[ By the morning, Gale finds himself in Lord Melshimber’s study, under severe scrutiny. Only his insistence that he, too, had been robbed (and his fluttering sleeves as evidence), grant him temporary mercy. I haven’t forgotten your previous thefts, boy. Rather famously, Gale stole the Blackstaff’s, well, staff and opened a portal to limbo, leading to his near expulsion from the academy. His family tapped Melshimber himself to defend his honour. A verdict of boyish tomfoolery came to pass.
One that is much harder to plead at the age of thirty and change — so Gale sweetens the deal with a promise to reclaim the item and return it. Such ventures were typical of his work for Mystra, and he had never failed her. Begrudgingly, he’s allowed to walk free on his word alone.
Casting Locate Object is easy enough, but getting himself within range of said object is much harder. He frequents the taverns best know for travellers and troublemakers, flitting past the Yawming Portal more evenings than he’d like to admit, when the spell zips up his arm, senses slight with the electric sensation of finding.
Gale misty steps just to the left of Astarion as he exits the tavern and snags him by the collar, yanking him back with strength born of adrenaline. It’s harder to manoeuvre him against the cobbled wall of the alley, but he just about manages by leveraging his weight, knee wedged between Astarion’s legs and hands fisted in his shirt. ]
Stealing my lines now, are we? [ clucking his tongue. ]. And using them on a child. Really. [ A young, handsome thing, even more susceptible than Gale had been to false charms. ] Give me a reason not to incinerate you — for instance, that you still have a priceless journal on your person.
no subject
One that is much harder to plead at the age of thirty and change — so Gale sweetens the deal with a promise to reclaim the item and return it. Such ventures were typical of his work for Mystra, and he had never failed her. Begrudgingly, he’s allowed to walk free on his word alone.
Casting Locate Object is easy enough, but getting himself within range of said object is much harder. He frequents the taverns best know for travellers and troublemakers, flitting past the Yawming Portal more evenings than he’d like to admit, when the spell zips up his arm, senses slight with the electric sensation of finding.
Gale misty steps just to the left of Astarion as he exits the tavern and snags him by the collar, yanking him back with strength born of adrenaline. It’s harder to manoeuvre him against the cobbled wall of the alley, but he just about manages by leveraging his weight, knee wedged between Astarion’s legs and hands fisted in his shirt. ]
Stealing my lines now, are we? [ clucking his tongue. ]. And using them on a child. Really. [ A young, handsome thing, even more susceptible than Gale had been to false charms. ] Give me a reason not to incinerate you — for instance, that you still have a priceless journal on your person.
[ And, therefore, should not be set alight. ]