In the Temple of Beauty's massage parlour, Bob massaged his own temples. His dreams and visions of Palarandusk had returned of late, causing him no end of headaches when he was within the dragonward that protected Waterdeep. He recalled the ancient dragon’s final words to him, an invitation to seek him out amid the highest peaks of Mount Sternhelm overlooking Ierithymbul. Bob found a secluded space in the high priest’s quarters and began to meditate. There was still some confusion over whether or not he and Varien were to share the former High Lady’s chambers, or if there would be renovations to the living quarters to accommodate the co-priests. Bob opened his mind and reached out to Palarandusk. He made a very faint psychic connection, and Bob had a flash of a vision – a high, cloud-shrouded mountain peak, its rocky face bathed in bands of golden sunlight that exposed a shadowed cleft amid the rocks. The clouds continued to gather, smothering the sunlight until only a few golden beams remained to light the way. Bob felt that Palarandusk’s time was getting short, and he quickly cleared his calendar, informing Nero, Sybil, and Varien that he was going to visit the Sword Mountains. He assembled a retinue of four loyal Sunite traveling companions, led by paladin Celia Orlyar, with a priest, cleric and young acolyte in tow. He left Alec where he found him: posing for portraits in a life drawing class in the Temple of Beauty, a semicircle of very attentive artists of both sexes sketching his every nook and cranny. “They’re going to use my likeness on the cover of every erotic novel published by the Temple this season,” Alec said proudly to his brother. Bob nodded and averted his eyes. Bob collected Skraper and his retinue and cast teleport . In a flash of light, the Sunite delegation teleported onto the slopes of Mount Sternhelm, within sight of the shadowed cleft in the rock where Bob knew Palarandusk could be found. “Just like in my vision,” Bob mused. “The High Priest has had visions,” the priest and cleric whispered to each other while the acolyte looked on, enraptured. “Anyone who doesn’t fancy a climb can sit on Skraper,” Bob declared. “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey!” “Write that down, write that down!” the priest hissed at the acolyte. Skraper growled. “Doesn’t Skraper get vote on that?” “And who would you like to ride you?” Bob asked his mount. Skraper looked thoughtful for a moment. “Who weighs the least?” he growled. Bob smiled. “Why don’t you carry each of them up one and a time and then tell me which one was the lightest?” Skraper’s eyes widened and he nodded his shaggy head. “You wise one!” He growled, eager to please his master. He obediently ferried Bob’s companions up the mountainside. “Excellent,” Bob said, pleased. When the party was at the entrance to the cave, they couldn’t help but notice a slight tremor that threatened to cause a rockslide. “Our host knows we’re here,” Bob said to his companions. “Allow me to enter first, alone.” Celia nodded resolutely, the rest of the party following suit. In his head, Bob heard an ancient, tired voice say You have come at last. Greetings, Bob replied as he entered the cave. I am sorry it has taken so long for me to visit. It is good to lay eyes on you once again, my son. Grandson? Great-great-great? Something like that, Bob replied. Ah, there was a sound like a heavy sigh. I was old when Netheril was young! Grandson is fine, Bob said. Grandson…I like that…please, come in. Bob ventured further into the shadowed cleft. I adopted the gnomes in the valley as my children, I suppose, but I’ve care for so many children over the centuries. Some of my own sire, some fostered, and others who never knew that I watched out for them from the shadows. But you have stepped in to take care of the gnomes of Ieriythmbul when I had faltered. As my strength wanes, remember, they are your children as well, Robert. A golden light blossomed in the darkness and soon the cave was lit as though from an invisible lantern. The stooped form of a gnomish wizard coalesced before him, radiating the golden light that bathed the walls of the cave. Where the light touched, details emerged from the rocky walls – shelves stuffed with ancient tomes and rolled scrolls, a reading chair and writing desk, but when the light faded, so too did the illusion. Or was the rocky cave the illusion? Bob asked himself. The light from within Palarandusk’s humanoid guise was indeed uneven and spotty, pulsing like an ember that no longer burned, but could neither stop burning. You don’t look as well as the last time we met, Grandfather, Bob said. A sad expression flickered across Palarandusk’s face. Is there anything I can do? Bob asked. Oh! Palarandusk looked thoughtful. It is taking all of my gathered strength to present myself before you in this fashion, Grandson. Even in this diminished form, one that my grandchildren can understand so that they do not flee from my sight. He sighed and gazed towards the cave’s entrance. Though I care for them in so many ways, they still fear me. His gaze swept over the Sunite delegation at the cave’s entrance and he arched an eyebrow at Bob before shrugging and ignoring the interlopers. But you’ll forgive an old man his complaints, even as my joints cry out for rest, Palarandusk’s form flickered anew as he puttered around his cozy cottage’s collection of artifacts. Bob found that the closer he examined the objects around him, the less distinct they became. He could see errors or mistakes creeping into the formations of the bookshelves full of crystals and scrolls. I’ve prolonged my existence beyond all natural means, Palarandusk was saying. The spells that maintain me are failing. In the meantime, I am as a ghost, the Unseen Protector, but even that shape is fading beyond my power. And I am cursed to live as a shadow rather than fly above the Sword Coast as I did in my prime. But, you ask if there’s anything you can do. If you have any power to repair the damage, or rejuvenate my enchantments, and at this he held out his hands to Bob, who could see the many magical rings and bracelets that he wore. Their condition was brittle and fragile, tarnished and rusting, a golden veneer flaking away to nothing. If there is anything you can do, I would be more than happy to share my secrets with you, Grandson. Palarandusk explained that his body was being held together by a patchwork of ancient spells, wards, enchantments and magical artifacts of his own devising. If I help you, will Elminster appear and shank me? Bob asked. Elminster? Elminster! Palarandusk smiled and waved his hand dismissively. He’s an old friend. You would be providing me with the greatest of all assistance, and I’m sure he would understand. Bob readied himself to cast the most powerful spell in his arsenal, making sure that his followers could see what he was doing. “I wish to return Palarandusk’s enchantments to their full strength,” he said with a flourish as he cast wish . He could feel his magical reserves draining, weakening him considerably as he transferred power to the target of his spell. His retinue clapped politely. A golden glow began to fill the cavern, so bright that Bob had to briefly shield his eyes. He heard a sound in his psyche like a sigh of satisfaction, a slow intake of breath into lungs that had not been filled in decades. Filling the cavern now was the immense form of a benevolent golden dragon. AT LAST , Bob heard in his mind, a booming voice so loud it threatened to burst his eardrums with its silence. Palarandusk cleared his throat, the sound like a thousand gold coins melting into slag. “After sowing seeds down through the generations, one of them has finally borne fruit. I made a bargain with your ancestors, Robert, and through you they have held up their end of the bargain. I thank you for providing me with a new lease on life. You shall be rewarded, Robert Trevelyan, for the blood that flows through your veins is the blood that flows through mine even now. And so, I will share with you some of my power. So, look there!” he pointed with a giant talon at a large spellbook whose pages appeared to be made of burnished sheets of electrum. “It took me a long time to recover this particular bit of history, this ancient text, nameless now, was among the very first spellbooks to mention my name. I treasure it greatly, and I trust that you shall now treasure it greatly.” He chuckled, a booming sound that threatened to cave the rocky cleft in. “In my old age I have learned that my children are my only real treasure. So, I will lavish generously upon you and upon all those under my protection. In that book there is magic learned by mortals, forgotten, revealed again, and then forgotten as time marched on. That is but a taste of the secrets I shall share with you.” He raised another talon and pointed at Bob. “During my time protecting these gnomes without a shape to call my own, I have learned magic that some would declare unfair to use against single targets, but that tends to come in handy when protecting those under my charge. So I will bless you with the knowledge of this magic, whipstrike. With a beat of one’s tail, one can harness the power of the wind, and the air, to create a solid vortex that can crush one’s enemies, because after all, how can one stand against the wind?” “Indeed!” Bob said, as the arcane knowledge flowed into him. “Speaking of the wind,” Palarandusk said, stretching out his majestic wings. “Now, I shall do something I have not done for many centuries. I will inspect my domain, see what has become of those places I knew, those peoples I once befriended and defended, and then I shall return to my lair on Mount Sternhelm and keep a watch on my little children down below.” He turned as if to leave, and then curled his long neck back around to regard Bob. “That reminds me. I remember making a home near Neverwinter. That was where I was first driven out my capricious humans who knew not what they did.” He looked wistful for a moment. “That’s where my demise began, unfortunately. You should look in on that residence, if it still stands, and see what’s become of it.” He flashed an image of a very old stone structure within Neverwinter’s domain. “Until we meet again, Robert. You’ll have to tell me what you think of that book.” Then he flapped his mighty wings, buffeting Bob and his retinue with the power of an ancient dragon as he took wing to soar over the mountains, leaving a golden shadow on the valley below. Meanwhile, Varien was practising mounted combat and flight maneuvers with the Arcetalos, gaining proficiency and experience in the art of aerial warfare. In between sermons and yoga classes, he spoke to Sunites in groups large and small and told them of his mission to retake Lorelei in the north. His inspiring oratory began to sway the members of the Temple of Beauty and soon there were whispers and rumours of a grand crusade in the works. Varien took a long, ceremonial bath with Tiberius Inuus and Vanera Ularyn, head of the Order of Adon, where he informed them of his plans. “Cleanliness is close to goddessness,” Varien said with a grin. “Now, there is this matter of a darkness gathering in Neverwinter Wood. We should send a unit of volunteers north to reconnoiter the area and slay an undead dragon, should they discover its location.” “I think we can arrange that,” Tiberius said with a nod. “I have spoken to the rank and file about my ultimate goals to re-take the city of Lorelei,” Varien said. “I have not specifically requested that anyone march under my banner, but the faithful are making their own choices.” He stood up with a splash. “I will not linger here much longer, after all, as Sune’s Chosen, I have a mission to fulfill.” “It is as you say,” Vanera said, her eyes lingering on Varien suds-covered body. Once he had returned Lady Hawkwinter to her villa in Waterdeep, Siegfried prepared to teleport to Skullport and take care of the mind flayer business. He cast teleport . There was a flash of arcane energy as Siegfried experienced a teleportation mishap, bouncing him across the Planes and bashing him through invisible walls of force as he caromed from one dimension to the next in succession. There was another flash and Siegfried found himself in a twisted cavern full of stalactites and stalagmites like the fangs of an immense monstrosity. The cavern was lit by bioluminescent fungus, and though it was cold and drafty there was an omnipresent humidity that made him hot under the collar. In the darkest recesses of the cavern there was the sound of scuttling claws. Siegfried, bruised but unbothered, got to his feet and dusted off his evening wear. He put his hands on his hips and looked about, pursing his lips. “Now, this isn’t where I hitched my horse!”
