Sune's Solution (D&D/MGE)

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKnfurMKk34

[An Old Friend]

Thanks to @Armoury for the beta!

—

The door doesn't open, that doesn't particularly surprise you. You could hear almost everything going on in the mansion after all, from the distant, rhythmic steps of Brynhild moving around, to the defined thuds of Ignis's heavy footsteps. Whomever was at your door hadn't walked to it, they had appeared at it, and there was only one person who could do that in all the realms.

At least, only one person that could do it and had a reason to talk to you.

… At least, only one person that could do it, had a reason to talk to you, and would bother to do so without immediately attempting to kill you instead. One did not adventure as long as you had without making enemies. And one did not adventure as long as you had while still being capable of surprise either. Such that, when the soft arms wrapped themselves around your upper chest in a gentle embrace, you didn't so much as twitch.

"Good evening, Baeran."

Her voice was midnight velvet, akin to that of a hand running over sheets. A whisper of a sound you had to focus to hear, but you could feel. It was a voice familiar to you, both in timbre and… quality. Of course, the voice was just that of a human woman from the Dalelands. But the power behind it, the might that caused your nerves to tingle as she ran her hands across your chest. That did not belong to any human.

"Good evening, Mystra." You say, smiling slightly. "You could have used the door."

"You are in my realm, I don't need to use any door."

You smile a touch wider, allowing the point. Yet. "It is a matter of politeness, nothing further." Then reaching a hand up, you tap the hands caressing you, causing them to pull away before you turn around to reveal Mystra in… most of her glory. She was wearing a black silk dress, that in itself wasn't unusual for her, what was rather new and unique was that it appeared to have the thickness of a cloud and was held on by nothing but the hopes and dreams of aspiring wizards and sorcerers. Her blue eyes swirled, power dancing within them and causing them to faintly glow with an ebbing pulse in the dark room that illuminated her shoulder length black hair, near the same color as her dress in fact. "And whatever is wrong with the realms that brings you around?"

Mystra smiles, "I can't just come say hello to one of my favorite mortals?"

"You, along with most deities that deign to visit mortals, generally don't," you reply. Mystra, the Lady of Mystery, Our Lady of Magic. Or simply, Mystra, goddess of Magic. Was an interesting sort. More… free willed than most gods you had dealt with, and one that had taken a particular interest in you after you saved her life. "So I must presume you are here due to my new companions."

Mystra leans close, her lips a hair's breadth from your own before she moves her head to the side, her breath tickling your pointed ears as she speaks. "Not happy to see me?"

You catch the hand moving towards your crotch, and Mystra leans back, a black eyebrow raised. "I am always happy to see you Mystra, just the timing marks this occasion as suspect. If you wished to speak to me you could have just as easily in any of the past weeks. The mansion is as lovely as always, as are you."

Mystra smirks. "And how am I lovely?"

"Were I only capable of describing such a thing. But to do so would be like to ask a poet to describe a sunset in a mere hundred words, or a philosopher to explain simply the purpose of existence. Such things are not done, least of all lightly. So I shall succinctly state you are as beautiful as you have ever been, and I noticed your new perfume." You appreciate beauty in all of its forms, and beauty was more than mere appearance. Mystra was beautiful, but you would rather her get to the point of this visit instead of laying on flattery.

Such a thing was not something you particularly enjoyed in any case, unless the person truly needed the confidence boost. Mystra, however, was Mystra. And she, like the many spellcasters who prayed to her, had more confidence than was measurable or safe.

Mystra takes another step back, then spins on the spot, the silken dress clinging to her in ways that make it abundantly clear what she was wearing underneath it. Placing a hand against one hand, she raises the other then waves it left to right like a schoolmarm clearing a chalkboard. At once, the windows… and wall that was on that side of the room fades away into little more than motes of dancing magic.

Replacing it was everything else, the world, quite literally. An infinite starfield stretched out to the edges of Realmspace in every direction, momentarily transfixing your attention before you arrested it back to the blue orb slowly spinning so close you could swear you could touch it, yet so far it may as well be a million leagues away. The world of Toril hung there in space, a scant few feet away, and you stood in silence, admiring the illusion without a word.

Then, twisting her fingers, Mystra spun the planet, splaying them a moment later to bring it to a stop. Front and center was the landmass of Faerun, while to the east you could see the massive mountains that bordered Kara-Tur. To the south, Zakhara and just barely poking out around the edge of the globe to the west, Maztica. Then beams of light erupted all over it. Tabot, Turmish, Amn and Unther. Halruaa, Chult, Calimshan and Thay. Every major region just about had one beam or more… including Candlekeep.

"The Weave, the source of all magic, has been in chaos." Mystra explains. "Magical creatures of unknown species have been appearing all over through magical portals. Some feminine, like those in your company, others distinctly not, corrupted and vile, more beasts fit for the Hells and Planes than anything else. I was curious as to your experience with your two new creatures."

Mystra then turns around, the starlight illuminating her from behind. The smile was gone, replaced by a far more… annoyed expression.

"I would hardly describe them as creatures. They are certainly different from most I have met, especially the self-described 'Salamander'. But I have sensed no evil, and there are few beings in these realms who can hide their nature from me." You smile at the goddess, recalling your battle with Ignis, and the… multiple rather interesting conversations you had had with Brynhild so far. Those of which almost entirely involved her questioning you regarding your marital status and your adventures. "They are certainly monstrous in nature, that I will not deny. However I believe they mean no harm. We were on our way to Candlekeep to see if we could uncover anything there."

"And would you like to simply be there?" Mystra asks, with the same tone as one uses to ask if they should open a window to let in fresh air.

"That would be appreciated, thank you."

Mystra's smile returns, then it becomes a grin as she steps up to you. "Then it will be done. I would ask you to continue looking into this, but I feel that will not be necessary."

"I won't be, no." You reply. Then allow her to press a hand against your chest and push you back against the bed. You bounce against the mattress, then suddenly find a goddess leaning over you, the dress gone revealing pale breasts.

"Are you ready to finally submit to my charms?" Mystra asks, leaning down, her breasts pressing against your chest. Her lips close the distance towards your own, and… you place a single finger against them.

"I will, only if you are serious."

"I am serious," Mystra replies.

You smile up at her, she was beautiful, and yet… "By serious I mean alone, Midnight. You are a good friend, and you are beautiful, but such a thing I wish to save for someone who truly wants me and me alone. And unless you are willing to give up Elminster and Gale…"

Mystra frowns. "I am a god."

"And I am a mortal, we have our traditions. I'm afraid I remain immune to your charms."

Mystra rolls her eyes, then sits up on the bed, uncaring and unashamed of her nakedness. But then, it would be rather odd if she suddenly was. "Then at least entertain me."

You let out a breath, staring up at the ceiling. "Want to hear a story about a dragon?"

"Do wizards have a fondness for fireballs?"

—

You were surprised to find yourself having company quickly as you sat down for breakfast, having skipped dinner entirely due to your long evening conversation with Mystra. You had wished to eat dinner, you had wished to finish your prayers, you had wished to… sleep. But when the goddess of magic states she wants a story, one would be ill-advised to refuse her. Lest they wind up across continents due to the whims of a still-young goddess.

This is why at five in the morning you sat at the table at the entrance, your first time now in over a week. Idly eating at a plate of eggs the invisible servants had prepared. It was… good, of course, but after well over a decade eating the food prepared by the mansion… you had learned how it all tasted, back when you could at least. The ingredients of course were exquisite, the food cooked to perfection. After all, how couldn't it be? But with it being the same magical ingredients, the same magical cooking, the same preparation.

It tended to become rather obnoxiously familiar. Hence why, much to Fuyao's annoyance, you tended to avoid using the mansion whenever possible, consisting instead on what you hunted or caught or bartered for. The quality was, as a general rule, far less. You were comparing the feast of a king to that of a common merchant or tradesman. But there was soul to it, and variation.

You suppose your average person would consider that the thoughts of a madman, or one who didn't know how good they had it. You were not the first and you knew damn well how blessed your life as a whole was. But you could admit at least some boredom without damning yourself, at least, you hoped.

Your breakfast thoughts however, were interrupted by thudding feet and a yawn, and you turned your head to see Ignis making her wall into the room, one hand idly scratching at her stomach. Her armor was gone, instead replaced by a tan tunic provided by the mansion… to the best of its efforts. It was slightly too small for her, having apparently tried to fit someone of a Goliath's height without accounting for the rather unnatural shape of the woman herself. It rose on her stomach, revealing lightly scarred but heavily toned skin, and, as she walked past. You could see she had deliberately ripped open the top of the trouser pants so that her tail could stick out of it far easier. The flaming tail dragging on the floor behind her as she marched past you.

With all the grace of a Gnoll she yanks one of the chairs back and plops herself down onto it, the wood creaking for a moment before accepting its fate. A moment later, a plate is set in front of her, stacked high with various meats and cheeses. She stares at it, then looks over towards you with decently bagged eyes.

"Didn't sleep well?" you ask.

"Could say that," Ignis replies, more a grunt than a sentence. "Bed was too soft, floor was too cold. By the time I fell asleep it was two hours until I normally wake up for practice."

"My apologies, when do you normally wake?"

Ignis blinks slowly. "Dunno, I just do. Been waking up early now for years."

You smile. "As do I, for much the same reason. Would you like to join me for morning practice at some point?"

"A wife is meant to spar with her husband." Ignis replies. "So yeah."

Your smile drops. "And I wasn't aware we were married."

"You beat me in a fight, that means you've claimed me."

"And yet I've signed no contract or made a vow before a deity. I've fought many things, only a sparse few have claimed we were then betrothed, and I have gone along with none of them I'm afraid."

Ignis glares at you, a truly withering thing. Truly. Then she turns her attention to the plate of food in front of her.

—

It was another half hour before, to your surprise, the sound of hoofbeats filled the halls. You turned your attention towards Brynhild entering the foyer, her hands clasped in front of her, the woman was practically glowing. Her horse hair, previously slightly matted and ruffled from her fall and your ride was pristine, not a knot in sight. To say nothing of her skin, practically glinting as the light caught her face. It seemed she at least found the bath, going by the scent.

She stops as she catches sight of you, smiles, then kneels down onto her two forelegs, her hand lifting up the edge of her silks in some Centaur version of a curtsy. "Good morning Sir, I thank you for the delightful bath, I haven't had the chance to bathe now in several we-." She blinks. "I haven't had a chance at a bath that lovely in weeks."

"Quite welcome," you reply. "Please, sit and eat."

Brynhild raises herself, then trots over to stand just next to you at the table. With a clink a plate full of vegetables is set down in front of her, and you don't miss the faint bit of drool that appears at the corner of her lip before she wipes it away. She reaches down eagerly, grabbing a carrot off the plate before, with a pause, sets it back down and starts cutting it with a fork and knife. "What are we doing today Sir?"

You open your mouth to respond, but a yawn cuts you off. The two of you look back to see Fuyao entering the room, one hand covering her mouth before she drops it. She was in her 'casual' attire, which for Fuyao basically meant Kara-Turan farmclothes, a hemp shirt and pants with precisely no decoration. You had offered to get her something nicer more then once, she had told you to go fuck yourself. It was an interesting relationship the two of you had.

She lowers her head and smacks her lips together. "We ready to go boss? Saw where we were when I checked the road this morning."

You nod your head. "Indeed, don't worry about your weapons and armor."

Fuyao snorts. "Wasn't planning on it, they get all uppity when I do. I just hope nothing stupid happens."

You smile. "It's Candlekeep, the town hasn't been particularly noteworthy since the time of the Bhaalspawn."

"I'm… sorry, what's going on?" Brynhild asks, drawing your attention back to her.

"Oh, I spoke with the goddess of magic last night and she was kind enough to teleport us to our destination."

Ignis grunts. "Bull-"

—

"... Shit." Ignis says, staring up at the castle in front of you.

"Oh… my…" Brynhild whispers, her gaze transfixed. You smile, you suppose it was quite a sight to see.


View: https://i.imgur.com/DnMlvbC.jpg

Built on the edge of a cliff, and almost every building either a wall of a tower, such that the profile bore some resemblance to a birthday cake, laden with the many wax tributes to a very long life. Candlekeep was as impressive as it always was. The center of knowledge and magic in Faerun, it was a place you had visited multiple times in the past, but in truth… it rarely held interest to you. You had far more luck simply searching the world to find your information than to investigate tomes. They required some form of knowledge to enter, a scroll or a tome, that was something you had plenty of, even if you doubt you would find anything too concrete here.

But it was a start, at the very least.

Of course, you had no idea that-

—

[] [They had an Oomukade infestation in the upper towers]

[] [A merchant was attempting to sell a Jinn to enter]

[] [The Gargoyles had come alive]

[] [There was an ongoing mental fistfight between a Hakutaku and one of the Sages]