You know those days when you're stuck at work until 3am by yourself even though you're a new hire and have no idea what you're doing? Yeah, that was me last night. Sooooooo fun. Now my brain is so muddled I can't even concentrate on gaming. Let me know how this next chapter turned out with my sleep-deprived mind.
Chapter 4: Not in the Plotline
Sand awoke early in the day, as per usual. Stifling a yawn, he rose from his bed and dressed for the day. He chose to wear standard wizard robes as usual but decided to add a ring of lore as well. It could prove useful in his new search to help that odd girl find a way back to her home. He normally would have denied such a request outright, or at least charged a hefty fee for it, but there was something about Alea that piqued his interest. He had a feeling that she would bring many ancient mysteries to light and he wanted to be there to learn them. The quest was not without its dangers, but neither was anything else worth having, so he decided to run with it and see how things would play out.
Walking down the stairs to his shop's main room, he started prepping breakfast. He considered adding another truth serum to the meal, but he didn't want to waste it on someone like Alea, she clearly had no intention of lying to him, and the ingredients could be difficult to procure.
Jaral mozied about lazily as Sand worked on a light breakfast. It didn't take long to complete, so he placed a simple enchantment on it to keep it warm and headed across the street to the Sunken Flagon.
Sand was greeted with the sight of a dwarf – the one traveling with Alea, if Sand was not mistaken – landing a solid punch on some brutish human man's face. The rest of the inn, even though it was still early, had heard the commotion and were now standing about shouting encouragements to the brawling men. It seemed a bit early for a tavern brawl. Among the hoard, however, Sand could not find Alea. Sighing, he concluded that she was likely still asleep. How she could rest with such noise he would never know.
Skirting around the increasingly vigorous fight, he made his way to the front counter and spotted Sal wiping the counters. "I don't know why you bother attempting to clean those. It's obvious the years of drool and mildew will never go away. You might as well cut your losses and try to do something productive with your day," Sand quipped.
Sal looked at him, ignoring the smarmy comment, "What can I do for ya, Sand? You lookin' for Duncan?"
"Actually, no," Sand replied, "I don't suppose you know where Alea might be? You know, the one who got all the brains in the family. I need to have a word with her."
Sal rose an eyebrow, but nodded his head toward the stairs, "Room 203. Poor thing was up all night, trying to keep a leash on those friends of hers. They sure do argue a lot, especially the dwarf and the tiefling. She had to restrain them with magic just to keep them from killing each other. I figure she's exhausted."
Sand sighed and rolled his eyes at this, "Very well, I will fetch her myself." With that, he turned away and strode up the stairs with all the natural grace of an elf. As he approached the door he smelled something different coming from her room. Despite his incredibly keen nose – on which he prided himself – he could not quite place it. Reaching up, he prepared to knock, but before he could the door swung open and out ran a very frantic she-elf. Alea was hurriedly strapping on a belt carrying a heavily enchanted katana. She clearly didn't notice him, because in her haste she neglected to look up and wound up barreling right into Sand. Her forehead hit his nose hard and he stumbled back, irritated.
She nearly fell over, stunned. Looking up, she met his glare and grimaced, "I'm so sorry! I didn't see you."
"Indeed. Oddly enough I had considered that, based on the throbbing in my nose. Funny how one can draw conclusions based on such little things."
Her grimace deepened, "I'm really sorry," she repeated, "here, let me see," she tried to examine Sand's injury, but he shook his head.
"That's quite alright, dear girl, I can handle a simple bruise."
She ran her fingers through her dark hair, "I know, I'm sorry," she said for the third time, "it's just ever since becoming an elf I know how fragile we can be and how much more sensitive we are than humans, and every injury I get feels so much worse and-"
Sand stopped and looked at her, unsure if he'd heard her right. "Excuse me, but did you just say, 'since you became an elf?' As in, you used to not be one?" Sand didn't know of a single ritual, spell, incantation, or potion that could change one's race.
She looked panicked, "Shhhh! Not so loud," her eyes darted around the empty hallway to make sure no one was near enough to overhear. "That's one of the things I was going to talk to you about in private. Sweet Mystra, Sand, I thought you'd be more discreet than that."
His irritation surged once again as this odd girl chastised him. He did not appreciate being insulted, even unintentionally. Still, she had a point. If he wanted to make sure she kept his secret, then he had to keep hers. He had to be careful of what he said if only for his own personal safety. If the secret of his past with Luskan got out, he'd have a massive target on his back, and his chances of survival would plummet.
He suddenly remembered the odd smell coming from her room and noticed that she didn't have a trace of it on her. Pushing past her, he sniffed the air, trying to place what it was. Eventually he determined it was coming from the window. Walking over to it, he examined the frame, but didn't see anything remarkable. Muttering an incantation, he cast a reveal spell, so see if anything was cloaked in magic.
"What are you doing," Alea asked. She didn't sound angry that he was randomly searching her room. Instead she seemed curious, and a little worried. "Is there something wrong?"
Finally, the reveal spell took effect and Sand spotted something like paint smudged around the window frame. Sand recognized it at once. Immediately he sped out the door, grabbing Alea's wrist. Pulling her to what felt to her like an uncomfortable closeness. His face was inches from hers and she couldn't help thinking it was strangely intimate. Then he cast the same reveal spell on her forehead and found that an identical substance was on her as well. He held her wrist tightly and rushed out the door. She stumbled, surprised, but quickly recovered and followed him obediently as Sand sped out toward his shop. When he went inside he immediately started rushing about his lab, grabbing ingredients and components. Alea stood, watching him warily. Jaral, picking up on the tension lifted his head off the floor and hissed.
Sand began mixing, heating, and casting spells, clearly working on some kind of potion. Alea was dying to know what had gotten him so worked up, but she didn't want to bother him while he worked. She noticed he muttered to himself as he bustled about, completely engrossed in the craft of potion-making. She couldn't help thinking it was kind of cute in its own way.
Nope, she thought, don't even go there. Besides, you'll be meeting Casavir sometime soon. As in, actual-knight-in-shining-armor Casavir. Alea remembered how much of a crush she'd had on the paladin ever since her first time playing the game. His deep voice, and unquestionable morals simply made her melt. There were many nights when she had wished he was real, then perhaps she wouldn't have been quite so alone all the time. Now that she would meet him in person, not through a screen, she would not ruin it by liking someone else, no matter how incredibly attractive they were.
She was pulled abruptly from her thoughts when Sand splashed a vial of freezing cold goop in her face.
"Ahh! What in the name of Tolkien are you doing!?" She glowered at him angrily, wiping the sludge from her eyes.
"There is no time to explain, dear girl, you must come, quickly," he grabbed her wrist again and began dragging her towards the door. Considering her increased stats thanks to her cheat codes, he had nothing on her strength and she didn't move, giving him a look that demanded an explanation.
"Sand," she demanded, standing up, "Why am I covered in ice-cold sticky crap?"
He sighed, exasperated, "I will tell you when I'm finished, now unless you want someone creeping through your window from another dimension while you sleep, I suggest you come with me."
That just caused an expression of pure confusion. "That wasn't in the plotline," she stated simply, "how would someone do that?"
"I will explain once you are no longer in danger of being killed or spied on, now if you value your life, come with me!"
Without bothering to see if she'd follow he turned and exited the front door, hurriedly crossing the street to the Flagon. She begrudgingly shuffled along behind him, trying to wipe the gunk off her face. It wasn't working. It had started to seep into her skin, like some sort of thick, oily lotion. It was not pleasant. Briefly she wondered if elves got achene. By the gods, she hoped not.
When she got to her room, Sand was pouring the same type of liquid on her windowsill, muttering some sort of incantation. He turned to look at her, "Quickly, we have but a few moments before the potion wears off. Unless you'd like more of it on your face, come here and stand still."
While she didn't like being given orders without any kind of explanation, she disliked the idea of more goop on her face a lot more. So, grumbling to herself, she walked forward and stood as still as her anger would allow. Sand pressed one hand against her forehead and the other on the window frame. He closed his eyes and began speaking in what sounded like elvish. It was clearly some sort of spell, though Alea had no idea what it was. She didn't interrupt.
He slowly began pulling his hands from herself and the window. She felt an odd pulling sensation, like a headache being drawn from behind her eyes. When Sand's fingers met, his hands caged some odd little orb of light. It ebbed and flowed from color to color as it shook violently, trying to escape his grasp.
"Alea," Sand said, a serious tone in his voice, "grab the box on the bed and hold it open. When I put the Velsixunyrr inside, close the lid immediately and hold it shut until I say, do you understand?"
"The Velsi-what?"
"Just do it!" he shouted, urgency clearly evident.
She rushed and picked up an intricately carved blue box that was lying on her bed. Opening it, she couldn't see the bottom. She brought it to Sand and he shoved the Vel-something inside. She shut the lid immediately and held it down. The whatchamacallit was trying to get out. He closed the latch and placed a locking spell on it, ensuring that the strange little light-thing was securely imprisoned.
Sand visibly relaxed. He sighed deeply, closing his eyes, "I haven't seen one of these in nearly a hundred years."
"What is it?" Alea studied the box curiously.
"Velsixunyrr Kio." The words hung heavy on his tongue, even in the grace of the elven language. "It's a spy that doubles as a one-way portal. If whoever put this here had wanted in, they'd have had no trouble. Now, however, due to my incredible sense of smell and vast arcane knowledge, they'll only see the inside of this box."
Alea felt the blood drain from her face. Someone was spying on her? She didn't remember anything about this in the plot of the game, which meant it was something new. A wild card that was not related to the Neverwinter world. For all she knew, it was just as foreign to this place as she was. She looked at Sand, panic evident on her face, "But… How? This wasn't in the story. There were no quests, clues, or adversaries that involved anything like this. Sure, there's the song portal later on, and plenty of people watching my every move, but this is something completely unwritten."
He looked at her eyes, full of terror, and found himself feeling for her plight. Not an easy thing to get him to do, as he preferred to keep a strictly academic point of view and tended not to care much for others one way or another, as long as his life was not disturbed by them. And yet, here he was, looking at this woman – whose face appeared to have been tailor-made to look equal parts courageous, kind, and beautiful – finding that he wanted to help her. Not simply due to curiosity, profit, or boredom, but because he for whatever odd reason wanted to see her safe. It was an idea he was not entirely comfortable with.
He realized after a moment that he had been staring at her for a tad longer than what would have seemed natural. Her face remained drained of color, and her face pleaded with him for an explanation. So, he let his silver tongue take over. "While the cause of this is not yet known, we now have the pesky little thing encased in here. I will study it and see if I can trace it back to its origin. For the moment however," he looked at her, disheveled as she was in the morning, and drenched in his potion, "I believe I promised breakfast."
A bit of the panic melted from her features, and she sat down gracelessly on his favorite chair. He'd have told her to move, because that was his spot, but considering the morning she'd had, he decided not to push her. She curled her knees up to her chest. It was then that Sand noticed her shivering. It made sense, considering the side-effect of his potion was a bit of cold-damage. He grabbed a blanket that had been neatly folded on a chair and draped it over her shoulders, discretely casting a warmth spell on her. He wasn't sure why, but it bothered him seeing her so uncomfortable. It eased a bit when he saw her visibly relax into the folds of the blanket, her hair drying unnaturally fast.
Turning, he picked up the breakfast he had made earlier. Thanks to the spell he had cast on it, it was still warm and fresh. He gave her a plate and they sat in silence, enjoying the peaceful quiet for a moment.
By the time Sand had realized that Alea had fallen asleep, he had nearly finished his meal. He raised his eyebrow, noting that it was extremely early in the day for a nap. Still, he could hardly blame her. She had apparently stayed up late, then shortly afterwards had gotten quite a rude awakening. He elected to let her sleep. Should any customers come in, she likely wouldn't frighten them away. After all was it not natural for another moon elf to be in his company?
That train of thought brought him to all sorts of places. After all, he hadn't seen another moon elf in quite some time. Sure, Neverwinter was teeming with elves, such as Duncan, but most of them were wood elves, or some other mixed race. Sand happened to be of a very pure lineage. That didn't matter much to him, but based on Alea's blue-ivory skin, silver eyes and deep purple hair, she was also a full-blooded moon elf. He wondered if that had some sway over how intensely he had wanted to help her.
Who had she been before coming here? How had she gotten here? Where was she truly from? What would send her back? How long would she be stuck in this world? And, most curiously to him, why did she put so much faith in him? He had only known her for a few days at best, but she spoke to him as if she had known him intimately for years. The thought made his gaze wander back down to the petite beauty that was sleeping in his favorite chair.
Curiosity overcoming his better judgement, he knelt down to examine her face more closely. She truly was one of the loveliest creatures he had seen in his many years. Her odd demeanor contrasted deeply with the gentle, and almost regal features her face held while she slept. He lifted a hand to brush a lock of hair from her cheek. At his touch, her breath hitched, and he quickly retracted his hand, hoping he hadn't woken her up. Luckily, while elves were notoriously sensitive, they were also capable of incredible gentility. This, coupled with the simple fact that Alea was a deep sleeper, ensured that her morning nap continued uninterrupted.