Disclaimer: The character of Gromph Baenre is the creation of R.A. Salvatore and the situation I'm humbly expanding on is from the book 'Condemnation' by Richard Baker. It's a little spoiler to what happens in the book and I'm just delving deeper developing it.
It felt like he was falling beyond the world of Toril itself. No…it wasn't falling. Falling was something that was free; this was being pulled by another force. His hair flailed above his head wildly yet the rest of his body remained rigid. His arm was cold where Old Dyrr had grabbed him; serving as a frigid reminder of the lich drow that caused all this.
The darkness that embraced him writhed like tendrils around his form. Though his eyes had glimpsed the dark for a majority of his life they could not penetrate the inky obscurity of the darkness that bound him. The point of light where he last glimpsed his nemesis had long since vanished, but its image was burned into his mind. It burned with the fuel of revenge.
In my own chamber…with my own pride he overtook me. He knew how to defeat me he knew it! But then again he knew that I and I alone had the power to stop his plans. Young Gromph indeed but compared to his millennias of existence that is true. But why oh why didn't he kill me? Why keep me encysted in darkness? Perhaps he has use for me…but that will be his undoing. The longer he keeps me here the longer I have time to plot against him. Menzoberranzan may fall and if so my centuries of power will fall with House Baenre. I will not tolerate that; I will not tolerate that at all.
Inwardly Gromph began to chant, putting himself in a state of Reverie as he was frozen in the darkness.
You may have imprisoned my body, you may have contained my magic in these shadows, but you have not imprisoned my mind lich Dyrr!
Hours passed into days and Gromph finally completed chanting the spell he spent a century creating. His conscious spirit left the awareness of his body and entered into his mind itself.
He stretched his arms and walked around his chamber…it may have been an illusion but he refused to be conquered by madness. As time increased so too would the complexity of his spell. He sat down at his desk and drummed his fingers on it. In his mind he preserved everything that he had ever learned and he smirked looking at his chamber in Sorcere. Given time he could recreate his mansion.
He turned his head to a slight scuffling noise and he glimpsed the phantom figure of his familiar Kyorli. The rat scurried to the top of his desk and his smirk widened as he fondly stroked it. The bond between a familiar and a wizard could only be broken with death. Kyorli would be his eyes to the world that now moved without him.
"Good thing I enchanted him so he could not die," he said chuckling.
He would wait…either for Dyrr or some other being to release him. If luck were with him perhaps the arrogant Pharaun or another wizard would stumble upon his chamber eventually and figure it out. But for the past few days luck was not with him and the wizard would more than likely keep him imprisoned. He almost wished he could bear witness to the shocked rage of his family members and the other Matrons when they noticed Narbondel was dark and unlit, and then realized his disappearance. That was of course if Old Dyrr hadn't already come up with an elaborate cover up, but his mind would be entertained by the annoyance of the Matrons and the squabbles that would be made among the Masters of Sorcere on who would be suited for the Archmage position in his absence.
No matter, his passion for power would satiate his hunger for vengeance. Certain memories of pleasure would combat his despair. He would use the memories to sustain himself and plan for the day of his release from his prison. He would embrace the darkness for now. With time and patience he was confidant he would triumph. With time he vowed to dissolve the insurrection that sought to condemn him and his power. He would personally see that the name of Baenre and his title of Archmage did not go extinct and would annihilate all who tried to stop him. The day of his resurrection from this present darkness would come. And when it did he would show no pity to those who got in his way.
"No one defeats Gromph Baenre," he said to himself in a cold determined voice. He smirked and his amber eyes flashed, "no one."
Author's Note: Okay, so basically I paused in my journey of reading 'Condemnation' to write this story. Over the past couple of months I've become a fan of Gromph Baenre and I did not like the way he was just imprisoned! So of course I had to expand on what happened to him and assure to myself that he cannot and will not be defeated. Enjoy and please review.