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Defenders of Daybreak, The Early Years.
- Thread starter Sialia
- Start date
Tor Bladebearer
First Post
This may fill in a few holes... it's a listing of run logs that I found when going through my old notes. Hopefully this isn't spoiling your narrative thread here, Sialia -- if so lemme know and I'll edit it back out.
7/2/1997 Eltariel's crash landing in Gordie's Hole, joined the Defenders & fought the Masters
7/9/1997 Travel to Queenstown, attacked by sabreclaws
7/24/1997 (Alternative PCs) Group of guards attack and destroy a Sabeclaw pit
8/5/1997 Defeat another wing of saberclaws in Queenstown. Meet Kidd (assassin of Toraz)
8/28/1997 Hideous hasted hydra ambush by Wynt & Kidd. Defenders routed.
9/4/1997 Tom-Tom kills Wynt. Another ambush by Kidd, Kidd is slain.
9/17/1997 Show up in Tradesbreak. Mara joins group.
10/6/1997 Battle w/demons in inn. Alix falls into Mt. Celestia.
10/23/1997 Research in Tradesbreak, attempt to rescue Alix.
10/27/1997 Shadows attack. Visit by Hagiok. Alix's funeral.
11/10/1997 Battle against Mang raiders.
11/25/1997 Interrogate the Mang, travel back to inn, read book.
12/30/1997 Wander city of Gecko, meet Sarah and Dry Marta
1/15/1998 Ambush group of Imbindarlans in warehouse w/ undead.
1/29/1998 Dinner with Her Darkling Eminence.
2/11/1998 Guards come for Sharada, talk with Markander.
2/26/1998 Enter time-lost valley, fight with giant bone construct.
3/12/1998 In black tower, fight with crystal spiders. Tao dies and is raised, Martyn stoned.
4/8/1998 Rescue Ioun, restart time.
4/20/1998 Head out into the desert for Tovag Baragu
Unfortunately it ends around 4/20/98 because after that I switched to keeping these electronically, and those files are on a machine that has long since disappeared into the void. There's about another year of runs that I have in my head and hope to log someday (ha!) including the final crossing of the desert to Tovag Baragu, the extraordinary gathering that occurred there, the specatcular climax to the Comet Cycle, and the year or two (game time) of miscellaneous adventures that occupied the Defenders after the Comet but before Eversink. Eltariel retired into research for a way to return to his home plane shortly before the Story Hours here begin (with Eversink) so fortunately that is all covered already.
7/2/1997 Eltariel's crash landing in Gordie's Hole, joined the Defenders & fought the Masters
7/9/1997 Travel to Queenstown, attacked by sabreclaws
7/24/1997 (Alternative PCs) Group of guards attack and destroy a Sabeclaw pit
8/5/1997 Defeat another wing of saberclaws in Queenstown. Meet Kidd (assassin of Toraz)
8/28/1997 Hideous hasted hydra ambush by Wynt & Kidd. Defenders routed.
9/4/1997 Tom-Tom kills Wynt. Another ambush by Kidd, Kidd is slain.
9/17/1997 Show up in Tradesbreak. Mara joins group.
10/6/1997 Battle w/demons in inn. Alix falls into Mt. Celestia.
10/23/1997 Research in Tradesbreak, attempt to rescue Alix.
10/27/1997 Shadows attack. Visit by Hagiok. Alix's funeral.
11/10/1997 Battle against Mang raiders.
11/25/1997 Interrogate the Mang, travel back to inn, read book.
12/30/1997 Wander city of Gecko, meet Sarah and Dry Marta
1/15/1998 Ambush group of Imbindarlans in warehouse w/ undead.
1/29/1998 Dinner with Her Darkling Eminence.
2/11/1998 Guards come for Sharada, talk with Markander.
2/26/1998 Enter time-lost valley, fight with giant bone construct.
3/12/1998 In black tower, fight with crystal spiders. Tao dies and is raised, Martyn stoned.
4/8/1998 Rescue Ioun, restart time.
4/20/1998 Head out into the desert for Tovag Baragu
Unfortunately it ends around 4/20/98 because after that I switched to keeping these electronically, and those files are on a machine that has long since disappeared into the void. There's about another year of runs that I have in my head and hope to log someday (ha!) including the final crossing of the desert to Tovag Baragu, the extraordinary gathering that occurred there, the specatcular climax to the Comet Cycle, and the year or two (game time) of miscellaneous adventures that occupied the Defenders after the Comet but before Eversink. Eltariel retired into research for a way to return to his home plane shortly before the Story Hours here begin (with Eversink) so fortunately that is all covered already.
Knightfall
World of Kulan DM
bump
Sialia
First Post
Dylrath and Teliaz
This storyhour written Nov 2001, (while the Defenders were in Eversink) regarding Dylrath's first private meeting with Teliaz. In which we see how Dylrath got himself in to this mess in the first place by allowing his tongue to be a lot more clever than he is.
The Professor of Thaumaturgic Divination was droning into the fifteenth section of the outline he had chalked on the board at the beginning of class, with no apparent end in sight.
Slouched in his chair, Dylrath idly wondered what it would feel like to slide a short sword into the man's guts and up through his chest.
Dylrath blinked. A moment ago he had been idly wondering whether there would be crab cakes or herring for lunch. Something . . . he turned to look out the window.
Teliaz.
Oh crap.
Teliaz was standing there looking in, looking into the classroom and directly at him.
Torazite, ptah, Dylrath thought. I hate that about them.
Ordinarily, Dylrath knew when anyone was looking at him. Ordinarily, Dylrath knew exactly who was watching him all the time. He'd spent a wish on that gift.
But Torazite assassins had god-granted obscurity to scrying, which worked even on Dylrath's talent. Who knew how long the living son of Toraz, God of Murder, had been standing out there in the courtyard, staring at him? Dylrath felt kind of ill at the thought. He raised his hand.
"Professor? May I be excused? I feel kind of ill. Like I'm about to be really unwell."
The professor barely flickered an eyebrow in Dylrath's direction. Young master Birdhouse's tardiness and absences were legendary around the school. As were his excuses. The professor did not have time to have his lecture usurped by another example. "Excused. Exam in two days, clear?"
"Yessir. Very clear, sir." Dylrath said, thinking it was the only
concise thing the professor had said all morning. Also, that he was actually hoping he'd get a chance to show up for that exam, ready or not.
Dylrath left the classroom wondering where he would go. He had been hunted by Torazite assassins before and had only survived because the Defenders of Daybreak had been willing to walk into a deathtrap to haul his butt out of a cage full of brown mold.
Getting to his Room seemed the most sensible idea, but also a predictable one, and there were yards of corridor to pass, and a courtyard to cross.
He had also traveled with Teliaz before, on the way to Tovag Barugu, when there was little choice about the matter. He couldn't say he knew Teliaz well, but the pimply-faced godling, who oozed poison from his pores, had been an unpleasant companion, and one the whole party had wholeheartedly approved of shoving through a portal into the middle of a
desert full of thri-kreen and abandoning at the first opportunity.
Dylrath didn't expect the reunion to be a particularly joyous one.
He wondered why he had left the relative sanctuary of the classroom, and then decided that a room full of fourth form divination students and an elderly professor would be more liability than protection.
Dylrath was considerably older and tougher than most of his classmates, and he liked most of them. If I'm going to have to deal with Teliaz, he thought, I've got to do it as far away from people I like as possible.
He wondered just how long it would take Teliaz just hanging around the courtyard to make the students mob the professor and cantrip him to death. Teliaz had that effect on people.
He swallowed, and made his way cautiously to the end of the corridor.
He stood in front of the door, thinking. Teliaz saw me in the room.
Teliaz knows I have to walk through this door to get outside. He'll be ready if I go through it. I won't survive going through it.
And then he heard Teliaz’s oily voice through the door. "Master Birdhouse? A moment of your time."
It was sort of a request, as if a request were being made by somebody who was in the habit of making demands and giving orders, not making requests.
There was definitely something odd about the intonation.
It didn’t sound like a threat, for one thing.
Dylrath thought, as rapidly as possible. I've got to get to the
Defenders. I definitely don't want to go this alone. But the door to the room that held his scrying mirror was in his closet, across the courtyard and up two flights of stairs. I can't get there.
"Teliaz, old pal. I'd love to hear all about it, but I'm, uh, concerned about just walking out to meet you, imagine that. Um. Whatdya say you give me a moment or two to, uh, prepare some defenses, as a gesture of good faith?"
"Whatever."
This storyhour written Nov 2001, (while the Defenders were in Eversink) regarding Dylrath's first private meeting with Teliaz. In which we see how Dylrath got himself in to this mess in the first place by allowing his tongue to be a lot more clever than he is.
The Professor of Thaumaturgic Divination was droning into the fifteenth section of the outline he had chalked on the board at the beginning of class, with no apparent end in sight.
Slouched in his chair, Dylrath idly wondered what it would feel like to slide a short sword into the man's guts and up through his chest.
Dylrath blinked. A moment ago he had been idly wondering whether there would be crab cakes or herring for lunch. Something . . . he turned to look out the window.
Teliaz.
Oh crap.
Teliaz was standing there looking in, looking into the classroom and directly at him.
Torazite, ptah, Dylrath thought. I hate that about them.
Ordinarily, Dylrath knew when anyone was looking at him. Ordinarily, Dylrath knew exactly who was watching him all the time. He'd spent a wish on that gift.
But Torazite assassins had god-granted obscurity to scrying, which worked even on Dylrath's talent. Who knew how long the living son of Toraz, God of Murder, had been standing out there in the courtyard, staring at him? Dylrath felt kind of ill at the thought. He raised his hand.
"Professor? May I be excused? I feel kind of ill. Like I'm about to be really unwell."
The professor barely flickered an eyebrow in Dylrath's direction. Young master Birdhouse's tardiness and absences were legendary around the school. As were his excuses. The professor did not have time to have his lecture usurped by another example. "Excused. Exam in two days, clear?"
"Yessir. Very clear, sir." Dylrath said, thinking it was the only
concise thing the professor had said all morning. Also, that he was actually hoping he'd get a chance to show up for that exam, ready or not.
Dylrath left the classroom wondering where he would go. He had been hunted by Torazite assassins before and had only survived because the Defenders of Daybreak had been willing to walk into a deathtrap to haul his butt out of a cage full of brown mold.
Getting to his Room seemed the most sensible idea, but also a predictable one, and there were yards of corridor to pass, and a courtyard to cross.
He had also traveled with Teliaz before, on the way to Tovag Barugu, when there was little choice about the matter. He couldn't say he knew Teliaz well, but the pimply-faced godling, who oozed poison from his pores, had been an unpleasant companion, and one the whole party had wholeheartedly approved of shoving through a portal into the middle of a
desert full of thri-kreen and abandoning at the first opportunity.
Dylrath didn't expect the reunion to be a particularly joyous one.
He wondered why he had left the relative sanctuary of the classroom, and then decided that a room full of fourth form divination students and an elderly professor would be more liability than protection.
Dylrath was considerably older and tougher than most of his classmates, and he liked most of them. If I'm going to have to deal with Teliaz, he thought, I've got to do it as far away from people I like as possible.
He wondered just how long it would take Teliaz just hanging around the courtyard to make the students mob the professor and cantrip him to death. Teliaz had that effect on people.
He swallowed, and made his way cautiously to the end of the corridor.
He stood in front of the door, thinking. Teliaz saw me in the room.
Teliaz knows I have to walk through this door to get outside. He'll be ready if I go through it. I won't survive going through it.
And then he heard Teliaz’s oily voice through the door. "Master Birdhouse? A moment of your time."
It was sort of a request, as if a request were being made by somebody who was in the habit of making demands and giving orders, not making requests.
There was definitely something odd about the intonation.
It didn’t sound like a threat, for one thing.
Dylrath thought, as rapidly as possible. I've got to get to the
Defenders. I definitely don't want to go this alone. But the door to the room that held his scrying mirror was in his closet, across the courtyard and up two flights of stairs. I can't get there.
"Teliaz, old pal. I'd love to hear all about it, but I'm, uh, concerned about just walking out to meet you, imagine that. Um. Whatdya say you give me a moment or two to, uh, prepare some defenses, as a gesture of good faith?"
"Whatever."
Last edited:
Sialia
First Post
Hytarlyd
Dylrath leaned against the wall opposite the door and thought. The last time he had been alone with a really powerful Toraz worshipper--the time he had almost died in the cage full of brown mold because even though the Defenders had come for him, they hadn't come quite in time--the mirror had also been out of his reach.
Ordinarily he had to walk in through the open door to the mirror room before he could command Htarlyd to open a portal to somewhere. But that one time, when he really needed it,
Htarlyd had come to him and opened the door just where he needed it to open, just in the nick of time.
Well, if it worked once, it was worth a second try. And he knew Htarlyd a lot better these days. A lot better.
He closed his eyes and focused.
And then he stepped forward into a room full of warm light.
What a relief.
"Howdy boss!" his reflection in the mirror said, looking up from a
scroll full of decorative pictures of young women, and grinning. "What can I do for you?"
"Velendo please, and quickly."
It hardly took a moment for Htarlyd to locate the old man. "No problem. Ask me another."
"In a minute. Wait here, I'll be right back."
Dylrath leaned against the wall opposite the door and thought. The last time he had been alone with a really powerful Toraz worshipper--the time he had almost died in the cage full of brown mold because even though the Defenders had come for him, they hadn't come quite in time--the mirror had also been out of his reach.
Ordinarily he had to walk in through the open door to the mirror room before he could command Htarlyd to open a portal to somewhere. But that one time, when he really needed it,
Htarlyd had come to him and opened the door just where he needed it to open, just in the nick of time.
Well, if it worked once, it was worth a second try. And he knew Htarlyd a lot better these days. A lot better.
He closed his eyes and focused.
And then he stepped forward into a room full of warm light.
What a relief.
"Howdy boss!" his reflection in the mirror said, looking up from a
scroll full of decorative pictures of young women, and grinning. "What can I do for you?"
"Velendo please, and quickly."
It hardly took a moment for Htarlyd to locate the old man. "No problem. Ask me another."
"In a minute. Wait here, I'll be right back."
Sialia
First Post
Velendo
Velendo had not been especially helpful. Touchingly concerned, yes, but not especially helpful.
“ ‘. . .jolly him along,’ he says” said Dylrath. “’Act sympathetic,’ he said. ‘until I can think of something else,’” he repeated to Hytarlyd, and then added as an afterthought, although it wasn’t clear whether this was part of the quotation or not, “Oy.”
“He was in the middle of a combat, wasn’t he boss?”
“So he was a little busy.”
Htarlyd and Dylrath practiced giving each other the Deltarian eyebrow for a minute.
“Ok, fine,” they both said simultaneously, giving it up.
And then, realizing there was no further sleuth work to be done by thwarted scrying, and that leaving a bored Teliaz hanging around the schoolyard was a risk to everything in it, “Ready when you are.”
Htarlyd opened the door. Dylrath stepped through.
Velendo had not been especially helpful. Touchingly concerned, yes, but not especially helpful.
“ ‘. . .jolly him along,’ he says” said Dylrath. “’Act sympathetic,’ he said. ‘until I can think of something else,’” he repeated to Hytarlyd, and then added as an afterthought, although it wasn’t clear whether this was part of the quotation or not, “Oy.”
“He was in the middle of a combat, wasn’t he boss?”
“So he was a little busy.”
Htarlyd and Dylrath practiced giving each other the Deltarian eyebrow for a minute.
“Ok, fine,” they both said simultaneously, giving it up.
And then, realizing there was no further sleuth work to be done by thwarted scrying, and that leaving a bored Teliaz hanging around the schoolyard was a risk to everything in it, “Ready when you are.”
Htarlyd opened the door. Dylrath stepped through.
Negative Zero
First Post
wow
was that an ... UPDATE???
gawsh
i dunno what to say
thrilled i am ... really!
me likes
me would like to likes summore, please?
~NegZ
was that an ... UPDATE???
gawsh
i dunno what to say
thrilled i am ... really!
me likes
me would like to likes summore, please?
~NegZ
Sialia
First Post
Dylrath gives Teliaz The Big Idea
It was all a little blurry afterwards. Dylrath could never quite recall how the conversation had started, or at what moment he had taken leave of his senses and allowed his mouth to start thinking for him. Sure he’d shared a couple of beers with the guy, but he was sure he’d been sober at the time. He was certain Teliaz was sober--heck, with his immunity to poisons, the poor kid couldn’t help himself.
He remembered Teliaz whining about being depressed, abused, miserable, etc. etc. He remembered that Teliaz had said that . . . had said . . . how did it go?
“They want me to mastermind your friends' death. *Everyone*
hates them: Yorrine, my Dad, Imbindarla, Orthyss, everyone. They want me to do this and that, here and there. I hate being manipulated.
And Dylrath had replied easily enough, "Sounds like a slacker's daydream assignment to me. As long as they're stuck either going to the White Kingdom or getting executed by T'Cri, seems like there's little point in working up a sweat. Hardly worth planning anything grandiose when they can take care of getting themselves killed all by themselves and you can take credit for it.”
He remembered a vague and giddy sense of elation at that point, as the flow of words coursed out of him. Jollying. Sympathizing. Per my instructions. Also buying the Defenders some short time to be forewarned. Talking Teliaz into blowing it off as long as possible can’t hurt.
It was like a really beautiful aircurrent under the Outgrabe. He remembered abandoning his sense of reality to the entracing music of his own words and hoping against hope that Teliaz would, too. Hey this sort of thing always worked for Nolin, right? And Alix. Alix could do this in his eternal sleep. Why not go for it. The really big scam is always harder to get caught at than the petty one. Murder one man and get sent to prison. Send troops into battle and be a king.
"What you need," Dylrath said, "is to get out of your Dad's house. You need your own place. Your own thing."
"First of all, you gotta realize by now, he can't be grooming you to take over the family business. There's only room for one God
of Murder, and he isn't about to retire and hand you the keys to the shop, is he? Which means you're gonna be his lackey _forever_. "
"Second, his worshippers are mostly losers and if you did knock him off and take over, you'd have to listen to them whining for the rest of eternity. Spare me."
"I mean, if you were a god in your own right, you'd be able to grant wishes and stuff, right? So you could wish yourself a suit of less bugrepellent skin and a set of hot babe priestesses, and you'd be all set."
"But a god needs worshippers, and some sort of domain that doesn't tread on some other god's turf. And while you're at it, I'd go fishing for a set of worshippers I felt like hanging out with. People who's petitions were actually interesting."
"If it were me, I'd go grab the franchise for being the God of Suicidal Hobbies. First of all, I don't think there is one already. No, no, not the God of Suicide--yuck--if there's any group of folks more pathetic and whining than murderers, it's got to be suicides. Nah, I'm talking about people who don't wanna die, they just wanna do stuff for fun that has a high probability of getting them killed or maimed. Daredevils."
"Think of it this way: I'm careening down a mountain on the Outgrabe, and I hit a rock I wasn't expecting, and what's the first thing I think: "Ohgodohgodohgod!"
"And you know I'm not talking to Calphas because you know what he'd say: 'Get off the flying lumber and WALK, you moron.' Calphas, I love him, and I've got this sweetheart deal with him that as long as I stay a worshipper my lungs keep working--but his idea of protecting folks can be kind of stifling, you know? Stay out of trouble is great advice, but you just can't really live that way, you know?”
“Anyway, if I were the kind of god who answered that kind of prayer with an improbable survival, just this one last time, I'd have a bucket of worshipers in short order. "
"And the great thing is, the longer you keep people alive, the longer they go around worshipping you and converting others and stuff like that. Y'all can always take back your favor if they push it too hard or don't pay their tithes, or whatever."
Dylrath took a sip, and thought for a moment. Well, it felt like thinking, had there been any actually thinking invovled.
"For that matter, the Defenders all know they trip to the White Kingdom is a suicide mission--that's why T'Cri agreed to let them take it on as part of their death sentence. So they're all about to go engage in a suicidal activity."
"OK, so it's not a hobby, per se, since most of them are career adventurers, but there might be some flex in your demesnes.
I'm not saying you want to do them any favors, but it'd be a hell of a group to have in your debt, wouldn't it? And it would gall your dad no end, I'm sure. "
"The point is, you start off with something small, like 'dangerous
hobbies' so the other Big Gods don't feel a need to pay too much attention until you get going and wind up the God of Adventurers. I mean, who's gonna have more powerful worshippers than the God of Adventurers?
Sweet."
Teliez had looked . . . impressed? Suprised? Interested at least.
Dylrath was still talking, so he must still be breathing, so Teliaz couldn't have lost patience with him just yet.
Dylrath mused, almost to himself “. . .probably want to be Neutral at least, so I didn't have to worry about whether folks were being 'true to their ideals' and all that. When you're messing with probabilities, it's probably best to be even handed about who you screw up and who you save--the daring
of the stunt is the thing, not why they're doing it. But that's just me. Grandiose moralizing always gets me down."
And at last Teliaz interrupted. “You think that could work?”
And Dylrath had replied, “It couldn't hurt, could it?”
Teliaz looked skeptical.
Dylrath felt the twist in the terrain and knew that this was the moment to either shift his weight a bit, or crash into the hill in a truly painful way. Bailing out never crossed his mind. Where was there to bail out to?
“I'm just guessing,” he started up again, pouring Teliaz another useless beer, and himself another that made him feel better at least, “a guy with your native gifts, well, poisons don't do much to you, do they? So getting drunk to drown your sorrows isn't much of an option is it? Or even faery dragon breath? Pity.”
“But speed, that's the thing.”
“Acceleration isn't a poison, though it'll kill you just as neat. But if it doesn't kill ya' and you stick the landing, whoa, now there's a rush. There's great cliff diving not far from here. And I knew a barbarian once who liked riding stampeding herd beasts. And a guy from the Theocracy who said they had some deal with ice and long metal runners. Oh yeah--and there was a sailor told me about standing in a dinghy, shooting a harpoon into a leviathan, getting yanked out of the boat and then getting dragged a couple of leagues standing on the wake. "
"Ok, I think he was swappin' fibs."
" But there's got to be dozens of ways to get there, and a guy like you, well, I'll bet you're pretty damn hard to kill. So you might as well try out a few things and see what ya like. Kill a few hours, blow off some steam and give your dad a headache. Even if you don't decide to be God of Lethal Amusements, it's bound to be a good time."
Teliez stared into his beer in a pensive way. “I suppose. Where would you start?”
Dylrath hemmed. “Um. Someplace with a lot of adventures in it? I dunno. You're the half-God: extend your senses and find a big group of them."
Teliez looked up, and to Dylrath’s surprise there was a fiercely interested, and scarily determined glint in his eyes. “ I.. I will! I'll defy my father. I will make my own path!”
And then he was gone.
Only a creepy echoing voice lingered in the hall. “I will praise you, Dylrath, because I think you've found me my calling. You'll see me again.”
“Oh.” Dylrath said. “Calphas and Alianna in a hotspring. What have I done?”
It was all a little blurry afterwards. Dylrath could never quite recall how the conversation had started, or at what moment he had taken leave of his senses and allowed his mouth to start thinking for him. Sure he’d shared a couple of beers with the guy, but he was sure he’d been sober at the time. He was certain Teliaz was sober--heck, with his immunity to poisons, the poor kid couldn’t help himself.
He remembered Teliaz whining about being depressed, abused, miserable, etc. etc. He remembered that Teliaz had said that . . . had said . . . how did it go?
“They want me to mastermind your friends' death. *Everyone*
hates them: Yorrine, my Dad, Imbindarla, Orthyss, everyone. They want me to do this and that, here and there. I hate being manipulated.
And Dylrath had replied easily enough, "Sounds like a slacker's daydream assignment to me. As long as they're stuck either going to the White Kingdom or getting executed by T'Cri, seems like there's little point in working up a sweat. Hardly worth planning anything grandiose when they can take care of getting themselves killed all by themselves and you can take credit for it.”
He remembered a vague and giddy sense of elation at that point, as the flow of words coursed out of him. Jollying. Sympathizing. Per my instructions. Also buying the Defenders some short time to be forewarned. Talking Teliaz into blowing it off as long as possible can’t hurt.
It was like a really beautiful aircurrent under the Outgrabe. He remembered abandoning his sense of reality to the entracing music of his own words and hoping against hope that Teliaz would, too. Hey this sort of thing always worked for Nolin, right? And Alix. Alix could do this in his eternal sleep. Why not go for it. The really big scam is always harder to get caught at than the petty one. Murder one man and get sent to prison. Send troops into battle and be a king.
"What you need," Dylrath said, "is to get out of your Dad's house. You need your own place. Your own thing."
"First of all, you gotta realize by now, he can't be grooming you to take over the family business. There's only room for one God
of Murder, and he isn't about to retire and hand you the keys to the shop, is he? Which means you're gonna be his lackey _forever_. "
"Second, his worshippers are mostly losers and if you did knock him off and take over, you'd have to listen to them whining for the rest of eternity. Spare me."
"I mean, if you were a god in your own right, you'd be able to grant wishes and stuff, right? So you could wish yourself a suit of less bugrepellent skin and a set of hot babe priestesses, and you'd be all set."
"But a god needs worshippers, and some sort of domain that doesn't tread on some other god's turf. And while you're at it, I'd go fishing for a set of worshippers I felt like hanging out with. People who's petitions were actually interesting."
"If it were me, I'd go grab the franchise for being the God of Suicidal Hobbies. First of all, I don't think there is one already. No, no, not the God of Suicide--yuck--if there's any group of folks more pathetic and whining than murderers, it's got to be suicides. Nah, I'm talking about people who don't wanna die, they just wanna do stuff for fun that has a high probability of getting them killed or maimed. Daredevils."
"Think of it this way: I'm careening down a mountain on the Outgrabe, and I hit a rock I wasn't expecting, and what's the first thing I think: "Ohgodohgodohgod!"
"And you know I'm not talking to Calphas because you know what he'd say: 'Get off the flying lumber and WALK, you moron.' Calphas, I love him, and I've got this sweetheart deal with him that as long as I stay a worshipper my lungs keep working--but his idea of protecting folks can be kind of stifling, you know? Stay out of trouble is great advice, but you just can't really live that way, you know?”
“Anyway, if I were the kind of god who answered that kind of prayer with an improbable survival, just this one last time, I'd have a bucket of worshipers in short order. "
"And the great thing is, the longer you keep people alive, the longer they go around worshipping you and converting others and stuff like that. Y'all can always take back your favor if they push it too hard or don't pay their tithes, or whatever."
Dylrath took a sip, and thought for a moment. Well, it felt like thinking, had there been any actually thinking invovled.
"For that matter, the Defenders all know they trip to the White Kingdom is a suicide mission--that's why T'Cri agreed to let them take it on as part of their death sentence. So they're all about to go engage in a suicidal activity."
"OK, so it's not a hobby, per se, since most of them are career adventurers, but there might be some flex in your demesnes.
I'm not saying you want to do them any favors, but it'd be a hell of a group to have in your debt, wouldn't it? And it would gall your dad no end, I'm sure. "
"The point is, you start off with something small, like 'dangerous
hobbies' so the other Big Gods don't feel a need to pay too much attention until you get going and wind up the God of Adventurers. I mean, who's gonna have more powerful worshippers than the God of Adventurers?
Sweet."
Teliez had looked . . . impressed? Suprised? Interested at least.
Dylrath was still talking, so he must still be breathing, so Teliaz couldn't have lost patience with him just yet.
Dylrath mused, almost to himself “. . .probably want to be Neutral at least, so I didn't have to worry about whether folks were being 'true to their ideals' and all that. When you're messing with probabilities, it's probably best to be even handed about who you screw up and who you save--the daring
of the stunt is the thing, not why they're doing it. But that's just me. Grandiose moralizing always gets me down."
And at last Teliaz interrupted. “You think that could work?”
And Dylrath had replied, “It couldn't hurt, could it?”
Teliaz looked skeptical.
Dylrath felt the twist in the terrain and knew that this was the moment to either shift his weight a bit, or crash into the hill in a truly painful way. Bailing out never crossed his mind. Where was there to bail out to?
“I'm just guessing,” he started up again, pouring Teliaz another useless beer, and himself another that made him feel better at least, “a guy with your native gifts, well, poisons don't do much to you, do they? So getting drunk to drown your sorrows isn't much of an option is it? Or even faery dragon breath? Pity.”
“But speed, that's the thing.”
“Acceleration isn't a poison, though it'll kill you just as neat. But if it doesn't kill ya' and you stick the landing, whoa, now there's a rush. There's great cliff diving not far from here. And I knew a barbarian once who liked riding stampeding herd beasts. And a guy from the Theocracy who said they had some deal with ice and long metal runners. Oh yeah--and there was a sailor told me about standing in a dinghy, shooting a harpoon into a leviathan, getting yanked out of the boat and then getting dragged a couple of leagues standing on the wake. "
"Ok, I think he was swappin' fibs."
" But there's got to be dozens of ways to get there, and a guy like you, well, I'll bet you're pretty damn hard to kill. So you might as well try out a few things and see what ya like. Kill a few hours, blow off some steam and give your dad a headache. Even if you don't decide to be God of Lethal Amusements, it's bound to be a good time."
Teliez stared into his beer in a pensive way. “I suppose. Where would you start?”
Dylrath hemmed. “Um. Someplace with a lot of adventures in it? I dunno. You're the half-God: extend your senses and find a big group of them."
Teliez looked up, and to Dylrath’s surprise there was a fiercely interested, and scarily determined glint in his eyes. “ I.. I will! I'll defy my father. I will make my own path!”
And then he was gone.
Only a creepy echoing voice lingered in the hall. “I will praise you, Dylrath, because I think you've found me my calling. You'll see me again.”
“Oh.” Dylrath said. “Calphas and Alianna in a hotspring. What have I done?”
Last edited:
Sollir Furryfoot
Explorer
I don't believe i've posted in this thread before but, Sialia: very very awesome, inbetween 2 updates here and 2 updates with Piratecat's storyhour, I'm in a gamer's euphoria
I just love the conversation inbetween Dylrath and Teliaz, very very amusing. Oh well, if Dylrath is lucky, maybe he'll get a Chosen template (and they thought being a Chosen of Mystra was tough...)
I just love the conversation inbetween Dylrath and Teliaz, very very amusing. Oh well, if Dylrath is lucky, maybe he'll get a Chosen template (and they thought being a Chosen of Mystra was tough...)
Sialia
First Post
In Which Dylrath Thinks it Over, and Finds that it is Not.
Over, That Is.
-------------------------------------------
The minute Teliaz was completely gone, and verifiably completely gone, Dylrath retreated to the santuary of the mirror room and closed the portal. In the privacy of his own little demiplane, Dylrath gave himself over to contemplation, and a good case of the shakes.
"Bad ride, boss?" Htarlyd asked, cooperatively mirroring Dylrath sitting on the floor shaking, but managing to pause every so often to scroll forward a picture or two in his book.
"'Salright," Dylrath replied.
But it wasn't.
"Any chance you were watching and can play that last bit back for me?" Dylrath said. "You know, the part where I told Teliaz to go . . . become a god and all that?"
"Nope. You didn't say. Only said to listen for you in case you needed a door opened suddenly." Htarlyd turned the scroll sideways to appreciate an angle the artist hadn't thought would fit in the usual orientation.
"You told him to do what?" the reflection said suddenly, putting down the scroll and looking straight back at Dylrath.
Dylrath tried to repeat what he'd said. Htarlyd got into synch at last and started copying Dylrath's every motion, the way a reflection was supposed to.
"Whoa," it said at last when Dylrath was finished.
"Whoa," Dylrath echoed.
They opened a wineskin and drank a couple good slugs, simultaneously.
"Velendo?" Htarlyd asked at last.
"Velendo," Dylrath agreed. "But . . . let's have a few more of these first."
"Next rounds on me," said Htarlyd, reaching in to the reflection of Dylrath's winerack. Dylrath copied him, only picking a different vintage. Htarlyd scowled, but adjusted the reflection of what was left in the winerack accordingly.
Htarlyd didn't adjust the reflection of what was in his hand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Apart from nearly strangling Dylrath when he confessed what he’d done, Velendo took the news with his usual aplomb.
"I'm gonna help him," Dylrath tried to explain. "I can do this. Who better than me? I helped Alix, right? Alix never would have gone bad if I'd been there--I always knew that. Claris and I kept him on track. "
"But Alix never made you want to kill people," Velendo said. "Apart from Alix. Teliaz corrupts everyone around him."
"So protect me. Protect me from Evil--or bless the Outgrabe or something. I said I was gonna do it, and it's too late to back out now."
Dylrath stared at the floor. "Look, "I was praying to Calphas to give Teliaz some guidance the first time out saving foolhardy daredevils, and I imagined Calphas saying 'You want somebody to chaperone that crazy kid, YOU do it. You got him into this.' I mean, it seemed like the sort of thing he would say."
" So, I'm, um, gonna do it. I may be a misguided fool, but there it is. I've made a career of being a fool, and so I may as well go for being the biggest one of all time."
Velendo looked thoughtful, and said nothing for a moment.
Then, "Dylrath, you are many things, but a misguided fool you are not. You didn't invite these advances of Teliaz, and no mortal deserves to be put in the position that you're in now. And I think you've made the best of a bad situation so far. I wish we had more time to help you out with it. "
" I don't know what Calphas would think about trying to rehabilitate Teliaz. My gut tells me He'd approve, but His mind is not always clear to me, even after all these years."
"I hardly think you will make things worse than they are right now. But I'll burn some life energy on a Commune, just in case."
"And while I'm at it, give me that Outgrabe for a few hours. I'll see what I can do."
----------------------------------------------------
"He's going to kill me. This time he's really going to kill me," Dylrath thought. He gasped like a fish, but had no breath to say the words that echoed in his head like a mantra of pain. “I am not going to survive this.”
His arms felt like lead weights.
Like burning lead weights.
Which was nothing next to the feeling in his lungs.
"All those years he says he can't turn me into a bird and take me flying 'cause he's afraid he'll kill me. Today he has to come in with 'I've got a jolly new spell and I think it'll be perfectly safe, let's give it a whirl lad.' I'm gonna kill him. I'm just gonna kill him. If I ever catch up "
Arcade was circling lazily, waiting for him. Just as he pulled up, or rather, just as Dylrath got within a hundred feet of him, Arcade took off, again. For the fourth time. Dylrath had been convinced he was finished the second time Arcade had had to wait for him, but had never had a moment to rest before Arcade took off again, still climbing. "I can't believe it. Where is he going? I'll (hhhhhhhuhh) kill him (wheeeeeeeze).."
At last, after some unbelievable minutes of agony, Arcade actually landed on a rock outcrop, settling his wings comfortably, and looking cheerful.
Minutes later Dylrath finally staggered up to the outcrop, disbelieving that Arcade was actually going to sit there and wait for him this time. "I'll give him a piece of my mind, I will," Dylrath thought, gasping like a fish and wondering if he'd ever catch his breath long enough to do it. He glared furiously at Arcade.
Arcade, smiling insufferably, stretched a little and said "Before you say one word, I want you to turn around and look at the view."
Behind them, the valley fell away for miles and miles and miles. They could see the village down on the valley below, and the tiny cathedrals. They could see the lake shining beyond the end of the valley, and the shore on the other side, and the mountains that rose up on the other side of that far valley, pale and blue in the distance. It was worth it. Whatever it had taken it was worth it. Did we really climb all that long way? Dylrath wondered, his anger as stripped away by his wonder as his breath had been by the climb.
"Ok, so, I'll give you that," Dylrath finally managed, "But you never said it would be so much work."
"Foolish lad. Anything really worthwhile is a lot of work. When are you going to learn that?"
"There are a lot of worthwhile things that are easier," Dylrath thought, but he didn't actually say it. He was still looking at the view.
"Right then," Arcade said, "Ready to go again?"
"In a minute," Dylrath said. "When does the sick to my stomach about to pass out feeling go away?"
“Hmm. While you were flying, or just now, afterward?"
"Uhh, now."
"Right, that's your heartbeat. It's trying to adjust to you sitting still. It'll pass. Better not to stop all at once, when you're not accustomed to working."
"Oh. Ok."
"Try doing some circles. There's a good updraft here, and you'll feel better if you keep moving."
And with a good deal of surprise to discover that his arms--er, wings--had not yet fallen off, Dylrath managed to lift off the rock shelf and start flying again. His head did feel clearer. And there was nice updraft. Flying is rather pleasant, when it's not all climbing, he thought. And the hills certainly do look different from up here.
Arcade circled lazily below him, enjoying his rare holiday from court politics and battling evildoers.
"Say," Dylrath finally managed to get out in a reasonably conversational tone of voice, "What happens to all your stuff when you're transformed? Where is the Master of Space and Time, for example--and does he know where he is when you're like this?"
“Come now Dylrath,” Arcade replied, his voice mildly reproachful. “I’m certain you already covered that three terms ago.”
He actually pays attention to what I’m studying, eh? How on Spira does he find the time? Dylrath wondered.
“Among the many charms of personal transmutation, as you surely must recall, is the creation of a personal third-order interstitial holocomplex permitting incorporation of superficial matter into the morphic lattice.” Arcade languidly lectured, dipped a brown- tipped wing, carved a graceful S-curve, then paused.
“Hmm. I’ve never really thought to ask whether TMOSAT minds becoming dormant in such a fashion. Of course, there have been times when he avoided inquiring whether I minded being stuck in gray ethereal limbo before stranding me there for extended periods.” He sniffed, haughtily.
“Must be quite a comedown for him, huh?”
“Well, you know all about his delusions of grandeur,” Arcade laughed.
Look who’s talking anyway, Dyl thought.
“Ever since the trip to his home country all those years ago he’s been a bit subdued,” Arcade remarked. “Finding out that the people he once ruled have been despising him for so many generations that he’s now become a legendary villain must have been quite a shock.
“What did they call that special holiday again? Oh, yes. Stickbreaking Day! Heh Heh. I wonder what he must have done to them to deserve that. Apart from possessing their king of course.” Arcade chortled again.
Dylrath smiled, insofar as was possible with the . . . beak . . . thing on his . . . face . . . thing. Yup. That had been a good trip. All those years listening to TMOSAT brag about having been a king, and come to find out he’d been the most incompetent and despised king ever.
“He’s changed a lot over the years, hasn’t he?” said Dylrath. “Or has he? Can he?”
“Not really,” said Arcade. “ He still doesn’t really understand people. Comes from being made of wood, I suspect. Every once in a while he slips and calls me his ‘appendage’. I think it’s actually a good thing he’s retained a sense of independence. He saved me once by teleporting me to a healer after I lost consciousness. Do you remember that kenku, the Torazite Deathgranter?”
“Yeah, but . . .” Dylrath really didn’t want to get sidetracked, even though that story was good, too. “You get along with him different now, right? Is it you that’s changed? Does having him around change who you are? Or what?”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re driving at lad.” Arcade was plainly a bit puzzled. “We’ve never been really friendly with each other, and that hasn’t changed. It’s more a matter of each of us (or maybe just me) learning how to deal with the other’s eccentricities. TMOSAT pays more attention to me now than before, but probably only because he likes being associated with power, especially political power. I try never to forget that he can be very dangerous. He’s certainly a very useful tool, but he is not and will never be as reliable as a friend, or even a trusty dagger.”
As Arcade drifted on the wind, he mused quietly. “In some ways he reminds me of Alix. An ill-timed betrayal would never truly surprise me.” Taking a deep breath, he suddenly dropped sharply downward, only to rapidly rise again a few moments later wearing much larger wings. “That’s better,” he sighed. “You realize Dylrath, Htarlyd is a much stronger artifact than TMOSAT, and his personality will certainly strengthen as your power grows. How are you coping with him these days?”
“Whaddya mean ‘coping’? He’s basically just me--a little backwards, but not really up to anything I’m not up to. I mean, sure I can be a pain in the butt, but I don’t need to tell you what that’s like, right?”
“Hmm. Both of you have certainly changed since you met. Which one of you drives the changing?”
“Me, of course,” he said. “He’s just a reflection, right?”
And then, he thought about that for a bit.
When he’d met Htarlyd, he’d wanted to be a rogue and a world champion daredevil. Now he was a Diviner of all things. Here he was puffing and blowing after a little exercise ‘cause of all the hours he’d spent sitting on his butt studying.
Would he have ever gone down the path of Magic if Htarlyd hadn’t been bonded to him? Not bloody likely.
Htarlyd--or whatever its real name was--required a mage to really perform. And by the First Brick, it had damn well convinced him to turn himself into one.
Dylrath blinked.
There’s something to this thought--something else that’s useful about knowing this.
Hey, that blinking thing was cool. This body comes with extra eyelids.
He blinked again, in slow motion, just to see how it worked. Extra eyelids. Wild. Why? Then he had to try to remember what he’d been blinking about.
Then he smacked into the wall.
Dylrath had had lots of practice smacking into walls at high speed. He’d just never done it at 3000 feet before. “Ow,” didn’t quite seem to cover the sensation. It was more like “Owoooooooooooohsh*t.” As he plummeted, one part of his brain began to calculate the depth of the crater he would probably form on impact. He thrashed around madly, but couldn’t seem to remember which parts of this bizarre body did what. He experimentally extended a wing, and once again smashed into the cliff-side. Now thoroughly disoriented, he began to bounce down the mountain. “Ow! Ooof! Urgh! Umph!” With a final “ohsh*t,” he was catapulted over a precipice towards the rocks, thousands of feet below.
As suddenly as the catastrophe began, it was over. Dylrath found himself sinking slowly towards the ground, his battered body buoyed by magical force as Arcade swooped down and plucked him out of the air, shaking his head resignedly. A few short minutes later they were safely on the ground. As the spell ended, Dylrath could feel his cuts closing and bruises fading. Cool.
“Well,” grinned Arcade, “plainly you need a bit more practice, my boy. Same time tomorrow, eh? With a bit less falling, perhaps?”
“Hey, you know what I always say, ‘first step in learning to fly is getting the faceplant just right’,” Dylrath agreed. “Tomorrow, I stick the landing.”
“Indeed,”Arcade replied with a fatherly sigh.
“But, uh, just now, I gotta . . .” Gotta what? What was I thinking about? There was some idea . . . something about that dratted Teliaz problem--but what was it?
He half expected Arcade to give him the lecture about getting back up on the horse. As if falling ever put Dylrath off anything. Surely Arcade would know that by now . . .
“Quite all right, really. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
“Only one slotworth of that spell today, eh? No problem. We’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Dylrath said cheerfully. “And uh, thanks for the catch.”
“Anytime, lad. Anytime.”
Over, That Is.
-------------------------------------------
The minute Teliaz was completely gone, and verifiably completely gone, Dylrath retreated to the santuary of the mirror room and closed the portal. In the privacy of his own little demiplane, Dylrath gave himself over to contemplation, and a good case of the shakes.
"Bad ride, boss?" Htarlyd asked, cooperatively mirroring Dylrath sitting on the floor shaking, but managing to pause every so often to scroll forward a picture or two in his book.
"'Salright," Dylrath replied.
But it wasn't.
"Any chance you were watching and can play that last bit back for me?" Dylrath said. "You know, the part where I told Teliaz to go . . . become a god and all that?"
"Nope. You didn't say. Only said to listen for you in case you needed a door opened suddenly." Htarlyd turned the scroll sideways to appreciate an angle the artist hadn't thought would fit in the usual orientation.
"You told him to do what?" the reflection said suddenly, putting down the scroll and looking straight back at Dylrath.
Dylrath tried to repeat what he'd said. Htarlyd got into synch at last and started copying Dylrath's every motion, the way a reflection was supposed to.
"Whoa," it said at last when Dylrath was finished.
"Whoa," Dylrath echoed.
They opened a wineskin and drank a couple good slugs, simultaneously.
"Velendo?" Htarlyd asked at last.
"Velendo," Dylrath agreed. "But . . . let's have a few more of these first."
"Next rounds on me," said Htarlyd, reaching in to the reflection of Dylrath's winerack. Dylrath copied him, only picking a different vintage. Htarlyd scowled, but adjusted the reflection of what was left in the winerack accordingly.
Htarlyd didn't adjust the reflection of what was in his hand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Apart from nearly strangling Dylrath when he confessed what he’d done, Velendo took the news with his usual aplomb.
"I'm gonna help him," Dylrath tried to explain. "I can do this. Who better than me? I helped Alix, right? Alix never would have gone bad if I'd been there--I always knew that. Claris and I kept him on track. "
"But Alix never made you want to kill people," Velendo said. "Apart from Alix. Teliaz corrupts everyone around him."
"So protect me. Protect me from Evil--or bless the Outgrabe or something. I said I was gonna do it, and it's too late to back out now."
Dylrath stared at the floor. "Look, "I was praying to Calphas to give Teliaz some guidance the first time out saving foolhardy daredevils, and I imagined Calphas saying 'You want somebody to chaperone that crazy kid, YOU do it. You got him into this.' I mean, it seemed like the sort of thing he would say."
" So, I'm, um, gonna do it. I may be a misguided fool, but there it is. I've made a career of being a fool, and so I may as well go for being the biggest one of all time."
Velendo looked thoughtful, and said nothing for a moment.
Then, "Dylrath, you are many things, but a misguided fool you are not. You didn't invite these advances of Teliaz, and no mortal deserves to be put in the position that you're in now. And I think you've made the best of a bad situation so far. I wish we had more time to help you out with it. "
" I don't know what Calphas would think about trying to rehabilitate Teliaz. My gut tells me He'd approve, but His mind is not always clear to me, even after all these years."
"I hardly think you will make things worse than they are right now. But I'll burn some life energy on a Commune, just in case."
"And while I'm at it, give me that Outgrabe for a few hours. I'll see what I can do."
----------------------------------------------------
"He's going to kill me. This time he's really going to kill me," Dylrath thought. He gasped like a fish, but had no breath to say the words that echoed in his head like a mantra of pain. “I am not going to survive this.”
His arms felt like lead weights.
Like burning lead weights.
Which was nothing next to the feeling in his lungs.
"All those years he says he can't turn me into a bird and take me flying 'cause he's afraid he'll kill me. Today he has to come in with 'I've got a jolly new spell and I think it'll be perfectly safe, let's give it a whirl lad.' I'm gonna kill him. I'm just gonna kill him. If I ever catch up "
Arcade was circling lazily, waiting for him. Just as he pulled up, or rather, just as Dylrath got within a hundred feet of him, Arcade took off, again. For the fourth time. Dylrath had been convinced he was finished the second time Arcade had had to wait for him, but had never had a moment to rest before Arcade took off again, still climbing. "I can't believe it. Where is he going? I'll (hhhhhhhuhh) kill him (wheeeeeeeze).."
At last, after some unbelievable minutes of agony, Arcade actually landed on a rock outcrop, settling his wings comfortably, and looking cheerful.
Minutes later Dylrath finally staggered up to the outcrop, disbelieving that Arcade was actually going to sit there and wait for him this time. "I'll give him a piece of my mind, I will," Dylrath thought, gasping like a fish and wondering if he'd ever catch his breath long enough to do it. He glared furiously at Arcade.
Arcade, smiling insufferably, stretched a little and said "Before you say one word, I want you to turn around and look at the view."
Behind them, the valley fell away for miles and miles and miles. They could see the village down on the valley below, and the tiny cathedrals. They could see the lake shining beyond the end of the valley, and the shore on the other side, and the mountains that rose up on the other side of that far valley, pale and blue in the distance. It was worth it. Whatever it had taken it was worth it. Did we really climb all that long way? Dylrath wondered, his anger as stripped away by his wonder as his breath had been by the climb.
"Ok, so, I'll give you that," Dylrath finally managed, "But you never said it would be so much work."
"Foolish lad. Anything really worthwhile is a lot of work. When are you going to learn that?"
"There are a lot of worthwhile things that are easier," Dylrath thought, but he didn't actually say it. He was still looking at the view.
"Right then," Arcade said, "Ready to go again?"
"In a minute," Dylrath said. "When does the sick to my stomach about to pass out feeling go away?"
“Hmm. While you were flying, or just now, afterward?"
"Uhh, now."
"Right, that's your heartbeat. It's trying to adjust to you sitting still. It'll pass. Better not to stop all at once, when you're not accustomed to working."
"Oh. Ok."
"Try doing some circles. There's a good updraft here, and you'll feel better if you keep moving."
And with a good deal of surprise to discover that his arms--er, wings--had not yet fallen off, Dylrath managed to lift off the rock shelf and start flying again. His head did feel clearer. And there was nice updraft. Flying is rather pleasant, when it's not all climbing, he thought. And the hills certainly do look different from up here.
Arcade circled lazily below him, enjoying his rare holiday from court politics and battling evildoers.
"Say," Dylrath finally managed to get out in a reasonably conversational tone of voice, "What happens to all your stuff when you're transformed? Where is the Master of Space and Time, for example--and does he know where he is when you're like this?"
“Come now Dylrath,” Arcade replied, his voice mildly reproachful. “I’m certain you already covered that three terms ago.”
He actually pays attention to what I’m studying, eh? How on Spira does he find the time? Dylrath wondered.
“Among the many charms of personal transmutation, as you surely must recall, is the creation of a personal third-order interstitial holocomplex permitting incorporation of superficial matter into the morphic lattice.” Arcade languidly lectured, dipped a brown- tipped wing, carved a graceful S-curve, then paused.
“Hmm. I’ve never really thought to ask whether TMOSAT minds becoming dormant in such a fashion. Of course, there have been times when he avoided inquiring whether I minded being stuck in gray ethereal limbo before stranding me there for extended periods.” He sniffed, haughtily.
“Must be quite a comedown for him, huh?”
“Well, you know all about his delusions of grandeur,” Arcade laughed.
Look who’s talking anyway, Dyl thought.
“Ever since the trip to his home country all those years ago he’s been a bit subdued,” Arcade remarked. “Finding out that the people he once ruled have been despising him for so many generations that he’s now become a legendary villain must have been quite a shock.
“What did they call that special holiday again? Oh, yes. Stickbreaking Day! Heh Heh. I wonder what he must have done to them to deserve that. Apart from possessing their king of course.” Arcade chortled again.
Dylrath smiled, insofar as was possible with the . . . beak . . . thing on his . . . face . . . thing. Yup. That had been a good trip. All those years listening to TMOSAT brag about having been a king, and come to find out he’d been the most incompetent and despised king ever.
“He’s changed a lot over the years, hasn’t he?” said Dylrath. “Or has he? Can he?”
“Not really,” said Arcade. “ He still doesn’t really understand people. Comes from being made of wood, I suspect. Every once in a while he slips and calls me his ‘appendage’. I think it’s actually a good thing he’s retained a sense of independence. He saved me once by teleporting me to a healer after I lost consciousness. Do you remember that kenku, the Torazite Deathgranter?”
“Yeah, but . . .” Dylrath really didn’t want to get sidetracked, even though that story was good, too. “You get along with him different now, right? Is it you that’s changed? Does having him around change who you are? Or what?”
“I’m not quite sure what you’re driving at lad.” Arcade was plainly a bit puzzled. “We’ve never been really friendly with each other, and that hasn’t changed. It’s more a matter of each of us (or maybe just me) learning how to deal with the other’s eccentricities. TMOSAT pays more attention to me now than before, but probably only because he likes being associated with power, especially political power. I try never to forget that he can be very dangerous. He’s certainly a very useful tool, but he is not and will never be as reliable as a friend, or even a trusty dagger.”
As Arcade drifted on the wind, he mused quietly. “In some ways he reminds me of Alix. An ill-timed betrayal would never truly surprise me.” Taking a deep breath, he suddenly dropped sharply downward, only to rapidly rise again a few moments later wearing much larger wings. “That’s better,” he sighed. “You realize Dylrath, Htarlyd is a much stronger artifact than TMOSAT, and his personality will certainly strengthen as your power grows. How are you coping with him these days?”
“Whaddya mean ‘coping’? He’s basically just me--a little backwards, but not really up to anything I’m not up to. I mean, sure I can be a pain in the butt, but I don’t need to tell you what that’s like, right?”
“Hmm. Both of you have certainly changed since you met. Which one of you drives the changing?”
“Me, of course,” he said. “He’s just a reflection, right?”
And then, he thought about that for a bit.
When he’d met Htarlyd, he’d wanted to be a rogue and a world champion daredevil. Now he was a Diviner of all things. Here he was puffing and blowing after a little exercise ‘cause of all the hours he’d spent sitting on his butt studying.
Would he have ever gone down the path of Magic if Htarlyd hadn’t been bonded to him? Not bloody likely.
Htarlyd--or whatever its real name was--required a mage to really perform. And by the First Brick, it had damn well convinced him to turn himself into one.
Dylrath blinked.
There’s something to this thought--something else that’s useful about knowing this.
Hey, that blinking thing was cool. This body comes with extra eyelids.
He blinked again, in slow motion, just to see how it worked. Extra eyelids. Wild. Why? Then he had to try to remember what he’d been blinking about.
Then he smacked into the wall.
Dylrath had had lots of practice smacking into walls at high speed. He’d just never done it at 3000 feet before. “Ow,” didn’t quite seem to cover the sensation. It was more like “Owoooooooooooohsh*t.” As he plummeted, one part of his brain began to calculate the depth of the crater he would probably form on impact. He thrashed around madly, but couldn’t seem to remember which parts of this bizarre body did what. He experimentally extended a wing, and once again smashed into the cliff-side. Now thoroughly disoriented, he began to bounce down the mountain. “Ow! Ooof! Urgh! Umph!” With a final “ohsh*t,” he was catapulted over a precipice towards the rocks, thousands of feet below.
As suddenly as the catastrophe began, it was over. Dylrath found himself sinking slowly towards the ground, his battered body buoyed by magical force as Arcade swooped down and plucked him out of the air, shaking his head resignedly. A few short minutes later they were safely on the ground. As the spell ended, Dylrath could feel his cuts closing and bruises fading. Cool.
“Well,” grinned Arcade, “plainly you need a bit more practice, my boy. Same time tomorrow, eh? With a bit less falling, perhaps?”
“Hey, you know what I always say, ‘first step in learning to fly is getting the faceplant just right’,” Dylrath agreed. “Tomorrow, I stick the landing.”
“Indeed,”Arcade replied with a fatherly sigh.
“But, uh, just now, I gotta . . .” Gotta what? What was I thinking about? There was some idea . . . something about that dratted Teliaz problem--but what was it?
He half expected Arcade to give him the lecture about getting back up on the horse. As if falling ever put Dylrath off anything. Surely Arcade would know that by now . . .
“Quite all right, really. I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
“Only one slotworth of that spell today, eh? No problem. We’ll pick it up tomorrow,” Dylrath said cheerfully. “And uh, thanks for the catch.”
“Anytime, lad. Anytime.”
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