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Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
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Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
You -- and anyone else -- should feel free to steal anything you want from my story!
Speaking of which, here's the next installment. It's pretty action-free, I'm afraid.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 306
My Dinner with Califax
Kibilhathur wakes early the next morning, checks on the progress of his beer in the basement, and gets to work. His mission before lunch: to pore through their pilfered Black Circle library looking for information on the term “Morbid Link” – the bit of necromancy by which Mokad stole Praska's body. Kibi's certain that he's seen the term before – maybe when they were looking for ways to destroy the Null Shadow cauldron?
It takes him less than an hour to find what he's after. He calls the others down from breakfast and reads aloud the latest disturbing findings from their enormous Collection of Unsavory Writings:
“The Morbid Link is an advanced Black Circle ritual in which the seeds of a devotee’s consciousness are planted in the mind and soul of another person (“the subject”) who need not venerate the Black Circle, nor even be a volunteer. The subject typically retains no knowledge of the link afterward, and the ritual leaves no residual auras subject to divinations arcane or divine.
“When the adherent dies, his soul, intelligence, personality and memories are instantly transferred to the mind of the subject, who for all intents and purposes becomes the adherent. The subject’s own consciousness is subsumed in sub-layers of the psyche, faintly aware of his surroundings but unable to exert any control over the body.
“After a Morbid Link is triggered, the death of the single body results in the annihilation of the subject’s soul, so caution is advised.
“Once the original devotee has died, and the two beings come to occupy a single body, there are two ways in which the souls involved can be affected. First, assuming that any objects are at hand that were once in possession of the subject, one can enact the Ritual of the Fourth Derivation. This will not have any noticeable effect on the Morbid Link itself, but afterward, if the body is killed, the soul of the original subject will continue on to the afterlife, rather than become null.
“Second, if a Ritual of Seven Stars is performed directly upon the adherent, the subject’s consciousness and mind will be fully restored, and it will be the soul of the transferred devotee that is annihilated. To configure this ritual properly, a Ritual Circle of 31 spans should be inlaid, adjunct to the Seven Star equations in standard configuration.”
Kibi looks up from the book. “I hope the black circle we just tore up wasn't 31 spans,” he sighs.
“We still have Mokad's ritual room in Kallor,” says Aravis. “Mostly intact, I think.”
All three wizards then hit the books to learn what they can of the “Ritual of Seven Stars.” It turns out that said ritual isn't inherently Evil, but it's still creepy and complex, with some odd material components including “moontears that have been immersed in Dustwine.” Like most highly-involved Black Circle ceremonies, this one will involve a meticulously-prepared chamber set with obsidian rings and obscure equations. Fortunately the Black Circle provided thorough documentation. The ritual itself looks like it takes about six hours to complete.
“Look here,” says Aravis, inviting Grey Wolf and Kibi to look over his shoulder. “If we're going to do the Seven Stars, Mokad will have to be alive and restrained through the whole thing.”
“It looks like the Ritual of the Fourth Derivation would only take 15 minutes,” notes Grey Wolf, “and it's much simpler.”
“The problem with that one,” says Kibi, “is that it leaves Mokad's soul intact. He could be raised from the dead by his Black Circle buddies.”
The wizards share their findings with the others over lunch.
“Have you noticed?” says Ernie, chewing on a hunk of cheese. “It's always 'adherents' and 'devotees' with them. Never 'believers' or 'worshipers.' They sound less like a priesthood and more like a cult of evil mathematicians.”
“Could Mokad have more of these Morbid Links going?” asks Morningstar.
“Nope,” says Grey Wolf. “You can't chain them, or be part of more than one at a time.”
“Another problem with that simpler one,” says Dranko. “It's possible that if we do it, Mokad will sense it somehow. But I still think we have to do it, given that someone else could kill Mokad in the meantime. Which, if I'm understanding you smarty wizards correctly, would destroy Praska's soul.”
* *
The Company settles in for several weeks of research, spell-scribing and item creation – with occasional globe-hopping forays when necessary. For example, an hour spent with an acolyte of Kemma in Djaw gets them a primer on the Kivian pantheon, and Myr Madar (newly self-appointed master of Drosh's old portfolio) in particular:
The Kivian High Gods, Yulan (God of Time and Reality) and Manisette (Goddess of Creation) arrived on Abernia millennia ago. With them came Myr Madar, whose relation to the High Gods is not known, and who takes no worshipers unto himself. The three found the land of Kivia, uninhabited and ruled by no other Gods, and they claimed it for themselves. Yulan and Manisette first created the five Greater Gods, who are: Kemma, Goddess of the Sun; Drosh, God of Death; Tiria, Goddess of War; Palamir, God of Magic; and Posada, God of the Sea. They also made the first humans who settled in Kivia, though these were soon joined by other creatures who came through the Ancient Archways. For it happened that there was another land on Abernia, and another God who ruled it. The land was called Char'gan, and the God was Pikon, but he stayed aloof from the Kivian Gods across the Sea.
Myr Madar has always stood outside the "family tree" of the other Gods. For the Greater Gods created the Lesser Gods, one to one -- Heros from Kemma; Nifi from Tiria; Quarrol from Posada, and Dralla from Drosh. Palamir, God of Magic, was prideful and created four Lesser Gods instead of one, but his creations were flawed, and weaker than the others. They were Paro, Laramon, Svetla and Vinceris, mere demigods among the pantheon. Manisette was angered by Palamir's pride, and though she was a Goddess of Creation, she showed that she could also destroy. She unmade Palamir and remade him as a God of Loyalty and Duty.
Myr Madar is the shadow that looms over all other Gods; and they fear him, even Yulan and Manisette. But has always judged fairly, and no soul ascends to heaven without his scrutiny. Drosh holds the dead, and Drosh keeps those who deserve no good fate, and Drosh releases the righteous to heaven, and Drosh allows the undead to walk; but it is Myr Madar who judges, and Myr Madar who points the way.
With Drosh's recent unexplained absence, it seems to many religious scholars that Myr Madar was the logical choice to assume his duties.
* *
They also look up the sage Four Keen Mind while in Djaw, he being the scholar who once sold them information about the land of Branoi far to the north. It only takes him a few hours to dig up a very old reference to 'dustwine,' and for some gold coins he shares it with the Company:
Far to the northwest of Djaw, in the rocky country of Bederen, is the town of West Greydust, and in that town it is said that that they once drank from a holy pool a magic elixir known as "dustwine." There are no credible accounts of its effects, since the spartan inhabitants of Bederen have always been reclusive, but one who imbibed it was said to be cured of any number of afflictions both physical and spiritual.
This information is in a book of exotic potions written over 100 years ago, and there is no more recent information on the subject.
* *
About two weeks later, late in an afternoon when most of the Company are busy in the basement laboratory, they hear a knock at the door upstairs. A moment later Eddings calls down.
“Dranko, you have a visitor. It's Califax.”
Dranko sets down his tools. “Show him in. We'll be right up.”
It's strange to see his one-time nemesis standing and fidgeting in the Greenhouse living room. Dranko's not quite sure what to say.
“How are you feeling?” he offers, after an awkward moment.
“Better,” says Califax with a wan smile. “They've been feeding me well. May I sit?”
“Of course. Would you like something to drink?”
“I'd love something, thank you,” answers Califax, sitting carefully down in a chair like he's afraid he might break it.
Kibi has come up as well by this time. “How about a beer?”
“Sure!”
Dranko sits in the chair opposite Califax. Now his scar-covered tormentor is relaxing in his house with a beer!
“Well, I wouldn't have predicted this,” he says.
“No,” Califax agrees. “I guess not.”
For one of the few times in his life, Dranko is finding it difficult to generate small talk. “So. Got your soul back.”
Califax chuckles. “Yes, I'm well aware of that. Father Tomnic told me everything. I understand you put yourself in great physical danger on my account.”
Dranko nods. “Giant monster, made out of huge crypts and earth and stuff. It was full of undead. It was great.”
“Great?”
“For certain definitions of great, that involve excitement more than safety.”
Califax, who has never been inside the Greenhouse, looks around with great curiosity.
“This is... how did you come to be in this house?”
“Classified,” says Dranko with a smile. “Let's just say it was a gift from one of the arch-magi, who saw a certain amount of potential in me and my friends.”
He gestures to his friends, who by now have all filtered up to join the reunion. “Califax, this is my wife Morningstar, a shield-maiden of Ell, and a Daywalker.”
“I've heard a lot about you,” says Morningstar, keeping a neutral tone.
“Yes, I'm sure you have,” says Califax, not meeting her gaze. “I wish I could say Dranko was entirely wrong, but I don't doubt he's been honest.”
“This is Sir Ernest Roundhill,” Dranko continues, pointing to Ernie,
“'Sir?'”
“Yeah, we're all knights,” says Dranko. “Did I mention we even have a keep? We have a keep! Do you have a keep?”
“No,” says Califax. “But I do have a church, which I'm fortunate to have been let back into.”
“This is Grey Wolf. This is Aravis Telmir, a very powerful an impressive wizard. And over there is Kibilhathur Bimson, also one of those. And that's Flicker.”
(Edghar grumps to his master over an empathic link. You're a powerful wizard too. Want for me to remind him?)
Califax regards the Company with poorly-concealed awe. “Father Tomnic has told me that you... all of you... have saved Charagan several times over.”
“Once or twice,” says Ernest modestly.
“Three times, actually.” says Dranko. “Maybe four.”
Califax says nothing for a minute, so Dranko speaks again.
“Like I said, the Archmagi saw our potential. And it turned out that there was a better way for me than being cut and healed every time I did something wrong. You could say I've been re-channeled into more productive opportunities.”
Califax steeples his fingers and speaks carefully. “Every part of your past is part of what has made you the man you are today.”
“True,” Dranko admits. “I would not be me, without you. And sadly, without Mokad.” He turns to Ernie. “Can I spit in here?”
Ernie shakes his head. “No, but we'll take it as read.”
“I'm... I'm very sorry about Praska,” says Califax quietly.
“Yes, me too,” says Dranko. “So, yeah, we fought Praska, and knew that she had turned, but didn't know that was Mokad inside of her. I'm glad you got that info to us, so we have the opportunity to actually save her.”
Califax nods. The two regard each other in silence for another minute or two, taking occasional sips of beer.
“I'm thinking,” says Califax suddenly, “about all the meetings of the elders of the Church, back when you were a child. The meetings about you, I mean, and what we should do about you.”
“Did I ever apologize for the time I set the fane on fire?”
“You did... break a lot of things,” Califax laughs. “And they weren't always easy to fix. You were... difficult. I'm just trying to reconcile certain things. I think I needed to see you here, in person.”
Dranko extends his arms. “I'm just me.”
“Yes. It's obvious you're still the same person I remember. But now, married and respectable...”
“Our very first mission involved some unfortunate moments with rats,” says Morningstar. “Afterward, some in our very young Company were having trouble sleeping. My fumbling attempts at using dreams to help could only do so much, but someone else here found a more direct solution. He went out and found an old, bedraggled stray cat, that had no home, and brought it in so the house would be safe from rats. That is Dranko.”
She fixes Califax with a prideful look.
“So you are,” says Califax. “And... I'm sorry, that you feel your childhood was less than fair.”
Dranko leans forward. “All of my resentment and anger that was aimed at you was forgiven and dismissed a long time ago. I was set a task by Brechen, in exchange for bringing back one of our friends that was killed, to find a way to forgive you. And I'm glad I did. Because frankly, you were worthy of forgiveness.”
“Thank you. I guess I served some greater purpose after all.”
“Well the fact is that you were able to find the strength in yourself to do what was right in the end, instead of what Mokad wanted you to do. I have tremendous respect for that, and I don't know that I've ever told you. Or expected to.”
Califax looks studiously at his hands. “I spent so long not liking you, Dranko... this is going to be hard for me.”
“It's okay for you not to like me.”
“You're clearly a different person now, to a great extent. I shouldn't hold old grudges, especially in light of debts I owe to you now.”
Dranko smiles. “Why don't we start over? Not in an annoying bards-singing-love-songs-by-candlelight kind of way, just a two adults sort of way.”
Califax glances over at Morningstar.
“Yes,” she says. “He's worth it.”
“Dranko Blackhope, hero of the realm,” says Califax. “That's going to take some getting used to.”
“It's 'Brightmirror' now. I changed my name after marrying Morningstar.”
“That's the last thing I would have expected of you. Just remarkable. I'm pleased things have turned out the way they did. But... I'm really here to talk about Praska. I'm sorry to get sentimental.”
“It's okay,” says Dranko. “Why don't you stay for dinner?”
* *
“She has a secret hideout under the capital,” says Califax between bites of roast chicken. “It's possible that she's there right now.”
Dranko shakes his head. “We've already raided it. She was there. Do you know that she sent Null Shadows after us?”
“Extra nasty ones,” Kibi adds.
“Mokad did that, not Praska,” Califax corrects them.
“Right,” says Dranko, thinking sheepishly again of the mean things he said during the battle.
“He even used Praska to taunt me,” says Morningstar. “Through a thought capture”
The Company gives Califax a summary of their battle against Mokad/Praska beneath Hae Charagan, ending with their frustration when she teleported away, and their subsequent failure to track her down.
“Where would you guess she is now?” Dranko asks.
“If I had to guess, I'd say probably Kai Kin.”
“Really!” exclaims Dranko. “Have you ever had their custard?”
“No,” says Califax, not getting the reference. “I've never been to Kai Kin. There is a Black Circle temple there. Highly regarded by the locals, I understand. The Black Circle is one of the prominent religions in the country. I don't know what he was up to there; frankly, they weren't wholly sure of me, and eventually found me out, right before you rescued me. I was never deep in their counsels. I believe – though I have no proof – that they are working again to find a way to rescue Emperor Naradawk from Volpos.”
“Attempt number four!” Ernie exclaims.
“I don't know how far along they are,” says Califax, “or what their plan is.”
“Mokad has powerful anti-divination magic going, unfortunately.”
“Their entire temple is safeguarded,” says Califax.
“How did they recruit you?” asks Morningstar abruptly. Califax freezes for a second before putting down his fork.
“And is anyone else in the temple still compromised?” asks Dranko.
“No,” says Califax. He turns to Morningstar and answers: “I don't wish to discuss it. Let's just say they recruited me by... it was a personal matter. They preyed on my personal weakness.”
“Oh, I know how it is,” says Dranko. “They hated Dranko. You hated me. It was a perfect fit!”
“It's not funny, Dranko. Suffice to say, I found Mokad persuasive, and I fell.”
“But you clambered back up,” says Dranko, smiling. “And that's what counts.”
Ever tactically-minded, Kibi asks, “In Kai Kin, where is the temple specifically?”
“I'm sure it's location is no secret,” says Califax. “The Black Circle is worshiped openly; you could probably ask anyone on the streets of Kai Kin. Though, Kai Kin – and all of Ocir – is xenophobic in the extreme. Insular. But here's what I think. You know the Black Circle in Kivia collects life energy, from people seeking knowledge. And that life energy is ultimately put to use for some grand purpose of theirs that was never made clear to me. I think that purpose is being brought about in Kai Kin.”
“And something tells me their plan isn't to feed the hungry or heal the sick,” says Ernie.
Califax chuckles. “The Black Circle – I'm embarrassed to say, I don't exactly know what it is. It is the embodiment of certain attitudes. But it is also tangible in its way. There is a malign will of some sort...”
“That's the goo,” says Ernie.
“The what?”
“Long story,” says Dranko. “Concentrated Evil.”
“We're not prepared to talk about it,” Aravis interjects, glaring at the others.
“So,” says Dranko. “Califax, is there any way we can help you at this point?”
“You can sit and talk with me while you feed me dinner,” laughs Califax. And so they do, making small talk for another hour. Eventually Dranko leans back in his chair and lifts his mug of beer. “You know, this is way, way nicer than I imagined it would be. Cigar?”
Califax declines, citing his soul-weak state. Flicker, ever insensitive to social niceties, asks what it was like to not have a soul for so long.
Califax darkens and doesn't answer for a minute. Then he says simply, “it was hell.”
Dranko breaks the tension by telling Califax the story of their encounter with Lord Tapheon in Het Branoi. When he has finished the part where the Demon Lord turned him into an inside-out fish, Califax shakes his head in disbelief.
“All I ever did was give you scars. I don't feel like such the villain anymore.”
“Heck,” says Dranko with practiced nonchalance, “I've been eaten a few times.”
They show Califax the trophy case.
“And he's licked most of those things,” Aravis chimes in.
Califax looks at Dranko. “You still have that revolting habit?”
Dranko looks affronted. “Aravis doesn't understand that people don't properly experience the world through all of their senses.”
“Well, you certainly know what everything in the church tastes like,” says Califax. “Including some holy relics, as I recall.”
“They tingle,” Dranko grins.
“He also knows what addictive, strength-draining powder tastes like,” says Aravis.
“We don't have to air all of our dirty laundry, you know,” says Dranko, aggrieved.
“I'm not airing all of it,” Aravis answers. “Just the funny stuff.”
Califax peers out a window at the dark Street of Bakers. “You can save some stories for my next visit. I should probably take my leave.”
Dranko walks him to the door. “If you need anything, let us know.”
“Well, you don't need anything from me,” says Califax. “You're a savior of the world after all. Good night everyone. Thanks so much for dinner.”
And Califax departs. Dranko closes the door, turns to his assembled friends, and lets out a long breath.
“That was the strangest visit we've had in a long time.”
...to be continued...
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Innocent Bystander
First Post
When this happened, did the party have any alarm bells going off that Califax still wasn't entirely on the up and up, or by this time was he truly trustworthy?
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
We helped redeem him, let him rat out Mokad, and then gave him back his soul. At this point we're pretty confident that he's trustworthy.
By the way, I'm just going to say: the process of trying to get Mokad out of Praska is probably my favorite adventure(s) that Sagiro has run in a decade. There's a lot leading up to it, but so good in so many ways.
Joshua Randall
Legend
You can take the Mokad out of the Praska, but you can't take... the...
Wow, where was I going with that?
Wow, where was I going with that?
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 307
Dream of a Black Rat
Morningstar shakes her head. “Weird, weird, weird.”
“He didn't seem like that bad a guy,” says Aravis.
“He cut my husband!”
“Yeah,” says Flicker. “But it sounds like he deserved it some of the time!”
Morningstar turns and glares at Flicker but says nothing.
“Hey,” says Ernie, eager to change the subject. “Grey Wolf and I were talking, and think that we should really find out what that black Goo is, given how central it is to what the Black Circle gets up to. What if the Goo is the boiled down life energy itself?”
“Note to self,” Dranko mutters. “Not going to lick it.”
“Maybe we can legend lore it,” Morningstar suggests.
“Or I could do some alchemical experiments on it,” says Aravis, getting that gleam in his eye that shows up when he ponders doing something perilous.
“Don't let it touch you!” Dranko warns,
“I'll cast the legend lore,” says Kibi. “But I'll need a protection from evil first so I can get close enough to cast.”
So shielded, Kibi goes to the basement and retrieves from a closet the small sealed iron pot of Goo from Het Branoi. He casts his spell, and can feel it starting to work. Some kind of knowledge is coming into his head...
Thirty seconds later he regains consciousness, with a clear memory that he had learned some truth that was too horrific to contemplate. He has no recollection of the details. The pot of Goo, still sealed, has fallen to the ground, and his protection from evil is still active. He locks the pot back in the closet and goes upstairs to tell the others.
* *
The next night they invite Ozilinsh over dinner, and it's a much less awkward social call than Califax's visit of the previous night. The now-powerless archmage seems happy, and they exchange pleasantries before the Company tells him about Mokad, Praska, and a possible new threat to the kingdom. Ozilinsh is absolutely fascinated by the notion of a Morbid Link, and ends up reading through the Company's papers through dinner. His mild hyperactivity and lack of social graces have certainly survived the draining away of his magical powers.
“Hmmmm,” he says at various intervals, while the others eat and watch him.
“Oooooh.”
“Interesting!”
“Dustwine?”
“Say what you want about the Black Circle, but they're brilliant mathematicians. Do you feel up to casting this Ritual of Seven Stars? Some of it is extremely advanced... but someone with whom you are eating dinner happens to be an expert mathematician himself, and would be delighted to help you.”
“Ozilinsh,” asks Kibi, “Do you think casting the smaller ritual would alert Mokad that we were up to something?”
“No, I don't think so. I don't see any sub-aetheric vector that could account for transfer of knowledge. If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow some of these books, so I can study the ritual and give you some advice. Don't worry – I won't actually try anything myself. Anyhow, thanks for dinner! It's nice to get out of the house now and again.”
* *
Another week goes by without notable incident. On the first day of July, Aravis wakes with a fresh message from the Crosser's Maze.
This time your vision is direct – discovered by your own wandering fragment, rather than by your mysterious ally. The vision is of a dark place – an attic, you think, with light slipping through thin gaps in the roof. There are only two beings there – a short, stocky man in blood-red plate mail, and a large rat, its eyes glowing with malice.
The two communicate telepathically, but your fragment hears their thoughts.
“Do you understand fully what I’m offering?” asks the man. “A being of your divine stature would become immensely powerful. You could lift your kind above all the others, become the hunters rather than the hunted. You could eliminate your rivals... permanently.”
“I understand full well,” hisses the rat. “And believe me, I enjoy the thought.”
“Excellent,” says the man. “Because that is also the price of my gift. Once you have been blessed, I want you to destroy the sparks of your three enemy factions. The ravens will also serve us in time, but for now they are of no consequence. It is the others who have both the means and the will to hinder me. Feast upon them. Their power will become yours. No beast on Abernia will be your equal.”
“As you wish,” says the rat, baring its teeth.
The man produces a small bowl and sets it down before the rat.
“Drink,” he says. And the rat drinks.
That vaults the Rats into the #1 spot on the Company's 'to do' list.
Ernie rubs his chin. “What is it that the cats, dogs and horses can do that would annoy Tarsos like that?”
“Whatever it is,” says Aravis, “we have to stop the rats.”
Dranko frowns. “But Mokad...”
“I have to at least warn the cats about what's happening! Can anyone here cast a sending for me, to Arkin?”
Morningstar volunteers, and sends:
From Aravis: do you have the ability to get cats, dogs and horses to meet? We know who's killing you. Respond 25 words or less.
The answer comes back:
No, we are not wizards, and separated by hundreds of miles. It would take many weeks. Who is killing us?
Morningstar sends again: We want Aravis to scry you, so we can teleport to you and meet face to face.
The answer: We are in a protected place. I would have to endanger myself to allow this.
They send once more: It's important enough to take the risk. We'll be scrying you in just under an hour.
Very well. I will step outside in an hour. But you could have just told me, to satisfy my curiosity.
Aravis starts casting scry immediately, and an hour later he successfully sees Arkin through the sensor. He teleports, taking the whole party with him.
* *
The Company arrives at the foot of some steep, rocky hills that are covered with mist. Arkin observes them calmly. Only when he is satisfied of Aravis's identity does he gesture to a small meandering path that snakes its way up into the foggy hills. Through his telepathy he thinks, “I don't believe most of you can follow us. But Aravis can. Come with me.”
Arkin turns and vanishes into the mist. Aravis follows.
“Huh,” says Grey Wolf.
Dranko sits on a rock and lights up a cigar. As he takes a leisurely puff and exhales, the puff of smoke forms itself into words in the air: Kibi is a genius. Appalled, Dranko turns accusingly toward the dwarf.
“I didn't have anything to do with it,” Kibi protests.
“Really,” says Dranko dryly. “Who did then? You think my cigars are smart enough to just know you're brilliant?”
“Well,” says Kibi smugly. “Have you eaten any objects given to you by an Archmage recently?”
Dranko gulps. Yeah, in fact, he has.
Kibi continues, “At the end of my message from Cranchus, it said: 'p.s. Watch Dranko every time he smokes a cigar.'”
Dranko blows more smoke. Elementals over all.
He blows again. Hi Dranko. Enjoying the cigar?
Aravis smirks. “You shouldn't have coveted his elemental's eye!”
Dranko sighs, but at least he finds that if he blows smoke with a bit more vigor, the words smear into a normal-looking cloud.
Aravis follows Arkin of the Great Pack up the winding path. The mist soon grows so thick that the wizard is following Arkin only by sound. Ten minutes into the climb, he senses something odd about his surroundings; the space around him takes on a tingly, ethereal quality, as if it both is and isn't part of the physical world. (And back at the foot of the hill, Aravis drops out of the telepathic bond.) After a minute of that the feeling subsides (and he's back on the mental link), and then the mist grows thin for the last hundred feet before Aravis steps out into a tiny grass-covered valley.
There are dogs lounging here, eight in all if you include Arkin. There is some barking, and some sniffing, and the dogs arrange themselves into a rough circle in the center of the valley.
Aravis sits before them and describes in detail the vision he had about the Black Rat. Immediately the dogs begin a riotous barking, pelting Aravis with mental questions and general exclamations of alarm. (Aravis shakes his head at the chaos. For all that these are Divine beings, they're still a bunch of dogs.) Aravis waits for the clamor to die down before explaining about the Emperor, his red-armored servants, and how the latter are working to rescue the former from exile.
The dogs are especially interested in Tarsos's opinion that the dogs “have the means and the will to hinder him.”
“What does he think we can do?” asks Arkin.
“I don't know,” Aravis admits.
“We should do it, whatever it is!” barks one of the other dogs, and that starts more frantic back-and-forth.
“But we don't know what it is!”
“We should find out!”
“How?”
“I don't know!”
“At the moment,” says Aravis, holding up a hand, “the more immediate danger is that the rats can kill us permanently, and possibly even take our Divine Sparks onto themselves.”
“What?”
“WHAT?”
“ How?”
“That's terrible!”
“No!”
“We must put a stop to it at once!”
Arkin glares the other dogs into silence, then turns to Aravis.
“I think,” says Arkin, “we know now, don't we then, why one of the Sparks was born into the body of a human, and a great human wizard at that. We are... I have told you that we are not wizards. We do not have any magic in the sense that you think of it. Our power lies in the guidance of our kinds. Their greater good, their way in the world, their relationships with Man. But we are not wizards, or warriors. We are dogs. That's why we hide. And we hope that this Rat cannot find us here.”
One dog looks worriedly at Aravis. “Are you sure you weren't followed?”
“Yes,” says Aravis. “But even if someone did, my friends would take care of them. Because we are wizards and warriors.”
“Then we beseech you... find this Rat and do away with it!”
The dogs are clearly in some awe of Aravis. Over the mind-link, Kibi thinks: “Enjoy it now. The cats won't be in awe. They're cats.”
Aravis addresses the dogs. “Do you know how I could contact the Feline Conclave, or the Noble Herd?”
“I know approximately where they are,” Arkin answers, “but we have no magical means of contacting them. The Noble Herd runs somewhere on the Plains of the White Sun. And the Conclave resides in the Endless Wood, as you should know.”
“How did you find me?”
“You are different from the others. You have a unique scent. I walked, and ran, for many days. Maybe the horses also sent one of their kind, but with Sparks being snuffed out, they are probably all in their place of sanctuary. Regardless, we appreciate the warning, and the knowledge. We'll appreciate it even more when you've eliminated this Black Rat.”
“I'll be in touch,” says Aravis. He bows to the dogs, and walks back down the misty path. He is fascinated by the stretch in the middle where he seems to exist both inside and outside the world.
“So much to learn, so little time,” he mutters to himself. “And I have to waste that time killing rats and the Black Circle.”
Once back with the others, Aravis shows off a new trick.
“I wish we were home,” he says.
And they are.
“Neat!” exclaims Flicker.
"Overkill," admits Aravis, “but I was out of greater teleports.”
In the Greenhouse, they sit down in the living room and ruminate.
Aravis exhales. “They can't defend themselves against the Rat.”
“Then I guess we know where this is going,” says Morningstar.
“Once we deal with the Rat,” continues Aravis, “we may be able to convince normal dogs, cats and horses to help us against the Black Circle. If the Sparks can guide regular animals, all of those animals could be our spies.”
Ernie nods. “Maybe that's what Tarsos was afraid of.”
Aravis wants to issue a sending to the Feline Conclave, but cannot cast the spell himself, and none of the others have enough familiarity with the cats to cast. This is solved by Morningstar casting memory read on Aravis and choosing the five minutes when he was actively casting the vision that showed him the Conclave. She chooses as her target the one who was arguing most on Aravis's behalf – a big, fluffy, smoke-colored Maine Coon.
I speak for Aravis of the Feline Conclave. We know who is destroying the Divine Sparks. We must meet. Respond 25 words or less.
The answer comes back: Still too much distrust among the Conclave. I agree with you, but some think HE is the killer. I'll keep working on them. Plumpypuss.
Morningstar can't choke back a chuckle. When she recovers, she recites the cat's response verbatim, and when she gets to the spoken signature, everyone except Aravis breaks out in gales of laughter.
“No wonder the other cats won't believe her!” says Kibi.
Aravis turns red. “For the record,” he huffs, “before you make up some ridiculous Cat God name for me, I have never in my life insulted either Delioch or Ell.”
“If your'e going to be that way,” says Ernie with a grin, “we'll call you 'Grumpypuss.'”
Dranko snorts. “Our return sending should be: 'Dear Plumpypuss. That's the cutest little Cat God name we've ever heard...'”
But Aravis has Morningstar cast again with a more sober message. Stay hidden. The Rats are able to kill you, and we believe they can destroy and absorb your Divine Sparks.
The reply from Plumpypuss: Understood. Thanks for the warning. Figures it's rats, the vile creatures. They cannot penetrate our sanctuary. Hope to see you soon..
The party is not wholly convinced that the cats are safe from a Divine Rat who's already absorbed the Sparks of two other animal deities, but there's not much more they can do, so they go back to their work.
* *
Two days later, Aravis gets yet another missive from the Maze:
You wake from a dream, and know it has come from the Maze, but are not sure who sent it – your fragment, or your ally.
You dreamed of the bottom of the sea. There was a school of fish there, floating easily above the uneven ocean floor, perhaps basking in the eerie illumination of some odd plants clinging to the rocks.
Then there was a sound, a strange thud, a noise that does not belong in the quiet recesses of the ocean. Another thud follows, louder, and the fish scatter. For a second there is nothing but the rocks and silt bathed in the blue light of the local flora. Then, with a swoosh and a yet louder thud, an enormous skeletal leg slams its bony toes into the ground. A second leg follows, and then a third; some skeletal monstrosity is striding along the bottom of the sea.
As Maze-o-grams go, this one goes into the “disturbing but not immediately actionable” category, though Dranko decides to go ahead and make some Truedeath weapon crystals after all.
* *
Kibi tries another legend lore on the Black Goo, but this time maintaining a greater distance from the pot, and casting the version that takes longer to return information. Ten days after casting the knowledge comes, and once again he is knocked unconscious. But this time, though he wakes with no clear memory of what knowledge was imparted to him, he does retain a tiny recollected fragment: a faint idea of a tremendous physical impact.
* *
The days roll by. The Greenhouse basement fills with the acrid smells of alchemical reagents and the sounds of progress. Morningstar spends hours in her room working on the first draft of her holy writing commissioned by High Priestess Rhiavonne.
The Book of Morningstar! What have I gotten myself into?
Life is relatively peaceful for several weeks, and then gets hectic in an awful hurry. Just before dawn on a hot July day, Aravis is woken from a sound sleep by the feeling of a dagger in his heart. He instinctively clutches his chest and sits up screaming, but there is no knife, no assailant. Pewter is sitting at the foot of his bed, meowing piteously.
As are, from the sound of it, all the cats in Tal Hae. One of the Feline Conclave has been murdered.
The others rush to Aravis's room, knowing full well what must have just occurred.
“The cat must have died, just now!” Dranko exclaims. “Can we find out where he was?”?
“We should have gone after the Rat before now,” Aravis groans dismally.
“You warned 'em, boss!” says Pewter. “It's not your fault.”
Flicker puzzles. “Shouldn't they all have been safe in their sanctuary?”
“That's what bothers me,” says Grey Wolf, looking at Aravis with concern.
“We should do a sending to Plumpypuss,” says Ernie.
“Do it,” says Aravis. “In the meantime, I'll do what I should have done weeks ago. I'm going to try scrying the Rat.”
Morningstar cast her sending. Plumpypuss, can we help? Who died? Where? Reply 25 words or less.
The answer comes with obvious pain in the cat's voice. It was Sawgrass, the only one away when you warned us. He had been in Tev. I'll work on getting Aravis his meeting
Ernie fumes. “And why didn't you listen to us, you stupid fuzzy hairballs!”
Aravis doesn't think his chances of successfully scrying the rat are high, but the Company preps for battle just in case. An hour later Aravis blinks, almost in confusion.
“I got him. The Rat. I've got him.”
Through the sensor he sees an enormous black Rat, easily the size of a large horse. It has its hairy snout in the bloody remains of a cat carcass. The ground around the Rat, to the full extent of Aravis's vision, is covered with smaller rats, swarming and squeaking. The air is filled with their furious cacophony. Aravis also notes a few rats here and there that are also abnormally large, though not so huge as the Rat – more like the size of sheep.
He quickly relays to the others what he sees. The Company finishes buff and prep. They don't often make use of the scry-and-teleport tactic, but this seems like just the opportunity.
“Ready?” asks Aravis.
“Yeah,” says Grey Wolf. “Let's ruin his day.”
...to be continued...
Dream of a Black Rat
Morningstar shakes her head. “Weird, weird, weird.”
“He didn't seem like that bad a guy,” says Aravis.
“He cut my husband!”
“Yeah,” says Flicker. “But it sounds like he deserved it some of the time!”
Morningstar turns and glares at Flicker but says nothing.
“Hey,” says Ernie, eager to change the subject. “Grey Wolf and I were talking, and think that we should really find out what that black Goo is, given how central it is to what the Black Circle gets up to. What if the Goo is the boiled down life energy itself?”
“Note to self,” Dranko mutters. “Not going to lick it.”
“Maybe we can legend lore it,” Morningstar suggests.
“Or I could do some alchemical experiments on it,” says Aravis, getting that gleam in his eye that shows up when he ponders doing something perilous.
“Don't let it touch you!” Dranko warns,
“I'll cast the legend lore,” says Kibi. “But I'll need a protection from evil first so I can get close enough to cast.”
So shielded, Kibi goes to the basement and retrieves from a closet the small sealed iron pot of Goo from Het Branoi. He casts his spell, and can feel it starting to work. Some kind of knowledge is coming into his head...
Thirty seconds later he regains consciousness, with a clear memory that he had learned some truth that was too horrific to contemplate. He has no recollection of the details. The pot of Goo, still sealed, has fallen to the ground, and his protection from evil is still active. He locks the pot back in the closet and goes upstairs to tell the others.
* *
The next night they invite Ozilinsh over dinner, and it's a much less awkward social call than Califax's visit of the previous night. The now-powerless archmage seems happy, and they exchange pleasantries before the Company tells him about Mokad, Praska, and a possible new threat to the kingdom. Ozilinsh is absolutely fascinated by the notion of a Morbid Link, and ends up reading through the Company's papers through dinner. His mild hyperactivity and lack of social graces have certainly survived the draining away of his magical powers.
“Hmmmm,” he says at various intervals, while the others eat and watch him.
“Oooooh.”
“Interesting!”
“Dustwine?”
“Say what you want about the Black Circle, but they're brilliant mathematicians. Do you feel up to casting this Ritual of Seven Stars? Some of it is extremely advanced... but someone with whom you are eating dinner happens to be an expert mathematician himself, and would be delighted to help you.”
“Ozilinsh,” asks Kibi, “Do you think casting the smaller ritual would alert Mokad that we were up to something?”
“No, I don't think so. I don't see any sub-aetheric vector that could account for transfer of knowledge. If you don't mind, I'd like to borrow some of these books, so I can study the ritual and give you some advice. Don't worry – I won't actually try anything myself. Anyhow, thanks for dinner! It's nice to get out of the house now and again.”
* *
Another week goes by without notable incident. On the first day of July, Aravis wakes with a fresh message from the Crosser's Maze.
This time your vision is direct – discovered by your own wandering fragment, rather than by your mysterious ally. The vision is of a dark place – an attic, you think, with light slipping through thin gaps in the roof. There are only two beings there – a short, stocky man in blood-red plate mail, and a large rat, its eyes glowing with malice.
The two communicate telepathically, but your fragment hears their thoughts.
“Do you understand fully what I’m offering?” asks the man. “A being of your divine stature would become immensely powerful. You could lift your kind above all the others, become the hunters rather than the hunted. You could eliminate your rivals... permanently.”
“I understand full well,” hisses the rat. “And believe me, I enjoy the thought.”
“Excellent,” says the man. “Because that is also the price of my gift. Once you have been blessed, I want you to destroy the sparks of your three enemy factions. The ravens will also serve us in time, but for now they are of no consequence. It is the others who have both the means and the will to hinder me. Feast upon them. Their power will become yours. No beast on Abernia will be your equal.”
“As you wish,” says the rat, baring its teeth.
The man produces a small bowl and sets it down before the rat.
“Drink,” he says. And the rat drinks.
That vaults the Rats into the #1 spot on the Company's 'to do' list.
Ernie rubs his chin. “What is it that the cats, dogs and horses can do that would annoy Tarsos like that?”
“Whatever it is,” says Aravis, “we have to stop the rats.”
Dranko frowns. “But Mokad...”
“I have to at least warn the cats about what's happening! Can anyone here cast a sending for me, to Arkin?”
Morningstar volunteers, and sends:
From Aravis: do you have the ability to get cats, dogs and horses to meet? We know who's killing you. Respond 25 words or less.
The answer comes back:
No, we are not wizards, and separated by hundreds of miles. It would take many weeks. Who is killing us?
Morningstar sends again: We want Aravis to scry you, so we can teleport to you and meet face to face.
The answer: We are in a protected place. I would have to endanger myself to allow this.
They send once more: It's important enough to take the risk. We'll be scrying you in just under an hour.
Very well. I will step outside in an hour. But you could have just told me, to satisfy my curiosity.
Aravis starts casting scry immediately, and an hour later he successfully sees Arkin through the sensor. He teleports, taking the whole party with him.
* *
The Company arrives at the foot of some steep, rocky hills that are covered with mist. Arkin observes them calmly. Only when he is satisfied of Aravis's identity does he gesture to a small meandering path that snakes its way up into the foggy hills. Through his telepathy he thinks, “I don't believe most of you can follow us. But Aravis can. Come with me.”
Arkin turns and vanishes into the mist. Aravis follows.
“Huh,” says Grey Wolf.
Dranko sits on a rock and lights up a cigar. As he takes a leisurely puff and exhales, the puff of smoke forms itself into words in the air: Kibi is a genius. Appalled, Dranko turns accusingly toward the dwarf.
“I didn't have anything to do with it,” Kibi protests.
“Really,” says Dranko dryly. “Who did then? You think my cigars are smart enough to just know you're brilliant?”
“Well,” says Kibi smugly. “Have you eaten any objects given to you by an Archmage recently?”
Dranko gulps. Yeah, in fact, he has.
Kibi continues, “At the end of my message from Cranchus, it said: 'p.s. Watch Dranko every time he smokes a cigar.'”
Dranko blows more smoke. Elementals over all.
He blows again. Hi Dranko. Enjoying the cigar?
Aravis smirks. “You shouldn't have coveted his elemental's eye!”
Dranko sighs, but at least he finds that if he blows smoke with a bit more vigor, the words smear into a normal-looking cloud.
Aravis follows Arkin of the Great Pack up the winding path. The mist soon grows so thick that the wizard is following Arkin only by sound. Ten minutes into the climb, he senses something odd about his surroundings; the space around him takes on a tingly, ethereal quality, as if it both is and isn't part of the physical world. (And back at the foot of the hill, Aravis drops out of the telepathic bond.) After a minute of that the feeling subsides (and he's back on the mental link), and then the mist grows thin for the last hundred feet before Aravis steps out into a tiny grass-covered valley.
There are dogs lounging here, eight in all if you include Arkin. There is some barking, and some sniffing, and the dogs arrange themselves into a rough circle in the center of the valley.
Aravis sits before them and describes in detail the vision he had about the Black Rat. Immediately the dogs begin a riotous barking, pelting Aravis with mental questions and general exclamations of alarm. (Aravis shakes his head at the chaos. For all that these are Divine beings, they're still a bunch of dogs.) Aravis waits for the clamor to die down before explaining about the Emperor, his red-armored servants, and how the latter are working to rescue the former from exile.
The dogs are especially interested in Tarsos's opinion that the dogs “have the means and the will to hinder him.”
“What does he think we can do?” asks Arkin.
“I don't know,” Aravis admits.
“We should do it, whatever it is!” barks one of the other dogs, and that starts more frantic back-and-forth.
“But we don't know what it is!”
“We should find out!”
“How?”
“I don't know!”
“At the moment,” says Aravis, holding up a hand, “the more immediate danger is that the rats can kill us permanently, and possibly even take our Divine Sparks onto themselves.”
“What?”
“WHAT?”
“ How?”
“That's terrible!”
“No!”
“We must put a stop to it at once!”
Arkin glares the other dogs into silence, then turns to Aravis.
“I think,” says Arkin, “we know now, don't we then, why one of the Sparks was born into the body of a human, and a great human wizard at that. We are... I have told you that we are not wizards. We do not have any magic in the sense that you think of it. Our power lies in the guidance of our kinds. Their greater good, their way in the world, their relationships with Man. But we are not wizards, or warriors. We are dogs. That's why we hide. And we hope that this Rat cannot find us here.”
One dog looks worriedly at Aravis. “Are you sure you weren't followed?”
“Yes,” says Aravis. “But even if someone did, my friends would take care of them. Because we are wizards and warriors.”
“Then we beseech you... find this Rat and do away with it!”
The dogs are clearly in some awe of Aravis. Over the mind-link, Kibi thinks: “Enjoy it now. The cats won't be in awe. They're cats.”
Aravis addresses the dogs. “Do you know how I could contact the Feline Conclave, or the Noble Herd?”
“I know approximately where they are,” Arkin answers, “but we have no magical means of contacting them. The Noble Herd runs somewhere on the Plains of the White Sun. And the Conclave resides in the Endless Wood, as you should know.”
“How did you find me?”
“You are different from the others. You have a unique scent. I walked, and ran, for many days. Maybe the horses also sent one of their kind, but with Sparks being snuffed out, they are probably all in their place of sanctuary. Regardless, we appreciate the warning, and the knowledge. We'll appreciate it even more when you've eliminated this Black Rat.”
“I'll be in touch,” says Aravis. He bows to the dogs, and walks back down the misty path. He is fascinated by the stretch in the middle where he seems to exist both inside and outside the world.
“So much to learn, so little time,” he mutters to himself. “And I have to waste that time killing rats and the Black Circle.”
Once back with the others, Aravis shows off a new trick.
“I wish we were home,” he says.
And they are.
“Neat!” exclaims Flicker.
"Overkill," admits Aravis, “but I was out of greater teleports.”
In the Greenhouse, they sit down in the living room and ruminate.
Aravis exhales. “They can't defend themselves against the Rat.”
“Then I guess we know where this is going,” says Morningstar.
“Once we deal with the Rat,” continues Aravis, “we may be able to convince normal dogs, cats and horses to help us against the Black Circle. If the Sparks can guide regular animals, all of those animals could be our spies.”
Ernie nods. “Maybe that's what Tarsos was afraid of.”
Aravis wants to issue a sending to the Feline Conclave, but cannot cast the spell himself, and none of the others have enough familiarity with the cats to cast. This is solved by Morningstar casting memory read on Aravis and choosing the five minutes when he was actively casting the vision that showed him the Conclave. She chooses as her target the one who was arguing most on Aravis's behalf – a big, fluffy, smoke-colored Maine Coon.
I speak for Aravis of the Feline Conclave. We know who is destroying the Divine Sparks. We must meet. Respond 25 words or less.
The answer comes back: Still too much distrust among the Conclave. I agree with you, but some think HE is the killer. I'll keep working on them. Plumpypuss.
Morningstar can't choke back a chuckle. When she recovers, she recites the cat's response verbatim, and when she gets to the spoken signature, everyone except Aravis breaks out in gales of laughter.
“No wonder the other cats won't believe her!” says Kibi.
Aravis turns red. “For the record,” he huffs, “before you make up some ridiculous Cat God name for me, I have never in my life insulted either Delioch or Ell.”
“If your'e going to be that way,” says Ernie with a grin, “we'll call you 'Grumpypuss.'”
Dranko snorts. “Our return sending should be: 'Dear Plumpypuss. That's the cutest little Cat God name we've ever heard...'”
But Aravis has Morningstar cast again with a more sober message. Stay hidden. The Rats are able to kill you, and we believe they can destroy and absorb your Divine Sparks.
The reply from Plumpypuss: Understood. Thanks for the warning. Figures it's rats, the vile creatures. They cannot penetrate our sanctuary. Hope to see you soon..
The party is not wholly convinced that the cats are safe from a Divine Rat who's already absorbed the Sparks of two other animal deities, but there's not much more they can do, so they go back to their work.
* *
Two days later, Aravis gets yet another missive from the Maze:
You wake from a dream, and know it has come from the Maze, but are not sure who sent it – your fragment, or your ally.
You dreamed of the bottom of the sea. There was a school of fish there, floating easily above the uneven ocean floor, perhaps basking in the eerie illumination of some odd plants clinging to the rocks.
Then there was a sound, a strange thud, a noise that does not belong in the quiet recesses of the ocean. Another thud follows, louder, and the fish scatter. For a second there is nothing but the rocks and silt bathed in the blue light of the local flora. Then, with a swoosh and a yet louder thud, an enormous skeletal leg slams its bony toes into the ground. A second leg follows, and then a third; some skeletal monstrosity is striding along the bottom of the sea.
As Maze-o-grams go, this one goes into the “disturbing but not immediately actionable” category, though Dranko decides to go ahead and make some Truedeath weapon crystals after all.
* *
Kibi tries another legend lore on the Black Goo, but this time maintaining a greater distance from the pot, and casting the version that takes longer to return information. Ten days after casting the knowledge comes, and once again he is knocked unconscious. But this time, though he wakes with no clear memory of what knowledge was imparted to him, he does retain a tiny recollected fragment: a faint idea of a tremendous physical impact.
* *
The days roll by. The Greenhouse basement fills with the acrid smells of alchemical reagents and the sounds of progress. Morningstar spends hours in her room working on the first draft of her holy writing commissioned by High Priestess Rhiavonne.
The Book of Morningstar! What have I gotten myself into?
Life is relatively peaceful for several weeks, and then gets hectic in an awful hurry. Just before dawn on a hot July day, Aravis is woken from a sound sleep by the feeling of a dagger in his heart. He instinctively clutches his chest and sits up screaming, but there is no knife, no assailant. Pewter is sitting at the foot of his bed, meowing piteously.
As are, from the sound of it, all the cats in Tal Hae. One of the Feline Conclave has been murdered.
The others rush to Aravis's room, knowing full well what must have just occurred.
“The cat must have died, just now!” Dranko exclaims. “Can we find out where he was?”?
“We should have gone after the Rat before now,” Aravis groans dismally.
“You warned 'em, boss!” says Pewter. “It's not your fault.”
Flicker puzzles. “Shouldn't they all have been safe in their sanctuary?”
“That's what bothers me,” says Grey Wolf, looking at Aravis with concern.
“We should do a sending to Plumpypuss,” says Ernie.
“Do it,” says Aravis. “In the meantime, I'll do what I should have done weeks ago. I'm going to try scrying the Rat.”
Morningstar cast her sending. Plumpypuss, can we help? Who died? Where? Reply 25 words or less.
The answer comes with obvious pain in the cat's voice. It was Sawgrass, the only one away when you warned us. He had been in Tev. I'll work on getting Aravis his meeting
Ernie fumes. “And why didn't you listen to us, you stupid fuzzy hairballs!”
Aravis doesn't think his chances of successfully scrying the rat are high, but the Company preps for battle just in case. An hour later Aravis blinks, almost in confusion.
“I got him. The Rat. I've got him.”
Through the sensor he sees an enormous black Rat, easily the size of a large horse. It has its hairy snout in the bloody remains of a cat carcass. The ground around the Rat, to the full extent of Aravis's vision, is covered with smaller rats, swarming and squeaking. The air is filled with their furious cacophony. Aravis also notes a few rats here and there that are also abnormally large, though not so huge as the Rat – more like the size of sheep.
He quickly relays to the others what he sees. The Company finishes buff and prep. They don't often make use of the scry-and-teleport tactic, but this seems like just the opportunity.
“Ready?” asks Aravis.
“Yeah,” says Grey Wolf. “Let's ruin his day.”
...to be continued...
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coyote6
Adventurer
Plumpypuss
I'm sure it sounds much more impressive in the original language, Cat.
Or maybe not.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Yeah, we were laughing pretty hard at the name. Not to his face, though - Plumpypuss will cut you. Anyways, it's bad form to mock a God. We learned that early on with Pikon.
You see, Sagiro knew that Pikon was a special God - the only one in Charagan when the Travellers arrived. But all that we knew was that he is the God of the farmer, and that the only time he got mentioned was on a holiday in his name when the farmers got the day off of work. We thus concluded that Pikon and his worshippers were lazy gits who laid about all the time. This didn't end up going over well with any priests of Pikon we met.
You see, Sagiro knew that Pikon was a special God - the only one in Charagan when the Travellers arrived. But all that we knew was that he is the God of the farmer, and that the only time he got mentioned was on a holiday in his name when the farmers got the day off of work. We thus concluded that Pikon and his worshippers were lazy gits who laid about all the time. This didn't end up going over well with any priests of Pikon we met.
kuragara
First Post
To answer your question, nope.
Grey Wolf was originally my monk in MERP many many many moons ago.
