Another post? Already? Surely not...
So, this is the second half of the post that I would have made yesterday if I'd had time to check it for typos etc. Inevitably, there is some gloss on my part, but the melodrama/humour mix is pretty accurate - remember this was a couple of months ago, and I don't keep game records THAT accurately.
I clearly remember the terms "anally fixated" "apotheosis" and "toadies" being used by Danny (Mostin) however...
IC:
In the balmy midday sun, Eadric stood next to his celestial steed and companion, Contundor. The Paladin was arrayed in full battle gear and waited anxiously for the others to arrive, pacing restlessly to and fro. The Duchess of Trempa sat upon a bier surrounded by guards and attended by her maidens – from whom the Lady Despina was notably absent. She mused about events of the previous night, and Eadric was deliberately evasive when questioned about her strange nocturnal experiences.
"I’m sure that Mostin could uncover the truth," he assured her, "although, regrettably I need him with me today. We are going to Morne. If all goes well, we will return within the day, and I can inform you of the developments which we have uncovered."
"And the Lady Despina? Must you confine her so? Surely she cannot be involved in these strange goings-on. Her credentials are impeccable."
Eadric grimaced.
Ortwin of Jiuhu arrived, dressed in his tattiest travelling clothes and wearing his studded jerkin – an item for which he had been roundly criticized for wearing around court in the past. "Peasant’s attire," as the Duchess had kindly put it. No love was lost between the two, and now the Duchess eyed him suspiciously, and tried to place him within the scheme of the last night’s "visions" – or whatever they had been. Ortwin nursed a hangover. As usual, the firewine of the previous night had not agreed with him. He shaded his eyes from the sun, located the Duchess in his view, and gave a dramatic and grossly exaggerated bow – an act which he knew would annoy her.
Nwm and, eventually, Mostin arrived. Nwm was still upset because he had been told that his bear, Tostig, could not travel with them. He had argued that the bear would be more use than the Paladin’s horse in a pinch, although he had to concede that its effects on the archbishop’s orangery – disastrous when Tostig had last visited the Archiepiscopal Palace some months before – were better avoided given the sensitive nature of their mission.
Mostin was dressed in dapper, fashionable clothes with his hat tilted rakishly to one side. His swagger would have been more convincing had those present not noticed his tendency to count as he walked, carefully avoiding the gaps between the flagstones of the courtyard. Somewhat surprised, Eadric noticed the rapier hanging from Mostin’s belt.
"I didn’t know that you could use a rapier, Mostin," he inquired openly.
Mostin looked slightly sheepish, but didn’t say anything.
The Duchess, Ortwin knew from long experience, was about to give a lengthy and tedious speech about quests and uncovering the truth. The bard swallowed hard and wondered why they couldn’t have just slipped away discreetly. Unfortunately, this was never the case with Eadric. Standing above the Paladin as he knelt on one knee, Trilgar, the aging and pompous chaplain, sprinkled Eadric with holy water and incanted various prayers and supplications. Eadric then kissed the ringed hand of the Duchess – his land-holding overlord - and received her blessing. So much feudal bull
, Ortwin muttered to himself.
After the predictable oratory delivered by the Duchess, the group prepared to depart. They would be wind-walking again – much to the excitement of Mostin who had never before experienced that mode of travel. The Alienist’s own suggestion – that the others, including Eadric’s horse – climb into his portable hole while he teleported, had been greeted sceptically by both the Paladin and the Bard. Nwm now quickly touched the others, and they dissolved into mist.
As they left, an incredulous look passed across the face of the Duchess, as she recalled the events of the previous night.
Waiting in the nave of the fane, Eadric looked around nervously. They had been kept waiting for two hours already. The temple guards – dour and unmoving - stood in silent vigil near the exits and around the high altar. Ortwin slouched across one of the pews in an irreverent posture, idly passing a silver coin between his fingers as he gazed around at the sumptuous trappings of organized churchdom. Mostin, stroking his hedgehog, muttered inaudibly to himself. Nwm sat stiffly and uncomfortably, and wondered why they had not been received in the Orangery, which was much more to his liking.
Eventually, the High Prelate – Cynric of Morne - accompanied by six paladins dressed in white and bearing ceremonial maces, and a collection of lesser priests and functionaries, took his place on the archiepiscopal throne beneath the vast emblem of Oronthon – an eagle rearing defiantly upon a golden solar orb. He was old – near eighty now – and his face betrayed a great strain. His usually benign expression was instead stern and judgemental, a sign which made Eadric’s stomach sink.
Ortwin coughed, and flicked the silver piece into the collection box, where it landed with a "plunk."
After fixing each of the group members in turn with his clear, ice blue eyes, Cynric eventually spoke, his voice a hoarse whisper. Although age had taken its toll on his body, the archbishop’s spirit shone through like an incandescent beacon. Here was the vicar of Oronthon on Earth, one who had spent so long in the divine presence that he seemed a virtual demigod. Like those who had gone before him, Cynric would not die, but undergo a divine assumption and be transported bodily to heaven where he would bask eternally in the light radiated from his deity. Or that was the popular conception, at least. Nwm seemed unimpressed.
The Archbishop's first words, therefore, came as something of a surprise – both to Eadric and the assembled priests.
"Not everything has been revealed to me," he said. He paused briefly, and then continued.
"Do you believe the creature?" He asked Eadric directly, his eyes burning into the Paladin.
"I’m not sure, holiness" Eadric replied honestly, "although I prefer to give her the benefit of the doubt."
"Are you swayed by unchaste thoughts?"
"That is entirely possible, holiness," Eadric admitted.
Cynric remained silent for a while before he spoke again. "You have committed a number of minor infractions already, in order to pursue this possibility. Am I correct?"
"Yes, holiness," Eadric said guiltily, "I felt that circumstances warranted it. I felt that there must come a point where dogma must give way to an inner prompting."
Ortwin grinned broadly.
Cynric suddenly became intense. "Be very careful, Eadric, that is the path to heresy. Do not think that your vision is deeper or clearer than mine: this is why we have the LAW. If you abide by it – both in letter and spirit - you are exonerated of personal responsibility, and the blame – if there is any – falls upon me. Do you understand?"
Nwm opened his mouth, about to point out the logical fallacy in that last statement, but thought better of it.
"Yes, holiness," Eadric replied, "but you were not available. You were in retreat."
Cynric gave an ironic smile. "Regrettably, that is so. As I say, not all things are revealed to me."
There was a long, difficult silence before Eadric finally plucked up the courage to speak.
"Holiness, because you were not available, I acquiesced to Mostin the Metagnostic’s suggestion that he act as mediator between Lord Oronthon and myself."
The admission brought mutterings and sharp intakes of breath from numerous members of the assembled clergy. Mostin’s head rose up at the mention of his name.
"I trust that Lord Oronthon gave you sound advice?" Cynric smiled humourlessly as he looked at Mostin.
Mostin bristled momentarily, and then erupted. [His gist of his diatribe, IIRC, went something roughly like this
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
"I admit to no superior anywhere within the cosmos - least of all your patriarchal, anally fixated god. My apotheosis is assured. I will transcend all limits observed by petty religion, and expand until my consciousness embraces the totality of possible existences. However, I admit that my perfection is still some distance away, and I may have erred in my communication with the entity which you worship. The truth is still unknown to me. In any case, I don’t subscribe to your dogma, so I’d be grateful if you didn’t use the same condescending tone with me that you do with your toadies."
"Right on, Mostin," Nwm chimed in.
Ortwin laughed uncontrollably.
After their forcible ejection from the fane by the temple guards, Mostin, Nwm and Ortwin stood in the courtyard. The Druid plucked an apple from a nearby tree and munched on it.
Mostin had calmed down. "Er, I didn’t go too far did I?"
"Not at all," Nwm assured him, "the old fart needs taking down a peg or two from time to time. He should adopt a more ecumenical perspective."
Cynric, Archbishop of Morne, sat informally in a small cloistered room with Eadric. The lesser clerics had been discharged, and although Eadric was no less nervous than before, at least the gossiping of the temple functionaries was stayed. After apologizing for the conduct of his friends, Eadric earnestly beseeched the Archbishop for guidance.
Cynric shook his head. "The Curia is divided, Eadric. All of the Venerable Masters know of the current situation – I have not kept it secret from them. I hold the final say, but there are temporal as well as spiritual considerations. When I finally depart, I must assure the continuity of tradition."
"Lord Oronthon has been unforthcoming," the Archbishop continued. "Since the crisis began – revealed to me in a visitation by Rintrah* - our God has been unresponsive. He simply refuses to reply to my questions, and all of my queries have been answered by Urthoon.** I suspect that I am being tested as much as you are."
"Er, what exactly are you saying, holiness?"
"That, in all conscience, I can neither approve nor condemn any course of action that you choose to take. I am not anathematizing you, but you must realize that my hands are tied. Certainty is denied me, therefore I can give you no help in this matter. You are correct when you speak of inner promptings – not that I’d say it in front of those others: after all, it IS the road to heresy, at least among the unenlightened."
Eadric’s mind reeled in a succession of radical paradigm shifts as he tried to grasp the importance of what his confessor had told him.
"Holiness, Mostin spoke of virtue, and that it must be regained. What did he mean?" Eadric asked.
"Do not trust the alienist’s certainty. He has spent too long in dealing with things that shouldn’t be dealt with. He is quite mad."
"But can you think of a better place to start?"
Cynric shook his head and admitted that he couldn’t.
As the Paladin turned to leave, Cynric spoke to him once more. "Eadric, you realize that you may not come here again until this is resolved, either one way or the other. You will return either victorious or humiliated."
Eadric nodded dumbly.
"So what did the old geezer say?" Ortwin asked as Eadric mounted Contundor.
"I’m on my own." The Paladin responded.
"Existential truth, man," said Nwm, grinning.
.
*Rintrah is a Planetar in Oronthon’s host. He is responsible for mortal revelations.
**Another Planetar…
