Updated: July 13, 2024, 6 a.m.
Jarlaxle Baenre, the enigmatic drow mercenary, strode through the craggy paths of the Sword Mountains, his feathered hat bobbing with each confident step. His destination lay ahead: a secluded valley where the legendary warrior, Keldorn Ironstrike, had agreed to train him. A rare opportunity, one Jarlaxle would not squander.
The sun dipped behind the peaks, casting long shadows as Jarlaxle arrived at the appointed place. There stood Keldorn, a hulking figure clad in gleaming plate armor, his greatsword resting casually on his shoulder. The warrior's eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, met Jarlaxle’s with a mixture of curiosity and respect.
"Jarlaxle Baenre," Keldorn greeted, his voice a deep, rumbling echo. "You seek the Mirror of Truth?"
Jarlaxle nodded, his usual smirk playing on his lips. "Indeed. I hear it reveals one's true self. A tool like that could be invaluable."
"It could also be a curse," Keldorn warned, his gaze unwavering. "But come, let us begin."
They moved to a flat, open area surrounded by jagged rocks. Keldorn unsheathed his greatsword with a fluid motion, its blade gleaming in the fading light. Jarlaxle drew his rapier, the slender blade humming with latent magic.
The clash of steel rang out as they began their training. Keldorn’s strikes were powerful and precise, each one a test of Jarlaxle’s agility and cunning. The drow danced around the larger warrior, his movements a blur of grace and speed. For hours they sparred, the harsh terrain echoing with the sound of their combat.
Finally, as the moon rose high, Keldorn called a halt. "You fight well, Jarlaxle. But now, it is time for the Mirror of Truth."
He led Jarlaxle to a hidden alcove, where an ancient mirror stood amidst the rocks. Its surface was smooth and dark, reflecting nothing of the world around it. Keldorn gestured for Jarlaxle to approach.
Jarlaxle stepped before the mirror, his curiosity piqued. As he gazed into its depths, the darkness began to swirl, revealing an image. It was Jarlaxle, but not as he appeared. This reflection showed him without his flamboyant attire, without his magical items and disguises. It was a bare, unadorned version of himself, stripped of all artifice.
For the first time, Jarlaxle felt a pang of vulnerability. The mirror revealed his true essence, a cunning yet solitary figure driven by a thirst for power and identity. He saw his strengths, his weaknesses, and the choices that had shaped him. It was a humbling experience, one that left him pondering his path.
Keldorn watched silently, his expression unreadable. When Jarlaxle finally stepped back, the warrior spoke. "The Mirror of Truth shows us who we are, beyond the masks we wear. It can guide us, if we let it."
Jarlaxle nodded slowly, the weight of the revelation settling upon him. "Thank you, Keldorn. This has been... illuminating."
With a newfound clarity, Jarlaxle sheathed his rapier and bid Keldorn farewell. As he made his way back through the Sword Mountains, the image from the mirror lingered in his mind. He knew that the path ahead would be shaped not just by his wit and skill, but by a deeper understanding of himself.
And so, Jarlaxle Baenre continued his journey, his steps guided by the reflections of truth he had seen in the Sword Mountains.