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<blockquote data-quote="Cheiromancer" data-source="post: 1029514" data-attributes="member: 141"><p><strong>Loose Ends</strong></p><p></p><p><em>Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 06-04-2002</em></p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p></p><p>The Duchess was not happy.</p><p>"What the hell did you think you were doing?" She asked Nwm. "This does NOT aid our cause – especially as I now suspect that those knights you just butchered will be regarded as martyrs to the cause. A peaceable solution now seems impossible."</p><p>Nwm spoke coldly. "When I require your advice on how best to protect my religion, I will ask for it. For what it’s worth, I think that the likelihood of a peaceful solution decreased sharply when the Curia sentenced everyone in Trempa to death."</p><p>"But a slim chance is better than no chance," she retorted.</p><p>Unexpectedly, Tahl came to Nwm’s defense. "They will not parley with us – we are anathema. Nwm’s actions sadden me – there were knights among that group who I knew to be just and honourable. But they made their choice when they closed their eyes and ears to the corruption in the Temple. Many more hard choices lie before us, and we must not waver."</p><p>The Duchess groaned. "All of this religious zeal is making me feel queasy," she said. "Did it occur to either of you that Brey and his followers deemed themselves equally justified. That, from their perspective, they were acting in the greater Good?"</p><p></p><p>"Philosophical sophistry is irrelevant!" Nwm snapped. "They threaten my faith, which I know to be un-dogmatic, peaceful and non-proselytizing. I don’t give a damn what their reasons are for their actions. And the same goes for you, Tahl. Frankly, right now, your whole stinking religion with its schizoid, patriarchal God just makes me puke. The only reason that I regret my actions is because I just killed sixty human beings – whether they are considered ‘just’ or ‘honourable’ in your f*cked-up perspective has no bearing on the matter. The fact that you don’t see it that way only makes it clearer to me just how far off the point you are. This conversation is over. If you need me, I’ll be in the grove at Deorham. Nehael, are you coming?"</p><p>"Will you show me the trees?" The Demoness asked gently.</p><p>Nwm smiled sadly and nodded. Her question bought him back to the moment. Without judging, it simultaneously comforted him, reminded him of his duty as a teacher, grounded him in his beliefs, and instructed him in the best way to proceed.</p><p></p><p>Ah, she was wise, this one. Skillful. </p><p></p><p>After they had departed, the Duchess turned to Mostin. "Where the hell is Ortwin?" She asked. </p><p>The Alienist shrugged. "He was dealing with a mage called Idro. Afterwards, he said something about visiting the Elves."</p><p>Mostin realized that he hadn’t thought about the Bard for some time. He wondered what Ortwin was doing.</p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>After scrying Ortwin’s location, and with a broad smile on his face, Mostin made additional inquiries regarding the wizard Troap. He conferred with a skittish and irascible centaur who dwelt within the forest of Nizkur, and then with a group of sprites who lived nearby. It appeared that Troap was quite well regarded by the local population of Feys, and that Idro’s account of the Goblin was rather biased. </p><p>Mostin sighed. He should have made more of an effort to discern the truth before leaving Ortwin to his own devices.</p><p></p><p>The Alienist stepped through the Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat and appeared in front of Ortwin and Troap.</p><p></p><p>"Hello, Mostin," Ortwin said.</p><p>"You must be Mostin the Metagnostic," Troap said brightly. "Ortwin has mentioned you. It is an honour to meet you. Will you take tea with me?" The Goblin seemed quite unfazed.</p><p>"Certainly," Mostin replied.</p><p>"More tea please, Ortwin, there’s a good fellow," Troap instructed the Bard.</p><p></p><p>"That is a potent dweomer that you have laid upon Ortwin," Mostin observed. "He has been missing for three weeks."</p><p>"It is a triply extended ‘Charm Monster,’" Troap explained. "One of my staff’s higher powers."</p><p>Mostin nodded. "No wonder Idro desired it so much."</p><p>"You knew of this treachery?" Troap was aghast.</p><p>"I regret that I did," Mostin confessed. "Ortwin required services from Idro, who insisted on the staff and a crystal ball in payment. I put them in contact with each other. But if you have charmed Ortwin, you will have found that out already."</p><p>Troap grinned sheepishly, and dropped his expression of faux offense.</p><p>"I am thinking of retaining Ortwin’s services indefinitely," he said. "He killed three of my servants, each of whom was tenured for a year. He is a useful fellow to have around, and sings excellently."</p><p>"I regret that is not possible," Mostin said. ‘Ortwin is a good friend of mine, and I am obligated to ensure his release."</p><p>Troap bristled. "But I have been assaulted and offended by him. I demand recompense."</p><p>"And I agree that you are owed it," Mostin said. "Please, Troap. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I hope that we can do business in the future. I also notice that you have not deprived him of his own possessions."</p><p>"I asked him, but he was reluctant to render them up. I didn’t press the point as I didn’t wish to risk disrupting the spell. His scimitar is sharp."</p><p>"I will convince him to give you adequate payment," Mostin said. "Besides," the Alienist added cunningly, "I don’t think that you want Ortwin around. Have you heard of the Necromancer Feezuu?"</p><p>Troap swallowed. "Rumours only," he said.</p><p>"You don’t want to be near Ortwin when she finds him," Mostin said.</p><p>The Goblin nodded.</p><p>Or me, thought Mostin.</p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>"You did WHAT?" Ortwin asked Mostin in disbelief.</p><p>"Ten thousand gold crowns is a trifling consideration when weighed against indefinite servitude," Mostin replied.</p><p>"The spell would have failed soon enough," Ortwin countered. "And then I would have had his staff and ball. Now I’m back to square one. I thought you wanted Troap’s spellbooks. What of Idro? What of my magic pick?"</p><p>"You can stuff your pick up your a**," said Mostin. "Troap turns out to be an intriguing little fellow, and I’m glad I met him. Allies of any hue are hard to come by these days, and besides Idro, I don’t know any half-decent enchanters."</p><p>"I can’t believe how selfish you are," Ortwin complained.</p><p>"We both are, Ortwin," said Mostin. "That’s why we get along so well. But, having rescued you from an embarrassing situation, I think you owe me. And we don’t want this little story to get out, do we? Your reputation would suffer terribly."</p><p>Ortwin raged for a while, and then passed a handful of emeralds to Mostin. Sometimes he really hated wizards. They were only ever interested in themselves and each other. There was a lesson here somewhere, but the Bard couldn’t work out what it was for the life of him.</p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>"Your revised proposal is rather more modest," Idro scoffed. "I assume that you failed in your attempts to secure the staff and ball, and that Troap still terrorizes the forest?"</p><p>"Can you enchant it, or not?" Ortwin spat.</p><p>"Of course," Idro said smoothly. "I will consider only fifty percent of the nominal value of the horn, however. As I said, to me, it is little more than a curio, although it may have later use as a trade item."</p><p>"Eighty percent," Ortwin haggled.</p><p>"Sixty."</p><p>"Seventy."</p><p>"Sixty-five, and not a copper penny more," insisted Idro.</p><p>Ortwin handed over his horn and most of his remaining money.</p><p>"I have decided to keep the boots," Ortwin said, sniffing the air. "I am now going to find the Elves. I will return in three months."</p><p>And Ortwin flew off.</p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>The snows fell early that year, barely a month after the Equinox had passed. Nwm maintained a pocket of more clement weather in the area of Deorham where, with Nehael’s help, he pursued a project which consumed him in his grief and guilt after his actions outside of the gates of the castle at Trempa. He had, and never had had, any confessor or arbiter of his morality to whom he could turn, besides his own conscience and the Green Reality which he conveniently labeled ‘Goddess.’ He decided that keeping a low profile was probably the best course of action.</p><p></p><p>Nonetheless, news of Nwm’s defiance of the Temple, and his merciless encounter with Brey and his knights spread rapidly amongst the farming communities of the Duchy. Many sought him out, asking for apprenticeship or tutelage, pleading with him to defend them against the threat which would, sooner or later, issue from Morne.</p><p>"Teach me to wield the Green Fire," they begged.</p><p>"Ask the trees," he snapped.</p><p></p><p>Midwinter came and passed, and still no sign of Eadric had been seen or heard. Neither Ortwin nor Nwm appeared at the court of the Duchess for the Yule feast, and the affair was lackluster and uninspiring. Mostin contented himself with his researches and, despite his urge to scry and spy, refrained from locating the Paladin. Nehael had warned him in no uncertain terms to leave Eadric alone.</p><p>"Or celestials will visit, and remonstrate with you," she had said.</p><p>Mostin shuddered at the thought of their feathery wings and decided that the Demoness probably knew best.</p><p></p><p>Tahl organized the defenses of the castle, instructed his paladins, oversaw the Fane, and made several journeys to visit the Marquis of Iald, five hundred miles distant, on the other side of Wyre. Similar threats had been delivered to Iald, and although, as yet, no action had been taken against either fief, tensions ran high. Both Tahl and the Duchess were determined to keep the lines of communication open, and the Marquis was the only declared ally that they had. </p><p></p><p>As the days lengthened after midwinter, the cold intensified and the snows piled deeper and deeper. Even at Deorham, a frosty rime settled on the land. Nwm incanted feverishly, day after day, focussed solely upon a thin torc of serpentine which consumed his time and his power. Nehael saw to his needs, and dealt with zealous Goddess worshippers who would otherwise disturb his work.</p><p></p><p>Ortwin returned to the castle after his spell with the Elves in the forest, bearing the pick that Idro had wrought for him.</p><p></p><p>Mostin finished one project and moved onto the next, and the next. His Blue and Scarlet Ioun Stone, and his Circlet of Blasting, won only after hard bargaining, he traded away without a second thought to his new friend, Troap for mundane gold and items to pursue his research. He contrived what he felt would be the ultimate defense against the Cambion who haunted his dreams: the permanent ‘Magnificent Mansion’ and an amulet capable of spell absorption. His final project, his ‘Headband of Intellect,’ was finished even as the thaw began. When he placed it upon his head, his consciousness expanded dramatically, and new valences of spell energy were revealed to him.*</p><p></p><p>Only a few days later, Nwm finally finished his own great work. He was tired beyond any exhaustion he had previously known. Now, at last, he could relax. </p><p>After sleeping, bathing and eating, he gingerly placed the torc around his neck, and fastened its golden clasp. He spoke a single word of power.</p><p></p><p>The Green Embraced him. For miles around, every fold in the landscape, every great tree, every animal, every fey, every human heartbeat, every nuance that he desired to focus upon, was revealed to him.</p><p></p><p>**</p><p></p><p>Two weeks passed before Eadric walked into the castle at Trempa. He was filthy, haggard and had grown a long beard.</p><p>"Nice beard," said Ortwin.</p><p>"Thanks," Eadric replied.</p><p>"You’re two months late," said Nehael.</p><p>"Er, yes. Sorry about that."</p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>*Someone on these boards, long ago, proposed a quantum theory of magic in order to address the ‘Vancian’ problem. Spell levels are analogous to the quantum shells occupied by electrons orbiting the nucleus of an atom, in that they can only have discrete numbers (1,2, etc.). This is a simple, elegant, wonderful idea. Whoever you are, I am indebted to you. </p><p></p><p>Note: Nwm’s Torc reproduces a ‘Commune with Nature’ spell when activated.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Cheiromancer, post: 1029514, member: 141"] [b]Loose Ends[/b] [i]Originally posted by Sepulchrave II on 06-04-2002[/i] ** The Duchess was not happy. "What the hell did you think you were doing?" She asked Nwm. "This does NOT aid our cause – especially as I now suspect that those knights you just butchered will be regarded as martyrs to the cause. A peaceable solution now seems impossible." Nwm spoke coldly. "When I require your advice on how best to protect my religion, I will ask for it. For what it’s worth, I think that the likelihood of a peaceful solution decreased sharply when the Curia sentenced everyone in Trempa to death." "But a slim chance is better than no chance," she retorted. Unexpectedly, Tahl came to Nwm’s defense. "They will not parley with us – we are anathema. Nwm’s actions sadden me – there were knights among that group who I knew to be just and honourable. But they made their choice when they closed their eyes and ears to the corruption in the Temple. Many more hard choices lie before us, and we must not waver." The Duchess groaned. "All of this religious zeal is making me feel queasy," she said. "Did it occur to either of you that Brey and his followers deemed themselves equally justified. That, from their perspective, they were acting in the greater Good?" "Philosophical sophistry is irrelevant!" Nwm snapped. "They threaten my faith, which I know to be un-dogmatic, peaceful and non-proselytizing. I don’t give a damn what their reasons are for their actions. And the same goes for you, Tahl. Frankly, right now, your whole stinking religion with its schizoid, patriarchal God just makes me puke. The only reason that I regret my actions is because I just killed sixty human beings – whether they are considered ‘just’ or ‘honourable’ in your f*cked-up perspective has no bearing on the matter. The fact that you don’t see it that way only makes it clearer to me just how far off the point you are. This conversation is over. If you need me, I’ll be in the grove at Deorham. Nehael, are you coming?" "Will you show me the trees?" The Demoness asked gently. Nwm smiled sadly and nodded. Her question bought him back to the moment. Without judging, it simultaneously comforted him, reminded him of his duty as a teacher, grounded him in his beliefs, and instructed him in the best way to proceed. Ah, she was wise, this one. Skillful. After they had departed, the Duchess turned to Mostin. "Where the hell is Ortwin?" She asked. The Alienist shrugged. "He was dealing with a mage called Idro. Afterwards, he said something about visiting the Elves." Mostin realized that he hadn’t thought about the Bard for some time. He wondered what Ortwin was doing. ** After scrying Ortwin’s location, and with a broad smile on his face, Mostin made additional inquiries regarding the wizard Troap. He conferred with a skittish and irascible centaur who dwelt within the forest of Nizkur, and then with a group of sprites who lived nearby. It appeared that Troap was quite well regarded by the local population of Feys, and that Idro’s account of the Goblin was rather biased. Mostin sighed. He should have made more of an effort to discern the truth before leaving Ortwin to his own devices. The Alienist stepped through the Looking Glass of Urm-Nahat and appeared in front of Ortwin and Troap. "Hello, Mostin," Ortwin said. "You must be Mostin the Metagnostic," Troap said brightly. "Ortwin has mentioned you. It is an honour to meet you. Will you take tea with me?" The Goblin seemed quite unfazed. "Certainly," Mostin replied. "More tea please, Ortwin, there’s a good fellow," Troap instructed the Bard. "That is a potent dweomer that you have laid upon Ortwin," Mostin observed. "He has been missing for three weeks." "It is a triply extended ‘Charm Monster,’" Troap explained. "One of my staff’s higher powers." Mostin nodded. "No wonder Idro desired it so much." "You knew of this treachery?" Troap was aghast. "I regret that I did," Mostin confessed. "Ortwin required services from Idro, who insisted on the staff and a crystal ball in payment. I put them in contact with each other. But if you have charmed Ortwin, you will have found that out already." Troap grinned sheepishly, and dropped his expression of faux offense. "I am thinking of retaining Ortwin’s services indefinitely," he said. "He killed three of my servants, each of whom was tenured for a year. He is a useful fellow to have around, and sings excellently." "I regret that is not possible," Mostin said. ‘Ortwin is a good friend of mine, and I am obligated to ensure his release." Troap bristled. "But I have been assaulted and offended by him. I demand recompense." "And I agree that you are owed it," Mostin said. "Please, Troap. It is a pleasure to meet you, and I hope that we can do business in the future. I also notice that you have not deprived him of his own possessions." "I asked him, but he was reluctant to render them up. I didn’t press the point as I didn’t wish to risk disrupting the spell. His scimitar is sharp." "I will convince him to give you adequate payment," Mostin said. "Besides," the Alienist added cunningly, "I don’t think that you want Ortwin around. Have you heard of the Necromancer Feezuu?" Troap swallowed. "Rumours only," he said. "You don’t want to be near Ortwin when she finds him," Mostin said. The Goblin nodded. Or me, thought Mostin. ** "You did WHAT?" Ortwin asked Mostin in disbelief. "Ten thousand gold crowns is a trifling consideration when weighed against indefinite servitude," Mostin replied. "The spell would have failed soon enough," Ortwin countered. "And then I would have had his staff and ball. Now I’m back to square one. I thought you wanted Troap’s spellbooks. What of Idro? What of my magic pick?" "You can stuff your pick up your a**," said Mostin. "Troap turns out to be an intriguing little fellow, and I’m glad I met him. Allies of any hue are hard to come by these days, and besides Idro, I don’t know any half-decent enchanters." "I can’t believe how selfish you are," Ortwin complained. "We both are, Ortwin," said Mostin. "That’s why we get along so well. But, having rescued you from an embarrassing situation, I think you owe me. And we don’t want this little story to get out, do we? Your reputation would suffer terribly." Ortwin raged for a while, and then passed a handful of emeralds to Mostin. Sometimes he really hated wizards. They were only ever interested in themselves and each other. There was a lesson here somewhere, but the Bard couldn’t work out what it was for the life of him. ** "Your revised proposal is rather more modest," Idro scoffed. "I assume that you failed in your attempts to secure the staff and ball, and that Troap still terrorizes the forest?" "Can you enchant it, or not?" Ortwin spat. "Of course," Idro said smoothly. "I will consider only fifty percent of the nominal value of the horn, however. As I said, to me, it is little more than a curio, although it may have later use as a trade item." "Eighty percent," Ortwin haggled. "Sixty." "Seventy." "Sixty-five, and not a copper penny more," insisted Idro. Ortwin handed over his horn and most of his remaining money. "I have decided to keep the boots," Ortwin said, sniffing the air. "I am now going to find the Elves. I will return in three months." And Ortwin flew off. ** The snows fell early that year, barely a month after the Equinox had passed. Nwm maintained a pocket of more clement weather in the area of Deorham where, with Nehael’s help, he pursued a project which consumed him in his grief and guilt after his actions outside of the gates of the castle at Trempa. He had, and never had had, any confessor or arbiter of his morality to whom he could turn, besides his own conscience and the Green Reality which he conveniently labeled ‘Goddess.’ He decided that keeping a low profile was probably the best course of action. Nonetheless, news of Nwm’s defiance of the Temple, and his merciless encounter with Brey and his knights spread rapidly amongst the farming communities of the Duchy. Many sought him out, asking for apprenticeship or tutelage, pleading with him to defend them against the threat which would, sooner or later, issue from Morne. "Teach me to wield the Green Fire," they begged. "Ask the trees," he snapped. Midwinter came and passed, and still no sign of Eadric had been seen or heard. Neither Ortwin nor Nwm appeared at the court of the Duchess for the Yule feast, and the affair was lackluster and uninspiring. Mostin contented himself with his researches and, despite his urge to scry and spy, refrained from locating the Paladin. Nehael had warned him in no uncertain terms to leave Eadric alone. "Or celestials will visit, and remonstrate with you," she had said. Mostin shuddered at the thought of their feathery wings and decided that the Demoness probably knew best. Tahl organized the defenses of the castle, instructed his paladins, oversaw the Fane, and made several journeys to visit the Marquis of Iald, five hundred miles distant, on the other side of Wyre. Similar threats had been delivered to Iald, and although, as yet, no action had been taken against either fief, tensions ran high. Both Tahl and the Duchess were determined to keep the lines of communication open, and the Marquis was the only declared ally that they had. As the days lengthened after midwinter, the cold intensified and the snows piled deeper and deeper. Even at Deorham, a frosty rime settled on the land. Nwm incanted feverishly, day after day, focussed solely upon a thin torc of serpentine which consumed his time and his power. Nehael saw to his needs, and dealt with zealous Goddess worshippers who would otherwise disturb his work. Ortwin returned to the castle after his spell with the Elves in the forest, bearing the pick that Idro had wrought for him. Mostin finished one project and moved onto the next, and the next. His Blue and Scarlet Ioun Stone, and his Circlet of Blasting, won only after hard bargaining, he traded away without a second thought to his new friend, Troap for mundane gold and items to pursue his research. He contrived what he felt would be the ultimate defense against the Cambion who haunted his dreams: the permanent ‘Magnificent Mansion’ and an amulet capable of spell absorption. His final project, his ‘Headband of Intellect,’ was finished even as the thaw began. When he placed it upon his head, his consciousness expanded dramatically, and new valences of spell energy were revealed to him.* Only a few days later, Nwm finally finished his own great work. He was tired beyond any exhaustion he had previously known. Now, at last, he could relax. After sleeping, bathing and eating, he gingerly placed the torc around his neck, and fastened its golden clasp. He spoke a single word of power. The Green Embraced him. For miles around, every fold in the landscape, every great tree, every animal, every fey, every human heartbeat, every nuance that he desired to focus upon, was revealed to him. ** Two weeks passed before Eadric walked into the castle at Trempa. He was filthy, haggard and had grown a long beard. "Nice beard," said Ortwin. "Thanks," Eadric replied. "You’re two months late," said Nehael. "Er, yes. Sorry about that." *Someone on these boards, long ago, proposed a quantum theory of magic in order to address the ‘Vancian’ problem. Spell levels are analogous to the quantum shells occupied by electrons orbiting the nucleus of an atom, in that they can only have discrete numbers (1,2, etc.). This is a simple, elegant, wonderful idea. Whoever you are, I am indebted to you. Note: Nwm’s Torc reproduces a ‘Commune with Nature’ spell when activated. [/QUOTE]
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