A Light Appears

Author's note - this is a continuation of Schmordrick alone, the story of the dwarf Schmordrick Schmordrickson while separated from his party. This is the intro for our D&D session, so it does switch to 2nd person, a departure from the first half of the story.

As you play on you flute, a small mote of warm white light enters the mouth of the cave. None of the Gnolls react, but you can clearly see it bouncing and bobbing, checking each of them out. It even hovered right above the tip of the female's nose for a few moments, but she never paused in the conversation she seemed to be having with the Gnoll next to her. The light began making its way towards you, the musician, in the corner. You haven't stop playing as you watched it float, closer and closer.

---

There is no sound from the light, no language, nothing that could be classified as traditional communication. But it's odd. A feeling of warmth, of trust, wraps around you like a blanket. Nothing about this entity seemed threatening or nefarious. It strikes you as fanciful, the appearance of a strange glow, while you are playing the old songs of your people. While moments ago, you were steeling yourself for the worst, now you feel at peace. You feel like everything might be working the way it is supposed to.

You reach the end of the song, and as the final notes fade, the light begins to flicker, blinking in and out. A look around the cave shows no reaction from anyone around you.

As an experiment, you blow on the flute, playing a few notes. The light stabilizes, holding strong and firm. The moment the music fades, it begins flickering again.

This time you begin playing a different song. It's an old one, one that your parents used to sing before you fell asleep. The light stays strong, and for the first time since entering the cave, it hovers still.

"Sleep softly, wee child,
Come home for peace,
from all that is wyld.
Feel the warmth of our fire,
burning strong in the hearth.
E'en when we go into the mire,
Ne're forget who ye are."

You sway as you mull over the words. You haven't thought about that song in years.

An image leaps to the front of your mind, unbidden. You see most of your friends, holding hands, in a large room. Ziggler isn't there, though you don't see a body on the floor, so hopefully that's a good sign. There are bones scattered on the floor, and there are two women with them that you do not recognize. There is a flash of purple light, and they are gone.

You blink and your eyes return to focus on the room in front of you. You have stopped playing, but the light is still in front of you.

A voice forces its way into your mind, striking with stabbing force. It is neither male nor female, and it is tinged with an accent you can't quite place. You feel a bit of blood begin to trickle out of your nose. The Gods are not done with you yet, Schmordrick Mordrickson. Become the tool you must be - become the arm of our justice, the weapon of our might. Seek out the cursed artisan. Clothe yourself in her armor, for you are the one promised for the Light.

When the voice withdraws from your mind, your body is shaking, but not with cold or fear. Your senses are overwhelmed. You are clutching your flute with both hands, desperately grasping a tether to your mortal self. The light in front of you has not moved, but you now feel this pull, this compulsion to reach out and touch it.