Fiction

Crows

Posted on January 25, 2010 by caseykins

Jack didn’t think about it much when the first crow appeared. He was about to bite into a soggy tuna sandwich, sitting down in the middle of the tree-lined quad at the college where he worked. It was a cold day, the wind tossing the tree tops gently back and forth. Students scuttled to their classes, hands stashed in their armpits, scarves trailing behind them. His usual lunch location had been overrun by a group of noisy law students, and the sun was shining, so Jack decided to brave the cold and eat his lunch peacefully in the quad. His cheeks and hands were pleasantly numb as he raised his sandwich to take a bite.

The crow hopped up to him and stared with its beady little eyes, cocking its head this way and that. It looked like it wanted something, Jack thought, perhaps a piece of sandwich? Then it opened its black beak and let out a loud caw. Jack turned his attention back to his tuna, but it continued to look at him for a few minutes, head still moving this way and that. Jack felt uncomfortable as he stared back at it, facing off absurdly with something so much smaller than he was. Suddenly, the crow took a step forward and exploded in a barrage of caws, filling up the empty quad with echoing noise. It flapped its wings at him and generally made a scene. Jack looked around, embarrassed, to see if anyone had noticed. No one was around.

“Will you quit it!?!” Jack said to the bird. It didn’t stop. Great, he thought, now I’m talking out loud to birds. He threw his sandwich back into his brown paper bag and stalked back to his office, his peaceful lunch ruined.

The crow squawked after him as he walked away. “That’s right!” It seemed to say. “I’m talking to you, mister, and you’d better listen.”

It was waiting for him as he left the office that night, and it had brought a friend. They were sitting smugly in the tree outside the white concrete building where he worked, gurgling back and forth to one another and discussing their day, little black blobs among the green leaves. As the automatic glass doors slid open and Jack stepped out, the birds started again, both screaming at the top of their lungs.

Jack gave them a dirty look. Wonderful, they’re following me now, he thought sarcastically. Another crow flew over to join the two in the tree. Worse, they followed him to his car, hopping and flying as he walked along. Jack couldn’t believe that three such little animals could make so much noise, and it annoyed him. He sat down in his car, slammed the door shut, and peeled out of the parking lot.

Jack pulled into the white, modern garage that stood in front of his white, modern condo. He opened the white door, threw his keys on the marble kitchen countertop, and pulled a TV dinner out of the freezer. The answering machine gave a loud beep, and Jack pressed the play button as he waited for his dinner to warm up. A shrill dial tone pierced through the air until he pressed the delete button.

When the microwave beeped, Jack removed his dinner, sat down on a vast, black leather couch and flipped on the football game. Besides the giant plasma-screened TV and the couch, there was no other furniture in the laminate floored, white walled living room.

Finished with dinner, Jack wandered upstairs to his white walled office where the sound of the TV still chattered in the background. A glass-top desk and leather desk chair stood in the middle of the room, a state-of-the-art computer perched on top. Piles of papers covered the laminate floor like carpet. Jack picked his way to the computer and typed “Crows” into the internet search engine.

The usual popped onto his screen: information about types of crows, what they eat and their life cycle. There was nothing that would explain why crows had suddenly started stalking him. He did learn that the big black crows interrupting his lunch were the kind that ate the flesh of decaying things. Suddenly, the crows no longer seemed funny or annoying, they seemed like something more. He went back downstairs to the football game and fell asleep on the couch.

There were four crows waiting in the tree for Jack when he walked into work the next morning, one more than the day before. They screamed at him as he walked past them through the sliding glass doors. At lunch, walking to his favorite café, they followed him, attracting two more cawing black birds as they all walked along. People stared as he passed by, and he tried to look nonchalant, like the crows weren’t following him specifically, like they just happened to be on the street near him. It was hard as they hopped along beside him, flying from small, manicured tree to lamppost as he walked along the sidewalk of downtown. I wonder how many crows constitute a murder, Jack thought to himself grimly.

“I’ll take a table inside today.” Jack told the host as the crows fluffed their wings and roosted on the roof, waiting for Jack to emerge again.

By Friday night, the birds had not stopped following Jack. In fact, several more had joined the group each day. There were now a grand total of twelve birds following him and screaming no matter where he went. As he shut himself inside his black sports car, he breathed a sigh of relief. A weekend at home, sans birds, awaited him. He looked forward to it.

Jack was surprised, and extremely pissed, when he opened the front door for the newspaper the next morning. There on the little maple by his door was a crow. Not black like the other crows at work, this one had a creamy body, its black head, wings, and legs peaking out, like it was wearing a white feather sweater. It didn’t make a sound, but it studied him carefully as he picked up the paper. A sort of despair settled over Jack as he stared back at it. Was he unable to escape them? He tucked the newspaper under his arm and went inside.

When he left the house for groceries a few hours later, twelve black crows had joined the white one. Jack couldn’t be sure, but he thought they might be the same that had been following him around at work. They cawed at him as he ducked into his garage and peeled away. “Listen to us,” they yelled incessantly as Jack walked back and forth from garage to condo, unloading brown bags of groceries as he seethed.

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The Twelve Dancing Princesses

Posted on January 19, 2010 by caseykins
Once upon a time, a hearing king named Joe had twelve deaf daughters, each one more beautiful than the last. They all slept together in one large, splendid room. Their beds stood side by side and every nightwhen they went to bed, the king locked the door and bolted it so he knew his children were safe. Every morning when he unlocked the door, he saw that their shoes were worn out, with holes in the toes and laces broken. The king ordered an investigation, but after, many weeks of trying, no one could find out how the princesses were able to leave the locked and bolted room.
King Joe was very upset that he had to spend so much royal money on new shoes for his daughters, for princesses could not wear shabby shoes. He proclaimed that whoever could discover where his daughters went at night could choose one of them for his wife and be king after his death. If, however, they could not discover where his daughters went after three days and nights, they should be banished from his kingdom forever.
It was not long before a king’s son from the next kingdom came and offered to discover where the princesses danced at night. He was welcomed warmly into the palace with a large feast, and in the evening, was led into a bedroom next the princesses bedroom. He was to watch and discover where the twelve went, so the princess’s bedroom door was left open. Nevertheless, the Prince’s eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep. When he awoke in the morning all twelve pairs of shoes had holes in them, and he had no idea how. The same thing happened on the second and third nights so he was banished forevermore from King Joe’s kingdom. Many others came after this and undertook the mystery, but none discovered how the shoes got holes in them and all were forever banished from the kingdom.

One day a poor, wounded soldier named Michael found himself on the road to the town where King Joe lived. He met a funny old woman on the road who asked him where he was going

“I really don’t know,” he answered jokingly. “I thought I might discover where the princesses danced holes in their shoes and become king.

“That is not so difficult,” said the old woman mysteriously. “The secret is that you must pretend to be sound asleep.”With that, she gave him a little cloak and said, “If you put this on you will be invisible and then you can follow the princesses at night.”

When Michael received this good advice, he decided to try his luck. He went to King Joe and announced that he also wanted to take the challenge. King Joe welcomed the old soldier, and had his servants dress him in royal garments. At the feast that night, the oldest princess stood up and performed an ABC story in sign language for everyone in the hall. Her signing was beautiful and it made Michael want to learn more. It also made him want to succeed more than ever before.
“What is that girl’s name?” Michael whispered to a nobleman sitting next to him.

“Oh, that’s Princess Leah.” The nobleman replied snootily.

Later that evening, Michael was led into a bedroom next to the twelve princesses. He lay down immediately, and after a while began to snore as if in the deepest sleep.

The twelve princesses felt the vibrations of his snoring on his bed and so they got up. They then opened the wardrobes, and brought out pretty dresses and dressed themselves in front of the long mirrors, sprang about and rejoiced at the thought of going to the dance. Because the girls were deaf, they didn’t realize how noisy they were being while getting dressed and dancing about laughing. But the youngest wasn’t feeling joyful and signed to them that she had a bad feeling.

“You’re just being silly, Jessie.” They signed back, and teased her.

When they were all ready to go, they looked carefully at Michael but he had closed his eyes and did not move or stir so they felt themselves quite secure and prepared to leave.

Princess Leah went to her bed and tapped it. It immediately sank into the ground, revealing a secret pathway. The sisters went down through the opening, Leah going first. Michael, who had watched everything, did not wait any longer. He sprang out of bed, put on his invisibility cloak and went down last behind the youngest, Princess Jessie. Halfway down the steps he stepped a little on her dress. She was terrified, and she began waving her arms to get her sisters’ attention.

She signed, “My dress is stuck. Someone is pulling my dress!”

Leah signed back, “Don’t be silly, you caught it on a nail.” They then continued down the stairs.

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, they were standing in a wonderful avenue of trees, all the leaves of which were silver shone and glistened. Michael thought, “I must carry a token away with me” and broke off a twig from one of the trees. Jessie thought she saw something but since her sisters made fun of her before, she decided

not to say anything.

As they traveled deeper into the forest, the leaves of the trees turned to gold, and then to diamonds. Again, Michael broke branches from each of the trees, and each time Jessie thought she saw something move but he was too quick for her to be sure.

They went on and came to a great lake where twelve little boats stood, and in each boat sat a handsome deaf prince. Each took one princess with him and the soldier seated himself next to the youngest.

The youngest prince signed to Jessie, “I don’t know why the boat is so much heavier today, and I will have to row with all my strength if I am to get across the lake.”

“What could be the cause,” she signed, “but warm weather? I feel very warm too.”

On the opposite side of the lake stood a splendid, brightly lit castle, perfect light for signing and dancing. The princes rowed over and entered a silver and gold ballroom. Fancy lights hung above their heads, seeming tofloat in the air, and the walls and floor vibrated around them. Each prince danced with the girl he loved most all night long. The dancers could feel the pulsating music and moved with so much joy, but Michael danced with them unseen. They danced until 3o’clock in the morning, and when they were finished all their shoes had holes.

Leah felt the hole in her toe and gasped. She was enjoying being with other deaf people so much that she had not realized how fast the time was passing. Unwillingly, she flashed the lights to signal to her sister that it was time to go home.

The princes rowed them back across the lake and this time the soldier seated himself by Leah, the eldest, so he could get back to bed without suspicion.

On the shore, the girls took leave of their princes and promised to return the following night. As the girls were saying their long goodbyes, Michael ran out in front, and lay down quickly on his bed. When the twelve had come up slowly and wearily from their midnight dance, Michael was already snoring so strong they could feel the vibrations. They felt confident that he had slept the whole time they were away. They took off their beautiful dresses, laid them away, put the worn out shoes under the beds and went to sleep.

The next morning Michael did not tell King Joe what he saw. Instead, he went with the twelve princesses again to their wonderful dance, and again the next night. Everything happened as it had before, and each night the princesses danced until their shoes were worn to pieces.

When it came time for Michael to give his answer to the king, he took the three twigs with him as proof. The sisters stood outside, peeking through the window, trying to read his lips as he spoke to the king. They noticed the three twigs, and wondered, worried, how he got them. Jessie concluded “He must have followed us.” They knew they had been caught.

When the king asked the soldier “Where have my twelve daughters danced their shoes into pieces at night?” Michael answered “in an underground castle with twelve princes,” and explained how he had found out.

The king then had his court guard get his twelve daughters and bring them in. The king yelled at the girls as he always did thinking that if he shouted loud enough, they could hear him. Of course, it was not until the interpreter signed that they understood what their father was saying. He asked if Michael told the truth. When the princesses saw that they were betrayed many of them closed their eyes so they could not see the interpreter signing However, Leah felt obliged to confess all. Hearing this, the king asked Michael which one of his daughters he would have for his wife.

Michael answered, “I am no longer young, so give me the eldest, Princess Leah.” But he was also thinking of how beautifully she had signed the ABC story on his first night in the palace.

The engagement was announced by the Royal Herald and the whole kingdom was invited to the wedding the following month.  The sisters were saddened and upset that their older sister was marying a hearing man, but eventually he won them over.  During that month, Michael gestured and used pen and paper to communicate with Leah, but he was secretly taking Sign Language lessons.  On his wedding day, Michael surprised everyone by signing his vows to Leah  He immersed himself in their culture and accompanied his wife and her sisters to all their social activities.  As Michael’s sign language skills grew, so did the love between him and his princess, and they lived happily ever after.  The End.

 
 

 

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on January 19, 2010 by caseykins

April 23, 1033

The theater last night was absolutely wonderful in every way possible.　 There was a troupe of gnomish acrobats wearing spangled costumes in every color of the rainbow, and the way they danced and leapt across the stage was magic in itself. They did things I didn’t even know it was possible for bodies to do! It will be something I will remember for the rest of my life.　

I Mud to Watered Ananalie’s shoes last night and the hem of her velvet cloak as well, for a thank you. Now all the girls want to know how I did it and if I can teach them, but I really don’t feel up to it. The added work load would be too much, I think. Especially with all the studying I’m trying to do in what spare time I have.

May 1, 1033

I got my first month’s salary today, and it’s more than I’ve ever made in my life! It’s one thing on paper, but to actually hold that amount of money in my hand is amazingly wonderful. I never thought this place would be possible for me to love and fit into, but I love it more than I ever loved that village of temples up in the hills.

I have since discovered that independent study groups are frowned upon, at least between the girls of the finishing school. I heard Madam Glerda discussing it with one of the other teachers in the hall last week.

“It’s just completely irresponsible, that’s what it is.” She said vehemently to the little Halfling woman that teaches poise and posture. “They’re here to learn how to run a household, and to become Ladies, not to dabble in arts that can be dangerous for those who don’t fully understand them.”

“Well, I’m sure Barmando didn’t think it through before he spoke, Madam.” The Halfling answered her as they turned around the corner, and her voice faded from my hearing. I was glad I didn’t start that study group with all my heart at that moment. Madam Glerda isn’t so bad, but I’m sure they would have hauled me up in front of Madam Damynda herself if they thought I had been breaking the rules, and I would rather face anything than the wrath of Madam Damynda.

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on January 13, 2010 by caseykins

April 13, 1033

My last entry was interrupted somewhat abruptly.  I’ve settled into my schedule a little more lately, and I realize that I have quite a lot of time in the afternoons to do whatever I want to.  I’ve been studying hard on my own to keep ahead of the classes as much as possible, but I haven’t been making much headway.  I met another Elf in the library yesterday, Lillias, and I think we may begin studying together.  She and I hit it off quite a lot, and she’s slightly more advanced than I am.  Hopefully she can teach me some of what she’s learning in class.  I now realize that I won’t have time for formal instruction, as all the classes take place in the mornings when I need to be working.  I’ve said a quick hello to some of the girls in my dormitory wing (evidently courtesy is one of the lessons), but I haven’t truly had a conversation with any of them.  They all float around in the most beautiful dresses and I feel positively shabby in my shapeless robes walking the same corridors as they do.  I must be quite the comical sight, a heap of green and yellow material shlumping about in the halls versus their flowerlike frocks.　 At least my shoes are dainty.  I use Xanda’s handy little spell every time I go out, then set my slippers on the window sill to dry overnight.  Magical.　

I have a neat little tree outside my window.  It was gnarly and odd looking when I first arrived, but it soon put out little green shoots in all the rain, and now pink flowers are blossoming all over it.  It’s made my view quite nice.　 I sit and embroider before it in the evenings sometimes. I’ve finished my little pouch, and have started to embroider a little book on the bag of holding like the ones all over the school. I intend to do my slippers next, though with what I have no idea.　

On Tuesdays, I try to spend a little time on the green lawn beside the school practicing my spells. I let the element build up inside my chest, channel it through to my finger tips, and then let it dissipate before I send anything off.　 I wouldn’t want to damage the grounds at all, but it’s important to have practical experience. And better the grounds than the University itself. I really have very little real world experience using my abilities and I’m a bit afraid that when presented with a real situation, all my theories will just fly out the window in the penetration of fear that would invade myself. But I don’t know for sure, and practice makes perfect. Tuesday is the perfect day, because that’s the day the prep classes go on field trips around Brindol, and there are less people around.　

I haven’t braved the city itself yet. I’m still exploring the University and building up my confidence in this metropolis. Maybe someday soon.

April 19, 1033

Lillias and I have been studying together at least twice a week, and I’m coming along so quickly in my studies now that it’s almost obscene. I dream of force at night, and fire in the day, and I feel permanently blissful under the surface of my calm Teacher’s Helper persona. Annandale is as unavailable as ever, spending more time in his private office than out of it. He’s always extremely friendly to me when we do spend time together, and I’ve taken to bringing him dinner from the mess whenever he’s in his office past nightfall.　 It’s not part of my job, but he seems to appreciate it and occasionally he’s in a chatty mood and I can ask him some questions about spells that have been stumping Lillias and me.  He may not be a Wizard, but he knows more about magic than anyone I’ve ever met. I’m trying my best to keep everything as orderly as he likes it, but it’s difficult with all the students traipsing in at all hours and asking for notes on every subject under the sun.　

I finally learned Orb of Force, a tricky spell that I’ve been working on for months now. It feels good to be so productive!

April 22, 1033

Madam Glerda, the supervisor of the Finishing School, asked me to attend the theater with them tonight! I’ve never seen anything other than the occasional wandering minstrel, so theater on this scale is a completely new thing to me. I can hardly wait!　

I’ve made tentative friends with Ananalie, the human girl next door, and she’s lending me a dress so I don’t feel completely out of place. The dress is a little big on me (OK, more than a little big), but she taught me how to tie the sleeves in the latest style and gushed over my newly embroidered slippers, so I felt like quite the little fashionista, though really I’m nothing when compared to the other girls. I’m getting as energetic as the humans, evidently, living with them nonstop as I do now.

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on January 12, 2010 by caseykins

April 5, 1033

It’s been too long since I’ve written.  I’ve been in such a whirlwind of new beginnings here that it’s been impossible for me to find the time!  Let me see if I can describe all that’s happened to me…

We rode into town about midday on the 29th.  The guards, looking so regal and important in their red uniforms with the gold lion on the front, stopped us immediately and asked everyone to pay the toll since we were obviously merchants.  I presented my letter instead, and one of them personally escorted me to the gates of the University!  I had no idea I was so important, but maybe he was just being nice.  The streets were filled with peoples of all shapes and sizes and colors.  A gnome stood at a booth of whirling trinkets, gears spinning and clacking in the marketplace.  Several greenish half-orcs had carts for hire and I saw several nobly dressed humans reposing in style as the half-orcs dragged them behind to their destination.  Guards stood here and there on the street corneres, the golden lions glimmering on their chest, and through it all bustled the general public with fervor and purpose.  It’s truly the biggest city I’ve ever seen.  I can’t even begin to imagine how huge Free City must be, to be bigger than Brindol.

Brindol University sits on a slight hill with the city surrounding it on every side.  The city seems to stand apart from the University, though.  There are sporadic trees sprinkled in the midst of the grassland, young little things just beginning to bud in the spring rains.  The University itself is made of brown stone block, with expansive windows that reach all the way to the ground.  It’s a building conceived and residing only in peace, for the residents would be hard put to defend something so open to the outside.  I climbed several dozen stone stairs, and pulled the long gold chain next to the grand front door seamlessly inlaid with a giant book and two hands holding it open.  A silent old man took one appraising look of me, showed me into a little room off the entrance hall, grunted inaudibly, and indicated that I should stay.  The room was washed with strange colors from the two gigantic stained glass windows depicting the same giant book as the door.  The motto “Let Magic fill the hearts and minds of those withing our walls, and ever shall we meet to seek great knowledge in these halls” was glazed in magical script upon the pages of the book, which I didn’t realize until I had been staring at it for a few minutes.  Quite crafty of them, I’m sure.  I took a seat in front of the ancient desk placed in front of the windows, and proceeded to twiddle my thumbs until Madam Damynda made her appearance.

I’m not sure I’ll like Madam Damynda.  She seems very strict and unbendable.  Rules are rules with her, and there’s absolutely no reason for suspension or bending of any kind.  It makes me a little glad I won’t be a teacher here.  I’ll answer directly to professor Annandale (who is quite wonderful, by the way) and not to her.  She gave me this long speech about how I’m expected to abide by all the rules and tenets that have been “set forth by the great magicians gracing these halls for time imemorable,” and live up to the honor they’re confering on me by letting me work here.  I was certainly struck by how serious she was, and I missed my quiet little home in the hills quite a lot at that moment, thinking I would never fit in if everyone was as rigid as that.

She took me through a maze of dark paneled corridors and up a worn, marble staircase to a gorgeous little room overlooking the city.  Murals of beautifully robed magicians and their spells were splashed here and there over the walls of the University, especially in the more public areas, which I studied carefully as I walked past.  There’s a lovely one just outside my door of a blue-haired fairy, her arms reaching toward the sky, a silver bolt of lightning streaming from her fingertips out of the mural and clear up to the top of the fourteen-foot ceilings.  I immediately took this as a good omen.  My room is positively luxurious compared to the little stone room with nothing but a bed at the temple.  It’s got cozy, white painted walls with a dark wood door and dark wooden trim, the same as the beautiful woodwork lining the halls.  I have a window that’s almost as long as the wall it sits on and a bed with a feather tick!  If you’ve never slept on a feather bed, you are missing one of the great luxuries of life.  I positively sink into it at night.  My quilt looks very bright and cheery in the mass of sunlight that streams through that window, and I’ve been provided with the quaintest little table with a bowl set into the top of it for my wash water, and a rope seat chair with the same book that was carved into the front door, and set  into stained glass in Madam Damynda’s office, carved into the back.  At night I can see the flickering lights of the city from my window, and I feel like quite the lady of the world, in the midst of such sophistication.  Apparently, I’ve been given one of the nicer rooms where the wealthy finishing school students board as they’re completing their classes, and not a regular student room.  I’ve been told that those are nice and quite simple, but lack the size and decoration that mine has.  After Madam Damynda left me to myself, I immediately hung the brass symbol of Boccob above my bed.  The room looks quite homey now, between my quilt and other belongings.

I met Professor Annandale the next day.  He is the tallest Elf I have ever set eyes on, with a quiet but studious power that seems to radiate from his very bones.  He welcomed me quite warmly before explaining what I was to do throughout the day, showing me around a little, and the disappearing without another thought for my well-being into the library.  I sit through his classes every day except Saturday and Sunday so I can answer most questions that get asked, occupy his formal office until 3:00 in the afternoon, and grade any minor assignments that get turned in.  He does the main things himself, and really just wants someone to field the silly stuff.  The formal office has a hightly polished wood des, and several cushy chairs to lounge in.  A bookcase with a bunch of simple magical theory books and spell books with cantrips inside stands on one wall, and there’s a long window like the one in my room on the other wall.  I’m writing from this office right now, as it’s hardly very busy for long.

His informal office is just behind the formal one, with a large heavy door separating the two from each other.  Inside, it’s a veritable warehouse of shelves filled with the most interesting books I have ever seen.  The titles all glitter with magical writing, and I positively itch to open one.  I don’t suppose I ever will, though.  There’s a standard wooden des, and a bookstand in the corner, but little else.  There isn’t even a window to the outside in this closet of a room.  I can bother him if I really need to, being that the rooms are so close to each other, but I shall try my best to never do it.

He’s explained a little bit about what he’s working on to me.  He thinks there is an inherent magical language that runs in the bones of all things, and he’s trying to piece together this dialect any way he can.  Mostly through intense study of all magics he can get his hands on.  He’s already discovered some key words, so it seems as if his theory is true!  I can barely contain my excitement when I think of what this would mean to magical study in general!! Though Anandale is a Cleric, and I a Wizard, Iknow from our mutial worship of Boccob and from Professor Annandale’s true devotion to the arts, that I have made the right choice to come here.

The classes I have been sitting through are filled with spells and theories I just learned myself, so I shall have to study extra hard to keep ahead of the courses I’m assisting in.  Many of the theories are geared toward Cleric abilities, though, and I just don’t understand them.  The classes regarding Turning are especially impossible for me.  I just can’t get it.  It’s no surprise, really.  I have this strange mental blockage regarding anything undead that nothing will overcome.  It really hasn’t affected me at all until I came here, so I don’t imagine it being too incapacitating once I’m out in the world, even if it does hinder my assisting abilities. I shall try my best to understand the theories, at least, even if I can never do it in practice. That way I shall be as useful as I can be.

I still feel a great deal as if I’m settling in here, not knowing anyone, one little blip in this University of thousands.  The spring rains have just started to get fewer and fewer, and the short hillside outside my window is the deepest green.  All-in-all I love it here, and hope to stay for – A student has just come in, and I must find a copy of the latest lesson.

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on November 18, 2009 by caseykins

March 24, 1033

I left the Temple of Boccob shortly after dawn yesterday, with low mist hugging the roads and a red sun rising slowly over the hills.  It was such a pretty spring morning that I was sorry to be leaving.  Xanda got up with me, principally to wave goodbye from the doorway as I traipsed the cold roads in my new blue clothing, my bag of holding slung lightly over my shoulder.  I turned and waived back just before I lost sight of her, and I will always remember the way the Temple looked that morning, all shrouded in mist.  As soon as I got to town my tranquil mornin ceased, of course.  There were at least a dozen people piling their things in wagon after wagon, bustling around the little square.  I felt quite lost before an older human male noticed me and pointed me in the right direction. 

I’m riding with Honey and Handy in their wagon.  They’re as cute as their names sound, an old and wrinkly human couple selling Handy’s prize wood carvings and Honey’s prize weaving.  Most of the group are Humans, and I find them quite energetic.  The obscene amount of energy they have must contribute to their short life spans.  They just can’t keep it up for that long!  I haven’t spent much time with any but Elves in a long time.  I must be quite a sight to see, piled in the wagon like another sack of cloth, bouncing away in uncomfortable misery on the worst roads in the country.  I couldn’t have picked a worse time for travel, with the rains making muddy holes in all the major byways.  We should be reaching Brindol on the 29th, and hopefully the closer to town we get, the better the roads will be.  I’m crossing my fingers.

I volunteered for the first watch tonight with a few others, spaced evenly about the campsite.  It’s been a beautiful night, with clusters of sparkling stars bejeweling the heavens.  It doesn’t look like it will stay that way for long, though.  An ominous cloud has just begun to form on the horizon.  I fear it will be days of rough travel in pouring rain for us from now on.  In some ways I love spring, but in others I wish I could just skip it!

March 28, 1033

It was just as I feared.  Pouring rain with little let up these last three days.  We can see Brindol now, a wide circle of gray stone and painted wood in the valley below.  Little bits of color flutter from the ramparts, the red flags standing out against the cloudy sky.  Tomorrow I’ll be there!

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on November 11, 2009 by caseykins

March 19, 1033

Xanda and I took the day off together and went down town… much to the dismay of Madam Samanda, who doesn’t approve of canceling classes.  We had a lovely bright and sunny day for our trip.  The spring is upon us with a vengeance these days, the hillsides sprouting green shoots like mad.  On days like this I’m sorry I won’t get to see the wildflowers of summer dusting the roadsides, crowding out everything else with their little blue faces.  The earth was still damp from the rains yesterday, and my slippers got quite saturated with mud and road grime.  I don’t think they’ll ever be the same, but Xanda swears she has a secret spell to take out any mud stain in existence.  She’s calling it Earth to Water.  I hope it works. 

In any case, I purchased a lovely explorer’s outfit.  A tight pair of brown cotton pants, a nice, loose blue silk shirt with many hidden pockets, and a beautifully well made doublet of cotton brocade and leather with more pockets.  I got a plain brown pair of boots too, with extra thick soles for many years of wear, and a brown leather belt to hook all my necessaries to.  I went a little overboard and got myself a new pouch for all my spell components, too.  It’s plain now, but I intend to embroider it with flames per my newest spell: Fireball.  I don’t know that I ever would have gone with something quite so skin tight had Xanda not been along, but we had so much fun trying everything in the store, and the blue brocade was so perfect that I really felt I needed it.  Some days I wish I could take that elf girl with me.  She says she wouldn’t leave the temple for all the world, though; content to sit in the barren hills and teach little ones for the rest of her life. 

While in town, I asked about transport to Brindol.  There’s a group of folks all leaving for the Brindol Craft Fair on the 23, and they will give me a lift on one of their wagons so long as I provide my own food and drink, and don’t mind sitting in the back with the cargo.  I think I’ll mind a little bit, being tossed about with the cargo around me, but to get where I’m going I’m willing to be quite uncomfortable at times.  It’s strange to think that I only have 4 days left in this place.  I’ll miss the quiet life of the temple, I think, but I’ll be trading it for a much more exciting existence.

I’m quite curious about this Annandale, too.  I wonder what sort of person he is, and if we’ll get along.  I don’t know what I’ll do if we don’t see eye to eye, for it will be quite impossible for me to return to the Temple of Boccob permanently, if only for pride’s sake.  I’m leaving a friendly place behind me, and sometimes I think that friendly should have been enough for me, that I’m crazy to seek more than I have right now.  But then I feel the powerful glee that surges up inside me when I channel the elements within my soul, and I know I’m right to crave a better understanding of my power.

March 22, 1033

They had a lovely little ceremony for me at dinner tonight.  My class presented me with a beautiful brass holy symbol of Boccob to take to my new place, and Madam Samanda made a nice speech about wishing me well in my endeavors.  I cried like a baby, but I’m feeling rather excited for tomorrow in spite of my tears.  Is this the last night I shall ever sleep under this roof?  And where shall I be sleeping in the future?

 

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on November 4, 2009 by caseykins

March 10, 1033

Well, it’s starting to be spring again.  We’ve had unceasing rains lately instead of unceasing snows, but the hillsides are beginning to look dusted with green.

No word yet.  I suppose I’m being too impatient, expecting a reply to my inquiries so soon.  I can’t help but be anxious, though. 

 March 15, 1033

I recieved a letter today! It’s from a Madam Damynda at the University in Brindol, just a short trip over the hills from here!  The situation seems ideal.  I’ll surely be able to find an experienced Wizard to study from at a university.  Madam Damynda writes that a professor of theirs, Annandale, is seeking an assistant to field student questions and grade papers while he continues with some important research.  I’ll be given room and board in exchange for my services, and be able to take a few classes free of charge in my off time!  Madam Samanda knows Professor Annandale slightly.  He stayed here on his way to Brindol several years ago, and if he knows Boccob, he must know about magical study.  I can hardly wait to be off!  Though, of course I’ll have to be delayed several weeks to put my things in order and make travel plans.  With the university so close, it will hardly be a permanent separation.  I won’t feel so bad about leaving here when I know a visit is possible, even if I never have the chance to make one.  Xanda will have to give my students their final exams in April, for I will be gone to Brindol.  They have a theater there, and a seashore!  I can hardly wait.

March 16, 1033

I spent all day packing.  Luckily I don’t have many possessions and Fon was kind enough to give me a bag of holding as a going away present.  He teared up a bit when he gave it to me.  Said it had been in his family for three generations.  They were a great set of adventurers, Fon’s decendants, and he was just glad to be able to pass it on since he has no relations of his own to use it.  You would think I was going straight to a Dragon’s lair the way Fon talked of my leaving the temple and the dangerous times that will ensue, but I’ll miss the old curmudgeon.  It was sweet of him to give me the bag, and I will think of him every time I use it.  I intend to take my quilt, and both sets of robes, as well as my spell book (of course), and my diary (ditto).  I’ll probably see if I can buy a set of adventuring clothes before I set off, much more comfortable and cool than all the drapey fabric of my Wizard wear will be on the road.  A good pair of sturdy shoes would be nice too, instead of the thin slippers I wear around here.  I must see if I can get someone to take me to the shops.

Madam Samanda announced my leaving at dinner today, and my entire class burst into tears, bedewing their soups with saltiness.  They’ll soon forget me for their new teacher, and realize how short a time a year really is.  As of yet, they’re only about sixty years old, hardly old enough for anything to grab a hold of them permanently.  I feel a slight twinge of guilt in leaving them half way through their year, but there’s really no help for it.  The letter from the university said to make haste, as their term had already started.

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Emer’s Diary

Posted on November 3, 2009 by caseykins

February 23, 1033

I’ve made my decision.  It’s finally time to leave this Temple of Boccob.  I’ve learned everything I can from Madam Samanda, and I know she disaproves of my studies of evocation.  She doesn’t say anything, but her brown eyes flash when I speak of it, and truly, I can see how she wouldn’t understand how I can have such an aptitude for something she could care less about.  I know it would be easier for her if I studied what she studied, but I just can’t seem to care about illusion the way she does.  And she can’t help me anymore than she already has with the forces of nature I find irresistible.

It’s been ice cold this winter, which I think has added to my unrest.  We’ve had snow almost daily, with drifts up to my shoulders.  The cold just creeps into my little room, the stone walls all rimed with ice, the long narrow window letting in only a fraction of what little gray light we get, the air alive with snowflakes and nothing but the bright quilt on my bed to help keep me warm.  I’ve been barred from the courtyard, even.  Usually the worst storms only serve to push a wall of snow across the western wall, but this winter it was completely full of icy fluff – impossible to walk there and get some excercise in the small intervals when it wasn’t gusting and storming.  It’s good I didn’t make the decision to go until now.  I would have been extra restless, knowing I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.  The snows have already let up, leaving frozen heaps of dirty ice and hard snow everywhere.  Soon it will be warm enough for travel, and I intend to know where I’n going by then so I can catch the first wagon out of here. 

I shouldn’t think like that.  Really, I will be sad to leave.  This temple has been my home for so long that I don’t know if I’ll even be able to like another place, no matter how nice it is.  And I’ll be sad to leave the newbies behind.  They always remind me of myself, adolescents of only a hundred years old, roaming the halls at first as uncertain as can be, but gradually realizing that this place is their home now.  As I did.  It’s sweet. 

February 28, 1033

Two Wizards from an adventuring party stayed here last night.  They went away this morning, but they took a few dozen letters of inquiry for me and promised to post them in town.  I hope I’ll hear soon… I’m quite excited for new adventures, but starting to feel rootless.  It’s very disconcerting.

I took Xanda’s class today as well as my own, Xanda having quite a head cold.  Fon refuses to “desecrate his art” by healing her for something so trifling as a head cold, and Xanda’s been cranky about it all day.  I took her class so she could stay in and rest, and I must say that her class is much more lively than mine, and not always in a good way!  They were attempting to learn Open/Close using a set of hinged boxes, but the ammount of squabbling that went on over who got to use which box, and who was Opening or Closing the box of their neighbor was amazing to me.  I finally yelled at them all in quite an unseemly burst of temper, but things only went slightly better after that.  You can imagine how glad I was to return to my little serious class of first levelers.  They, at least, were orderly and courteous, whatever their magical abilities. 

I let Madam Samanda know that I was thinking of leaving, and she told me they would miss me much without surprise, or real emotion.  She doesn’t quite seem to understand my need of evocation, but she does know that no one in the temple can help me farther with any kind of magical study.  I’ve been at a stagnant point for some time, and she understands why I’m going.  Madam Samanda also offered to send a few letters on my behalf to some of her colleagues.  That was very kind of her, for, of course, she owes me nothing.  The letters should go by post tomorrow.  Excitement tingles in my fingers.

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