Flashes of light and booms thereafter heralded the continuing inundation of all below the heavens. An apocalypse of water, leaving nothing dry. Sharp and loud gusts of wind, surely a tempest to any who observed, brought about a cold that chilled to the bone. The Thunder Peaks were earning their keep this night. As any creature of sanity was well away from these conditions in shelter, something moved along a rock wall that jutted out, above the tall trees of the slope. The altitude high, the wind unforgiving, and the water… the water coming down and all around, never ending; these things did not stop a lone humanoid figure from darting from one cropping to the next, taking caution to move from foothold to foothold, with an objection to the conditions- an intent to climb higher.
The smallest streams of water poured over the edge above in a multitude of places, adding to the downpour all around. Hands, light of skin- a contrast to the rock and dark clothing of the individual, reached upwards, grabbing and testing grip. Pulling up, the figure moved some dozen feet above, and then shifted. A sudden clap of thunder caused a pause, and a need to press against the wall for any sort of cover as everything shifted loose joined in, playing a role with the water to find its way down. Thankfully, only small pebbles met the figure, and though they left a stinging reminder, they were little of deterrence. Coming to what could have been an impasse to the objection, the figure decided to climb around a rounded edge of the outcrop, some number in the hundreds of feet above the trees and much safer grounds below. Pulling around, slipping, holding, and moving- a successful rounding of the edge, and perhaps a means up- till yet another clap of thunderous noise brought about the loosening and loss of any grip.
The figure fell, slamming into a rock face and sliding, a fall with certain death awaiting. The screams in reaction were unheard, and in the flashes of light offered, hands and legs flailed to find anything to impede the fall and survive. Among the possessions, a War Pick which was gripped and swung haphazardly, causing a clang lost in the moment of failure. As feet slipped out with nothing below them, a final swing drove home, the weight of the figure pulling it over the edge, yet wedging it in deeply. Mist from within the dark recesses of the hooded figure indicated a rapid breathing being slowed in relief. The hood tilted up towards the saving grip on the pick, and then down to realize it's boots were only feet from a safe landing, a flat top of rock and what little soil was yet to be washed away. Loosening the Pick with the weight hanging on it, the figure dropped down and landed, albeit with a struggle to stand. There was shelter here.
No more than a hollow that offered perhaps a dozen feet of dry space, marked a paradise for rest. Lowering his hood, it became clear this was a young man, human of race, with dark, tired eyes and matted hair. He had to bend low, his height significant, and with pack, sword, and cloak off of his back, slid down to a seated position. The hollow acted as an amplifier of thunder and a silencer of the pouring rain, leaving a stark contrast of loud, rattling booms left with time of silence in between. Those times of silence offered reminders of pain coupled with a looming fatigue. The mind, however, was still active. As one hand wiped away the film of water and sweat that covered him, another fished through his pack to be surprised that items yet dry remained. Namely, a small pipe, and a double clothed pouch, which with a pinch produced some dry tobacco. Having to fish deeper into the pack and lean forward caused a small grunt of misery, but brought about a wooden box, which slid to reveal match sticks. Pausing, he eyed the box and the memories that came with it caused him a smile- for those memories felt an age ago.
Author's Note: Hello! This will be my first time writing and posting in quite some years (try number 2 after disliking my attempt at this story earlier); I began my fanfic writings on stories set in the Second World War, and sadly had a bout of doubt and deleted those. I've played D&D on and off through various means, most notably that of the video game 'Neverwinter Nights' (NWN) which was an addiction for easily a decade. I've held both the role of player and DM, and currently DM a 5.0 campaign.
I mention all of this because our protagonist is a character of mine, that I've developed and only really played for a stint on NWN. Yes, he is a creation of my own. Dungeons and Dragons, the setting of the Forgotten Realms, and many characters and creatures found within this writing are the original works of their respective owners (Ed Greenwood, Wizards of the Coast, etc.)- I encourage anyone who reads this to check out the setting and get involved in a gaming group- it's a lot of fun!
I'd also like to say that some characters, organizations, and even events are the workings of players and DMs I've gamed with over the years. I like to include really unique creations of the people I've gamed with, and generally ask players who join my games if it's alright to keep their characters for further use. I make the best attempts to contact these individuals for proper authorization, and without it I will alter said characters out of respect. I also won't be naming names or even player accounts without prior approval- there are many who wish anonymity and I respect that. If you feel that I am using your work without your express approval, please tell me and I will make whatever accommodations necessary to respect your wishes.
I will not be following any 'canon' but my own. (This will become VERY apparent later- it's actually based on a series of events in one of my campaigns) Treat these as one of the many Forgotten Realm's realities in the span of the Multiverse if it helps. This includes differences both present and past. Any questions or concerns please message me. Otherwise, I welcome any and all reviews that are constructive in criticisms or praising of my work too. Overall, I would appreciate honesty and thought out reviews if at all possible. These allow me to gain the viewpoint of my readers and be more considerate of them- you.
I think that about wraps up an Author's Note.