Mathew_Freeman
First Post
My guess? ALL of them.
Awesome and informative stuff, Sagiro. I suspect people will be coming back to this post in times to come to check up what you were talking about.
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Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
My guess? ALL of them.
Awesome and informative stuff, Sagiro. I suspect people will be coming back to this post in times to come to check up what you were talking about.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Ah, this was the session where I missed some pretty amazing foreshadowing. No, two or three bits of pretty amazing foreshadowing, none of which would be made manifest for years, one of which (upon reading the collected story hour) has already been hinted at at least three other times. One more reason why I love seeing how everything ties together. I also loved learning this history about the Gods, things that no one else knew, things that our religions would probably consider heresies.
I'm so glad we left him Thriss.
And Farazil? NOT OUR FAVORITE PERSON RIGHT NOW.
I'm so glad we left him Thriss.
And Farazil? NOT OUR FAVORITE PERSON RIGHT NOW.
Innocent Bystander
First Post
About Farazil, can he just ride along inside someone? If not, looking back where there any indications not all was right with Flicker? I guess that probably depends on how long he was in Flicker.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
As a reminder, we were pretty sure that Farazil rode a local into this gate months and months ago. In fact, outside of this place we found a dead body that probably was this same person; not being able to leave or enter the outer demiplane trapped him. That means that Farazil was probably stuck, either bodiless or inside a starved corpse.
Apparently he solved this by entering Flicker as we passed by.
Yeah, not my favorite person.
Apparently he solved this by entering Flicker as we passed by.
Yeah, not my favorite person.
Looking back at the description of the party's entrance into Naslund:
So either Farazil was already possessing Flicker, and was pretending not to be, or Dranko gave him the idea...
On another topic... With the campaign's conclusion, I too have been reading through the whole story again -- and have taken the opportunity to perform a thorough reorganization of all the Collected Story Hour files. While the content of course hasn't changed, the presentation has been significantly upgraded, as follows:
- Most importantly, I've taken on board a lesson learned while doing the Halmae and A Rose in the Wind Story Hours, and introduced inter-line spacing into the text. This increases the page count by about ten percent, but (to me at least) makes for a more comfortable reading experience.
- Many of the fonts used for letters, documents, dreams, thoughts etc. have been changed and/or increased in size, again for better readability.
- Some of the chapter divisions have been moved slightly, so that they fall in more dramatically appropriate places. Also, the Prologue is now properly integrated into Part One, and the irritating lack of symmetry (well, irritating to me, anyway
) which saw Part One end up with ten chapters but Part Two with only nine has been fixed. The extra chapter title in Part Two also let me give a nod to Dranko, back in the part of the story where he was still allowed to be famous...
- Now that the campaign is over, the stats for the null shadows and the blood fox, which had to be kept separate so the players wouldn't see them, have been put back into the main text.
- I'm no longer providing a version of the Story Hour with everything in one file. Not only did it require a different page-numbering to the individual chapter files (thereby screwing up various page references in the text), but at 1150 pages -- and counting -- it was becoming just too slow and unwieldy to work with. Instead, I've created consolidated files for each of the three parts of the Story Hour, complete with front cover and Contents pages.
carborundum
Adventurer
So either Farazil was already possessing Flicker, and was pretending not to be, or Dranko gave him the idea...
Oooh, I'd love to know if it was planned this way, or if something the players said gave Sagiro a fiendish idea
StevenAC - thank you again for your efforts. The monsterPDF was stressing out my tablet but these new babies make it a happy chappie again! Can't give you any more xp for a while though ;-)
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Oooh, I'd love to know if it was planned this way, or if something the players said gave Sagiro a fiendish idea
StevenAC - thank you again for your efforts. The monsterPDF was stressing out my tablet but these new babies make it a happy chappie again! Can't give you any more xp for a while though ;-)
I knew that Flicker had become Farazil's host from the moment the Company went through the Arch. It was hard to keep a straight face when Dranko mentioned the possibility, and Flicker started vehemently denying it. Understand: Flicker wasn't lying. He didn't think he was Farazil's host, and really was horrified at the very thought.
Also: StevenAC, thanks again for all of your hard work! I feel like I should be paying you royalties or something.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Ladies and gentlemen, Sagiro may be the best
Ah, yet another masterful RBDM moment...
Believe me, it's been a pure pleasure. Pardon the Sally Field moment, but I'd just like to thank you and everyone else who's had kind words to say about the collected Story Hour. It began (nearly a decade ago, now!Also: StevenAC, thanks again for all of your hard work! I feel like I should be paying you royalties or something.
) as an entirely private exercise, but my hope from the start was always to produce a document worthy of this campaign's incredible quality. I remember it wasn't until more than a year later that I dared to show it to you (and subsequently made it public)... It's always lovely to hear that others are enjoying it too.
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 338
Will, Honor and Knowledge
No one looks more aghast than Flicker himself. “What? No! NO!”
Ernie wheels on him. “Get out of my friend!”
Then Flicker’s expression changes, as does his body language. “You’re spoiling all my fun,” says Farazil, addressing Viersk.
There is a collective sigh among the Company. Flicker’s countenance changes again. “What? Why is everyone looking at me like that! I’m not Farazil! I’m not! Oh… crap.”
Ernie regards him sadly. “Flick, you got Faraziled.”
“Well,” says Farazil. “He was the easiest one. And it was so boring, waiting, I had to possess someone.”
Aravis peers at Flicker/Farazil. “How did you get in here in the first place?”
“I was doing exactly what I said I was going to do,” says Farazil. “I was trying to find Tarsos for you. I tracked him to the Isle of Karth, so I jumped into the body of some dwarf, and found my way down to the arch at the bottom of the Downward Spiral. Then I found I couldn’t get back out, and couldn’t get inside the walls. The dwarf eventually starved to death. I didn’t have enough food!”
Dranko nods. “And then when we came in, you jumped into Flicker.”
“Yep.”
“And you didn’t bother to say, ‘Hey, it’s Farazil.’”
“I wanted to assess the situation first.”
Morningstar glowers. “You mean, you wanted to wait to see if we were in horrible danger, and then maybe leave us trapped somewhere again?”
Farazil looks hurt. “Hey! No, no, no. Remember, I was under contract for that, and I hardly knew you guys. God’s Thorn is water under the bridge.”
Aravis shakes his head. “Now is not the time. We can nail him to a tree later.”
“Look,” says Dranko. “We’ve been looking for you, and we’re glad you’re okay.”
“And I’m glad to be rescued!”
“Can you ride around in someone without taking full control?” Dranko asks.
“You mean like I have been the entire time, since I jumped into Flicker’s body? Yes, I can do that.”
“Then let Flicker slide forward and take control, and we’ll chat with you later.”
“Fine.”
Flicker comes back to himself. “He was talking, wasn’t he? He’s really taken me over?”
He gets nods and sympathetic looks.
“Dammit! Get out!
“Flick,” says Dranko, “is it okay if he rides around in you for a while?”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“It’s the only way he can get out of here,” Aravis notes.
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Flicker exclaims. “Sure wouldn’t want to leave him here forever, to suffer the same fate that… ow! Ow, stop it! My tongue! Leave my tongue alone!”
Morningstar stares daggers. “Farazil, you’re not helping.”
“As much as I would enjoy it,” says Aravis, “I don’t think he should be left behind in this place.”
Flicker throws up his hands. “Fine. I guess, at least if he’s inside me, you all know where he is.”
Ernie is nearly as incredulous as Flicker. “Yeah, inside the one of us who can sneak up behind people and inflict copious amounts of bodily harm!”
“You know,” says Farazil, “I still wish to be a citizen of your fine Kingdom above all else, and I doubt King Crunard will look favorably on my petition if I’ve murdered one of you!”
“We can work something out,” says Dranko. “It’s all good.”
Ernie wheels on Dranko. “When did you get all reasonable?”
“We need all the resources we can at our disposal,” says Aravis.
“Also,” says Farazil, “please keep in mind that I followed your quarry just as I promised, and was rewarded with months of being stuck in this dismal place. I’m grateful for the rescue, and intend to be no trouble for you.”
Dranko claps his hands. “Great. Now give Flicker back. And don’t flee to someone else without talking to us first.”
Kibi, seeing that there’s little more to be done about King Farazil the Soul Eater, turns to Viersk. “So, how exactly do we get out of here?”
“It is a simple ritual. Here.”
He raises his hands, and knowledge comes to them. They are trapped in Naslund no longer.
“One last question,” says Aravis. “Was the blood spilled by Tarsos and Meledien, that’s partly Adversary blood – does it taint this place?”
“It is not causing any harm,” says Viersk. “And it is now part of Naslund’s history. If the blood is somewhat from a God, however malign, it is not out of place.”
“We’re sorry about the Tree,” says Morningstar.
“Do not be. It will grow back its lost limbs, just as the Sand Guardians are ready to reform and attack. On the way out, stay close to whoever is holding the Ward. You are fortunate indeed that you came here after Drosh fled… or we would not be having this discussion.”
“And Tarsos and Meledien would be dead,” says Kibi. “Speaking of those two, what can you tell us about the artifacts they stole?”
Viersk looks aggrieved at the topic. “The Bulwark of Leantha is a very powerful shield, with strong divinatory powers. And the Spear of Caba – do not let it touch you. If it burns out your heart, it annihilates your soul.”
There is a collective groan from the Company. There will be no coming back from the dead for Cencerra and her group.
/*/
As the Company prepares to head back down the long corridor of Naslund, Viersk bids them a final farewell. “I have enjoyed this visit. Perhaps destiny will elevate you, such that I will see some of you again.”
“In the meantime,” asks Dranko, “should we keep your existence a secret?”
“Use discretion,” Viersk advises. “If you spread the word, it could spark pilgrimages, and the pilgrims would all starve outside the walls.”
Right.
Soon enough, the party arrives back where the tombs of Aurelia and Nemmin wait across from one another.
“Ladies first,” says Ernie, and so Morningstar dons the Ward of Drosh and walks slowly down the short hallway to Aurelia’s resting place. It still feels right for her to be here, and now there is no resistance at all to her approach. She clutches her holy symbol as she enters, and the moment she crosses the threshold, the room’s aspect changes. Above her, instead of a stone ceiling, a night sky blazes with stars.
Beyond the sealed sarcophagus of Aurelia, on a short stone pedestal, rests a black steel hunting knife.
Morningstar can feel a presence in the room with her, a presence that brings the comfort of a deep and fruitful sleep; of Dreamwalking; of rendering aid to those in great need.
“It feels like home here,” she murmurs.
The answering voice sounds in her mind, soft and serene and full of power. I have made it so. Welcome, Morningstar.
“Thank you,” Morningstar whispers. “You are Aurelia?”
I was. Now I rest eternally.
Morningstar kneels before the pedestal.
That is for you. Ell foresaw this need, long ago.
“It’s a knife…” says Morningstar doubtfully.
Not for you.
While Morningstar wonders what that means, Aurelia continues. I am honored to be in your presence, Morningstar of Ell. Your journey has been greater than mine. If you keep on this path, you will one day rest beside me.
“That would be an incredible honor,” says Morningstar, awestruck.
For both of us.
“I feel that I’ve made many mistakes…”
Of course! You are mortal, after all. But you learn from your mistakes. You’ll make more mistakes before the end, I am sure.
“Is there anything I can do to serve?”
I want for nothing. And you are serving Ell most capably. Stay the course, Morningstar. Now, take your gift. It is Ell’s Will.
Instinctively, Morningstar begins to utter the standard litany of evening prayers. Even as she does so, she hears a second voice echoing her own, praying along with her. When she touches the knife, it warms in her hand, bends, extends, and becomes a gleaming black morningstar with ivory spikes. And she knows: the name of this weapon is Ell’s Will, and its powers are great.
This is the weapon that the Goddess gave to me. In part, it brought down the Spider God Kazon. It could not kill Him, but it caused Him great pain.
Morningstar stares with reverence at the weapon in her hand. “I hope to put it to good use.”
I’m certain that you will. Dream of it tonight. It has even more to offer you.
Morningstar finishes her prayers and departs with thanks. Walking as though in a dream, she returns to her Company.
“What was she like?” asks Ernie.
“Wonderful!” is all Morningstar can say.
“Nice weapon!” says Dranko, looking at the glowing weapon in his wife’s hand.
“Don’t lick it,” Ernie advises.
“It’s called Ell’s Will,” says Morningstar. And then, thinking of one of her earliest battles when her weapon got tangled in a shrub, she adds with a laugh, “Bushes beware!”
/*/
Ernie’s experience is quite similar in some ways, and altogether different in others. Like Morningstar, he finds that with the Ward of Drosh around his neck he can walk the full length of his hallway without hindrance. As he approaches Nemmin’s tomb, he feels himself filled with strength, power and confidence. Once in the chamber itself he sees what could not be seen from without; the walls are festooned with weaponry. Beautiful pieces are everywhere: swords, axes, pikes, maces, more swords. But there is one spot, directly opposite the sarcophagus, where instead of an instrument of war, a holy symbol of Yondalla hangs from a silver peg.
“She is our blade and our bowl,” Ernie says in a quiet but fervent voice. “She is our source and our shield. And… there’s a lot of weaponry here, but only one of Her.” He walks steadily to where the holy symbol waits.
Ernest! The voice sounds all around him. About frikkin’ time!
“Sorry?”
It’s all right. You showed up. That’s something. The voice is boisterous, gently mocking but not at all cruel. It conveys vigor and a distinct lack of decorum.
“Well,” says Ernie, taking a deep breath, “I lost track of time while I was out saving the world three or four times.”
Yeah, yeah. You’re really busy out there, I’m sure.
“And how have you been in here, Nemmin?” asks Ernie, warming to the tenor of the conversation. “Keeping everything polished, I see.”
I don’t do that, says Nemmin. Think I have to lift a finger in here? It’s eternal rest for me!
Ernie smirks. “I suppose that’s nice. What about food?”
I don’t need to eat.
“Don’t need to eat?” Ernie gasps. “What kind of eternal rest is that?”
You get used to it. I’m happy. But this little visit isn’t about me. Ernie, you are going to become something. I don’t know what; it’ll be whatever your nature dictates.
“Will there be tentacles?” asks Ernie nervously?
I don’t know. What have you been up to out there?
“It’s not what I’ve been up to,” Ernie grumbles. “But how do I start this ‘becoming.’ Do I pray?”
If you want. I’m sure Yondalla wouldn’t mind. But if you just want to get on with it, take the thing on the wall. The Holy Symbol. The weapons aren’t for you.
“I know,” says Ernie. “I have one.”
Yes. You have Tava’s Righteous Fury. But you should say good bye to it.
“Oh,” says Ernie, unable to hide his disappointment. “Er… bye?”
Tava’s Righteous Fury speaks. Nemmin is right. My time with you is finished. You have done well, and ended your own goblin menace, but now I must go where I am needed more, to a place where goblins are still a threat.
“That’s the problem with goblins,” says Ernie. “Always menacing.”
They are a difficulty on many worlds. I have enjoyed our time together, Ernest.
Ernie smiles. “I have too. I hope the next wielder has as good luck with you as I have had.”
As for you, I am being replaced with something greater. You will not keenly feel my absence.
Nemmin, disembodied voice though he is, makes a sound of clearing his throat. This is very touching, I’m sure, but can you let Ernie get on with it? I’ve been waiting a long time for this. I want to see what happens!
Ernie reaches for the holy symbol, but somehow he finds his hand instead grasping the hilt of a sword. Its blade flares with golden light as he tightens his grip, and he feels himself changing, not a mere physical transformation, but a true metamorphosis of being. Inwardly he gains in perspective and piety, and the feeling grows stronger as the seconds pass. After a moment of this the fire in his veins dies down, leaving him an empty vessel waiting to be filled. In his soul, he knows: he is a true cleric of Yondalla. He drops to his knees.
Interesting.
“I didn’t know I wanted this gift,” Ernie whispers. “But now that I have it, I realize that I’ve needed it.”
The sword is named Honor of Nemmin
Ernie grins. “You had a sword named after you? Nice! And I’d say you deserve it, since you killed a God with it.”
Almost. I wounded a God with it. I and that Ellish warrior woman, Aurelia, we were on the same line, facing down Kazon.
“She’s across the hall, you know.”
I know. We don’t talk, but we feel each other’s presence, and understand something of one another. She’s… well, let’s just say she probably wasn’t the life of the party back when she was alive, but she was one fantastic warrior. As true a paladin of Ell as ever lived. So, yeah, take the sword. Go smite things with it. Its power will make you smite things. Prime you to smite things. It will take something out of you to use – you’re still a mortal after all. You’ll figure it out.
“Will it hurt?” Ernie asks.
Maybe. Not that it’s ever stopped you before. It takes an anvil to do that! Nemmin laughs as he adds, Oh, sorry, should I not have brought that up?
“I have a list,” says Ernie. “’Don’t fight against anvils’ is one of the first things on it.”
Nemmin’s voice becomes stern. Here’s something else for your list. Take the Honor of Nemmin, and carve a bloody swath through your enemies. That’s what I’d do if I were still alive! Just don’t die the way I did.
“In battle?”
Spider bite.
“Ew.”
I think your friends might be getting bored out there. Go kill stuff.
“It was an honor to meet you,” says Ernie, bowing to the sarcophagus.
We could meet again you know. You’re most of the way there.
Ernie stammers. “No, I’m not…”
False modesty is a crock.
“It’s not false!” Ernie protests.
Look. Ernest. Consider what you have done in this life, and what are you likely to do in the future. How does it compare with every other halfling on Abernia? Do you think everyone saves the world on a regular basis?
“They could have,” says Ernie, “in the right circumstances…”
No. No they couldn’t. Yondalla chose you for a reason, Ernie. Your modesty is touching, but come on, cut the crap.
“Yes sir.”
It was good meeting you. I’ve had a long time wondering what you’d be like, and all joking aside, I’m impressed. Fight the good fight, Ernest Roundhill.
“Bloody swath coming up.”
/*/
Back in the main hall, the others press him for details about his meeting. Ernie shares his encounter and shows off his new sword. “I don’t know what it does yet.”
There is one more stop to make before departing the Necropolis of the Gods. As Viersk bid him, Aravis takes the Ward of Drosh and walks the hall to the tomb of Leantha, Kivian Goddess of Knowledge. In the burial chamber the walls are lined with shelves and the shelves are crammed with books. The lid of the sarcophagus likes askew on the floor, but to Aravis the thought of peeking inside is discomforting. There is an overwhelming sense of knowledge and understanding in this room, so much that if Aravis were to open his mind to it, he would surely be consumed.
Aravis!
The voice sounds loud and imperious.
“Yes, my Lady?”
Once, I was knowledge. Her voice sounds twice – once when she speaks, and a following whisper like an echo. She pauses between each sentence.
Your trials will be great (will be great). You may ask a question of me (question of me). You may not understand the answer (understand the answer). I don’t know how you will receive it, for you are a mortal. But you may ask (you may ask).
Aravis hardly has to think. One question overwhelms all others. “How do we stop the Adversary?”
For a moment there is no answer. Aravis asks, “Would you like me to restore the lid to your sarcophagus?”
That is not your task (not your task).
There is another moment of silence before Leantha speaks again.
Your question is difficult (is difficult). Your Travelers, even in their collective might, could not stop him (could not stop him). But I was Knowledge, and you may receive an answer (receive an answer).
“Thank you, my Lady.”
Go!
…to be continued…
Will, Honor and Knowledge
No one looks more aghast than Flicker himself. “What? No! NO!”
Ernie wheels on him. “Get out of my friend!”
Then Flicker’s expression changes, as does his body language. “You’re spoiling all my fun,” says Farazil, addressing Viersk.
There is a collective sigh among the Company. Flicker’s countenance changes again. “What? Why is everyone looking at me like that! I’m not Farazil! I’m not! Oh… crap.”
Ernie regards him sadly. “Flick, you got Faraziled.”
“Well,” says Farazil. “He was the easiest one. And it was so boring, waiting, I had to possess someone.”
Aravis peers at Flicker/Farazil. “How did you get in here in the first place?”
“I was doing exactly what I said I was going to do,” says Farazil. “I was trying to find Tarsos for you. I tracked him to the Isle of Karth, so I jumped into the body of some dwarf, and found my way down to the arch at the bottom of the Downward Spiral. Then I found I couldn’t get back out, and couldn’t get inside the walls. The dwarf eventually starved to death. I didn’t have enough food!”
Dranko nods. “And then when we came in, you jumped into Flicker.”
“Yep.”
“And you didn’t bother to say, ‘Hey, it’s Farazil.’”
“I wanted to assess the situation first.”
Morningstar glowers. “You mean, you wanted to wait to see if we were in horrible danger, and then maybe leave us trapped somewhere again?”
Farazil looks hurt. “Hey! No, no, no. Remember, I was under contract for that, and I hardly knew you guys. God’s Thorn is water under the bridge.”
Aravis shakes his head. “Now is not the time. We can nail him to a tree later.”
“Look,” says Dranko. “We’ve been looking for you, and we’re glad you’re okay.”
“And I’m glad to be rescued!”
“Can you ride around in someone without taking full control?” Dranko asks.
“You mean like I have been the entire time, since I jumped into Flicker’s body? Yes, I can do that.”
“Then let Flicker slide forward and take control, and we’ll chat with you later.”
“Fine.”
Flicker comes back to himself. “He was talking, wasn’t he? He’s really taken me over?”
He gets nods and sympathetic looks.
“Dammit! Get out!
“Flick,” says Dranko, “is it okay if he rides around in you for a while?”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”
“It’s the only way he can get out of here,” Aravis notes.
“Oh, that’s terrible!” Flicker exclaims. “Sure wouldn’t want to leave him here forever, to suffer the same fate that… ow! Ow, stop it! My tongue! Leave my tongue alone!”
Morningstar stares daggers. “Farazil, you’re not helping.”
“As much as I would enjoy it,” says Aravis, “I don’t think he should be left behind in this place.”
Flicker throws up his hands. “Fine. I guess, at least if he’s inside me, you all know where he is.”
Ernie is nearly as incredulous as Flicker. “Yeah, inside the one of us who can sneak up behind people and inflict copious amounts of bodily harm!”
“You know,” says Farazil, “I still wish to be a citizen of your fine Kingdom above all else, and I doubt King Crunard will look favorably on my petition if I’ve murdered one of you!”
“We can work something out,” says Dranko. “It’s all good.”
Ernie wheels on Dranko. “When did you get all reasonable?”
“We need all the resources we can at our disposal,” says Aravis.
“Also,” says Farazil, “please keep in mind that I followed your quarry just as I promised, and was rewarded with months of being stuck in this dismal place. I’m grateful for the rescue, and intend to be no trouble for you.”
Dranko claps his hands. “Great. Now give Flicker back. And don’t flee to someone else without talking to us first.”
Kibi, seeing that there’s little more to be done about King Farazil the Soul Eater, turns to Viersk. “So, how exactly do we get out of here?”
“It is a simple ritual. Here.”
He raises his hands, and knowledge comes to them. They are trapped in Naslund no longer.
“One last question,” says Aravis. “Was the blood spilled by Tarsos and Meledien, that’s partly Adversary blood – does it taint this place?”
“It is not causing any harm,” says Viersk. “And it is now part of Naslund’s history. If the blood is somewhat from a God, however malign, it is not out of place.”
“We’re sorry about the Tree,” says Morningstar.
“Do not be. It will grow back its lost limbs, just as the Sand Guardians are ready to reform and attack. On the way out, stay close to whoever is holding the Ward. You are fortunate indeed that you came here after Drosh fled… or we would not be having this discussion.”
“And Tarsos and Meledien would be dead,” says Kibi. “Speaking of those two, what can you tell us about the artifacts they stole?”
Viersk looks aggrieved at the topic. “The Bulwark of Leantha is a very powerful shield, with strong divinatory powers. And the Spear of Caba – do not let it touch you. If it burns out your heart, it annihilates your soul.”
There is a collective groan from the Company. There will be no coming back from the dead for Cencerra and her group.
/*/
As the Company prepares to head back down the long corridor of Naslund, Viersk bids them a final farewell. “I have enjoyed this visit. Perhaps destiny will elevate you, such that I will see some of you again.”
“In the meantime,” asks Dranko, “should we keep your existence a secret?”
“Use discretion,” Viersk advises. “If you spread the word, it could spark pilgrimages, and the pilgrims would all starve outside the walls.”
Right.
Soon enough, the party arrives back where the tombs of Aurelia and Nemmin wait across from one another.
“Ladies first,” says Ernie, and so Morningstar dons the Ward of Drosh and walks slowly down the short hallway to Aurelia’s resting place. It still feels right for her to be here, and now there is no resistance at all to her approach. She clutches her holy symbol as she enters, and the moment she crosses the threshold, the room’s aspect changes. Above her, instead of a stone ceiling, a night sky blazes with stars.
Beyond the sealed sarcophagus of Aurelia, on a short stone pedestal, rests a black steel hunting knife.
Morningstar can feel a presence in the room with her, a presence that brings the comfort of a deep and fruitful sleep; of Dreamwalking; of rendering aid to those in great need.
“It feels like home here,” she murmurs.
The answering voice sounds in her mind, soft and serene and full of power. I have made it so. Welcome, Morningstar.
“Thank you,” Morningstar whispers. “You are Aurelia?”
I was. Now I rest eternally.
Morningstar kneels before the pedestal.
That is for you. Ell foresaw this need, long ago.
“It’s a knife…” says Morningstar doubtfully.
Not for you.
While Morningstar wonders what that means, Aurelia continues. I am honored to be in your presence, Morningstar of Ell. Your journey has been greater than mine. If you keep on this path, you will one day rest beside me.
“That would be an incredible honor,” says Morningstar, awestruck.
For both of us.
“I feel that I’ve made many mistakes…”
Of course! You are mortal, after all. But you learn from your mistakes. You’ll make more mistakes before the end, I am sure.
“Is there anything I can do to serve?”
I want for nothing. And you are serving Ell most capably. Stay the course, Morningstar. Now, take your gift. It is Ell’s Will.
Instinctively, Morningstar begins to utter the standard litany of evening prayers. Even as she does so, she hears a second voice echoing her own, praying along with her. When she touches the knife, it warms in her hand, bends, extends, and becomes a gleaming black morningstar with ivory spikes. And she knows: the name of this weapon is Ell’s Will, and its powers are great.
This is the weapon that the Goddess gave to me. In part, it brought down the Spider God Kazon. It could not kill Him, but it caused Him great pain.
Morningstar stares with reverence at the weapon in her hand. “I hope to put it to good use.”
I’m certain that you will. Dream of it tonight. It has even more to offer you.
Morningstar finishes her prayers and departs with thanks. Walking as though in a dream, she returns to her Company.
“What was she like?” asks Ernie.
“Wonderful!” is all Morningstar can say.
“Nice weapon!” says Dranko, looking at the glowing weapon in his wife’s hand.
“Don’t lick it,” Ernie advises.
“It’s called Ell’s Will,” says Morningstar. And then, thinking of one of her earliest battles when her weapon got tangled in a shrub, she adds with a laugh, “Bushes beware!”
/*/
Ernie’s experience is quite similar in some ways, and altogether different in others. Like Morningstar, he finds that with the Ward of Drosh around his neck he can walk the full length of his hallway without hindrance. As he approaches Nemmin’s tomb, he feels himself filled with strength, power and confidence. Once in the chamber itself he sees what could not be seen from without; the walls are festooned with weaponry. Beautiful pieces are everywhere: swords, axes, pikes, maces, more swords. But there is one spot, directly opposite the sarcophagus, where instead of an instrument of war, a holy symbol of Yondalla hangs from a silver peg.
“She is our blade and our bowl,” Ernie says in a quiet but fervent voice. “She is our source and our shield. And… there’s a lot of weaponry here, but only one of Her.” He walks steadily to where the holy symbol waits.
Ernest! The voice sounds all around him. About frikkin’ time!
“Sorry?”
It’s all right. You showed up. That’s something. The voice is boisterous, gently mocking but not at all cruel. It conveys vigor and a distinct lack of decorum.
“Well,” says Ernie, taking a deep breath, “I lost track of time while I was out saving the world three or four times.”
Yeah, yeah. You’re really busy out there, I’m sure.
“And how have you been in here, Nemmin?” asks Ernie, warming to the tenor of the conversation. “Keeping everything polished, I see.”
I don’t do that, says Nemmin. Think I have to lift a finger in here? It’s eternal rest for me!
Ernie smirks. “I suppose that’s nice. What about food?”
I don’t need to eat.
“Don’t need to eat?” Ernie gasps. “What kind of eternal rest is that?”
You get used to it. I’m happy. But this little visit isn’t about me. Ernie, you are going to become something. I don’t know what; it’ll be whatever your nature dictates.
“Will there be tentacles?” asks Ernie nervously?
I don’t know. What have you been up to out there?
“It’s not what I’ve been up to,” Ernie grumbles. “But how do I start this ‘becoming.’ Do I pray?”
If you want. I’m sure Yondalla wouldn’t mind. But if you just want to get on with it, take the thing on the wall. The Holy Symbol. The weapons aren’t for you.
“I know,” says Ernie. “I have one.”
Yes. You have Tava’s Righteous Fury. But you should say good bye to it.
“Oh,” says Ernie, unable to hide his disappointment. “Er… bye?”
Tava’s Righteous Fury speaks. Nemmin is right. My time with you is finished. You have done well, and ended your own goblin menace, but now I must go where I am needed more, to a place where goblins are still a threat.
“That’s the problem with goblins,” says Ernie. “Always menacing.”
They are a difficulty on many worlds. I have enjoyed our time together, Ernest.
Ernie smiles. “I have too. I hope the next wielder has as good luck with you as I have had.”
As for you, I am being replaced with something greater. You will not keenly feel my absence.
Nemmin, disembodied voice though he is, makes a sound of clearing his throat. This is very touching, I’m sure, but can you let Ernie get on with it? I’ve been waiting a long time for this. I want to see what happens!
Ernie reaches for the holy symbol, but somehow he finds his hand instead grasping the hilt of a sword. Its blade flares with golden light as he tightens his grip, and he feels himself changing, not a mere physical transformation, but a true metamorphosis of being. Inwardly he gains in perspective and piety, and the feeling grows stronger as the seconds pass. After a moment of this the fire in his veins dies down, leaving him an empty vessel waiting to be filled. In his soul, he knows: he is a true cleric of Yondalla. He drops to his knees.
Interesting.
“I didn’t know I wanted this gift,” Ernie whispers. “But now that I have it, I realize that I’ve needed it.”
The sword is named Honor of Nemmin
Ernie grins. “You had a sword named after you? Nice! And I’d say you deserve it, since you killed a God with it.”
Almost. I wounded a God with it. I and that Ellish warrior woman, Aurelia, we were on the same line, facing down Kazon.
“She’s across the hall, you know.”
I know. We don’t talk, but we feel each other’s presence, and understand something of one another. She’s… well, let’s just say she probably wasn’t the life of the party back when she was alive, but she was one fantastic warrior. As true a paladin of Ell as ever lived. So, yeah, take the sword. Go smite things with it. Its power will make you smite things. Prime you to smite things. It will take something out of you to use – you’re still a mortal after all. You’ll figure it out.
“Will it hurt?” Ernie asks.
Maybe. Not that it’s ever stopped you before. It takes an anvil to do that! Nemmin laughs as he adds, Oh, sorry, should I not have brought that up?
“I have a list,” says Ernie. “’Don’t fight against anvils’ is one of the first things on it.”
Nemmin’s voice becomes stern. Here’s something else for your list. Take the Honor of Nemmin, and carve a bloody swath through your enemies. That’s what I’d do if I were still alive! Just don’t die the way I did.
“In battle?”
Spider bite.
“Ew.”
I think your friends might be getting bored out there. Go kill stuff.
“It was an honor to meet you,” says Ernie, bowing to the sarcophagus.
We could meet again you know. You’re most of the way there.
Ernie stammers. “No, I’m not…”
False modesty is a crock.
“It’s not false!” Ernie protests.
Look. Ernest. Consider what you have done in this life, and what are you likely to do in the future. How does it compare with every other halfling on Abernia? Do you think everyone saves the world on a regular basis?
“They could have,” says Ernie, “in the right circumstances…”
No. No they couldn’t. Yondalla chose you for a reason, Ernie. Your modesty is touching, but come on, cut the crap.
“Yes sir.”
It was good meeting you. I’ve had a long time wondering what you’d be like, and all joking aside, I’m impressed. Fight the good fight, Ernest Roundhill.
“Bloody swath coming up.”
/*/
Back in the main hall, the others press him for details about his meeting. Ernie shares his encounter and shows off his new sword. “I don’t know what it does yet.”
There is one more stop to make before departing the Necropolis of the Gods. As Viersk bid him, Aravis takes the Ward of Drosh and walks the hall to the tomb of Leantha, Kivian Goddess of Knowledge. In the burial chamber the walls are lined with shelves and the shelves are crammed with books. The lid of the sarcophagus likes askew on the floor, but to Aravis the thought of peeking inside is discomforting. There is an overwhelming sense of knowledge and understanding in this room, so much that if Aravis were to open his mind to it, he would surely be consumed.
Aravis!
The voice sounds loud and imperious.
“Yes, my Lady?”
Once, I was knowledge. Her voice sounds twice – once when she speaks, and a following whisper like an echo. She pauses between each sentence.
Your trials will be great (will be great). You may ask a question of me (question of me). You may not understand the answer (understand the answer). I don’t know how you will receive it, for you are a mortal. But you may ask (you may ask).
Aravis hardly has to think. One question overwhelms all others. “How do we stop the Adversary?”
For a moment there is no answer. Aravis asks, “Would you like me to restore the lid to your sarcophagus?”
That is not your task (not your task).
There is another moment of silence before Leantha speaks again.
Your question is difficult (is difficult). Your Travelers, even in their collective might, could not stop him (could not stop him). But I was Knowledge, and you may receive an answer (receive an answer).
“Thank you, my Lady.”
Go!
…to be continued…
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