• A tribute to Lenard Lakofka

    From Ubiquitous@weberm@polaris.net to alt.obituaries,alt.games.adnd,rec.games.frp.dnd,rec.games.frp.misc on Thu Dec 31 10:46:12 2020
    From Newsgroup: rec.games.frp.misc

    : Lenard W. Lakofka (born 1944), usually credited as Len Lakofka,
    : was a Dungeons & Dragons writer and long-time friend of D&D creator
    : Gary Gygax. Lakofka is best known for the L-series AD&D adventure
    : modules, and as the namesake of the character Leomund. Lakofka died
    : on the morning of Oct 23, 2020.

    Leomund at the Edge of Forever
    By Drew Griffiths
    Edited by Thomas Kelly

    They all had felt the summons. Whether they wanted to or not, one by
    one, it compelled them to make their way to that place gods alone could
    go. They arrived in a colossal room without walls, with views through
    windows where there were no windows. One among them looked out on a
    solitary pathway, into a void where no god dared go.

    Phaulkon, Master of Birds and Wind Archer looked to red-bearded Kord.
    He saw his own heartbreak reflected back in KordAs face. Nearby, one of
    the gods softly wept, perhaps Lydia, goddess of music and daylight. It
    took a moment for Phaulkon to noticeuWee Jas, mistress of magic and
    steward of the dead, had managed to remain absent. A brief moment for
    hope? But then Lendor appeared before his progeny. oIt is time,o the
    god of time announced.

    oNo!o a hollow voice echoed back from planes beyond the room but not
    beyond the enveloping void.

    oWee Jas, it is timeo insisted Lendor. He looked to Phaulkon. oStop
    helping her.o

    Phaulkon might have feigned innocence or denied his complicity, but he
    knew that this was a contest he could not win. He bowed his head,
    oSorry father, itAs not just me; we are all involved.o

    oI know,o Lendor gazed upon each of the gods in turn. oI didnAt want
    this either, but itAs time.o

    Norebo, lord of chance, suggested, oCould we not just re-roll the
    dice?o

    Lydia began to weep again, her sobs like soft music.

    Ugly Syrul the deceiver spoke, oWhy even bother to tell him the truth?
    Who would blame us for lying? Perhaps he will believe, and thatAs all
    that matters.o

    That was the moment Wee Jas arrived to appear before Lendor. oHe will
    know the truth, like we all know the truth. Somewhere out beyond the
    limits of our sight, a piece of him has already slipped away. We all
    know this. I have been seeking it, but even with all of your help, that
    which would make him whole again is gone. It is too late.o

    oThen it is time, and no time remains,o the god of time grew stern.
    oWhoever conceals him, release and reveal him now, or I will!o

    Wee Jas vainly resisted his will, fought back tears that fell from her
    eyes. They streaked down her beautiful face and struck the floor. A
    mist arose and swirled around the immortals. It coalesced into a
    ghostly, elderly man. He looked frail, confused, disoriented in the
    midst of the gods.

    Lendor approached the old man. oLeomund, do you know why you are here?o

    The old man raised his head to gaze into the eyes of the god of time.
    Leomund immediately recognized the god he had served so long and began
    to weep with a brief moment of joy. He was surprised to see the sorrows
    of his own heart etched into the features of LendorAs immortal face.
    oDo all the gods ordinarily assemble to greet a soul when we die?o

    oNo,o Lendor replied. oOnly for you.o

    oOh, I see.o The old man nodded sagaciously, as if pondering the deeper meaning. oIs this where I am to spend eternity?o

    Phaulkon stepped towards Leomund, oIs that what you desire?o

    oYou have other choices you might want to consider, Leomund,o Lendor
    offered.

    The old man searched the faces of the gods for some explanation, oI
    donAt understand!o

    Wee Jas spoke, oCan you not feel it Leomund?o

    Leomund locked eyes with her teary gaze, oIs this not how all souls
    feel?o

    Wee Jas trembled as if she might break, as if they all could break. She
    held herself firm. oWhat do you remember?o she asked.

    Confusion clouded his mind. Remember what exactly? His death? Well that
    was had to be what happened, but had he not died before? Had he not
    been brought back to life though powerful dweomercraft or the power of
    the gods themselves? Why should things be different this time? But it
    felt very differentuas if a part of him was missing, lost somehow. He
    looked down at his own body and took note of his wispy wraithlike form.
    It was as if he was not completely there. As he stared at his
    insubstantial self, Wee Jas drew close and took his hands in hers.
    Immediately he began to feel more substantial, but at the same moment,
    Wee Jas herself began to fade, to disperse, to take shape into him.
    oNo! Stop!o shouted Leomund, pulling his hands free from the goddess.
    He stepped back from her and stared, fearfully, into the dismayed faces
    of the many gods. Lendor merely looked on sadly.

    Realization dawned slowly. ItAs not that I have died, is it. But
    somewhere else, maybe not in this universe, but in some other universe,
    the other me that I had always known to be there, a piece that perhaps
    all the gods here knew as well, is gone. ThatAs why all the gods gaze
    upon me so piteously! They too have lost some irretrievable piece of themselves.

    oWhat are a you said there were other choices?o Leomund stuttered. He
    asked Lendor directly.

    oYou have the choice to live on, on Oerth. If that is your wish. Live
    as an immortal in that world. But you will forever be without the part
    of you that has already vanished. Or, if you desire it, ascend to
    become a god. Wee Jas herself was willing to make that sacrifice for
    you. Transcend what you are now, and seek what is lost. But without
    promise you will find him or fill what is missing, or you could ao

    oStop,o protested Wee Jas. Phaulkon stepped forward to comfort her, but
    she pulled away from the offer of his feathered embrace. oYou canAt let
    him take the path into the void. He will be then gone forever!o

    At last Leomund could fully see where he stood, in a room without
    walls, facing a pathway made of steps that he could not really see but
    knew to be there, leading away into the impenetrable blackness. oWhat
    is at the end of the path?o

    oNobody knows,o Lendor admitted.

    oWill I find that part of me that is already gone?o

    oI donAt know. None of us know. Perhaps.o

    Leomund knew at once what choice he must make, and in that instant, all
    the gods knew it too. It was as if it had always meant to be this way.
    It was time. Not the time of his choosing. But time, just the same. He
    looked back over his shoulder. All the gods were behind him now, bowing
    to himubowing to a mortal man. He stepped onto the path and was gone.

    One by one, the gods vanished from the room at the edge of forever,
    until only Lendor remained, keeping vigil, staring into the void for
    the remainder of time.
    --
    Trump won.

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  • From grodog@grodog@gmail.com to alt.obituaries,alt.games.adnd,rec.games.frp.dnd,rec.games.frp.misc on Mon Jan 4 13:57:54 2021
    From Newsgroup: rec.games.frp.misc

    weberm@polaris.net wrote:
    ricdii@yahoo.com wrote:

    Ubiquitous,
    Fabulous article!
    You should post this as an article on the Canonfire web site.
    Richard "Longetalos"

    Thanks!

    I'm kinda surprised no one mentioned it, but it's been a distracting
    year...

    Folks definitely noticed.

    I wrote a piece about LenardAs works at https://grodog.blogspot.com/2020/11/an-index-of-the-dungeons-and-dragons-works-of-lenard-lakofka.html
    and Jay Scott coordinated a tribute/memorial show at https://m.twitch.tv/search?term=lordgosumba back in early November.

    IAm sure other folks did as well, that IAm unaware of.

    Your tribute is a fitting one, Ubiquitous, and reminds me of Scott CasperAs closure to his Castle Greyhawk story/web comic: the intertwining of real-world pain and in-character/in-story loss. Nicely done!

    Allan.

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