Future Plans

[DoM Archive]

Date: 9/19/99 11:24 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: LqdForest

Durax scurries about through the clearing in Twilight Forest that is his home, tossing a pinch of this and a dash of that into a large, cast iron cauldren. With each new ingrediant, the bright blue liquid inside roars and boils ever higher, as if in acceptance to its new treasures.
"Yes, its all coming together nicely," Durax whispers, a gleem in his eyes seldom seen. He grabs a large wooden spoon and stirs the bubbling elixer, smiling quietly to himself. "Soon it will be completed. Soon, my dreams will be done." He then turns to a few goblins who have gathered to watch him work. With a sly smile, he asks them for a list of ingrediants from the kitchen, from the forest around them, and from beyond. Knowing Durax is a good
tipper, they eagerly run off to do his bidding.
In the forest clearing, the sorcerer known as Durax laughs and stirs the brew before him. "Tis all coming into place!" With the last word, a *plop* is heard followed by a hissss. Tis non-other than the sound of a dash of dracolich bones melting into the elixer.

Date: 9/20/99 3:10 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: LqdForest

Durax takes one of the many boats leaving Twilight Island to RhyDin, a quiet smile on his elvish lips. Upon arrival to the City of Delights, he briskly pays the boatwoman and walks away, quickly becoming lost in the milling crowds.
Not long later, he emerges from a bustling street in the metal-workers district, entering a humble shop. The attendant behind the desk looks up lazily, reciting as if on que, "How can I he--" The words freeze in the mans throat as his mind catches up with his eyes, realizing whom the elf tis. "Master Forgeflame will be with you in a moment, good Sir." The man mumbles and quickly darts off to find the dwarf tending the forge.
Durax is not kept waiting long. Jaslli Forgefire, one of RhyDin's greatest--and thus most expensive--metalsmiths greets the mage-warrior with a gruff smile beneath her whiskers, present even in female dwarves at times. "I was wondering when your high-and-noble arse would drag its way into me shop once more." The touch of affection and friendship takes the sting from the words.
"'My shop,'" Durax says in his wispy, accented voice. "Your grammer is as horrible as always, my friend." A sly smil crosses his lips. He glances at the attendant, standing nervously in the corner. Without a word, the man leaves, giving the strange duo privacy.
"Bah! I'll bleedin' say wha' I want and how I want to be sayin' it, pointy-ears."
"As you wish, round-ears." An amused chuckle excapes the elf. "Have you what I have ordered?" Knowing quite well she has, Durax proceeds into the sweltering forge-room. A grumble is his only response to the obvious question.

Date: 9/23/99 3:59 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: LqdForest

Durax squints at a long, thin bar of the purest platinum, inspecting it for the tiniest imperfection. With a heavy sigh, he sets it aside and moves to the next bar that awaits him.
Several hours have passed since his arrival at Jaslli Forgefire's shop, several long, tedious hours of forced patience. "An' what bleedin' was wrong with that one?!" the dwarven woman sputters.
"A knick, my dear friend." Durax calmly explains, a flicker of a frown on his elvish face. "I know you have worked for a very long time on this, but the platinum must--"
"'Be pure, absolutely straight and of th' highest quaility,'" Jaslli grumbles, repeating the littiny word-for-word. "I know, elf, but it is still hard to watch you casually regect four months of work."
"You are being paid quite well for your time, Jaslli, so I wouldn't worry about it." The reply falls smoothly from the elf's lips as he picks up yet another bar, peering down its length.



* * * * *



It took the elf and dwarf nearly two full days in the end to find a bar without knick or scratch.
"Durned elf, I don't see how a barely-noticable scratch will ruin your gods-be-cursed spell."
"And that tis why I am the mage and you are not my friend." Durax chuckles softly, carefully wrapping the precious metal in several layers of silk and velvet. Jaslli snorts in agreement, leaving little doubt just exactly what she thinks of magery as an occupation.
"At least you could haul your bleedin' carcus in here once in a while to visit me." The dwarf proclaims gruffly, a heavy frown as she watches her friend for the past three centuries pack his things. "Ye cannot stay even a single night more?"
With a theatrical sigh, Durax smiles. "One night, my friend. If tis one thing I've learned over my years is that arguing with a woman is as fruitfull as arguing with a mute. I cannot win."
The pair share a chuckle, before the dwarf grins, "That means I'll even let you buy me dinner at the Red Dragon."
"You're too kind."
"That is quite true, but someone has too keep you in line."


* * * * *


Good-byes for the dwarf and elf never have been long, elaborate things. This one is no exception. With a hearty hand-shake (done mostly by the Jaslli), and a promise to viist soon, Durax departs the forge and heads towards Twilight Island. "One more piece of the puzzle is mine. Soon, it will all come together."

Date: 9/25/99 11:21 AM Eastern Standard Time
From: LqdForest

The roads to Twilight Island are usually kept fairly clear of bandits, wandering misfits, and other like nusciences, and today is no exception. The dawn breaks behind Durax, the sun rising forth like a pheonix returning to life in a brilliant plume of flame, swishing its multi-coloured tail behind it to paint the sky a brilliant spectrum of reds and oranges.
The mage-warrior known as Durax, whom his journal has followed so diligently thus far, flies across the lands at a reckless speed on a flying tavern chair, "borrowed" and enchanted from some tavern that has probably gone out of businsess long ago, much akin to the rest of the shops in RhyDin.
"Great Mysta, thats a beautiful site," Durax whispers, slowing his flight long enough to take in his surroundings. A flicker of a smile crosses his face as he studies it, before nodding slightly to himself. "I do believe I've found the subject for my next painting." The elf nods slightly to himself and heads off, towards his home in the Twilight Woods.



* * * * *



A hiss of protest, followed by a gout of noxious fumes becomes the platinum bar Durax travelled so far, and payed os much, for. An involuntary wince crosses the elf's face, a sigh accompaning it. "Tis necessary," he mutters, "but I don't have to like it." Grimacing at the unholy stench, he whispers a cantrip of protection around the bubbling cauldren. "Research is necessary, aye, but not at the cost of harm to the Woods."
With a long ladel, Durax pours the concoction into a series of 18 bowls seperated into 2 neatly seperated rows. When the task is completed, he nods to himself. "And now, we await the final ingrediant." His tone a bit lighter than normal, as one would seeing a hard-worked bit of research come close to ending.

Date: 10/5/99 10:13 PM Eastern Standard Time
From: LqdForest

Durax sits in the middle of a white circle that looks very much like the powdered bones of some undead creature. Sweat pours down the elf's brow, causing him to clench his eyes ever tighter shut. Dark, wrenching words are born from his lips, causing all of Twilight Forest around him to silence.
A crackling is heard as a small portal rips its way through the very fabric of reality. Forcing himself to sit up straight and open his eyes, Durax stares into the void, waiting.
Finally, the spirit answers his call. The shadowy, trasnlucent form of his father appears before him. The ghost smiles quietly, reading his son's thoughts in his eyes. "You've done it, my son. You have climbed your way to my power. Your life-quest is complete."
With a hollow voice, weak from the casting, Durax responds. "Yes father. Tis why I came to RhyDin to begin with, and now, after all these years, I have finally done it."
The ghost smiles at his son, pride showing even through the etheral matter. The meeting which Durax prepared so long for took but a few moments, but t'was worth it. As the spirit departs, Durax drifts into a deep slumber, filled with happy dreams.