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Return to Candlekeep (Quiz 222)


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#1 Guest_Silver_*

Posted 25 August 2011 - 10:29 PM

Return to Candlekeep


It had been almost twelve years since he had walked the cliff paths, up to the large stone keep that overlooked the Sea of Swords. The last time had been just after leaving Baldur's Gate, not long before falling into the trap set by Irenicus. And how much had changed since those days when he was little more than a boy, only just beginning to come to terms with his violent heritage. He had become a man, fought to prevent the resurrection of his father, and found love. He liked to think that Gorion would have been proud of what he had become.

After so long, it was time to return home, and lay the final ghosts of his past to rest.

There was no Gatekeeper waiting to allow entry, but the heavy gate swung open when he pushed it. Everything was silent. Briefly he remembered the chanting of the monks, the shouting and swordplay of the guards, and all the regular sounds of life in a busy keep. He paused and listened, half hoping to hear something, anything. But aside from the occasional squeak of a rat or two, everything was quiet.

Slowly, cautiously, he began to walk around the grounds of the place he had called home for twenty years. So many memories, good and bad. Playing hide-and-seek with Imoen. Helping Dreppin to milk the cows. Running errands for Hull. Being shouted at by Reevor. Practising sword-fighting with Jondalor. People who had played a part in his upbringing, people who he had called friends – they seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Now it was a ghost town.

The infirmary was dark and gloomy, covered with cobwebs. Glass shards, the remains of potion bottles, littered the floor. Two skeletons lay side by side on one of the beds – there was no telling who they belonged to. He said a brief prayer and quickly retreated, knowing now that he would only find what he had feared most. The bunkhouse and outer buildings had been pulled down, but the barracks still stood. Swords and crossbows and armour stood on their racks, too rusted to be of use. As he turned, his foot clattered against something – a sword that he recognised as being Hull's blade, several skeletal fingers still attached to it.

Each step seemed to bring yet more horror. The inn had gone, leaving only charred remains. The storehouse was rat-infested – he almost smiled as he remembered that keeping the vermin from the food had always been his job – and blood-splattered. The body of Dreppin lay beside his beloved cows, from the position of the skeleton he appeared to have been sleeping. The Priest's quarters had become a chamber of horror, rotting meat hung from hooks on the ceiling, and flies coated the place in layers. He noticed a hand, a leg, what could have been a torso, but he had no desire to examine further. It was too much. In his worse nightmares, he had not expected his home-coming to be like this.

He paused in front of the temple of Ogham. Though the building was still standing, it had been viciously defaced. There were symbols painted in blood, a symbol that he was very familiar with. Here? But how could they have breached the defences... it makes no sense!

There was only one way to know, and he wasn't about to turn back now. With a heavy heart, he approached the door of the keep itself, the great library of Candlekeep. When he had left, there had been vast flowerbeds, filled with every colour flower. As a ranger it saddened him to see that nature had also fled. It seemed that Candlekeep was now a town of death.

The great library was intact, the thousands of books and scrolls still in place, but everything was dusty and spiders had built their webs everywhere. He brushed them aside as he passed through, but silk strands still clung to the hood of his cloak. His footsteps echoed on the stone floors. It truly seemed as though he had been the only person to walk these halls for a long time.

On the last floor, in the study that had belonged to Ulrant, he finally found what he was looking for. Journals and papers that told him at least part of the story. Folding them up carefully, he placed them inside his cloak, and began the silent trek down the winding staircases. It was relief to be back outside in the dim sunlight, away from the dust and the shadows and the general gloomy feeling that hung over the whole place.

“I am sorry.” His companion suddenly appeared at his side. “I looked around and I saw... what happened here?”

“If the papers I found are any indication, it seems that Ulrant went insane. He and some others joined the ranks of Cyric and basically took down the Keep from the inside.” The ranger gave a bitter laugh. “And he always told Gorion that I was the evil one, can you believe it?”

“From everything you told me about him, I do not find it too surprising. What would you do now?”

“I think they have their base down in the old catacombs.” There was a brief pause, and then he rose to full height, shoulders back. “I am Damian of Candlekeep,” he said, determination in his voice. “If any worshippers of Cyric still remain here, I shall make them regret defiling my home. They must pay for what they have done here, it is the least I can do now.”

“I would have expected no less,” Kivan nodded and reached for his bow. “My weapon is yours, as always, and we shall reclaim your home. Lead on, my commander.”

#2 Guest_Blue-Inked_Frost_*

Posted 25 August 2011 - 10:35 PM

I liked how short and succinct this was; it carried a punch that had a stronger effect for being so quickly done. I thought this description was good, nicely grotesque.

Each step seemed to bring yet more horror. The inn had gone, leaving only charred remains. The storehouse was rat-infested – he almost smiled as he remembered that keeping the vermin from the food had always been his job – and blood-splattered. The body of Dreppin lay beside his beloved cows, from the position of the skeleton he appeared to have been sleeping. The Priest's quarters had become a chamber of horror, rotting meat hung from hooks on the ceiling, and flies coated the place in layers. He noticed a hand, a leg, what could have been a torso, but he had no desire to examine further. It was too much. In his worse nightmares, he had not expected his home-coming to be like this.


Reminded me a bit of some of Simon R Green's descriptions of massacres.

“If the papers I found are any indication, it seems that Ulrant went insane. He and some others joined the ranks of Cyric and basically took down the Keep from the inside.” The ranger gave a bitter laugh. “And he always told Gorion that I was the evil one, can you believe it?”


Not the doppelgangers, then! They were definitely my first suspect.

“I would have expected no less,” Kivan nodded and reached for his bow. “My weapon is yours, as always, and we shall reclaim your home. Lead on, my commander.”


Hello, Kivan...

Good one-shot!




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