Quilana's Tale

Quilana looks each of you in the face for a moment, then says: “I know that you must have a lot questions about what happened to me. I’m afraid that there are many things I can’t recall, or that it is not yet time for me to talk about. However, I will tell you what I can, and hopefully that will answer some of your questions.” Without further pause, she begins to tell her story.

---

I came out of my reverie, and realized I was lying on a bed of leaves on the floor of a forest. This by itself was not a particularly unusual or surprising thing; in my years of patrolling wildernesses across Faerun, I had spent many a night curled up at the base of a tree or lying flat on my back looking up at the stars and moon through the branches. The surprising thing was that I didn’t know where I was, or how I had gotten there.

I looked upward, hoping that examining the trees, and perhaps catching a glimpse of the stars might trigger a memory, or give me some clue to where in Faerun I might be. But the trees appeared indistinct to my eyes, and a thick fog or mist allowed no hint of the sky to show through. My other senses also did not reveal much. The normally distinct smells of the forest: the resin of the firs, the sweet smell of new plants, the sour tang of rotting leaves and undergrowth did not reach my nose. And I did not hear the calls of birds, the whisper of a breeze through branches, or the soft skittering of squirrels or mice on the forest floor. As I sat up, what should have been a sharp rustle of the dead leaves below me was muffled and indistinct.

Then I realized I could hear the faint sound of a harp being played, and of a voice singing. Unlike everything else my senses had encountered in this place, the music---though quiet---was clear, and I could tell the direction from which it came. As I began to pick my way through the woods toward the music’s source, I found that I could make out some of the lyrics:

“The way is misty, dark, and cold

On the path we mortals all must tread

Passing from the realm of life to death

A passage we might delay a while

But in the end we all must make

For even the immortal gods can die”

After a few minutes of winding my way through the woods, I saw the faint glow of a fire through the trees. I emerged into a clearing at the base of the largest, most hoary oak tree that I have ever seen. Under its wide-spread, leafy limbs was a small campfire, with two large and seemingly out of place chairs facing each other across the fire. In one chair sat a human woman with long silver hair, wearing a sheer white robe---one not particularly suitable for a cold damp night in the woods. The woman was no longer singing, instead plucking idly at a harp and humming to herself. The second chair had no occupant, unless you wanted to count the especially large and sleek raven perched on the chair’s back.

As I stepped into the clearing, the raven cocked its head and focused one large, bright eye upon me. The woman stopped her plucking and humming, and greeted me in a melodious voice. “Well met Quilana. Won’t you join me by the fire? It is cold, and we have much to discuss.”

I stood frozen for a moment, my mind racing. Who was this woman? How did she know my name? Was it she who brought me to this forest, and if so, for what reason? The woman must have sensed my trepidation, because she said “I know this must all be very confusing for you, but please trust me when I tell you that I mean you no harm. Come, and sit, and I will try and explain what is happening to you.”

I reflected for a moment, and I decided that there were two possibilities. The first was that she was the person (or at least worked for the person or persons) who had brought me here. If that were so, and they meant me harm, they would have most likely done it already. The second was that she was not the person that brought me here, but that she might be able to tell me where I was, and something of how I had gotten here. Either way, talking with her for a bit seemed a better option than wandering lost in a strange and unfamiliar forest.

As I slowly made my way over to the fire, the raven flapped its way across to the back of the woman’s chair, landing somewhat awkwardly, then letting out a loud and guttural “Caw!” As I sat down, enjoying the warmth of the fire, the woman said “Thank you. I am Sylune Silverhand, and I have been”---she paused a moment as if searching for exactly the right word---“enlisted by my mistress and her associates to speak with you on their behalf. Do you remember what happened to you before you found yourself here?” I searched my memory for yet another time since I had found myself in these woods, but all I could pull up was a hazy indistinct jumble, nothing that made any sense. “No, I can’t.” was all I managed to reply.

“Don’t be disturbed” she said, “that is quite normal for people who have gone through an event similar to the one you have just experienced. If you permit it, my associate should be able to restore your memory, although I will warn you that the process can be very jarring.” I felt a small knot form in my stomach, but after a moment I swallowed hard, and nodded in assent. The raven fixed one shining eye upon me, and I found that although I tried, I could not look away. Then, as if a dam had burst in my mind, I was flooded with a torrent of memories, thoughts and images being carried along like debris in a mountain stream after a torrential rain.

Yes, I remembered! I had been on the trail of something in the High Forest; something that did not belong there; something that was disturbing the forest animals and spirits alike, causing many of them to flee in a blind panic. I had tracked the creature to an old dwarven ruin that seemed to be its lair. In the back of my mind I could hear the voice of my brother Badgerlock cautioning me “Don’t go in by yourself, it’s too dangerous! You’re going to get yourself killed one of these days by going off on your own! Go to Goldenfields and find help, then come back!” But I figured a quick reconnoiter to find out what we would be up against would be worth the risk.

I worked my way into the ruins, being as quiet and stealthy as I could. I didn’t see anything amiss at first, but then in the partially tumbled down great hall, I saw…statues? But statues that did not look like typical dwarven carvings. I entered the hall and examined them more closely. The subjects of the statues were an odd collection of members of different races, all of which were exceedingly lifelike, and all carved with expressions of fear---even terror---on their faces.

I had become engrossed with the statues for a moment or two, and had lost track of my surroundings. Then, suddenly, I heard a faint sound behind me. As I whirled around, my gaze was caught by a handsome but cruel face, with the most intense eyes I have ever seen. The creature locked its gaze upon me, and I found myself unable to look away, no matter how hard I tried. The face took on an expression of triumph, and as I felt an increasing wave of panic sweep over me, the world seemed to slowly fade around me; first to grey and then slowly too black, as if I were entering a deep dark tunnel. My next memory was emerging from reverie in the strange forest.

Sylune regarded me for a long moment. “Is your memory clearer now?” she asked. I nodded in reply, unable to speak. After a moment I asked “So, you and your associates rescued me from…that thing?” I finally unwilling to put a name to the creature that I had encountered. “Not exactly. You are now suspended in the moment between life and death. My mistress and her associates have intervened to offer you a choice. It is important for you to understand that this choice is entirely yours, and must be made freely. But that once you make your decision, you will not be able to change it later.”

Without conscious thought, I blurted out “That is preposterous! I am alive! I fell the cold and damp in the forest, and I can feel the warmth of the fire on my face now!” I smacked my hand down on the arm of the chair “I can feel this!” Sylune regarded me, her face softening as I saw a tear roll down her cheek. “I know this is hard to accept, and the fact that you still have a body, and can still feel the world around you—although you might find the sensations muted—only makes it more difficult. But, your heart does not beat, and blood no longer flows through your veins.”

I sat unmoving for several moments. Hesitantly, I put a hand on my chest over my heart, and felt…nothing. I tried touching my wrist, searching for the rhythm of my pulse, or even a faint flutter, but all I felt was still, cold flesh. I looked ayearet Sylune who was watching me with a steady sympathetic gaze. The passage of time seemed to slow to a crawl. After what seemed like a year, but might well have been only a few seconds, said—trying to keep my voice from trembling—“What choice are you offering me?”

“The first option is that you may simply choose to die. Your spirit will pass on to Arborea, and you will spend your time in the presence of Rillifayne Rallathil hunting and fishing in Arborea’s forests and streams, in complete contentment. But, if my mistress’s reading of the signs and portents is correct, soon a wave of Chaos will wipe Arborea and all other planes from existence.” She paused for a moment. “The other option is to return to your body, which has been turned to stone. My mistress will anchor your soul there. You will not be able to move or speak. It will be terribly lonely at times. But, if my mistress’s auguries are correct, Nazz will one day find you and return you to flesh, and you and she will have an important role to play in forestalling the oncoming Chaos.”

---

Quilana stares off into the distance for a moment, a haunted look in her eyes, then starts to speak again;, haltingly at first, and then with increasing assurance. “In certain ways, Sylune was correct; even though I have spent much of my life in the wilderness on my own, I have never felt as alone as I did during my time as an….unwilling work of art.” A flicker of a smile passed quickly across her face. “But, I wasn’t completely alone. Sylune would visit me from time to time, singing songs for me and telling me news of the world. And I was able to sense my surroundings, although much of what I could sense came not as sights or sounds, more as vague impressions when someone or something came near. And disturbingly, my strongest sensations came when that…that creature claimed another victim near me. Each time he did, I would relive the the disorientation and fear that I felt when caught me.”

“Now I suppose you all must have questions you want to ask me.”