Entries by Ancient of Days

Veya told us an interesting tale tonight, as we gathered around the campfire and ate a delcious confection that Maxwell prepared known as "brownies". (Perhaps the fairie-like beings are a primary ingredient? It would certainly explain the delicious taste!)

I shall attempt to record as accurately as I can the story Veya related, as something tells me this information may be vital to our party's survival.

"As many 'walkers as you could ask, you'd find as many philosophies on the composition and "geography" of the Planes. My master taught that the planes are like a layered cake: at the extreme poles, you find the negative and positive energy planes. Moving inward, your find the demonic and celestial planes of various types. Towards the center of the "cake", you find the Material Planes, such as Toril, from whence I hail, and Krynn, the realm which my master and were fleeing on our way here.

"5,000 years ago, Icthin and Ulek managed to open stable and permanent gates between their realms. Given that Icthin was a world trapped in an Ice Age, and Ulek was a barren desert, it was an extremely profitable enterprise for both realms.

"For 2,000 years, the realms of Icthin and Ulek flourished: Icthin providing Ulek with moisture and fertile soil, which Ulek used to build oases into farms, and finally to convert an entire continent from an arid wasteland to a veritable breadbasket; in return, Ulek provided Icthin with livestock, raw minerals, and other necessities to keep the peoples of Icthin alive.

"Then, abruptly, on the 2,997 anniversary of the opening of the stable gates, there was a -- catastrophe. No one living is precisely sure what caused it, but both gates ruptured in the same instant, causing a powerful ripple of magic to cascade throughout the planes.

"There are many theories about what caused the rupture. Some 'walkers teach that the stable presence of such strong magic for such a long period drew beings of choas who wreaked destruction for their own unfathomable purposes; some tell of a rising feeling of bitterness in the Icthinians towards the Ulekites, while yet others say it was the Ulekites that began to resent the Icthinians; regardless of which realm they believe began it, both of these camps believe that a magical conflict erupted during the anniversary celebration, and the rupturing of the gates was a last strike by one side or the other. And there are still other theories: my master believed that every bit of material transferred from one plane to the other caused a slow buildup of magical energies in the gates until they reached a critical mass and erupted in a storm of magical energies.

"In fact, my master and I came here in search of clues to how these magical gates were constructed, and how they were ruptured, and what happened to those lands affected by the rupture. For you see, when I said "catastrophe" earlier, I meant it. The events on Icthin and Ulek spread across the known realms: sections of many adjoining planes suffered dramatic shifts in their known geography: habited lands were wiped from the map, while in other places entirely new regions appeared -- sometimes inhabited, sometimes chunks of wild jungle or mountain ranges, and in at least one case, an entirely new city appeared overnight -- uninhabited, but with all the structures in perfect condition, as though the city had just been built, while both Icthin and Ulek were closed to the planeswalkers forever. They simply...disappeared, and not in a clean fashion. It was as though your dwarven friend here had attempted to cut two layers from the center of the planar "cake" using his fine warhammer.

"I'm telling you this now because, mere moments before the he was attacked and slain before my eyes, my master told me that he believes this place, your plane, is the place we've been seeking: the remains of missing planes. As one form of evidence, he pointed out to me that some of your peoples worship the gods of our home plane, Toril: Moradin, Talos; while others worship gods from planes such as Oerik: Heironeous and Hextor. If it's true, this is important because the place we're going is connected to the planes, and there may be some side effects from trying to take you through the gate. You see, one of the more mystifying results of the cataclysm is that there have been no planeswalkers from your realm. Ever. You may have troubles passing through the gate."

An interesting tale, but I do hope she and her master are wrong. The last thing we need at this point is planar troubles.

For 3 nights, I watched as my new dwarven friend alternately stared into the fire and fumbled with quill and parchment, his face flickering from sorrow, to guilt, to rage. On the fourth night, I could watch silently no longer.

"I'm making a record of our travels." came the gruff reply to my query. Something in his face or in his voice told me the story his words could not: he was trying to find some way to deal with the death of his young charge, and friend, the monk Thelonious.

The more I've looked around the camp, the more I've begun to realize how deeply some members of this party have felt the pain of our recent losses. Of course I feel badly about what happened to young Llan, who was so obviously the moral center of this extended "family". And watching what happened to the monk. . .well, to have done that to Thelonious from what must have been a great distance indicates that our foes have a level of power at their command that, frankly, terrifies me.

Personally, I have a hard time feeling that close of a bond with anyone...whether that is a result of my odd parentage, or just a trait of my personality, I cannot be sure, but my friends have always been few. I follow the path of the Wolf, and few share my interests. My perviously solitary journeys were made alone because I couldn't find anyone like-minded enough, and it's better to go alone than with people one wearies of soon. However, of later, I have begun to find myself fascinated by Kitya's dedication to the Way of the Forest. I've always done things alone because I never found people who cared about the things I've cared for enough to suffer the attendant hardships, but now I find that my passion for the natural ways is outstripped by the wild-eyed fanaticism of a druid.

Pondering these thoughts, I turned to the newest member of our little band, the half-elven wizardess named Veya. She named herself a planeswalker, or rather, one-time apprentice to such. I had never before heard of anyone of less power than my grandfather travelling the planes, and the idea intruiges me. Now we're told that there is a good possibility that the Dragon Horde our leige-lord has sent us in search of lies on a plane other than our own. I find myself excited and perhaps a little worried at the prospect of leaping into a magical gate that when I have little to no idea what our destination is. The gates that we have already seen open before our eyes are mysterious enough for my liking.

It is true that I can be happy alone, and I've often preferred solitude to the constant bickering of human civilization. But I look forward to the end of our journey because I take with me people with whom I feel a rare bond of friendship, and a real friend is never an intrusion.

It seems that a university Philosophy professor made a great breakthrough and had agreed to do a series of talks at universities throughout the country detailing his discoveries. Because the professor disliked airplanes, he hired a chaffeur to drive him from one spot to the next. Spending so much time together, the professor and the chaffeur became friendly and in the course of time, the chaffeur confided that he thought the professor had about the easiest job in the world.

"How's that?" asked the professor.

"Well," said the driver. "You give the same talk night after night. You get asked the same questions night after night. There's just nothing to it. Really, I've heard it so many times now, even I could do it."

At this, the professor challenged the chaffeur and at their next stop, the chaffeur and the professor changed roles (and clothes). Good as his word, the chaffeur gave a very successful talk and, just as he had predicted, the same questions were asked. That is, until one person asked a new question, one the chaffeur-cum-professor didn't know. He thought about it for a while and finally said, "Young man, that is the single most stupid question I have EVER been asked. Why, I'm surprised that you don't know the answer to it. I would think anyone would. In fact, the question is so simple, I'm going to have my chaffeur answer it!"

--

This same professor comes into a class on Philosophy on the last day of the term and tells the students that 100% of their grade for the class will be based on the paper he is about to ask them to write. He pulls up a chair, sits down, and declares: "You have 1 and a half hours to prove to me, using the things you've learned this term, that this chair does not exist."

All of the students save one begin frantically scribbling, tying Bhuddism to Fruedianism to Aristotle. The last student looks very carefully at the professor for about 30 seconds, then writes a few words on a piece of paper, hands it in, and leaves. When the grades are published, the entire class is mystified to see that only the one student passed. His paper is posted next to the grades, and says simply:

"What chair?"