envy. All of them do. And the worst part of it all - we can't do a damn thing about it. Not while we stay mired in the same stagnant atmosphere that brought on the choking stench of sins and failures in the first place.

    Maybe it's time for a new beginning once again.



  • Entry 11
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    I woke up this morning to a startling discovery.

    As I rolled out of bed in my room at the Regal Whore, I reached for the tiny mirror that was customarily left on the nightstand for me and noticed the change instantly. I touched my face cautiously, tracing my fingers along them as they ran across my forehead, over my left eye, down my cheek, and spiraled loosely around my neck, torso, abdomen, and right leg, all the way down to the top of my foot by my toes.

    They shimmered like the most beautiful gem in all of Toril, reflecting the light in all colors of the rainbow like a perfect prism. It didn't take long for me to confirm that they were, indeed, real.

    Scales.

    Just as Pink had predicted - the body will change to compensate once the soul has accepted itself.

    The metamorphosis had begun.



  • Entry 10
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    Standing at the center of the summoning circle, awash in a mix of shadows and dim light, was a half-dragon mage, his arms extended outward, his gaze directed upward, chanting the all-too-familiar words of the binding ritual I remembered from childhood. Surrounding him were four female dragonkin priests, doing the same in unison. At their feet was a small vial - Pink's blood. The ritual had already begun. There was no time to waste.

    I had joked with Jerr the day before that he acted on intelligence and planning, while I acted on impulse and instinct. We had a good laugh, knowing the truth behind the humor. I always managed to act brazenly, and often, I got away with it. Why would today be any different?

    Almost before I realized what I was doing, I was skulking toward the summoning circle obscured by Equinox's spell and a long shadow cast by a wall torch. I followed the shadow straight to the edge of the circle and crouched low on my hands and knees. They would be chanting and looking skyward for another few seconds, I knew. Just enough time. I stretched out at full length across the ground, snatching the vial right out from underneath the mage's nose. Before I knew it, I was in the hallway again, slipping past the two guardian priests who had started moving to assist their comrades against Pink. Coming out of hiding, I dashed across the expanse of the cavernous room, as shouts rang out from the summoning chambers. Lilly and the others noticed me and made haste, Pink securing our escape with a great swipe that sent both priests sprawling against the cave wall. Quickly, each of us dove through the portal, Pink in tow, pursued by two dragonkin. As we emerged in the Sisterhood's garden once again, I heard another roar and thud, as Pink mauled the final two pursuers before closing the portal.

    After explaining that she would need our help one day to reclaim her lair again from the dragonkin, she returned to her elven form and strode off into the main estate to destroy the blood sample and secure her - and my - welfare. For better or for worse, she and I were now linked.

    Interestingly, my soul had never before felt this at peace.



  • Entry 9
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    Pink had told me that today would come.

    Several weeks ago, Jerr found her near to death from blood loss, victim of an attack on her lair by a band of half-dragons who stole her blood for a binding ritual. She said they were a rogue bunch, unhappy that they could never become full dragons on their own. This binding, she said, was their effort to artificially overcome their limitation. If it worked, they would become closer to their goal, stealing away her life-force in order to contort it to their desires. She had been unable to defeat them, and thus needed my help, she said. She wanted me to sneak into her lair and steal back the blood before they could use it. I agreed because of all that she had done for me over the past weeks. I agreed even though I had no idea what to expect.

    When she found me this morning talking to Jerr inside the sisterhood compound, she told me it was time. Taking me into the garden, she had me fill a small vial with my blood as she did the same. As I looked over the garden, I saw a scene that reminded me of the childhood binding that had only partially succeeded - glowing pillars, an altar, a summoning circle. In order to find her blood, I needed to sense it. It order to sense it, she was going to bind us together. The risk - if she or I died while in the lair, we both would. Even knowing the risk, I agreed to the procedure just as I had promised. In a flash, it was done. First I felt her pain, then a feeling of loss, then a serenity unlike any other I had ever felt. The feeling of loss, she said, was for the part of her that they had stolen. The binding had worked. Now we were joined.

    As Pink began opening the portal to her lair, I turned to see the stunned faces of several friends who had amassed to watch the whole affair - Jerr, Drelan, Lilly, Equinox, Nicahh, Lilin, and Hedia. Before I could even finish telling them what I needed to do, the group was pledging their aid. It was to be a stealthy mission - right up my alley - so Equinox cast a camouflage spell on the lot of us. Others chimed in with invisibility spells, and we entered the portal with Pink, who had polymorphed into her true form, a beautiful prismatic dragon.

    Her lair was well trapped, but luckily I managed to notice each one as I crept along, disabling each in the series. The first tunnel emerged into an open room with multiple other tunnels exiting it, each guarded by dragonkin sorcerors and priests. Protected by a stoneskin spell, Pink charged forward, distracting the guards and allowing us to slip into the open unseen. As I anxiously scanned the half-dozen other tunnels with the battle raging behind me, I felt an odd pull toward one in particular. I ducked into the shadows cast by the dim torchlight around the perimeter and crept toward the far tunnel alone. There, two priests watched the battle raging nearby, and I slipped past them unnoticed. After disabling a series of entanglement traps, I saw a summoning circle emblazened on the ground in the room ahead. I took a quiet breath and crept around the corner, obscured by the shadows cast by the torches surrounding the circle.

    It was now or never.



  • Entry 8
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    My first lesson with Pink and Jerr was today. Lilly came along as well for support, which I really appreciated. She and I have been through so much together that if Pink really can help me, I want Lilly to be there through it all.

    I'm having trouble finding the words to describe the lesson with Pink. It was though she somehow knew exactly how I felt, as though she had spent the last 30 years inside my mind, experiencing my struggle with me. I suppose the best thing to do would be to record her words here, just as she spoke them, lest I forget someday when I truly need to remember.

    "You are what you are. There is no fighting. There is nothing to fight. You only must accept what you are."

    "There is a difference between surrender and defeat, though both stop the fight and the pain. The essence of surrender versus defeat: one is on your terms and one is on another's."

    "Knowing what you are awakens what you can be - then the body must change to compensate."

    She also told Jerr and I that true happiness comes from within. No external source could ever possibly make us happy if we were not happy with ourselves first - no husband, no wife, no baby. That last one hit home with me.

    Then my baby kicked…



  • Entry 7
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    Yesterday was quite an adventure. First, Caldor had been trying to convince me to buy one of his new hides. Splendid as they were, I've had my eye on the displacer beast hide that I saw at Nico's auction some months ago. Surely I'll never be able to afford it, but a girl can dream, can't she? Soon enough the Jiyyd commons had become crowded, and Nathander approached us with a proposition. He had, in his possession, a map that led to a treasure in the Coldstones. Retrieve this longsword for him, and he would pay handsomely. Seeing how I had only enough coin left on me for a few day's stay at the inn, I jumped upon the offer, as did a dozen other adventurers. As we made our way east, Nathander handed me the map. The trek up the mountain was quite treacherous, giants raining down tree-trunk sized arrows upon us and swinging massive hammers and blades. Despite our number, we were heavily battered, but we fought along with masterful resolve and planning.

    Upon reaching the central peaks, we came across a small campsite. There, a man lay frozen in his own blood, his pale blue fingers clutching the hilt of a sword encased in ice and stone. The map reacted with incredible magical energy at this point. This was the blade. After several hours thawing it loose with fire and oil, I snatched it up, burning my hand on its red-hot hilt. The trek back down was equally treacherous, but we all emerged victorious, likely the result of our divide and conquer approach. I spent much of the time hidden, offering a volley of arrows occasionally. For appearance's sake, it was to protect the blade for Nathander. In reality, I knew I couldn't afford to suffer any giant's blow to my stomach. If the child were still growing inside me, that would surely kill it.

    Back in town, Nathander initially tried to offer less coin than he had quoted at the outset. I immediately went to work negotiating, on account of the several near fatal blows that our party had taken from the giants' mages and high priests. A testament to bardic persuasion, I managed to secure a nice sum of gold per person, as well as a healing potion each to mend our remaining wounds. It only cost me a kiss, much to the amusement of several bystanders, though it was certainly a price I was willing to pay.

    After securing the deal and turning over the blade, a young woman whom Jerr called "Pink" appeared in the crowd. I knew from the start this woman was different - beautiful, stately, intellectual, worldly. She had come to tell Jerr she was taking her child back from the Sisterhood's care, much to his chagrin. Amid discussion of this topic, she asked me in Draconic, much to my surprise, what my story was. She said she could smell "it" on me. It took me a moment to realize what she meant. She could smell my blood. Rass was able to do that too. That meant she was... a dragon. My heart sputtered with excitement, with hope, and I could feel the Red's blood wake up in my veins.

    Before she departed, Jerr asked her for lessons to help him control his draconic temper. She agreed openly, and even invited him to bring me. Was this it? Was this the woman - I mean, the dragon - who could finally teach me what it meant to live with the Red rather than fight it? The thought makes me shiver with anticipation even as I right this.

    Did Bahamut hear me? Was this his answer?



  • Entry 6
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    I have no idea how long I was dead. Hours? Days? Surely less than a week. Perhaps I shouldn't have been out with the reconaissance team that went into Mintas to take out several of Mingal's guards before the main force arrived. But I wanted to play a role. I wanted to have a hand in something good again - the eradication of an evil at its very source. I know it was a noble cause, a good cause.

    I had never seen a Remnant before. Their mages were much more powerful than I had anticipated. One managed to kill me with only a gesture. As it started to strip my soul from my body and I teeterd face-first toward the dusty path, I thought instantly of the tiny life just beginning to grow within me. Can a child survive when it's mother's body lay lifeless, her soul off in another plane? Oh how I hope it can. If it does, this child will certainly be something special.

    If it doesn't, then I've failed again. Victim of my own recklessness.



  • Entry 5
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    As I sat outside the collapsed entrance to Rass's cave, I heard him alight behind me with a quick flap of his wings. I didn't have to turn around to know that he had followed me from Jiyyd. I knew he would.

    I asked him why he wanted me to bear his child. I assumed it had something to do with the dagger - that it wasn't Wolf asking, but some otherworldly force that was directing his erratic behavior, causing others to turn against him. Truthfully, and I'm not sure why, I didn't care why he wanted me. He wanted to give me a baby, something I had dreamed of since my twenties. That's all that really mattered.

    The last few months had gotten me thinking about children again. I imagine, due to my part human blood, that I am on the outer cusp of my child bearing years. Time was running thin, and Eowade could never give me the gift of a child. As out of control as my life had rapidly become in the last few months, a child would be something that could bring me joy again, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream - motherhood. This is a different happiness than what Eowade brought into my life by joining her soul to mine. A worldly legacy. Another life to whom I could teach the lessons I had learned the hard way. A person whose soul I could save from the taint that mine bore from my own early misguidedness.

    I told him I didn't particularly care why he was doing this. But after today, he could have nothing to do with the child. No contact. Not even an acknowledgement that it was his. It wasn't his. This was to be my baby - my baby and Eowade's baby. He agreed, and I led him into the darkness of the cave's entrance.

    If he would create life with a dragon-kin, he would do so here, on the cold stone of a glorious wyrm's lair.



  • Entry 4
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    The druid Wolf has been acting strangely toward me lately. People say he's under the control of some evil dagger that contorts his mind. I guess it must be true, because yesterday he went to great trouble on the trip down to liberate the Green Cross knights to come on to me at every opportunity. I find it very odd, since before I only knew him as one of my sister's druids, and never so much as held a drawn out conversation with him. He kept referring to bringing me an orc's heart as some sort of gift. If he does, maybe I'll let the Red's appetites take over and I'll devour it in front of him. It can't taste much different than deer leg - they're both muscle afterall. On the other hand, with the current state of his mind, he might not be turned off by the whole thing like every other sensible human would be. Decisions, decisions...

    How I survived the Green Cross adventure I'll never know. Once again, a trap nearly ended my life, as did a horde of shadow fiends shortly thereafter. I spent most of the next day sitting outside Rass's old cave, watching the clouds and talking to the heavens. If anyone saw me, I'm sure they thought I must've been losing my mind again, talking to the sky in Draconic. I'm not sure what I even expected to happen. As if Bahamut would've actually flown down out of the sky for a chat.

    The book from the college mentioned at some length the Wyrmguards of Bahamut. I must admit, I liked that part. Blessed priests serving the cause of Bahamut and the good dragons of the world solely because it was right. Knights communing with their god, feeling his presence, knowing their mission had his full support and grace. Sort of like when Shannon called upon Torm to cleanse the Green Cross catacombs, and Torm actually responded to eradicate the demon residing there.

    Must be nice.



  • Entry 3
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    At times like this, I can almost see Zyphlin hovering over me with an irritated look on his face, as though I couldn't possibly be as dumb as I seemed. For as many years as I've been a member of the Bard College - at least ten, if my memory serves me correctly - I'm barely capable of finding the library, let alone locating a book within it. So much for being a good student...

    Hedia suggested I do some reading about deities, specifically Bahamut. She seems to think he and I would have something in common. Right. He's a dragon. So am I, though I never wanted it that way. He's the glorious protector of all good dragons and the opponent of all evil. I'm a fugitive who murdered because I was told it was the right thing to do AND I bear the blood of an evil red dragon. What the hell was Hedia thinking. Bahamut should be hunting me just as he would any other Red, not embracing me as a god would his faithful.

    I wish Rass hadn't disappeared like she did. Sure, she wasn't the easiest to talk to, but at least she could've taught me how to live as a dragon rather than watch me tear myself to pieces trying to fight the instincts. I guess a silver dragon would be more friendly, but I've never seen one, and what business would it have talking with someone tainted like me anyway?



  • Entry 2
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    No matter how much I try to forget, the images from the fugue continue to haunt me, more persistently, even, than the memories of the Thayan ritual that began my torment so many years ago. When I came to, covered in the otherworldly sands with Gears beside me, I recognized a trumpet-bearing celestial before us. After collecting our names, she asked of our allegiance to the gods. Gears replied immediately - Brandobaris. I took longer to indicate that I didn't have a patron. What was I supposed to say? Oghma, who hadn't granted me artistic inspiration in years? Tymora, who seemed to enjoy forsaking me at all the important moments? A godless life had proven no worse for me over the years than a life of faith.

    Clearly displeased with my reply, the celestial's eyes flashed with anger and disapproval, her voice booming from such depths that it made my very soul quake. She instructed me to turn and observe the endless vastness of the fugue. When I did, she parted the mists, revealing a massive city before me, surrounded in a sickly green glow. The City of the Dead, as Kara later called it. The eternal repose for the unbelievers. Before I could turn around again and face the celestial, my soul was torn back to the earthly plane and fused to my body by Hedia, using the power granted her by Sharess.

    I remember little of the next day, save that I attempted to drink away the unsettling image of the city from my mind. Instead, I ended up violently ill and under Lilly's care, the City of the Dead mocking me from the recesses of my mind. Thus was born my new dilemma. Continue godless and spend my eternity without hope in the city of lost souls, or take up a patron once again from the seemingly boundless list of omnipotent beings who had never shown the slightest interest in my activities unless a cleric petitioned on my behalf. What good is a patron as detached from my life as my father was? What patron would ever embrace my tarnished soul and grant me a chance at happiness again? As I sit here writing this, I feel more abandoned than I ever have before.

    This time, however, I can't begin to imagine how to fix it.