He had been gone for quite some time. When he walked through the grand ironbound doors of the great meeting hall, he had seen that many of the great flanaess scholars had already arrived. No soul even ventured him a second glance. As he suspected, he had arrived unrecognized. For too long, he had slaved away on a secret and special commission for Lord Drax of Rel Astra. So long, old comrades and associates had forgotten him. He doubted his face to be recognizeable even by his own brother anyhow. Too long was he under the towers of the Garasteth city, his complexion pale and his wrinkles quite sooted. His face always in a grimace so as to stave off the light of day from his now senstive eyes.
Not but a few moons ago, word had spread from Greyhawk to his ear; a grand event where all the intellectuals of the flanaess will convene. An event where these intellectuals will share their factual or sullied findings on great and powerful artifacts lost or found across the land. It was only a few days out until this convention was to culminate on Flocktime the 14th, but he knew with the help of the Fiend-Sage that he would arrive in time.
After surveying the crowd some he made his way over to a table fit for two off in the southeast corner of the hall, just to the right of the doors. He would have a satisfactory viewpoint of the minglers from there, he thought. Once there, he pulled the slack of his robe up to form a more comfortable seating. A serving lady brought him some bread and honeymead which he took graciously. After settling his stomach some, he looked over to the crowd. Now, who is here....
He recognized two gentlemen conversing with eachother in green doublets right away as he had seen them about in Rel Astra some. One was none other than Pluffet Smedger the Rel Astran historian. The other an old but hard blacksmith, Dethand. Quite the armorer was he.
Past the Rel Astrans sitting at the king's chair of the next table was an old adventuring companion of his, an ogre from Ull, none other than the brutish, but clever Mortellan. He seemed engrossed in some drinking affairs with the old Nyrondeseman fur trader, Greyson.
Ahh and a few chairs down from him, the Gynarch's sage from Hardby, Ancedmath. He was parlaying with the hawk-nosed writer from Sterich, Osmund Davidson, and another whom he thought may be an old acquaintance, the mysterious and wise sage, first advisor to the court of Celene, Gvdammerung. Hmmm, that very well could be him, he thought.
As he scanned from east to west he recognized many others, Ivid (obviously Aerdy in name), Grodog (Greyhawk City's authority on demonolgy), Aeolius (Greyhawk City;s authority on all beasts and fuana oceanic), Argon the Kind-Hearted (an ogre from the Abbor-Alz), and many others.
Noticeably missing from his old congregation was the cartographers, Anondson and Boslok. The Sneering Keolander, Samwise. Where were those two half-brothers always at rival, Delglath and Chatdemon. And how about the adorable Tedra of Furyondy, whom he once secretely admired. Oh, and the Jack of all Trades, the travelling entertainer, Wesley! He could see many of the old sages were missing, ofcourse. Most likely holed away in some other affairs of study he was sure.
After finishing his half loaf of bread and skin of mead, he carefully slipped out. His tale, as with the findings of the others, would have to wait until the convention of Flocktime 14th. _________________ Kneel before me, or you shall be KNELT!
The ogre raised his flagon high in salute to Abysslin, sloshing some of it on Greyson. "Allo. I knew if I walked west long enough I'd find you eventually."
While some of us stand in front of our deity daily and bask in the Path, when it comes to mere mortals, we can understand that they may not have the perception to grasp all that is apparent and evident.
Sages and the wise come in all professions. Even those with realms to rule and deities to converse with must make time to confer with mere mortals the findings of those on the Holy Path of Pholtus.
With Pholtus's power rising, competing mightly with that of Pelor, the artifacts from the time of the founding of the Fatherland have begun to be understood.
I stand ready to divulge our findings when it is time for the Clergy to annouce and discuss it's topics. The wise sages do not always have the wisdom to understand their findings without the power of the One True Path to guide their learnings.
There is an interweb of speculation on what is and what is not a topic of and for Greyhawk and its lore, artifacts and understanding. There will be many, many learned and seasoned adventures, prognasticators, and advisors at this meeting.
I hope to learn much of the mortal speculation and presentation during this convergence of the learned.
Theocrat Issak of the Church of the One True Path of Pholtus
Theocracy of the Pale
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