It had been a long road to Baldur's Gate. Bel had appeared where he'd left, at the Moonshae Isles, and had a number of awkward conversations with friends who he'd last seen over a years ago, but hadn't noticed he'd left. And, well, it was weird because Bel had grown a lot in that year and it meant having to explain it.
The group had largely been parting ways, since everyone but Sylvia (and Bel himself, at the time) had their stomach for adventure. Bel booked passage back to the mainland, and it wasn't until he landed in Waterdeep and prepared his trip down the coast that he'd started to realize his old instincts were off... a year in Caldera had meant he had forgotten what it was like being a drow on the surface of Faerun.
He'd known he'd come back for some very particular people, but that part was not one he was looking forward to. And people in cities seemed to be more open to the unlikely, including a drow trying to look like an ordinary traveler asking about a particular artificer leader.
(Bel had once threatened to go find the Ironhands and make a nuisance of himself until Barcus showed up, but it turned out not to be necessary. Whatever reasons humans thought he was asking about, it was considered not threatening to Barcus.)
Bel did feel jittery knocking on the door, still, as if this entire thing, Caldera included, might have been a dream and this was the test if it was real. Or else that he had gotten so lost and was about to be shooed away by a confused human servant. He'd already weighed the outdoor decor for signs of similarity to their house in Grey Ward. But he did knock, with his bag resting by his feet and the medallion Barcus had given him worn openly.
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Date: 2026-03-10 01:32 am (UTC)The group had largely been parting ways, since everyone but Sylvia (and Bel himself, at the time) had their stomach for adventure. Bel booked passage back to the mainland, and it wasn't until he landed in Waterdeep and prepared his trip down the coast that he'd started to realize his old instincts were off... a year in Caldera had meant he had forgotten what it was like being a drow on the surface of Faerun.
He'd known he'd come back for some very particular people, but that part was not one he was looking forward to. And people in cities seemed to be more open to the unlikely, including a drow trying to look like an ordinary traveler asking about a particular artificer leader.
(Bel had once threatened to go find the Ironhands and make a nuisance of himself until Barcus showed up, but it turned out not to be necessary. Whatever reasons humans thought he was asking about, it was considered not threatening to Barcus.)
Bel did feel jittery knocking on the door, still, as if this entire thing, Caldera included, might have been a dream and this was the test if it was real. Or else that he had gotten so lost and was about to be shooed away by a confused human servant. He'd already weighed the outdoor decor for signs of similarity to their house in Grey Ward. But he did knock, with his bag resting by his feet and the medallion Barcus had given him worn openly.