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The Mighty Nein had accumulated a hefty selection of magic items whilst hunting some criminals a few days south of Zadash, and as the party returned to the city to claim their reward Jester made the suggestion that the group should stay for a short break. Enough time to heal up and relax, plus it would give her some time to talk with her dad.
The group had exhausted themselves clearing the dungeon, and finding themselves too tired to drink but too weary to sleep it was decided that they would sit together in Caleb and Veth’s room within The Leaky Tap. Fjord looked rough, and had taken up sole residency on Caleb’s bed, the rest of the nine left cramped together on Veth’s bed as Caleb found himself sat on the floor. He was already aware of what Beauregard would say before a single word had left her downturned scowl.
“So, Caleb. Mind finding out what we got, since your already on the floor?”
It was another part of their routine, their post-adventure ritual, and as such Caleb had already begun the preparations before the monk had finished her train of thought, opening a spell-book resting between his legs. Caleb began the arcane ritual. For intervals of ten minutes the rest of the Mighty Nein would fade away into the background as he muttered his incantations, absorbing the innate knowledge of the items the group piled next to him, trying his best not to be distracted by the muted conversation of his… companions. Friends. Family? Those were thoughts for later. Pushing aside such distractions Caleb began the preparations needed to ritually cast Identify.
Atop the pile was the ring he had found nestled in a pile of dusty rags, his only contribution to the hoard of treasure, and it seemed as good a place to start as anything. Releasing a stream of arcane magic Caleb now identified the ring to be of recent make, a band of tarnished brass engraved with silver glyphs representing little woodland creatures. Concerning any magical properties belonging to the ring there was a definite pull towards the schools of Enchantment, Illusion and Divination, all affecting the minds of beasts. A Ring of Animal Influence. Caduceus, he decided instantly, would put this to appropriate use. Although there was always Jester… Caleb was aware of the smile such a line of thought brought to him. That was so very tempting.
“This, eh, ring allows a person to, uh, talk to animals. Scare them away even. Three times a day.”
Just as he had expected the clerics both looked towards the ring with curiosity, although their firbolg friend was being far more subtle than his tiefling counterpart. Jester was bouncing in her seat, jostling the cramped bed even further, her eyes sparkling at the trickery such an item could cause. Caleb had to stifle a laugh by clearing his throat.
“Ja, I was thinking one of our resident god botherers could maybe find a use for it. Lots of potential.”
Refocussing at the task at hand Caleb continued his ritual, spending an additional ten minutes identifying the strange pair of boots Beauregard had found; they were bound in fine leather and fitted with startlingly soft fur, emanating a sense of warmness and comfort. Boots of the Winterlands, they would require attunement. Caleb would have killed for these boots when he… before he was Caleb but after he was no longer Bren. The cold nights where he was alone resurfaced, albeit briefly, and Caleb Widogast faltered.
“Boots that keep you warm. Magically.”
The others looked at him strangely, expecting something more after waiting for his spell. Right, of course boots keep you warm. Sometimes he felt like an idiot. He had to explain it better, he had to use his words.
“Sorry, these boots grant the owner resistance to the cold, and walking over terrain made of ice or heavy snow is, eh, a breeze. They do need to adapt to their user though, require attunement, so consider beforehand.”
That seemed to settle the Nein, each settling back into conversation. Caleb began to drift back to his ritual as Beauregard began debating, by which was meant arm wrestling, with Yasha over which of the two would get the most milage out of such an item. His money was on Yasha.
Caleb found himself settling into a rhythm over the next hour and a half, identifying their newly amassed collection of weapons, mostly they held simple enchantments granting the steel a spärlich more damage or control when attacking, but a few were a little more interesting. Teleporting daggers, explosive ball bearings (Beauregard took them before he had a chance to finish explaining), and a singing sword, each were items that he would covert for himself little more than a year ago, now willingly gifted to his party. After identifying another barely magic short-sword Caleb rose from his ritual and realised that he was alone.
The others must have left, it was around the time that the Nein usually ordered supper, and from the sounds of the tavern bellow he had guessed that he would find the group there. They had probably tried to grab his attention, let him know that they were heading out. Probably. A small part of Caleb wondered if the Nein had even bothered, so use to his solitary ritual that they chose just to walk away. It was an unfair thought to think, Caleb realised that as soon as the thought appeared, and yet the fact remained that he was left alone with a pile of useless swords as his companions were feasting below.
There was only one item left to identify, a metal contraption the size and shape of a heart. Not his own heart, Caleb thought with bitterness, far too large for that. Feeling a rush of self-loathing and fatigue he decided to forgo the usual ritual, instead choosing to expend a spell slot to instantly grant himself understanding, before joining his compatriots for a meal. After a moment he realised nothing had happened, and a moment later he wondered why.
He had spoken the spell, felt its arcane power release itself from within and enwrap and bind around the heart. And yet no information came into his mind. With a dissatisfied grunt he released a different spell, detect magic, and could feel the energy ebbing from the object, an assortment of different schools each emanating from this heart. So why couldn’t he identify the verdammt thing?
Not even the Beacon, that glorious dodecahedron of pure Dunamancy, had resisted his attempt to identify it. But something else had done something not entirely dissimilar. Caleb remembered a little ruby prison within the toothy maw of an astral dreadnaught, realised how someone had cast a spell to disguise its true magical properties. This felt similar, but at the same time quite different. He couldn’t leave it at this, a puzzle unsolved, he just needed a bit more time and he was sure he could–
“Cay-leb! Your food is getting cold, and Veth keeps taking stealing pieces, so hurry up and join us. Cayleb!”
The obnoxiously playful voice of Jester Lavorre broke through the mage’s preoccupied mind, nearly turning his thoughts away from the mysterious object seated at his lap. Caleb wasn’t particularly hungry, and he was so much more intrigued with the metal heart… but the Nein were calling to him, and so he gave the device a final glance before deciding to join his friends, his family, for supper.
Trudging down the stairs Caleb can hear the rest of the Nein, minus Yasha who simply nods towards, release a cheer, and it seems so strange, so aberrant, that it could be for him. He has to remind himself that he’s still getting used to this, having people he cares about and people who care for him. He barely makes it to the table before Beauregard pings a grape off his head, ricocheting into Fjord’s tankard and causing an argument. Jester calls him over and he sits himself between her and Veth, trying not to notice the strips of fresh bacon filling the halfling’s pocket,
“She’s lying Caleb, I’d never steal from you.”
Three pieces of stolen bacon fall from Veth’s pocket, and Caleb feels himself smile listening to the squabbling discussions of the Mighty Nein.
This is more than he deserves.
More than he could ever hope for.
Caleb Widogast is, to his own surprise, happy.