Sometimes, a D&D campaign ends before you can claim your victory. Sometimes, the heroes never face the big bad in one huge battle. Sometimes, their hard work ultimately comes to naught. I wrote this, along with some other stories featuring my Kobold Warlock/Sorcerer, who finds himself adrift and far from home.
This exists primarily as an experiment of sorts, both in terms of presenting a story in a different way than before, and to explore what happens when a character continues to exist beyond the abrupt end of their story.
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He awoke screaming, It was not a scream of pain, he barely felt the scars or the bandaged wounds. If he felt pain, there was no real indication of such. This scream was the kind made in blind terror, the kind of scream one made when certain death loomed over them.

He was terrified, eyes wide, darting toward every corner in primal, feral terror.

He gasped for breath, his heartbeat thundering in his chest, nothing was happening, and he wasn't entirely certain if it was a good thing or not.

Pain crashed into him, the adrenaline only staved off the inevitable, and he collapsed, his breathing becoming much shallower, his vision dimming. He did not know if he passed out, all he knew was that he was in pain.

The room was large, white, painted with something unfamiliar to him except in a dim, distant memory. He furrowed his brow, confused, unable to figure out what it was that the bright white walls reminded him of. There was a chair beside the bed he laid on, both unfamiliar, both excessively large. He blinked, was this some sort of giant's home?

He tried to sit up, but pain tore through his body, and he remained where he lay. There were words he felt he needed to shout, but he couldn't recall them for the life of him. What were these words, and why did they feel so important to him? And furthermore, what had happened to him, and what had caused him to awaken in such blind terror?

'Who... am I..?' The words shook him to the core, he could not remember his name. Gritting his teeth, he raised his bandaged arm and looked at it. Red, black, a pattern, familiar, yet almost alien. Scales, crimson scales, the color of roses, this, he felt, was vitally important. There was something vaguely alien about the black-striped pattern to each individual scale, his arms felt heavier than they really should have, and when he tensed as a result of the pain getting to him, those stripes seemed to expand, as if reacting.

He lifted his other arm and gingerly undid the bandages on his right arm, a wave of nausea rose up from his gut as he saw the damage done to his body. Burns, almost like horrific brands, the only constant being the black and red pattern, only the black was static, unchanging.

A flash of bright red, a book, and then pain. He became acutely aware that he was experiencing a memory, as well as the fact that something vital to himself was missing. He was certain he still had his soul, though, did he really believe in the concept? 'Yes.' He thought without really realizing it. 'That's why I... why I...' He furrowed his brow, what had he done?

There was a sound of metal hinges creaking, followed by something that was decidedly not what he was entering the room. No scales, just soft, pink flesh. No horns, just long strands of what seemed like copper thunderthread cascading from their skull. And bizarrely, two lumps of almost gelatinous flesh hanging out of their chest, though covered with clothing.

He had seen this sort of creature before, and as it spoke, he had a word to put to it.

"Oh, you're awake." The Human remarked. "And you undid your bandages. They need changed anyway, but you really shouldn't do that." They approached and carefully removed the bandages. The ______ winced at the pain, and for a moment, he passed out. He came to shortly after, the Human had carefully picked him up and laid him on a cloth-covered table. She was gently rubbing a soothing balm on his burns, which under the present circumstances felt absolutely wonderful. The pain numbed and the Human bandaged him again before carrying him to the bed.

"Do you know what happened to you?" The Human asked.

_____ blinked, he tried to think about what it was that caused him to be burned as badly as he was, and trying to force it caused him to experience inexplicable fear and distress. "I... don't know." He said. "I don't remember anything." He looked at the Human. "I don't know who I am."

"Well," The Human remarked, "three days ago, you wandered into the village babbling incoherently, this is the first time I've actually seen you looking somewhat sane." They looked out a window, "Some adventurers wanted to kill you, they thought you would be a danger to us, but we haven't had any issue with the local Kobolds for years."

"What's a Kobold?" He asked, the Human looked at him, startled.

"Well, you are." She replied.

The Kobold nodded passively, he felt exhausted and the pain, as dulled as it was, was making sleep a reasonable choice to make. He didn't say anything, he just went to sleep. He didn't dream, whether that was a blessing or not was yet to be determined, he was only passively aware that he floated in a directionless void within his mind, and that he could awaken whenever he wished.

Time passed, and when he opened his eyes, it was to the sound of distant talking. He heard a door open, shut, and the talking grew louder.

"-your Adventurers cause any more trouble for us for no good reason, I'll give them a reason to fight!" The door swung open forcefully, and from the Kobold's perspective, the only thing he could see was a glimmer of blue with a frilled crest and horns. The Human from before entered afterward, looking exasperated.

"Du'Kal, I understand your frustration. Believe me, I understand completely. But right now, my patient doesn't remember who he is, and-"

She was interrupted by a blue-scaled Kobold clambering onto the bed, Du'Kal was slightly taller than _____, standing at around 4 feet, 5 inches. He looked the injured Kobold over before saying, "I've never seen this runt in my life."

_____ felt a flash of indignation, shot up in his bed, and shouted, "Who are you calling a-" The pain caught up with his anger, and he collapsed onto the bed, screaming.

"You don't know who he is?" The Human asked.

"Yes, I do not know who this is." Du'Kal stated. "And don't go complaining about me not taking his bandages off, none of my people have red scales." He glanced at _____. "Though, those eyes would hint at maybe-" He looked at the Human and stressed, "-maybe a distant relation, or maybe he's a sorcerer, I don't know, so he's not my problem."

The Human looked displeased. "The people of this village are afraid, Du'Kal. They think he's a bad omen."

"Of course he is!" Du'Kal snapped as he looked _____ over. "These are not normal burns, there's magic to it, like a curse." He sniffed the injured Kobold. "There, sulfur."

"A demon-worshipper?" The Human asked.

"Nay, it's too clean. It smells like he dug too deep and barely managed to get away from molten rock. Granted, few ever come close to that without dying from the heat first." He sighed. "I'll heal him, but only because none of you Humans have a lick of sense when it comes to healing, or taking care of nature."

_____ was familiar with healing magics, though there was something vaguely unfamiliar about it, something that felt... well, wrong. It wasn't the wrongness of whatever lurked within the darker corners of his mind, it felt most like the magic itself was outside the temporal and spatial context of his very being.

'Those were words I just thought.' _____ thought sardonically. And yet, he understood them. Time, space, a long, dark tunnel, and at the end, a hazy shape, a scream. Fear? No. Something worse.

He was running, his gloved hand extended outward. "_____!" He screamed. Pain, grief, someone was dead. But, who was it? That sense of something vital being missing was punctuated by this hazy memory, his face stung as tears began to run.

"Most do not cry when I heal them." Du'Kal remarked.

"Someone died." _____ said. "Someone close to me, but I don't remember their name, I don't remember their face."

Du'Kal snorted. "Death is inevitable, and they've likely been reborn already. Do you remember where you are from?"

"No. I don't remember anything."

Du'Kal let go of him. "It will take more than this to get you back to normal. I reckon, I'll have to stay at least a week before you can walk on your own without screaming." He quickly and roughly redid the bandages, and as he did so, he said, "I should also make certain those foolish adventurers don't come in and try to kill you in your sleep. Takkar!"

There was a familiar sound of clacking as a large wolf entered the room. "Kaidaka!" _____ exclaimed.

"Yes, Kaidaka. They are common in this area, this one happens to be my companion, so there is nothing to be afraid of." Du'Kal stated.

"No, I am not afraid." _____ replied. "I just though I recognized..." He trailed off. What was it, exactly, that he recognized?

"You had family that spoke for the land and trees?" Du'Kal asked.

_____ looked at his bandaged hand. Du'Kal's healing had allowed for there to be much less covering, though there was still scarring, including a band of scorched scale around his ring finger. Something was missing.

"I don't know." He said. "I have faint memories, but nothing specific. All I really know is, someone close to me is dead."

Du'Kal nodded. "Then it is best to rest and not force these things. Takkar will watch over you." He left the room as the wolf spun around a few times before settling down onto the foot of the bed. _____ closed his eyes again...


"What happens when the universal repository for inter-world travelers is destroyed?" Orchid asked as she and _____ ate supper at their camp. _____ shrugged, he didn't really feel like discussing the subject at the moment. Orchid lightly pushed him. "I'm using the words you often use for the sake of clarity. If all of this gets destroyed, what happens to those who end up like us?"

Orchid could be best described as a sort of plant-creature, she accompanied _____ and the others after the proverbial dung was thrown in the well. Just like the rest of them, she was far from home, but unlike them, her world was in danger, or perhaps already gone, as far as anyone knew.

"I don't know." _____ stated. "The nature of the Tunnels is a mystery, and what we know now is uncertain at best based on what information we can gather." He looked at Orchid. "And honestly, I'm finding it hard to care right now."

Orchid looked at the small chest sat beside him. "That's another issue that needs to be discussed. Your curse-"

"Cannot be undone, as far as I can tell." _____ stated. "The best case scenario, especially with other people after it, is to make sure it's nigh impossible for anyone to get their hands on it." He took a bite of the stew he'd cooked, they hadn't had much luck in finding much game or forageable materials for the soup, so he had taken a pack of rations and added them to the pot.

It was food in their stomachs, and that's all that mattered.

"To kill for your own survival, or to suffer." She mused. "And you're certain you can't just make a god take it from you?"

"That would be the absolute worst case scenario." ____ stated. "It was passive with me because I thought I could handle it, use its knowledge for good." He looked at his hand, the color was slightly more pale than it should have been, it had been kind enough to give him a small amount of power, to tempt him, and now they were going to chuck the damned thing into a volcano because the only way to destroy it for good was practically impossible to achieve.

He hypothesized that the complete destruction of the very concept of evil would lead to a complete and total sublimation of the multiverse through an unchecked spreading of the very concept of good. Granted, such a thing was unlikely to happen, but it was entirely a possibility.

"I suppose," He said, "if this world were to be destroyed, one of two things could happen. One, those lost travelers find themselves adrift in the astral plane, which is theoretically escapable. Two, a new world such as this would simply form from the remnants." He looked at Orchid. "Though, a third possibility is the complete dissolution of the very concept of existence." He shrugged. "Without any idea as to what these crystals do exactly, it's difficult, if not impossible, to determine what might happen."

Orchid looked toward the others. "Keeta, I-"


He awoke to the sound of something being set down on the floor and looked to his left. The Human had set a stool on the floor, which Du'Kal used to get back on the bed.

"You're awake, that is good." The blue-scaled Kobold stated. "I have a lot of healing to do, and having to make you wake up is never a pleasant prospect." He started undoing the bandages again and set to healing the burns.

"I remember my name." Keeta said.

"Good. Now be quiet so I can focus." Du'Kal stated.

Keeta still could not remember much, but he did hope that Orchid, whomever she was, was safe...


It took four days for the healing sessions to get Keeta to the point where he could move around on his own without wanting to scream. It still hurt, but the salve, as well as other kinds of medicine, helped take the edge off. Keeta was patient, though he was more focused on getting better than he was on learning about his surroundings. That, and he was trying to understand what it was about the healing magic that felt off.

Du'Kal was a Druid, which meant he pulled divine power from the world itself to heal others, this was consistent with what he understood. Magic could only be cast a certain number of times per eight hours, another consistency, though he felt an inexplicable smug disdain for this, it felt too slow, though that seemed to be more of a personal expectation than any strict rule. Du'Kal also used a druidic focus to cast his magic, which was another consistency that he expected.

However, it was not at all what he was expecting, there was a cadence to his voice that didn't match what he understood to work, after all, he'd heard a druid cast healing spells on him before.

"Maybe that's it." He muttered aloud as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. He bared his teeth briefly at the pain, but this was important for his recovery.

"What is?" Du'Kal asked as he prepared to cast another spell.

"The reason your magic feels off to me. Maybe it's a matter of different Druids casting the same type of spell." Keeta stated. "I faintly remember a... Human? No, she wasn't a Human. We called her Poof Girl, I remember that."

"'Poof girl'? What would possess you to call someone that?" Du'Kal asked.

"I remember, she utterly incinerated someone in single combat. One moment, they were battling. The next, poof." Keeta had a wistful smile on his face. "We all fought for our lives, for a crime that we technically did not commit. Or was it simply because we arrived?" He shook his head. "I don't recall."

Du'Kal grabbed Keeta's right hand and worked on restoring the scales to their prior health. He lightly touched the band of scarred flesh around his ring finger. "Nature does not change, no matter who channels its power." He stated. "All that is of nature is within its reach. A female healing you would feel no different than I." He tapped one of the black stripes of the scales. "You have metal in your scales."

"What?" Keeta asked.

"Well, technically speaking, under your scales, they're the reason this healing is taking as long as it is, and likely is the reason my healing feels strange. The metal seems to reject magic, but it is spaced out so that magic can still flow. It reacts to my spells, but it does not seem able to reduce it, likely meaning that this is a defense against arcane magic.

He touched Keeta's palm and continued healing. "It is clear to me that you are some manner of arcane spellcaster, your knowledge would indicate you may be a wizard, but that would be exceedingly rare for our kind. It would explain your injuries, you could have injured yourself in your studies, and you could have even made contact with an extraplanar being, which would explain the smell..."

"No, I am not a wizard." Keeta stated. "I mean, I have an understanding of magic theory in relation to prepared arcane magics, but that's basically tugging on the Weave and manipulating it." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He winced slightly, but as he breathed, he could feel a faint spark of magic within him, like an ember. "Magic is woven into my bones, I have heard its song."

A sharp pain snapped Keeta out of his focus, Du'Kal was coaxing a shard of silvery metal out of his palm. Keeta's pupils dilated at the sight, a memory surfaced.

A cauldron of roiling flame, a lake of molten rock, a dagger plunged into his palm, a sacrifice, but for what purpose? A chest carrying a ____ was dumped into the fire, and the world-

"I was... in the heart of a volcano." Keeta remarked.

Du'Kal snapped his attention to Keeta. "You were where?" He asked.

"I... had something, something that was too dangerous to allow in the wrong hands. I dumped it, it was the only way to be certain, and-"

A sudden, terrible urge overcame him, and before he could resist, he leapt into the churning inferno. He did not want to die, even as the rock rose to meet him halfway.

"-and it dragged me with it." Keeta finished softly. He looked at Du'Kal. "This village, is it nowhere near a volcano?"

"It is near one, but we would have known if anyone attempted to dump something into it." Du'Kal yanked the dagger tip out of his palm and healed the resultant wound. "What was it you had?"

"I do not remember." Keeta answered. "But I am certain it's out of the reach of the wrong hands." Du'Kal let go of Keeta and sat on the bed, he looked exhausted. Keeta looked toward one of the windows, a cool, gentle breeze blew into the room, bringing with it many subtle scents, few of them familiar. "This may seem like a strange question, but what is the name of this world?" Keeta asked.

"Ahtaris." Du'Kal replied.

"I... see..." Keeta looked at his hands. "What do you think would happen, if you were on another world, and your own was destroyed. Not even ground splitting apart, everything dying destroyed. I mean, the very concept of it is erased."

Du'Kal was still, he stared at Keeta for several long seconds, searching the injured Kobold's face. Finally, he said, "For a world to be so thoroughly destroyed, I would imagine you would have nowhere to return to. Do you think such a thing has happened to you?"

"The magic here is different, the Weave is structured in a different manner, as though it was changed, or I was. The very way you manipulate the weave, it feels as though there is a greater element of chance to the success of your very actions." Keeta reached out and touched the manipulable strands of the Weave, the somatic motions he would normally make did not interact with the Weave in any meaningful manner, the strands no longer surrounded him in any meaningful manner.

The realization struck him, there was partly a reason for everything no longer working the way it should. "I was a warlock." He realized. "And my Patron is gone." Du'Kal tensed, and Keeta hastily added, "My Patron was not a Demon or Devil. But a Dragon, one so old and powerful that even a fraction of his power was formidable, but it feels as though any connection I had to him was yanked from me, all that remains are fragments, snapped strands and wounds."

"You should get more rest." Du'Kal stated. He stood up and started toward the door, though Keeta spoke up before he could leave.

"Du'Kal, this world is not in danger." He stated. "I just happened to end up here."

The blue-scaled Kobold did not respond, he walked out.

Keeta returned his focus to his newfound lack of power. Though he was a Sorcerer, and he could see where in the Weave he could manipulate to create the very magic he was still capable of, that yawning void where his Patron's power had filled him remained. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes and he breathed. He reached inward and he grasped one of the few remaining strands. Tears filled his eyes as he pulled it- <Rise>, a voice that was not a voice spoke- out, a sound of grief escaped his mouth, but he continued his work.

He pulled another strand- <I am.> They spoke. <I am the Bringer of Agony, and I claim you as my own.> He towered, a magnificent Dragon, over the insignificant speck of a Kobold- out, and this one sent a jolt through his entire body. He felt winded, but he felt he couldn't stop. No, this was necessary. He reached for another one.

He let out a cry as he tore- <You seek a covenant. Power, beyond mortal ken, endless, all that is within one. A Pact, in simple terms.> The world at the tip of a claw, and more- a third strand from his body. He wept, he reached for another.

Once more- <I shall give you power, I shall teach you knowledge, greater than you have ever known, but no Pact is without its price.> No price was so infinitesimal- and for a moment, he was uncertain if he could continue. To leave the strands in would only cause him pain, but with each one torn from his spirit, he felt greater and greater pain and sorrow.

He tore, and he tore, until the last one was removed. The pain had been great, but for the first time since he had awoken, he felt a measure of peace. He manipulated the strands together, the merest fragment of power, much like a splinter, yet as he grasped it, he felt the power it promised.

"Jedark." He spoke in Draktaar as he struck his left fist against his right hand. Crackling energy surrounded him briefly before coalescing into a bolt of pure force. It launched into the wall, striking it, leaving a dent in it. The Human woman came rushing in.

"What happened?! Are you okay?!" She asked.

"Sorry." Keeta said. "Magical discharge, it won't happen again." He looked at his hand. Where before, that power that been given through a connection more intimate than anything else, he had taken the remnants and taken that power into himself. It could not be taken away, but it could not be grown into anything more than it already was. "Did I... have anything on me when I arrived?"

"Only badly burnt clothing that I couldn't identify and a ruined gold ring, among other ruined stuff." The woman stated.

"The ring, what came of it?" He asked.

"If it was magic, it isn't anymore." The woman replied. "Do you care about that ring that much?"

Keeta thought for a moment, he rubbed the area where the ring had most likely been, and he sighed and said, "No, it isn't important. Thank you."

The woman nodded and left the room. Keeta shakily stood up, we walked around the room, ignoring his pain and exercising his body. He resolved to do this for at least an hour after being healed, and when Du'Kal healed him to the point where the worst of the scarring was healed, what pain remained was tolerable at worst.

"Thank you." Keeta said to Du'Kal. He had been given clothing appropriate to him, though calling it 'clothing; was being generous. It was more akin to rather crudely sewn leggings and a shirt woven from plant fibers than anything like what the Humans wore, but he did not feel comfortable wearing the comparatively revealing clothing Du'Kal offered.

"I've done what I was required to, no more and no less." Du'Kal answered. "My home is always welcome to those with magical talent, especially those who share draconic blood."

As appealing as the prospect of being amongst members of his own kind was, even the idea of using his innate talent as a means to achieve political power within the burrow almost made him accept, he knew from what little Du'Kal told him that their alliance with the Humans was tenuous at best, and that they did not have much in the way of resources, especially in regards to what he could need to find his way home, the arrangement would only cause him further grief.

"I will stay here, for now. Maybe I will be able to find my way home." Keeta answered.

Du'Kal shrugged and said, "Your loss. And don't die, I'd hate for my hard work to go to waste." He climbed onto the back of his Wolf and rode it away. Keeta watched him until he was out of sight, and it was only then that familiar words left his mouth, to his surprise. "May your dreams be filled with sweet waters, Du'Kal." He said softly.

Keeta spent his time in the village relearning what magic he could do. With the Weave being so unusual now, it was hard figuring out the proper somatic components necessary to cast anything, and even then, sometimes he instinctively reached for a thread that shouldn't be there, yet the empty air reacted, as though there was, indeed, something there. It was clear that Keeta did not belong on this world, especially when one of his spells manifested a knife of ice.

For Keeta, this was an expected result, he threw the knife and it exploded on impact. The local Wizard, however, took notice.

"Kobold." He said, "How did you cast that spell?"

"I, uh, well, the best way I could explain is to show you." Keeta replied. And so he cast it again. He saw an image in his mind, a circle with geometric shapes and sigils that served to shape his innate talent. He conjured the knife again and threw it.

"That is... unusual." The Wizard stated, stroking his long and prodigious beard. "Can you scribe a scroll?"

Keeta nodded. "Yeah, it'll take me a day, provided I have the right materials."

"I shall provide, if you are willing to scribe one or two for my studies." The Wizard stated. Since this would also give Keeta a chance to gain some insight into this strange, yet familiar world, he agreed, and for the next four days, he created scrolls for the spells he could consistently create. Afterwards, he would pore over books on magic and magic theory, noting what was similar and what was not.

The Wizard, for his part, was completely flabbergasted by Keeta's scrolls, as while they functioned, and he could use them, they were practically incomprehensible to him and offered little real insight into how Keeta cast spells.

Ultimately, during this time, Keeta had access to arcane foci and magical items, of which only the former seemed to agree with him, and only barely, the latter just flat out rejected him, shocking him with magical discharge when he touched them. His magic was incompatible, it was the wrong context. His spells seemed to attempt to force rules that simply did not exist.

The only spell, it seemed, that did work without too much issue was the blast of eldritch energy that was formed from the remnants of his severed bond with his Patron. Though, putting that to a scroll only made the Wizard extremely uncomfortable when he looked at it, and made Keeta feel an extreme sense of being violated. These scrolls were destroyed, rather than used up.

Keeta left the wizard's home confused and dissatisfied with what he learned, his only positive asset in this world acted unusually, and any attempt at using the local magic did not work at all. Scrolls tore themselves apart, spellbooks exploded- even if they had yet to be written in- and arcane foci just did not want to listen.

When he returned to the Human woman's home- she was hosting him for the time being to ensure nothing was wrong with him- she spoke with him as her husband served supper.

"I have something for you." She stated before placing a gold ring on the table and rolling it over to Keeta. He caught it and looked at it.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Your ring." She said. "I can the blacksmith melt it down and reforge it. Well, them, technically." She rolled a second ring toward Keeta, and he caught it as well. "There was enough gold for two rings, and since he saw a fragment of an engraving..." Keeta held the rings in his hand, turned them over in his hand, brow furrowed, and then it hit him.

"Kaala!" He screamed as he ran forward, heedless of the danger around him.

"Keeta!" _________ called after him as he came to a stop next to his wife's still body.

Her glassy eyes stared up in horror, she had died in abject terror, and there was nothing he could have done to save her. "Kaala!" He screamed again, weeping as he held onto her. The sound of monsters reached his ears and he stood up, screaming in primal rage.

The rings fell from his hand onto the table as he rested his elbows onto his knees and clutched at his head. He shook, the world blurred as the tears welled up in his eyes and fell. He remembered the wedding, of how they were mere moments after being declared as husband and wife when a yawning portal into darkness opened, pulling her into it, and taking her from him.

He screamed. He screamed in grief and agony, and he was now more acutely aware that he was alone than ever before. He felt the arcane energies within him go haywire as his mind strained under the realization that his wife, whom he loved with all of his heart, was long gone from him. And then, suddenly, he fell asleep, a spell putting him under...


Keeta stood in darkness. He blinked, disoriented, further ahead was a light, and directly before him, a narrow path across a yawning void.

Cautiously, he walked forward until he reached a metal post with a lamp attached to it. He'd seem one of these in Albitia, which was a place he didn't remember until just now. Naked, with a cold wind blowing at his back, he realized that he had no idea how to get back, or even where he was.

'Is this a dream, a memory?' He wondered as he reached out to touch the lamp post. The cold iron indicated that it at least felt like real life, and his self-awareness and ability to act on his own initiative indicated this wasn't some sort of memory. A vivid dream was most likely, but he was confused and concerned about why he would dream of such a place.

"Am I asleep?" He wondered aloud, he remembered sitting down for dinner, and then- The sorrow and grief crashed into him once more, he wrapped his arms around his stomach and fell to his knees, as though winded by the sudden realization. He let out a scream, one that simply faded into the darkness. He clutched at his head as his magic went out of control.

Suddenly, as if this very action were a trigger, he felt extremely cold on the inside, his magic simply snuffed to a faint ember. He wept silently, unable to vocalize the pain and grief he felt. He struggled to comprehend it, and his already tenuous grip on reality began to falter when he saw his shadow stretch out toward the lamp post, and a dark shape to rise from it.

It took the shape of a Kobold, with glowing blue, pupil-less eyes. It looked down at him and reached forward-


Keeta awoke with a jolt, it was dark, and his heart hurt. He curled up in his bed and softly wept. How long had it been? How long between now and his wife's death? How was it he could barely remember her, yet felt such intense sorrow?

"We have to tell him." He heard the Humans speaking from the direction of his door, "We have to let him know what's happening."

"Because we clearly understand what's happening." The woman stated. "Du'Kal, Zanzer, and now you... Those boys are going to hear eventually, and it'll be our asses on the line for helping him."

Feeling numb, Keeta sat up and listened, his eyes closed so he could focus on hearing them.

"He makes everyone uneasy, Marion, there's something uncanny about him that makes looking at him uncomfortable. Not only that, but..." There was a long pause. "Zanzer spoke with me that all of the scrolls he made for study have a very volatile effect on practically everything they're used on... I've seen what it can do, and his magic going out of control like that..."

"You did what you had to, putting him to sleep stopped-"

"My sleep spell didn't work on him, Marion."

"What?! But he fell asleep!"

"I know, but it wasn't my magic that did it. Something else did." Keeta heard footsteps toward his room, he laid back down, closed his eyes, and heard the door open. He slowed his breathing, pretended to still be asleep. There was light, bright enough that it would have blinded him momentarily had his eyes been opened.

"He's still asleep." The woman said as they approached.

"Careful, we don't know if he'll still be inconsolable if he awakens." The man replied. Keeta felt the blanket over him being lifted off. Keeta didn't move, made no indication that he was dreaming anything in particular, magical sleep tended to not create dreams, and at the moment, it was better for them to think his sleep was magical in nature than something unnatural.

He felt a hand gently press against his neck, this was something the woman had done before. "An even heartbeat." She said. He could feel her hand tense slightly, then pull away. Keeta was certain she knew he was awake. He opened his eyes just as the man swung a sword down at him, and he cried out in Draktaar, "Troth!" A barrier of force surrounded him, the sword struck the shield and splintered, something that Keeta knew should not have happened. He leapt up to a standing position, back against the wall, raised his hands and said, "Back away, or I'll blast you with magic!"

The Humans backed away, though Keeta didn't lower his hands. If they made any move toward him, he would use his Eldritch Blast. "Why did you try to kill me?!" He demanded.

"You were faking being asleep." The woman stated.

"Such is natural when other speak of you when they are certain you cannot hear them!" Keeta spat. "I overheard you, you are afraid because my magic is unusual, and you have some idea of what it can do, as my threat of using magic alone was enough to give you pause."

The bed under Keeta creaked, he glanced down to see that there was a clean cut through the bed, enough to make it unstable, but not severed in half. His shield should not have been able to do that. He took a step forward, off of the bed and onto the floor, and the Humans retreated at his approach.

"I do not want to harm you." Keeta stated. "But I will not hesitate to defend myself. If you swear to not harm me, then I will do no harm to you. Is this agreeable?"

"Yes." The woman stated.

"Yes." The man stated.

Keeta felt as though they were truthful and lowered his hands, the Humans made no attempt to attack him. He turned his attention to the bed. "Weave together, make whole." He spoke, the spell undid the damage to the bed, even though it was much larger. He noted that it wasn't a perfect repair, where his shield had cut through, there was something akin to a scar where the cut had been.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Keeta asked as he faced the Humans.

"We were... uncertain." The man stated. "You are not of this world, and we, among the other villagers, are afraid you are here to cause trouble."

Keeta nodded. "I am indeed not of this world, but I only happened to end up here." He crossed his arms. "I do not understand why, but it seems as though our respective worlds are different enough that my magic acts strangely." He tapped one of his toes as he thought about what he did know, and felt a pang in his heart when he thought of Kaala. He didn't want to think about it, but he felt like there was an important clue in the memory.

"I was somewhere dark." He said. "I was with companions, strangers converging in pursuit of a singular goal." He closed his eyes and tried to focus on that dark place. "Like tunnels that lead nowhere. Does this sound familiar to you?" He opened his eyes and looked at the Humans.

"No." The man said.

"Then I did not arrive on this world the normal way, for a certain degree of 'normal'." Keeta sucked his teeth and said, "I believe it may be wise for me to leave sooner rather than later, which would mean I will need traveling supplies."

"The Adventurer's Guild might be willing to lend you something." The woman said. "If only to get you out of here all the quicker."

"Then that seems to be my best choice." Keeta stated. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but was interrupted by a loud roar, the Humans looked terrified, and they seemed to know what that roar entailed. A Kobold typically runs from danger, but Keeta found himself throwing the window to the room open and leaping out into the night. He saw a large creature, one he'd never seen before, flying over the town, several Humans were drawing back arrows and shooting at the beast while the townsfolk were evacuating their homes.

The creature landed in the path of a small group of Humans, and Keeta called out, "Jedark!" The proximity of the Humans to the creature provided an excellent advantage, and two beams of crackling iridescent eldritch power rent the air as they streaked toward the creature. The impact tore off one of the beast's wings, the other shattered a horn, and the beast screeched with pain.

The Humans loosed a volley of arrows at the beast, but most either missed or bounced harmlessly off the beast's hide.
The beast turned toward Keeta and roared. Keeta noticed something lodged in the beast's skull, some sort of black, crystalline horn. There was something achingly familiar about it, and looking at it caused his mind to buzz like an angry beehive.

"Jedark!" He shouted, targeting the horn. Without it being distracted by the townsfolk, one of the blasts missed, but the other struck the horn. Parts of the beast's flesh was torn, but it still stood standing. Keeta turned around and started running, both to put much-needed distance between it and him, and to draw it away from the town. The beast tore straight for him, only to be caught off guard by the arrows of the Humans.

Keeta stopped, spun around, and manipulated the Weave to create a knife of ice. He threw it right into the beast's mouth, where it exploded, sending shards of ice through its skull and out of one of its eyes.

The beast collapsed, and Keeta approached it. He grabbed the crystalline horn and slid it out like a dagger had been lodged into the skull. There was no wound, though.

He remembered seeing a crystal much like this one, and he realized it wasn't merely black, but it was a lack of color, not even black itself. It was a hole in the very nature of existence, and he had once hunted them down. Why? He wasn't certain, except that his Patron was among those who wanted them destroyed.

"You killed it!" One of the Humans exclaimed. "What is that you have there?"

"A trophy, the beast's horn, nothing more." Keeta replied. He kept it low, but not out of sight, trying to hide it would only spark their curiosity. "I knocked it loose, so may as well take it."

This seemed to satisfy the Humans, and though they pestered him about his magic, they ultimately let him go. Being hailed as the town's savior, the Adventurer's Guild was willing to give him some armor, though it was made for a Halfling, so some adjustments were to be made. Still, the leather 'armor' they provided him was better than nothing, and the traveling pack they provided, while two thirds of his height, served as ample storage for whatever he would need when he would inevitably leave.

In the privacy of the room provided to him, he examined the crystal, he knew it did not belong on this world, nor had it really belonged on his. Where before, in his memories, it had been actively malevolent, here it was merely intimidating, and the way it was structured, at the very least, it would make a knife. He stood up and took a swing with it, he was startled when it cut the air, revealing a dark hole that was altogether too familiar. He understood, by some unknown sense within him, that this was his way off the world, but there was no guarantee.

As he had done once long ago, he steeled his resolve and stepped into the darkness...