“Welcome to the TFC Immortal Planning and Commissioning Zone. Please wait until your name is called, then step forward.” The small gnome in a blue helm, which only protected the top of his skull, retrieved a scroll from the wall and stepped into the back room. Triston crossed his legs and leaned back in the easy chair provided for him to sit in. A various assortment of periodicals lay on the small table next to him provided some reading material to pass the time. Immortal Times, ‘The life and times of an Implimentor – An exclusive! Madman tells all!’ Newbie News, ‘How to teach a newbie to read a map' as well as 'Consider and other first commands’ and ‘Make your temple unique in five easy steps’ in Better Temples and Gardens. None interested him, but he picked up the Better Temples magazine and flipped through it hoping to get some idea for his own sanctuary.
He glanced at the water clock resting on the counter. Its slow drop reminded him that in half an hour he had to be back at Algenara, to wait for the emergence of new adventurers into the realm. The price all those that wore the robe of Ambassador had been charged to do. He browsed through the pages, nothing really interested him, Triston couldn’t believe how many advertisements were littered through it. The Lich’s homemade coffins, Cordir’s tapestries, Majere’s floral arrangements, books on wisps for every mage, get a bigger rift (size does matter) and plenty of other useless items to him. Triston vowed to himself that his following would not end up selling themselves in the pages of a magazine and plopped the periodical back on the table and relax with his eyes closed.
At first he imagined the night’s sky, the myriad of constellations dazzled in his mind’s eye. Her pale face danced across the horizon, two stars glittered in her eyes as she smiled. She winked and then slithered into another galaxy swirling deep in the sky. When she reappeared, Triston caught the thin fibers of her hair in the edge of his teeth, like strands of dark space ready to envelope him and whisk him off into a sublime moment.
A mist of stardust clouded his mind as the view turned from the stars into a thundering crash of a wave. Only a turquoise piece of cloth, wrapped around her waist kept her from being nude, but as she walked out of the water, her long sullen hair covered her breasts and illuminated her pale flesh. In those weird moments when one dreams, he realized he now stood beside her, the taste of the ocean was on his lips and he wondered how it got there. Her dark eyes smiled and the gleam of the sun reminded him of the scene in the stars. Small hands traveled up his black silk shirt, in their wake a cool line of water pressed against his chest, until she held cupped his cheeks with her hands and drew him into a kiss.
“Triston?” The sound of his name dissipated the dream and when he opened his eyes he saw the gnome standing before him. His body straightened up as he tried to recollect his thoughts. “Triston?” the gnome asked again tilting his head back and forth as if he tried to look inside of him.
Rubbing his eyes he leaned forward and glared at the gnome. “What?”
The startled gnome jumped back and flipped through a series of papers clipped to a board. “Uh.” He stammered as he went back and forth between the same couple of sheets. “I just saw it.”
Over in the near corner, Triston saw a dark figure flash a series of hand signals, “Loto killed by Majere at Majere’s temple.” Triston chuckled to himself as the gnome ran his finger down a column of names on one of the lists.
“Opps,” the sound of Majere’s voice echoed in the room, it came from nowhere, but everywhere. “I didn’t think one rift would kill him.” The sound of gods chuckling reverberated against the walls along with a few additional comments.
“Here it is,” said the gnome. “Your temple isn’t scheduled yet.” He looked up at Triston and narrowed his eyes. “It says you aren’t even an attendant. Why are you wasting our time?”
“That wasn’t why I wanted to see him.” Triston stood and felt the cold stain of water from his shirt on his chest. He examined his shirt. The dream. Hadn’t he only imagined it?
The gnome tapped a small yellow stick against the board and said, “Why then?”
“I had some concerns about how we help young mortals.”
“Newbie help?” The gnome flipped all the sheets of paper flat, stuck the small wooden stake behind his ear and said, “Speak to Tamar or Toku about it. Tynian has no time for such issues.”
“But the problem…” Triston’s words were uttered into space as the gnome turned his back and walked through a door labeled, ‘Implimentation.’ He looked back at the clock. By the fill of the water tube, his break was over. He scanned the realm, but found no helpless young adventurers and so he transported himself into the realm of demons and spoke to the demon prince’s about his problems. Not the best of company, but they could not argue nor walk away from him. They were trapped for eternity and Triston bored the hell out of them.
Until he heard a whisper in the wind, “Hello sexy!”