Wanderings and Ponderings

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Storyteller
Sojourner
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Joined: Fri Apr 25, 2003 9:17 pm

Wanderings and Ponderings

Postby Storyteller » Sat Jul 29, 2006 3:28 am

I shook the sand out of my burnoose vigorously, wryly considering the futility of shedding the sand before I was inside and free of it. But there's just only so much you can stand having the little fine grains of the calimshan desert sharing space with your eardrums. But you just can't get so fine a vintage of nice wine like Hamid's finest. A little swing by the Pasha's rooms would probably be beyond my weary bones, but I had the warm memories to keep me company.

You see all types when you travel. Learn to keep your eyes open and your ears tuned to the little nuances. Calimport is a fine city to stimulate all the senses, and I reveled in the onslaught of stimuli. I've been from Bryn Shander and into the watery doman of the Sahaugin, but I've never found a place to rival this town. And you can buy just about anything you can dream of here. And plenty that you can't dream of, but exist anyways.

Today I came looking for Ferrukhi; that little minx in Baldur's Gate insisted on a bolt of his silk to put together one of those charming little valises. Who am I to say no to a pair of devilishly soft doe eyes? But as Tymora wills it, the merchants were packing up just as soon as I arrived in the bazaar leaving me to go ply my trade for a room for the evening. That, of course, is as much a challenge as finding a raindrop in a thunderstorm and before long I was happily esconced in front of a rapt audience with a mug of ale that never seemed to empty.

Come the morning, I made my way down into the common room and availed myself of the hangover's best cure. Ale in hand, I stepped out onto the road and beheld an adventuring troupe making their way into the holy district. I'd have all day to wheedle Ferrukhi out of a bolt of fine silk, but there are almost as many stories following adventurers as there are vultures. And I always need more of those. Stories that is; I'll leave the vultures be to their own devices.

To the temple of Torm they went, the big walking can striding purposefully up the steps with his three companions pausing at the entrance to the sacred building. Obviously they were well aware of the proprieties that governed visiting a temple, and were politely waiting outside. The holy one went inside and towards the main chapel area, ignoring the few acolytes that were around. He was obviously there with a specific purpose, and allowed nothing to deter his path towards the altar.

What? Of course I went in after him, there's not much story to tell about three adventurers standing outside waiting for their leader.

He knelt at the altar, causing a horrendous racket when he went down in all his metal. That was probably some hymn to Torm in a place like this. Come to think of it, there were an awful lot of kids and young men scampering around. There wasn't an elder knight to be seen amongst the whole lot of clanking tinheads. Curious, I accosted one of the passing squires and, through the application of my considerable influence and powers of persuasion, I managed to get the story. I ignored the praying one, prayers don't make much of a story generally.

It seems that one of the high Tormite leaders got it into his head that there was a grave threat to Torm somewhere over across the ocean in King Tristan's backyard. Now, considering these knights are lucky to see a small lake in their lifespans down here in Calimport, crossing an ocean to prevent a threat to Torm is pretty impressive. So the whole crew of elder knights, or at least those of much ability I gather, galloped off to save their God. And at some point realized that they'd need a boat too, I expect.

Now it was at about this time that I heard another metallic clatter. Again, not really uncommon, but the man I followed was rising to his feet. But he was glowing, in that white divine kind of way that just makes my bones ache. Next he'd start giving a sermon, and I hate listening to anybody other than me speak. But his eyes had that whole look in them, that whatever he came here asking for was going to be given. Still aglow with that divine approval, the adventuring leader swept out of the temple with whatever purpose had impressed Torm. And being an adventurer, that purpose was probably going to result in something being killed for Torm's glory. And coffers, quite naturally.

I actually felt sorry for whatever poor creature was his target. At least for a moment, then I set about learning more about these bold knights who sallied forth to save their God, leaving the temple in the hands of acolytes.

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