A Fork in the Road

You wake as if from a dream. You are sitting near a smoldering campfire and the sun is just beginning to rise. You are not alone, but you are not alarmed. Sitting across the campfire is a young man you know instantly. He looks more human than you imagined he would, and less elven. He is road worn and his eyes betray a great wisdom and you are sure you are looking at Fharlanghn.

As you struggle to rise and perform some sign of obeisance he raises a hand and flashes a warm smile, instantly putting you at ease. “Take your ease. It is not yet time to break camp.” You nod and take a seat on a stump opposite of him.

After a few moments of watching him poke at the fire where a black skillet sizzles with greasy bacon you finally ask “Where am I?”

“On one of many roads.” He answers simply.

“How…how did I get here? We…were exploring…” you trail off.

“I think you know the answer.”

“I’m dead?” you venture, and then sigh, “Again.”

“You have indeed reached the end of that road.” He nods in agreement.

“How long have I been…” you trail off.

“You reached this crossroad recently. Not to worry, your friends already pursue you. They will ask if you can return to them and they have the necessary resources.”

“Good. We have to finish that dragon off. They will need my help. They will need your power to defeat her.” You smile, knowing that your god is more than a match for Varantulian. To your dismay he breaks your gaze, glancing down at the sizzling bacon.

After an uncomfortable pause he speaks. “Varantulian is a fearsome beast to be sure. Your heart lies not beyond the horizon. You could leave that beast far behind you if you chose, but you throw yourself into its jaws. You are feeding off your friends’ desires for vengeance, justice, order and simple greed, and you are being influenced by them. All the while, they sap away at your own wonder for the world around you.”

A lump rises in your throat. To be so admonished by Fharlanghn directly is worse than you could ever have imagined. Your mind tries to assemble a defense as he continues.

“For your friends the destination is all that is important. Roads that lie between are an inconvenience, and you have done little to sway their minds despite the gifts I have bestowed upon you and in turn, them. You have traveled far, and seen much, but you have also skipped what could be skipped and missed much more. My way is not to hurry through leaving sights unseen.

I have no thirst for vengeance, and no desire to accumulate wealth. A dragon hunt does not satisfy my wanderlust. You have assembled many things of value; friends, wealth, prestige and power…but none of these are of consequence to My teachings.”

You open your mouth to speak just as he raises his gaze to once again meet yours. His face is stern.
“I have been to space, and traveled the planes. I have seen wondrous sights and plan to see many more. When they call me back, I will help them develop a thirst to discover what lies beyond the horizon. I promise.” You declare solemnly.

He shakes his head slightly. “We have had this conversation before. This time you will stay with me. There are wonders I want to show you. Your companions would not appreciate them. Their minds are clouded with revenge and avarice.”

You are taken aback. You can’t believe the choice wouldn’t be your own. “If they call me back, I must return! They need my skills, my powers. The life of an adventurer is dangerous and challenging. They are my friends and I can’t leave their lives in the hands of a stranger.”

He listens and ponders your words for a moment. “When I blessed you with My Grace and lifted you from the common clergy I knew that your elven heritage would come to prevalence eventually.” He stands, and you do so also, on instinct. “If you go when they call, you will begin a new journey. The path you travel will be a new one, and I will hold a place for you in my heart, but we will not walk this new path together.” He reaches down and removes the bacon from the coals, setting it to the side.

“If you must return to them, then rest here until they call. It will be safe. If you decide to let go of the ties that bind you to them, then join me. I am going to see what lies over that horizon.” As he finishes he points off to the northwest where some distant mountains just barely break above the forest canopy. With that, he gives you a nod, one full of meaning and finality, and starts off down the road.
On the ground you find your gear, packed and ready for travel. You feel energized and ready for a day’s journey, but your feet seem rooted to the ground. Varantulian lives yet, the Cagewrights have only been foiled temporarily, and the illithids insidious plans still grip the space lanes. You never understood the word “duty” before now. Now it binds you, and breaks your heart as Fharlanghn seeks out a distant horizon that you have no time to explore.

You sit down and wait. You decide to eat the bacon, but it seems tasteless. As you sit, lost in thought a feeling comes over you, a probing in your mind and heart. “Will she want to return to the land of the living?” It dredges your feelings and your thoughts, and you know that Goldie Galorede wants to know the answer. The answer, of course, is yes. You don’t think it or say it, it just is. Your spirits lift somewhat as you realize your friends are already seeking to have you raised.

As you wonder how much use you can be to them without Fharlanghn’s backing, you notice a traveler coming up the road. It is an elf of indeterminate age. He is dressed in modest yet quality clothing, clean and free of dust from the road. Gold sparkles at his throat and on his fingers. He confidently approaches your campsite and just at the perimeter he stops and smiles. “Good day, friend.”

“Not so much.” You say as you wonder how, if you are dead, that this person can speak with you. You believe yourself to still be on the Material Plane. “Do we know each other?”

“No, but we know of each other. My name is Gruemar. And you, you are Kaerin Dellarys, are you not?”
You don’t recognize the name, but you nod stiffly. He smiles wider and nods toward the stump where only minutes before a god had been sitting. You give a wave of your hand and he seats himself.

“I can see by your expression you do not recognize my name. Urgala the Claw told me about you and your comrades.” Urgala’s name triggers a memory. Gruemar the Voice. He is a servant of Bahamut, one of the seven great gold wyrms. If you had not just spoken to Fharlanghn you might even be awestruck. As it stands you can barely manage to be impressed.

“What brings you to this stretch of the Prime, Gruemar?” you ask, beginning to take interest in him and what his presence might mean.

“A crisis of faith has brought me before you. Fharlanghn and Bahamut have spoken about you at length. They were of the agreement that this day might come. That it would come. The Dweller on the Horizon does not intend to punish you, but he does acknowledge that your heart has changed as it must in due time among all elves.”

You wonder aloud, “How will I aid my allies in their fight against evil if he casts me away just when they need me most?”

He nods knowingly, and answers. “You have the option to do as Fharlanghn wishes, and follow him to the horizon. You also have the option to dedicate yourself to the battle against evil and to protecting the weak and innocent. If you choose the second option, you may do battle under the banner of my Mentor, the Lord of the North Wind. The Wyrmking himself will replace the power you have sacrificed in full measure, though his methods be different than your previous master’s.”

He lets that offer sink in. You already know that the power Gruemar offers is real. “Will you choose the Road? Or, will you dedicate your life to a cause greater than you? A cause that has real meaning.”