Tymora's luck

OFFSTAGE

In the Prime Material Plane on the world known as Toril in Realmspace, Amber Wyvernspur cried out with surprise and then delight at the sudden appearance of her great-granduncle, Drone Wyvernspur, who carried a lantern and a picnic basket. He arrived by dimensional doorway some time after the children's torches had burned out, but before panic had set in. Amber and the children had been in the dark long enough to sing fourteen rounds of a silly halfling song Gory had taught them.

"You found us!" Amber cried out in relief. "I knew you would."

"I didn't know I had lost you," the shaggy old wizard retorted. He looked around at the collapsed ceiling disapprovingly. "What a mess you children have made," he muttered. "You'll be cleaning this up until you're old enough to leave home. Of course, you could get out of the work if you want to leave home now," he added with a dark look at Tavan, Toran, and Cory. Uncle Drone had an uncanny understanding of who was responsible for any mishaps that occurred in the family.

"Are you going to take us home now, Uncle Drone?" Olivia asked.

"Do I look like a pack mule?" the old wizard retorted. "I brought you something to eat," he said, handing the basket to Cory.

As her younger kin began to devour the sandwiches and fruit in the basket, Amber sat patiently while Uncle Drone examined her wounds. He spread some healing salve on them and then made her down a potion that tasted like peppermint.

"Are our parents worried?" Tavan asked as he sipped a cup of tea.

"Not really," Drone said. "We've known something like this would happen for days now."

"What do you mean?" Toran asked, looking puzzled.

"Mother Lleddew came to check on you a few days ago," the old wizard explained. "Apparently she had a vision that you were trapped in a cave. Since you were all snug in your beds at the time, we guessed it was some sort of future vision brought on by Tymora's troubles. We've just been waiting for the shoe to drop, so to speak. Should have known you'd pick a day when we were all away, leaving your poor Aunt Dorath to fret about you."

"Aunt Dorath likes to fret," Heather said.

"Yes, well, your Uncle Steele likes to drink, but that doesn't mean we should indulge him. Speaking of Steele, let's have that key."

Heather pulled out the key to the crypt that she had taken from Uncle Steele's sock drawer.

Carrying Heather on his back and Olivia and Pars in his arms, the wizard left by another dimensional door, groaning all the way about how much weight they'd all put on. The other children had to wait until morning for the old wizard to replenish his spells. Amber often wondered if that wasn't just an excuse to make them stay the night to teach them a lesson. She didn't mind, however. She had a good time chatting with the guardian. The next day Uncle Drone, with Aunt Cat's help, managed to bring everyone out from the crypt.

Then the whole family began digging out the collapsed crypt and repairing the stonework. True to his threat, Drone saw that the children all helped to dig out the mess.

Years later the Wyvernspur cousins would always refer to any sort of hard labor, like digging, as the fruits of Tymora's Luck, but it never kept any of them from calling on Lady Luck from time to time in the course of their adventures.