Under the Stars

In the typical D&D campaign, the “boring parts” of a story are usually skipped over. Things like cleaning, cooking, eating, grooming, sleeping, or the moments of silence aren’t as engaging as fighting a vampire blood god but that doesn’t mean they don’t happen at all.

After a particularly harrowing battle, I wanted to give one of my characters a much needed moments of peace to recover and regain her footing.

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Characters

Minlara Munkyrdane - Drow Elf, Warlock/Druid, Goddess of Undeath, Dreams, and Magic

Ezra Drake - Half Dragon, Paladin, God of Lightning, Hope, and Dragons

Dramneir Hellshaft - Mountain Dwarf, Therapist, Saint of Pageantry, Paperwork, and Peace

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The stars started to pierce through the maroon and violet hues of the setting sun. Waves lapped lazily on the oak planks, gently lulling the ship and its company into tranquil bliss. The wind carried a salty breeze, and on another ship, someone had burned their dinner. A calm silence rested upon the deck, broken by arms clasping arms in reassuring hand shakes that seemed to ring out in reminder that they had all survived. 

She stood, facing the dwindling light of the sun, allowing the wind to tangle and twist itself throughout her hair. Years ago, she couldn’t have faced the sun, not directly at least. But years ago she couldn’t have faced a Panroot, a war of dragons and vampires, a cult to a vampire god’s son, or a vampire god living in his son's body; hell bent on revenge against her great grandfather… it had been a big day. But now it was time for rest. If she could figure out how. 

For so many years, her version of “resting” was spent training and honing new skills, rituals, and spells. She felt at home surrounded by books, tombs, scrolls; all covered in candle wax, as she blotted her face and hands in misplaced ink. Time passed slowly and every moment was savored. The weave was a giant puzzle, and while she never hoped to untangle every thread, she hoped to etch in her own designs wherever she could. But while her eyes could remain open and her hands unwavering, her mind was muted and tired. She needed to rest, and her time could not be spent alone with the souls of the dead. She needed something more. Dramneir had told her time and time again, ‘You cannot fill the horn from an empty barrel.’ She thought it was a stupid saying, one that was obvious and need not be said. But she was starting to understand what her friend had been saying all along. 

But how to do it? Did she even know how to rest her mind? She had been going from place to place, problem to problem for years now. Yes, she had her short breaks along the way, but this time was different. Ezra practically demanded that she hand over her books so she would be “secretly working”. Damn him.  

He was probably right though. She needed to savor her days off from saving the world, but relaxation did not come easy. Even now, the waves brushing against the ship were drowned out by a voice within her mind telling her she did not have time for this. That she has rituals to master, spells to craft, people to save! The secrets of the Rivers, the circle of five, and the Damned ones, were still out there for her to find but instead she is wasting time on a ship. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She thought of times when she felt restful; and wasn’t alone. It took time, more time than she thought was healthy. But as one memory brought itself forward, more revealed themselves to her, one after another. The night of Okaku and Dramneir’s wedding. A drink with Anntara. A surprise meal with her grandfather. A spa day with The Golden Weasels. Enjoying Moragan and Viv’s company. Sharing an evening with Feindrid. Spending an entire day focusing on Henley. Just thinking about those moments, took a bit of the growing pressure off of her shoulders. 

It took her a moment, but eventually she got her breath to rise and fall with the creaking of the ship. She focused on what the wind was trying to braid into her hair and filled her nose with the sea's salty air. Feeling the warmth of the sun start to chill, she let the spell slowly dissolve from her face, allowing only the glimmering stars a chance to see the gnarled scar that stretches from her chin to her brow. She would have felt less exposed if she dropped her trousers in front of the entire Dragon Crest guild, but she pushed the feelings of shame aside. She would allow a moment for her true face to see the last bit of the day’s light. She took another deep breath, and smiled. 

The softest creek of the deck alerted her of his movements, but she felt no rush or panic. The weave gently reapplied itself to the right side of her face, as she turned to see her companion standing behind her, waiting. 

“Hey Lara.” He said warmly. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Thinking.”

“Ooooh thinking. How exciting.” Ezra teased. 

“Oh shut it. I am… relaxing.”

Ezra raised a suspicious brow. “Really.”

“Yes really.” Her friend’s silence spoke louder than thunder. “What? Is it so hard to believe that I am just enjoying a quiet moment after a long couple of days?” 

“For you? A little bit.”

“Gods, you are unbelievable.” She turned back to the waves and leaned against the railing. She smiled slightly when Ezra joined her side. The silence didn’t feel empty or devoid between them and in the quiet they watched the last sliver of the sun disappear beneath the distant waves. Lanterns were lit upon the decks of the armada, their flames reflecting across the waves to produce even more light. Ezra silently adjusted his stance to shield Minlara from the chilling winds, and she pretended not to notice. 

They stood there, side by side until the waves mirrored the stars and the ships appeared to float through space. In the comfort of the dark, Minlara again dropped the illusion from her face. When Ezra noticed, he did not mention it. They did not talk of Panroot, vampires politics, or Sunderings. They did not discuss the red scales, boy kings, or Damned Ones. Silently, they agreed that there would be times to discuss such things; but now was not the time. 

Instead, Ezra pointed out the elvish and draconic constellations within the skies, and told her their stories when she asked. Minlara re-enacted each tale on the ship’s railing using illusions and before they knew it their laughter was echoing across the stary sea. She told him about the bioluminescent veins that ran along the cave ceiling within the cavern worlds. And when Ezra asked how rocks know when it is time to light up, and she laughed so hard she couldn’t give him an explanation. 

They talked of their personal projects, Ezra’s weapon smithing and Minlara’s sewing. They spoke of simple things; how they wanted the bakers in StoneGrove and the pipe weed growers in the Dragon Clan village to move their businesses to the Bleeding city. Minlara summoned Maverick so that he may play her favorite song from home, Ezra insisted on learning the dance that went along with it. It took some time, with Minlara demanding that the woman lead in all Drowish dances, but eventually they were able to keep their steps in rhythm with Maverick’s lute. Then it was Ezra’s turn to teach her a dance. Then she taught him another. And another. And another.

And as peace settled into the space between them they felt a pressure lifted from their chests. And the stars shone just a bit brighter.