KidCthulhu
First Post
MavrickWeirdo said:
Imagine, hell, Sagiro does that to us on a regular basis. It's gratifying, frustrating and spooky.
Sagiro's Story Hour Returns (new thread started on 5/18/08)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Imagine, hell, Sagiro does that to us on a regular basis. It's gratifying, frustrating and spooky.
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
We now know why, but you can bet your socks we don't know WHY... and we sure as heck don't know what to do about it.Everett said:
In other words, we have learned why it is that cats like him. The answer is so unexpected, though, that there's going to be a fascinating explanation somewhere down the line. We just haven't found it yet.
Zaruthustran
The tingling means it’s working!
Dibs on "Aravis is an awakened cat (former familiar) that's been polymorphed into a human"!
!!!
-z
!!!
-z
MavrickWeirdo
First Post
MavrickWeirdo said:
KidCthulhu said:
Well yes, You don't have to imagine it. I was suggesting to the rest of us poor souls who aren't in Sagiro's game that we try to imagine such a thing happening.
MavrickWeirdo
First Post
A vivid imagination is it's own reward.Everett said:
Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 260
The Beans are Withheld
“Did we do it wrong? What happened?”
Ernie is almost frantic. Dranko stares at the cracked Eyes, unbelieving.
“This must have been the price of doing that plane shift,” says Grey Wolf. “The Eyes couldn’t hold themselves together.”
“Um,” says Dranko. “How are we going to get back?”
“I don’t know!” answers Ernie. “Where are we?”
Then two things happen in quick succession. First, the Sharshun Inivane appears again, standing next to the Company in the circle of Mirrors. His three Eyes of Moirel – Yellow, Orange and Indigo – immediately fall out of his magical circlet and bounce lifelessly on the ground. Inivane looks down at them, then looks up at the Company, who are staring back at him. Everyone, Inivane included, now has the same “Oh, s***” look on their faces.
Second, there is an extraordinarily bright flash of light from the center of the Mirrors, followed by a shockwave that blasts outward, setting the air rippling in an expanding circle. All assembled are knocked backward, lifted slightly off their feet, and rendered swiftly unconscious.
Presumably, some time passes.
* *
Aravis blinks. He’s lying on his back, staring upward at a partly-cloudy sky.
I’ve lost my empathic link with Pewter. But if he’s dead, I’d know it.
He sits up and looks around groggily. Around him are sprawled the bodies of his companions, as well as that of Inivane. His head feels like it’s stuffed with sawdust, and not only in an I’ve-just-been knocked-out kind of way. His brain feels dull, like he’s lost his intellectual edge. His greater arcane sight, working fine before the shockwave, is no longer active. Come to think of it, no one looks like birds anymore, though Kibi’s veil should have lasted hours yet. Lying a few feet from him are two of the now-inert Eyes of Moirel. He grabs them and puts them in his pack, where Pewter also lies, unconscious but breathing.
Kibi is the next to come around. Like Aravis he has lost his empathic link with his familiar; Scree is just a jumble of rocks next to him. To his great relief the earth elemental stirs a little bit as he watches. Kibi watches as Snokas sits up and rubs his temples; the half-orc immediately points at the still form of Inivane. Kibi pulls a rope from his pack, and the two of them start to tie up the Sharshun.
Aravis looks around for more of the Eyes, spots a third and pops it in his pack. This time Pewter’s eyes are open, and the cat is looking at his master with obvious concern. Aravis picks him up and set him on his own shoulder, whereupon Pewter starts to purr.
Dranko groans and get to his knees. “Oooooh, my head.”
“I’ve found three of the Eyes,” says Aravis, still searching.
“Find the others,” suggests Dranko. He looks at Inivane, who still hasn’t stirred. “Hey, can we kill him?”
“I wouldn’t,” says Aravis.
“We might need him,” adds Kibi.
“Nah, I’m sure we can find food elsewhere,” says Dranko. Aravis rolls his eyes. Seeing that Kibi and Snokas are doing something of an amateur job with the rope, Dranko calls to them: “Hey, I have manacles. Hold on a minute.”
He opens his Heward’s widemouth pouch and says ‘manacles.’
Nothing happens. He tries again with the same (lack of) result.
“I don’t think magic is working here,” says Aravis.
“Ahhhhhhh!” says Dranko, aghast.
“I feel the same way,” adds Aravis.
“No magic? None?”
“None.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Wait,” says Dranko. “Are our magic items ruined, or just... turned off for a while?”
“I don’t know,” concedes Aravis.
“No magic,” says Dranko, utterly horrified. He thinks of all the items, magic and otherwise, he keeps in the now defunct magic pouch.
“Stop whining and help me tie up this Sharshun,” says Kibi.
It takes Dranko all of five seconds to realize that Kibi’s knots are hopeless, and that Inivane will escape without even trying when he wakes up. Dranko does the job right, taking the time to hog-tie the Sharshun such that any attempt by the prisoner to straighten his legs will result in self-asphyxiation. He finishes just in time; Inivane wakes up, tries to stretch, and nearly chokes himself to death.
Dranko chuckles. “Just stay there for a little while, pal. So, how are you doing? Oh, wait, let me just relieve you of those weapons.”
While Inivane slowly regains consciousness, Dranko starts removing the dark elf’s weapons. Inivane’s eyes widen and he attains an expression of great concentration. The Company then remembers (and fears) that their foe might have a poison sac, and is trying to commit suicide. But the Sharshun doesn’t die, and instead, when nothing happens, he looks down at a ring on his finger. Dranko quickly moves to remove it, along with every other magical-looking item on his person. (Although, when he attempts to cast detect magic, it fails to function.)
Over the next minute the rest of the Company wake up, all with angry headaches. At Aravis’s direction they hunt around on the ground for the remainder of the Eyes, and soon they have a collection of seven cracked diamonds.
“Ok, brilliant wizards,” demands Dranko. “What just happened?”
“Not sure,” says Grey Wolf. “But perhaps we should move outside the Mirrors.”
So saying, he staggers out of the ring of obelisks. To everyone’s disappointment his magic items do not regain their function, though Grey Wolf thinks his armor may have become a bit lighter.
Dranko picks up Inivane and carries him out of the circle. The rest of the Company follows. The wizards’ empathic links with their familiars are still gone, the Eyes are still cracked, and all magic remains out of commission. Dang. Dranko shakes his wide-mouth pouch in frustration.
“Damn it! All of my stuff is in this bag. Well, at least no one can steal what’s inside.”
“See?” says Grey Wolf, smiling wryly. “You’re looking at the bright side.”
“That’s just great.” Dranko looks down at Inivane and nudges him with his foot.
“So, can you talk?”
“Yes,” answers Inivane, speaking Charagan common.
“Nice to see you again,’ says Dranko, smiling.
“I wish I could say the same.”
“I’m sure,” says Dranko. “You’ve been a busy boy since we let you free. Can I ask a question?”
“I can’t stop you,” says Inivane pleasantly.
“Did you end up killing Grawly and Thewana and that parrot?”
“Who?”
“Did you assassinate any archmages?”
“No. But if I had, I wouldn’t tell you, so my answer is meaningless.”
Dranko sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry we currently have you hog-tied. It may not have to stay that way. But we need to talk, and understand what’s going on here.”
“I’ll be happy to help you in any way you want, as long as you let me live,” says Inivane.
“That sounds reasonable,” says Dranko.
“So, you’ll let me live?”
“Um. Lets’ say we have no immediate plans to kill you. If we did, you wouldn’t have woken up.”
Inivane purses his lips. “Immediate plans.”
Dranko nods. “We need to understand what’s going on. But no guarantees. I mean, if you tell us you came here to start a giant drought that would kill everyone in Charagan, that would make it tougher for us to let you live.”
“Not knowing if you are going to let me live, I cannot promise to tell you anything,” says Inivane. The Sharshun looks at Dranko’s holy symbol to Delioch, God of Healers.
“You are a holy man, I see. Swear on your God you will not kill me if I am honest with you. You, or any of your friends.”
Morningstar interrupts with her opinion about that.
“No.”
Aravis adds: “If we discover that you are jeopardizing our mission, we will kill you.”
“And the last time we bargained with you, it didn’t go so well,” adds Morningstar.
Inivane blinks. “We had no bargain,” he points out. “You let me go without any conditions for my release.”
Morningstar frowns, but is silent. Thinking harder, she recalls that, against her own opinion, the Company had just released the Sharshun into the wild.
Dranko looks up idly at the nearest Mirror while Morningstar and Aravis banter with the prisoner. On a whim he starts to scramble up, the rocky backside of the plinth offering an easy climb. Soon he’s sitting on the top, and his gaze is immediately drawn westward. Smoke is rising from beyond the distant hills – in the general direction of Dingman’s Ferry.
Morningstar stands over Inivane, glaring.
“Are you going to tell us why you’re here?”
“Only if you promise not to kill me.”
“You might as well just say ‘no,’ then.”
“Very well,” says Inivane coolly. “No.”
“Dranko!” calls Morningstar. “Here’s a thought. No magic includes no HEALING magic, for things like broken bones after a hundred foot fall.”
Good point. Dranko carefully descends.
The Company needs to talk strategy, so Yoba, Flicker and Snokas are left to guard the prisoner while the others move a ways away to converse.
“So, is this a different onion, or a different slice of the same one?” asks Morningstar.
“I think it’s the same slice,” says Kibi. “But just at a different time.”
“Basically, we don’t know where the hell we are, or when,” says Dranko. “But, you know, if Inivane came back to change the world, and he hasn’t done it yet, then if we kill him now, doesn’t the world stay the same, and everything becomes all friendly again?”
“If we’re really before he changed the world, yes,” says Aravis. “But I don’t think that we can just make that assumption.”
“Maybe we’re here before the Eyes were created, and that’s why they’re broken,” muses Morningstar.
“We’re here before WE were created,” says Dranko. “We’re not broken.”
“Well, we’ll kick ourselves if we kill him now, and later realize we need to talk with him,” says Kibi.
Before Ernie can stop himself, he blurts: “Speak with dead!” He immediately glances guiltily toward Yoba, and adds: “No, I don’t think we should kill him.”
“I don’t either,” says Aravis.
“Then we should promise not to kill him,” says Dranko, “and find out what he knows.”
Morningstar says flatly, “I’m comfortable with telling him we won’t kill him, hearing what he knows, and then killing him anyway.”
When Ernie looks upset at the idea, Morningstar glowers at him. “If that’s what needs to be done... hey, Ell’s dying, remember?”
They continue to talk in circles for a while, and after a few minutes Dranko, Ernie and Grey Wolf decide to go for a walk for an hour, to determine if distance from the Mirrors will affect the function of magics. As they discover upon their return, it’s time and not distance that’s the key factor. During their return trip magic (thankfully) starts to come back for both groups. The wizards’ empathic links to their familiars kick back in, magic items flare to light and life, and spellcasting becomes possible. This offers a new avenue to explore. Morningstar casts a still, silent detect thoughts and starts to scan the surface of Inivane’s mind.
“Are you SURE you don’t want to tell us why you’re here?” asks Aravis.
Inivane offers the same riposte. “Are you going to promise not to kill me?”
Morningstar, standing behind Inivane, shakes her head. His surface thoughts simply mirror his words.
“Who are you here to assassinate?” asks Aravis.
“I’m not here to assassinate anyone... as far as you know.”
He’s thinking: I’m going to be cagey, and not actually answer any of their questions.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your mission?” reiterates Aravis.
“Yes.”
“That was really surprising when the Eyes stopped working, wasn’t it?” asks Aravis, hoping the indirect approach will lead to more revealing thoughts.
“Yes,’ agrees Inivane, and Morningstar frowns again.
“That must have really screwed up what you were trying to do,” prompts Aravis .
“Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t.”
He’s thinking: No matter what he’s trying to get out of this, I’m not going to answer any of his questions.
Morningstar shakes her head again. Inivane is not thinking the answers to any of the questions. His mind is remarkably disciplined and well-ordered, as if he’s been trained not to let his surface thoughts stray.
“Why are YOU here?” asks Inivane
“We think to stop you,” says Aravis.
“And what do you think I’m here to do?” continues the Sharshun.
“We can’t tell you,” says Aravis, smiling. Inivane just nods.
“Of course you can’t. So, you must then know why I can’t talk either. I’m glad we’ve come to this understanding.”
The three walkers soon return, and Dranko checks Inivane’s ropes. He finds that the Sharshun has been loosening them all this time, without anyone noticing. Dranko retightens the knots and then plants a foot in Inivane’s back.
“I’m not surprised you’ve tried to break free,” he says. “I’d have done the same in your situation. But that’s just not going to fly.”
“Not anymore, I see,” says Inivane, cool and composed despite his face being pushed into the dirt.
“Is he going to stop trying to escape?” asks Ernie.
“I doubt it,” says Dranko. “Inivane, are you going to stop trying?”
“Of course not. I’m already starting to loosen the ropes again.”
“Stop that!” barks Dranko. “I appreciate the honesty, though.”
Kibi steps into Inivane’s line of sight. “Don’t you feel any obligation toward us, since we rescued you from eternal torment?”
“Of course,” says Inivane. “As such, if you free me, I wouldn’t attempt to kill you, or harm you in any way. I do feel thankful that you rescued me from God’s Thorn.”
“I’m going to ask you a question that’s pretty innocuous,” says Dranko. “Maybe you’ll answer it. What was the date yesterday?”
“That’s a fascinating question,” says Inivane.
“No, that’s a simple question,” says Dranko. “A fascinating question would be: ‘what’s better for explaining planar theory: onions, or parfaits?’”
“Planar theory? Onions or Parfaits? I wouldn’t use either of those things. I would use diagrams, of actual planar formations.”
“If you were trying to explain to Dranko here, though, which would you use?” asks Aravis, smirking.
“I wouldn’t attempt it,” says Inivane.
“I did. I used onions,” says Aravis.
“To make him cry? I would imagine that someone of his intellect would cry no matter what you...”
“Hey!” shouts Dranko. “I’m standing right here!”
Inivane smiles at him.
“What was yesterday’s date?” repeats Dranko.
“I’m not going to tell you,” says Inivane simply.
“Why won’t you?” asks Aravis, growing impatient.
“Because you want to know.”
“He’s starting to annoy me,” grumbles Grey Wolf.
Morningstar casts memory read on the prisoner, attempting to share his memory of when he was sent into the Mirrors. It fails, and Inivane, unable to look at Morningstar because of his bonds, says to no one:
“Excuse me. That is extremely impolite, whoever is doing that.”
“Yes it is,” agrees Morningstar. “Here’s the thing. My Goddess is dying. I will do whatever I have to, to learn how to set things right. So, we can either get information out of you the easy way, or the unpleasant way.”
“What is the unpleasant way?” asks Inivane, his voice indicating nothing more than idle curiosty.
“I don’t think you need to know that right now.”
“Well, if I thought it was unpleasant enough, I might be willing to talk.”
But yet more of this banter goes nowhere. Inivane won’t talk. The Company refuses to bargain, but is unwilling to kill him outright. Impasse.
Finally a light goes off over Kibi’s head, and he pulls out a scroll. As he reads, Inivane stiffens. He sees what’s coming, and tries his hardest to resist. If his mind succumbs, he knows it’s over. Kibi finishes casting, and says earnestly to the prisoner: “I suggest that it would be better for everyone, especially since we’re all old acquaintances, and since we did save your life, if you just answer all our questions.”
Inivane blinks. It’s over.
“That sounds reasonable,” he says.
...to be continued...
The Beans are Withheld
“Did we do it wrong? What happened?”
Ernie is almost frantic. Dranko stares at the cracked Eyes, unbelieving.
“This must have been the price of doing that plane shift,” says Grey Wolf. “The Eyes couldn’t hold themselves together.”
“Um,” says Dranko. “How are we going to get back?”
“I don’t know!” answers Ernie. “Where are we?”
Then two things happen in quick succession. First, the Sharshun Inivane appears again, standing next to the Company in the circle of Mirrors. His three Eyes of Moirel – Yellow, Orange and Indigo – immediately fall out of his magical circlet and bounce lifelessly on the ground. Inivane looks down at them, then looks up at the Company, who are staring back at him. Everyone, Inivane included, now has the same “Oh, s***” look on their faces.
Second, there is an extraordinarily bright flash of light from the center of the Mirrors, followed by a shockwave that blasts outward, setting the air rippling in an expanding circle. All assembled are knocked backward, lifted slightly off their feet, and rendered swiftly unconscious.
Presumably, some time passes.
* *
Aravis blinks. He’s lying on his back, staring upward at a partly-cloudy sky.
I’ve lost my empathic link with Pewter. But if he’s dead, I’d know it.
He sits up and looks around groggily. Around him are sprawled the bodies of his companions, as well as that of Inivane. His head feels like it’s stuffed with sawdust, and not only in an I’ve-just-been knocked-out kind of way. His brain feels dull, like he’s lost his intellectual edge. His greater arcane sight, working fine before the shockwave, is no longer active. Come to think of it, no one looks like birds anymore, though Kibi’s veil should have lasted hours yet. Lying a few feet from him are two of the now-inert Eyes of Moirel. He grabs them and puts them in his pack, where Pewter also lies, unconscious but breathing.
Kibi is the next to come around. Like Aravis he has lost his empathic link with his familiar; Scree is just a jumble of rocks next to him. To his great relief the earth elemental stirs a little bit as he watches. Kibi watches as Snokas sits up and rubs his temples; the half-orc immediately points at the still form of Inivane. Kibi pulls a rope from his pack, and the two of them start to tie up the Sharshun.
Aravis looks around for more of the Eyes, spots a third and pops it in his pack. This time Pewter’s eyes are open, and the cat is looking at his master with obvious concern. Aravis picks him up and set him on his own shoulder, whereupon Pewter starts to purr.
Dranko groans and get to his knees. “Oooooh, my head.”
“I’ve found three of the Eyes,” says Aravis, still searching.
“Find the others,” suggests Dranko. He looks at Inivane, who still hasn’t stirred. “Hey, can we kill him?”
“I wouldn’t,” says Aravis.
“We might need him,” adds Kibi.
“Nah, I’m sure we can find food elsewhere,” says Dranko. Aravis rolls his eyes. Seeing that Kibi and Snokas are doing something of an amateur job with the rope, Dranko calls to them: “Hey, I have manacles. Hold on a minute.”
He opens his Heward’s widemouth pouch and says ‘manacles.’
Nothing happens. He tries again with the same (lack of) result.
“I don’t think magic is working here,” says Aravis.
“Ahhhhhhh!” says Dranko, aghast.
“I feel the same way,” adds Aravis.
“No magic? None?”
“None.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Wait,” says Dranko. “Are our magic items ruined, or just... turned off for a while?”
“I don’t know,” concedes Aravis.
“No magic,” says Dranko, utterly horrified. He thinks of all the items, magic and otherwise, he keeps in the now defunct magic pouch.
“Stop whining and help me tie up this Sharshun,” says Kibi.
It takes Dranko all of five seconds to realize that Kibi’s knots are hopeless, and that Inivane will escape without even trying when he wakes up. Dranko does the job right, taking the time to hog-tie the Sharshun such that any attempt by the prisoner to straighten his legs will result in self-asphyxiation. He finishes just in time; Inivane wakes up, tries to stretch, and nearly chokes himself to death.
Dranko chuckles. “Just stay there for a little while, pal. So, how are you doing? Oh, wait, let me just relieve you of those weapons.”
While Inivane slowly regains consciousness, Dranko starts removing the dark elf’s weapons. Inivane’s eyes widen and he attains an expression of great concentration. The Company then remembers (and fears) that their foe might have a poison sac, and is trying to commit suicide. But the Sharshun doesn’t die, and instead, when nothing happens, he looks down at a ring on his finger. Dranko quickly moves to remove it, along with every other magical-looking item on his person. (Although, when he attempts to cast detect magic, it fails to function.)
Over the next minute the rest of the Company wake up, all with angry headaches. At Aravis’s direction they hunt around on the ground for the remainder of the Eyes, and soon they have a collection of seven cracked diamonds.
“Ok, brilliant wizards,” demands Dranko. “What just happened?”
“Not sure,” says Grey Wolf. “But perhaps we should move outside the Mirrors.”
So saying, he staggers out of the ring of obelisks. To everyone’s disappointment his magic items do not regain their function, though Grey Wolf thinks his armor may have become a bit lighter.
Dranko picks up Inivane and carries him out of the circle. The rest of the Company follows. The wizards’ empathic links with their familiars are still gone, the Eyes are still cracked, and all magic remains out of commission. Dang. Dranko shakes his wide-mouth pouch in frustration.
“Damn it! All of my stuff is in this bag. Well, at least no one can steal what’s inside.”
“See?” says Grey Wolf, smiling wryly. “You’re looking at the bright side.”
“That’s just great.” Dranko looks down at Inivane and nudges him with his foot.
“So, can you talk?”
“Yes,” answers Inivane, speaking Charagan common.
“Nice to see you again,’ says Dranko, smiling.
“I wish I could say the same.”
“I’m sure,” says Dranko. “You’ve been a busy boy since we let you free. Can I ask a question?”
“I can’t stop you,” says Inivane pleasantly.
“Did you end up killing Grawly and Thewana and that parrot?”
“Who?”
“Did you assassinate any archmages?”
“No. But if I had, I wouldn’t tell you, so my answer is meaningless.”
Dranko sighs. “Listen, I’m sorry we currently have you hog-tied. It may not have to stay that way. But we need to talk, and understand what’s going on here.”
“I’ll be happy to help you in any way you want, as long as you let me live,” says Inivane.
“That sounds reasonable,” says Dranko.
“So, you’ll let me live?”
“Um. Lets’ say we have no immediate plans to kill you. If we did, you wouldn’t have woken up.”
Inivane purses his lips. “Immediate plans.”
Dranko nods. “We need to understand what’s going on. But no guarantees. I mean, if you tell us you came here to start a giant drought that would kill everyone in Charagan, that would make it tougher for us to let you live.”
“Not knowing if you are going to let me live, I cannot promise to tell you anything,” says Inivane. The Sharshun looks at Dranko’s holy symbol to Delioch, God of Healers.
“You are a holy man, I see. Swear on your God you will not kill me if I am honest with you. You, or any of your friends.”
Morningstar interrupts with her opinion about that.
“No.”
Aravis adds: “If we discover that you are jeopardizing our mission, we will kill you.”
“And the last time we bargained with you, it didn’t go so well,” adds Morningstar.
Inivane blinks. “We had no bargain,” he points out. “You let me go without any conditions for my release.”
Morningstar frowns, but is silent. Thinking harder, she recalls that, against her own opinion, the Company had just released the Sharshun into the wild.
Dranko looks up idly at the nearest Mirror while Morningstar and Aravis banter with the prisoner. On a whim he starts to scramble up, the rocky backside of the plinth offering an easy climb. Soon he’s sitting on the top, and his gaze is immediately drawn westward. Smoke is rising from beyond the distant hills – in the general direction of Dingman’s Ferry.
Morningstar stands over Inivane, glaring.
“Are you going to tell us why you’re here?”
“Only if you promise not to kill me.”
“You might as well just say ‘no,’ then.”
“Very well,” says Inivane coolly. “No.”
“Dranko!” calls Morningstar. “Here’s a thought. No magic includes no HEALING magic, for things like broken bones after a hundred foot fall.”
Good point. Dranko carefully descends.
The Company needs to talk strategy, so Yoba, Flicker and Snokas are left to guard the prisoner while the others move a ways away to converse.
“So, is this a different onion, or a different slice of the same one?” asks Morningstar.
“I think it’s the same slice,” says Kibi. “But just at a different time.”
“Basically, we don’t know where the hell we are, or when,” says Dranko. “But, you know, if Inivane came back to change the world, and he hasn’t done it yet, then if we kill him now, doesn’t the world stay the same, and everything becomes all friendly again?”
“If we’re really before he changed the world, yes,” says Aravis. “But I don’t think that we can just make that assumption.”
“Maybe we’re here before the Eyes were created, and that’s why they’re broken,” muses Morningstar.
“We’re here before WE were created,” says Dranko. “We’re not broken.”
“Well, we’ll kick ourselves if we kill him now, and later realize we need to talk with him,” says Kibi.
Before Ernie can stop himself, he blurts: “Speak with dead!” He immediately glances guiltily toward Yoba, and adds: “No, I don’t think we should kill him.”
“I don’t either,” says Aravis.
“Then we should promise not to kill him,” says Dranko, “and find out what he knows.”
Morningstar says flatly, “I’m comfortable with telling him we won’t kill him, hearing what he knows, and then killing him anyway.”
When Ernie looks upset at the idea, Morningstar glowers at him. “If that’s what needs to be done... hey, Ell’s dying, remember?”
They continue to talk in circles for a while, and after a few minutes Dranko, Ernie and Grey Wolf decide to go for a walk for an hour, to determine if distance from the Mirrors will affect the function of magics. As they discover upon their return, it’s time and not distance that’s the key factor. During their return trip magic (thankfully) starts to come back for both groups. The wizards’ empathic links to their familiars kick back in, magic items flare to light and life, and spellcasting becomes possible. This offers a new avenue to explore. Morningstar casts a still, silent detect thoughts and starts to scan the surface of Inivane’s mind.
“Are you SURE you don’t want to tell us why you’re here?” asks Aravis.
Inivane offers the same riposte. “Are you going to promise not to kill me?”
Morningstar, standing behind Inivane, shakes her head. His surface thoughts simply mirror his words.
“Who are you here to assassinate?” asks Aravis.
“I’m not here to assassinate anyone... as far as you know.”
He’s thinking: I’m going to be cagey, and not actually answer any of their questions.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about your mission?” reiterates Aravis.
“Yes.”
“That was really surprising when the Eyes stopped working, wasn’t it?” asks Aravis, hoping the indirect approach will lead to more revealing thoughts.
“Yes,’ agrees Inivane, and Morningstar frowns again.
“That must have really screwed up what you were trying to do,” prompts Aravis .
“Maybe it did, and maybe it didn’t.”
He’s thinking: No matter what he’s trying to get out of this, I’m not going to answer any of his questions.
Morningstar shakes her head again. Inivane is not thinking the answers to any of the questions. His mind is remarkably disciplined and well-ordered, as if he’s been trained not to let his surface thoughts stray.
“Why are YOU here?” asks Inivane
“We think to stop you,” says Aravis.
“And what do you think I’m here to do?” continues the Sharshun.
“We can’t tell you,” says Aravis, smiling. Inivane just nods.
“Of course you can’t. So, you must then know why I can’t talk either. I’m glad we’ve come to this understanding.”
The three walkers soon return, and Dranko checks Inivane’s ropes. He finds that the Sharshun has been loosening them all this time, without anyone noticing. Dranko retightens the knots and then plants a foot in Inivane’s back.
“I’m not surprised you’ve tried to break free,” he says. “I’d have done the same in your situation. But that’s just not going to fly.”
“Not anymore, I see,” says Inivane, cool and composed despite his face being pushed into the dirt.
“Is he going to stop trying to escape?” asks Ernie.
“I doubt it,” says Dranko. “Inivane, are you going to stop trying?”
“Of course not. I’m already starting to loosen the ropes again.”
“Stop that!” barks Dranko. “I appreciate the honesty, though.”
Kibi steps into Inivane’s line of sight. “Don’t you feel any obligation toward us, since we rescued you from eternal torment?”
“Of course,” says Inivane. “As such, if you free me, I wouldn’t attempt to kill you, or harm you in any way. I do feel thankful that you rescued me from God’s Thorn.”
“I’m going to ask you a question that’s pretty innocuous,” says Dranko. “Maybe you’ll answer it. What was the date yesterday?”
“That’s a fascinating question,” says Inivane.
“No, that’s a simple question,” says Dranko. “A fascinating question would be: ‘what’s better for explaining planar theory: onions, or parfaits?’”
“Planar theory? Onions or Parfaits? I wouldn’t use either of those things. I would use diagrams, of actual planar formations.”
“If you were trying to explain to Dranko here, though, which would you use?” asks Aravis, smirking.
“I wouldn’t attempt it,” says Inivane.
“I did. I used onions,” says Aravis.
“To make him cry? I would imagine that someone of his intellect would cry no matter what you...”
“Hey!” shouts Dranko. “I’m standing right here!”
Inivane smiles at him.
“What was yesterday’s date?” repeats Dranko.
“I’m not going to tell you,” says Inivane simply.
“Why won’t you?” asks Aravis, growing impatient.
“Because you want to know.”
“He’s starting to annoy me,” grumbles Grey Wolf.
Morningstar casts memory read on the prisoner, attempting to share his memory of when he was sent into the Mirrors. It fails, and Inivane, unable to look at Morningstar because of his bonds, says to no one:
“Excuse me. That is extremely impolite, whoever is doing that.”
“Yes it is,” agrees Morningstar. “Here’s the thing. My Goddess is dying. I will do whatever I have to, to learn how to set things right. So, we can either get information out of you the easy way, or the unpleasant way.”
“What is the unpleasant way?” asks Inivane, his voice indicating nothing more than idle curiosty.
“I don’t think you need to know that right now.”
“Well, if I thought it was unpleasant enough, I might be willing to talk.”
But yet more of this banter goes nowhere. Inivane won’t talk. The Company refuses to bargain, but is unwilling to kill him outright. Impasse.
Finally a light goes off over Kibi’s head, and he pulls out a scroll. As he reads, Inivane stiffens. He sees what’s coming, and tries his hardest to resist. If his mind succumbs, he knows it’s over. Kibi finishes casting, and says earnestly to the prisoner: “I suggest that it would be better for everyone, especially since we’re all old acquaintances, and since we did save your life, if you just answer all our questions.”
Inivane blinks. It’s over.
“That sounds reasonable,” he says.
...to be continued...
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