RangerWickett
Legend
Ha. The campaign needs to end with Aravis bringing a new group of adventurers into his wizard tower and asking them to remember the word "Dranko."
Sagiro's Story Hour: The FINAL Adventures of Abernathy's Company (FINISHED 7/3/14)
- Thread starter Sagiro
- Start date
Then her behavior doesn't make a lot of sense. Someone as nigh-indomitable as her doesn't need to keep asking for parley if she knows enough about the Company to know why you're there and that you won't want to talk.
I'm curious what the chances of any of these things happening actually were? And what the hell Sagiro would've done if Aravis had lost all his spell-casting abilities at this point? There are no other adventurers in the known world as powerful as the Company is at this point, correct?
LightPhoenix
First Post
The first thing that comes to mind is that, IIRC, a piece of Aravis is still in the Crosser's Maze. Now, I obviously can't speak for Sagiro, but I probably would have utilized that in some way, probably in combination with some sort of level loss. I think that Aravis was also allowed into the tombs of the gods due to his deific nature; he could have gone and visited that dead god of knowledge.
From the spell definition: "Even artifacts are subject to disjunction, though there is only a 1% chance per caster level of actually affecting such powerful items. Additionally, if an artifact is destroyed, you must make a DC 25 Will save or permanently lose all spellcasting abilities. (These abilities cannot be recovered by mortal magic, not even miracle or wish.)"
So IF the Watcher's Kiss had been destroyed, which would have brought the story to a halt by itself (they're all level 20 or 21, right? So a 1 in 5 chance) and IF Aravis had then lost his spellcasting abilities -- the God of magic/knowledge in the tombs could've restored them I suppose, as the God's magic is obviously beyond mortal magic, but a simple "there you go, don't play with that spell again" seems a little insufficient. Some kind of quest for Aravis could be involved but that, again, would've derailed the campaign.
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carborundum
Adventurer
I guess Sagiro is busy with Card Hunter at the moment. I promise not to complain should he pop in here and throw some beta keys around 
A belated happy new year to all you Abernathy fans!
A belated happy new year to all you Abernathy fans!
Mathew_Freeman
Adventurer
I am really hoping for a Card Hunter beta key. I'm also wondering if we're going to see any sneaky Starcraft / Freedom Force / Abernathy links in that game?
I'm also wondering if we're going to see any sneaky Starcraft / Freedom Force / Abernathy links in that game?
Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Cardhunter is now in closed beta and is FREAKIN' AWESOME. Sagiro has done a great job. I'm now working hard on narrative design, building the world and tying together the fantasy campaign. Also, I'll be remiss if I don't sneak in some Abernathy references in.
No clue what would have happened if Aravis had blown out his spellcasting, but I suspect Sagiro would have asked the player to retire the character. He knew the risks, he gauged the reward. You have to respect that sort of gambling. Giving the player an out would invalidate it.
No clue what would have happened if Aravis had blown out his spellcasting, but I suspect Sagiro would have asked the player to retire the character. He knew the risks, he gauged the reward. You have to respect that sort of gambling. Giving the player an out would invalidate it.
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Sagiro
Rodent of Uncertain Parentage
Gah. If Aravis had lost of all his abilities, I'm not sure what I would have done, given how important [spoilers redacted.] Thank goodness I didn't have to decide, is all I'll say about that!
I have been spending a great deal of my time on Card Hunter, which is partly to blame for my lack of updates. I must admit that I've also been indulging in a personal writing project -- a 40,000 word humor book about my kids, which I've largely done tinkering with at this point. Not sure what I'll do with it, since it's unlikely to interest an agent (let alone a publisher), but we'll see. I can only say that it was itching to get written, and I needed to scratch the itch. I'll try to devote more time to the Company now that I'm finished with that particular extra-curricular activity.
Speaking of which...
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 351
Damned Lies
Ernie immediately casts a mass heal, including Moirel in the effect. But while their enemy’s wounds are healed, Moirel shudders and starts to fly erratically down to the ground. As the Company watches, fascinated, she touches down, falls prone, twitches several times, and goes unconscious. Ernie drops to her side and examines her. His healing spell has covered her eyeless socket in smooth skin.
“She’s alive,” he announces. “And that’s impressive, because she’s suffered some sort of internal trauma that’s hard to imagine.”
[In game terms, she has suffered massive ability score damage to every ability score]
A few inches from her limp hand lies a long glowing dagger. It is the only thing within several feet of itself that appears to have color. Its surroundings – Moirel, Ernie and the ground on which they rest – are cast in black and white, as if the blade has drawn all the world’s vitality and hue into itself to power a strange golden fusion.
Morningstar casts greater restoration on Moirel, but to her consternation it has no effect at all. None of the ability damage is restored.
“Huh,” she says. “Guess she’ll have to wake up on her own.”
Dranko perks up. “Then let’s pillage!” he exclaims.
He and Flicker start with Moirel herself, easy to loot while unconscious. Unsurprisingly, she is possessed of several items of enchantable quality, none of which are still magical.
“Stupid disjunction,” Flicker mutters. Grey Wolf looks down while the rogues rifle through Moirel’s pockets. It’s hard to tell with Sharhsun, but he thinks she’s in her late 40’s or early 50’s, in human terms.
Dranko snickers. “She looks pretty good for your great great great great great great great great great grandmother.”
Still disguised as termites courtesy of Kibi’s veil, the Company sets out explore the grounds. Dranko expresses surprise that the castle appears to be empty, now that Moirel and her weird floating-head monsters have been dispatched.
“I was kind of expecting to find Rosetta here,” he adds.
Aravis flies over to hover near the blob of Astral Plane that still hangs suspended in the courtyard. With more time to examine the surrounding area, he is certain that in the fairly recent past there was a massive explosion centered on that extra-planar mass.
“I’m very disappointed at how careless they were with our castle,” he chuckles.
“Not much use,” says Flicker,” if you have to turn us all into pebbles and cast time stop every time we want to go in or out.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem anymore,” says Kibi. “Listen.”
Everyone grows quiet, and wonders for a moment what the dwarf is talking about. Then they realize. They can hear the sounds of birdsong, and wind in the trees – from somewhere outside the castle perimeter.
Kibi nods. “I think when Aravis disjoined the Eye, this place snapped back into real time.” And, indeed, he no longer feels the pleasant tingle of Earth Magic.
There’s little else above ground to interest the Company. The buildings are entirely mundane, containing food stores, blankets, building materials, bunkrooms and a small smithy. Grey Wolf does discover a small hastily-built graveyard with thirty-odd mounds, still fairly fresh. Before too long the party has made a modest exploration of the above-ground portions of the castle, though there is a staircase leading down to a basement level. As the Company knows from experience, when you’re dealing with Black Circle types, the bad stuff is in the basement.
Before tackling that, Kibi walks back to where the Watcher’s Kiss still rests on the ground a foot from Moirel’s limp hand.
He picks it up. Immediately his hand and lower arm are drained of their color, though he feels no discomfort. Kibi can tell right away that the dagger is not an Earth Magic weapon, though it is quite light. He feels that it is slowly binding itself into his life-force, but not in a way that would put him in danger. He feels rather that the blade is prepared to call upon his vital essence should the need arise.
He also feels, quite clearly, that the Watcher’s Kiss would like to kill Aravis. It’s not a compulsion – Kibi is sure that the weapon has no inherent impetus to action – but all the same he can keenly feel its desire to end Aravis’s life.
Begrudgingly, Kibi hands the dagger to Grey Wolf, whose experience is much the same. Morningstar casts detect evil on the blade and gets nothing, though with an item of this potency, divination spells are no sure thing.
“It’s a God-killer,” says Aravis, pride and worry overlapping in his voice. “It wanted to kill the Adversary, and now it wants to kill me too.”
“I wonder why I’m fated to used it,” wonders Kibi, thinking aloud about Leantha’s book. He takes the dagger and strikes the same pose as in the crayon drawing, but nothing happens.
Dranko takes it next, and is relieved that blood does not immediately run from his eyes, though his face is bathed in grayscale as the weapon takes all surrounding color into itself.
Aravis rubs his chin. “I think now that we have the Watcher’s Kiss, the next step is to go back to the island, and go after Meledien and Tarsos.”
Kibi makes a mild protest, as he doesn’t want to make any irrevocable journeys until the repatriation of the Gurundian dwarves is taken care of, though the rest think that saving the world should perhaps be made a higher priority. Ernie raises the point that enemies might find out they now possess a God-killing blade and come after them, and so they should not dawdle. On the other hand, none of them are particularly eager to give chase to someone with a spear that annihilates souls.
Morningstar is also quick to remind her friends that Octesian is still at large, killing people in their sleep.
/*/
Though the castle is no longer time-shifted, the Astral Blob still hovers above the courtyard. Aravis spends a few more minutes examining the phenomenon, and decides that it’s probably not connected to the rest of the Astral Plane, but is rather more like a Slice from Het Branoi.
It starts to drizzle, so Grey Wolf gently lifts Moirel and carries her into a building before she becomes soaked. He thinks her breathing might be growing a bit less ragged, though she’s still unconscious and pale. And he keeps carrying her, as the Company decides it’s time explore the subterranean portion of the castle, and are unwilling to leave Moirel by herself.
It doesn’t take long for the party to find something worthwhile. Beyond a small warren of cold rooms and wine cellars, the Company discovers the secret heart of Moirel’s fortress. There are two main rooms here, and the first of these is a small study. The wide desk there is crammed with notes, the shelves crowded with books, and the walls adorned with planar maps, all of which depict the Astral Plane in various contexts. Aravis glances through the notes on the desk, and realizes that the entire project here is dedicated to understanding the nature and properties of the Astral Plane. Some of the books and little more than introductory primer material, but the book opened in the center of the desk contains some extremely advanced planar theory.
The second room is closed, and from behind the door comes a faint whiff of Essence; not as strong as the Black Book from Kallor, but still worthy of a circle of protection from Ernie before they open it. Dranko carries the Watcher’s Kiss at the moment, though it’s wrapped in cloth and tied to his belt. The Company has no torches or lanterns lit; they are relying on the daily mass darkvision. Though the spell usually restricts vision to greyscale. Dranko glances down and sees the bright gold of the Watcher’s Kiss peeking through the cloth.
Flicker pops the lock on the door and pushes it open. Beyond is a square stone room, twenty feet on a side, and squatting in the middle is a large black-iron cauldron. The wizards flinch, but there is no taint of null shadows here. There is a foul reek coming from it, a smell that none of them can identify, though all agree is unpleasant. From the doorway no one can see what, if anything, is inside the cauldron. The only other object in the room is a large wooden stick, intricately carved, with an obsidian cap on its upper end. It leans against the back wall of the room.
Dranko stares at the cauldron for a moment, using his innate ability to detect magic. He doesn’t have the knowledge to fully understand what he’s looking at, though he does ascertain that the cauldron’s magic is both extremely complex and monstrously strong. As for what it does – well, the answer to that question is made clear by a page of notes the Company came across while researching the Necromantic Forge and Califax’s Soul Shard:
“Gurthin’s greatest claim to fame was his forging of the Three Cauldrons: Shadow, Smoke and Lies. In the Great War he used the first two to produce fell soldiers to counter the Spire’s greatest heroes. Their wizards quailed before the Null Shadows, and their priests uttered oaths at the sight of Smoldering Ghosts. But it was the Cauldron of Lies that was his greatest achievement, for knowing lies, one discerns truth. Of course, while lies are treacherous, the truth can be even more so. The story is told that when Naloric stirred the Cauldron of Lies, it told him that he would be trapped forever in the Prison of Volpos. Perhaps it would have been better for him had that been true, since he was slain by Alander soon after his escape. Let us hope Darkeye makes better use of it.”
Ah. So this is the Cauldron of Lies.
/*/
“That’s awesome!”
Everyone turns to stare at Dranko. They do not immediately share his optimism.
He blows an exasperated breath. “If we stir the cauldron, then it tells us a lie. Whatever it tells us, we know it won’t come true.”
Aravis, whose inhibitions are scarce when there’s something new to experience, wants to stir the cauldron straight away. Grey Wolf and Kibi take a step back, wanting nothing to do with it.
“It’s evil!” Kibi protests. “It’s more evil than the Null Shadow cauldron was! Why are we even thinking about messing around with it?”
But the dwarf’s concerns do not dissuade Aravis and Dranko. The others are mildly curious, but not enough to stir them to action. Ernie reluctantly agrees to accompany the two would-be cauldron users into the room, so that they can stay within the penumbra of his protection from evil.
Dranko peers into the Cauldron of Lies. At first he thinks it’s empty, but then he sees that the bottom third of its volume is swirling with thick black vapors. Aravis picks up the obsidian-capped stick, dips it into the cauldron, and begins to stir. He feels a tingle in his hands, and experiences a tactile illusion of the stick becoming slimy and befouled. As the seconds tick by, a deep malaise comes over him, a despairing lethargy that threatens to overwhelm his senses. But he stays focused, girds his will, and continues to swirl the vapors.
After a minute or two of this, the vapors leap vigorously from the iron vessel, filling the air above it and forming into words as if pressed onto an invisible tablet. The others cannot make out the forms of the letters, but Aravis can read their message clearly.
Corilayna has indeed joined Drosh in the Crosser’s Maze.
Then the vapors break apart, and Aravis is left feeling drained and fragile, as though he has just had an unpleasant emotional encounter with someone he loves.
Dranko displays his usual sympathy. “So? How’d it go?”
Aravis staggers to the nearest wall, sits, and puts his head in his hands. “I feel… awful. But I learned something, I think.”
He tells the others the message from the cauldron, but there is some disagreement about which part is the lie. Did Corilayna go in, but Drosh had left? Or is Drosh still in it, but Corilayna is not? Or are neither of them there? None of them can say; it’s a bit out of their ken.
“Well, you didn’t die, and that’s good enough for me.” Dranko picks up the stick himself, and finds it heavier than he expects. With an effort he lifts the end of it into the cauldron, though it’s difficult to muster the will to even hold it. Gritting his teeth, he begins to stir, and like Aravis is overcome with sadness and depressing thoughts. He’s reminded of his argument with Kibi about talking back to Lord Tapehon, and of his worst days suffering the cutting discipline of Califax. His arms continue to stir, but soon he has personally lost interest, and has nearly become lost in his own misery when he realizes that words have formed above the squatting black pot.
Tapheon has forgotten all about his encounter with Dranko.
The stick drops from his hand with a clatter.
“Are you okay?” Ernie asks.
“I’m fine. It’s alright. Any time now Tapheon will seize my soul, and there’ll be eternal torment, and blah blah blah.”
“My turn next!” says Flicker.
“Let’s wait,” says Morningstar. “Let’s wait to see if this…” she motions to Dranko and Aravis, both of whom have grown quiet and morose, “… wears off, before anyone else tries it.”
Ernie gives Dranko and Aravis some food, and this cheers them up slightly. Flicker lights a cigar and puts it in Dranko’s mouth, and that improves the half-orc’s spirits further.
“Group hug!” says Ernie, and before too long Aravis and Dranko are feeling more like their old selves.
“I think,” says Aravis slowly, “that this cauldron distracts you with lies. It’s telling us things that are true, but which in the grand scheme of things aren’t important. I mean, we knew Tapheon hadn’t forgotten you, Dranko. Now we’ll just worry about it needlessly.”
“This is like, if everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?” says Ernie.
Dranko laughs. “Have you ever jumped off a bridge. It’s actually kind of fun!”
Ernie still has no desire to try his hand with the stirring stick. “Is it really worth our time trying to outthink a pot?”
“If we can’t, that’s embarrassing,” says Flicker. “I still think I should stir it.”
Dranko turns to him and grins. “You know how we always say, ‘at least you’re not as unwise as Flicker?’”
“You say that?”
“Not in front of you we don’t.”
“Fine. I’ll go scout out more of this basement.”
Flicker heads out into the hallway to check for secret doors.
“You know,” says Kibi. “I think I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to try it. I don’t really want to, but it’s a possible source of information, which is something we never seem to have enough of.” He picks up the stick, and adds, “And even if I became mopey and depressed, you guys probably wouldn’t notice any difference.”
Kibi stirs the cauldron, and fights his way through the unnatural depression it brings. The smoke rises before him, and brings this message:
The Cranchus you remember is alive and well.
Aravis frowns. “See? Kibi, it’s a distraction. Remember, people change. We don’t know what it means.”
Kibi sits heavily, tears coming into his eyes.
“Kibi,” says Ernie gently, “He could have lived a long and good life, and still have died of old age by now.”
“It’s not like I could have visited him anyway,” says Kibi sullenly.
“Kibi needs a hug,” says Dranko. “Ernie! Hug the dwarf.”
…to be continued…
I have been spending a great deal of my time on Card Hunter, which is partly to blame for my lack of updates. I must admit that I've also been indulging in a personal writing project -- a 40,000 word humor book about my kids, which I've largely done tinkering with at this point. Not sure what I'll do with it, since it's unlikely to interest an agent (let alone a publisher), but we'll see. I can only say that it was itching to get written, and I needed to scratch the itch. I'll try to devote more time to the Company now that I'm finished with that particular extra-curricular activity.
Speaking of which...
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 351
Damned Lies
Ernie immediately casts a mass heal, including Moirel in the effect. But while their enemy’s wounds are healed, Moirel shudders and starts to fly erratically down to the ground. As the Company watches, fascinated, she touches down, falls prone, twitches several times, and goes unconscious. Ernie drops to her side and examines her. His healing spell has covered her eyeless socket in smooth skin.
“She’s alive,” he announces. “And that’s impressive, because she’s suffered some sort of internal trauma that’s hard to imagine.”
[In game terms, she has suffered massive ability score damage to every ability score]
A few inches from her limp hand lies a long glowing dagger. It is the only thing within several feet of itself that appears to have color. Its surroundings – Moirel, Ernie and the ground on which they rest – are cast in black and white, as if the blade has drawn all the world’s vitality and hue into itself to power a strange golden fusion.
Morningstar casts greater restoration on Moirel, but to her consternation it has no effect at all. None of the ability damage is restored.
“Huh,” she says. “Guess she’ll have to wake up on her own.”
Dranko perks up. “Then let’s pillage!” he exclaims.
He and Flicker start with Moirel herself, easy to loot while unconscious. Unsurprisingly, she is possessed of several items of enchantable quality, none of which are still magical.
“Stupid disjunction,” Flicker mutters. Grey Wolf looks down while the rogues rifle through Moirel’s pockets. It’s hard to tell with Sharhsun, but he thinks she’s in her late 40’s or early 50’s, in human terms.
Dranko snickers. “She looks pretty good for your great great great great great great great great great grandmother.”
Still disguised as termites courtesy of Kibi’s veil, the Company sets out explore the grounds. Dranko expresses surprise that the castle appears to be empty, now that Moirel and her weird floating-head monsters have been dispatched.
“I was kind of expecting to find Rosetta here,” he adds.
Aravis flies over to hover near the blob of Astral Plane that still hangs suspended in the courtyard. With more time to examine the surrounding area, he is certain that in the fairly recent past there was a massive explosion centered on that extra-planar mass.
“I’m very disappointed at how careless they were with our castle,” he chuckles.
“Not much use,” says Flicker,” if you have to turn us all into pebbles and cast time stop every time we want to go in or out.”
“I don’t think that’s a problem anymore,” says Kibi. “Listen.”
Everyone grows quiet, and wonders for a moment what the dwarf is talking about. Then they realize. They can hear the sounds of birdsong, and wind in the trees – from somewhere outside the castle perimeter.
Kibi nods. “I think when Aravis disjoined the Eye, this place snapped back into real time.” And, indeed, he no longer feels the pleasant tingle of Earth Magic.
There’s little else above ground to interest the Company. The buildings are entirely mundane, containing food stores, blankets, building materials, bunkrooms and a small smithy. Grey Wolf does discover a small hastily-built graveyard with thirty-odd mounds, still fairly fresh. Before too long the party has made a modest exploration of the above-ground portions of the castle, though there is a staircase leading down to a basement level. As the Company knows from experience, when you’re dealing with Black Circle types, the bad stuff is in the basement.
Before tackling that, Kibi walks back to where the Watcher’s Kiss still rests on the ground a foot from Moirel’s limp hand.
He picks it up. Immediately his hand and lower arm are drained of their color, though he feels no discomfort. Kibi can tell right away that the dagger is not an Earth Magic weapon, though it is quite light. He feels that it is slowly binding itself into his life-force, but not in a way that would put him in danger. He feels rather that the blade is prepared to call upon his vital essence should the need arise.
He also feels, quite clearly, that the Watcher’s Kiss would like to kill Aravis. It’s not a compulsion – Kibi is sure that the weapon has no inherent impetus to action – but all the same he can keenly feel its desire to end Aravis’s life.
Begrudgingly, Kibi hands the dagger to Grey Wolf, whose experience is much the same. Morningstar casts detect evil on the blade and gets nothing, though with an item of this potency, divination spells are no sure thing.
“It’s a God-killer,” says Aravis, pride and worry overlapping in his voice. “It wanted to kill the Adversary, and now it wants to kill me too.”
“I wonder why I’m fated to used it,” wonders Kibi, thinking aloud about Leantha’s book. He takes the dagger and strikes the same pose as in the crayon drawing, but nothing happens.
Dranko takes it next, and is relieved that blood does not immediately run from his eyes, though his face is bathed in grayscale as the weapon takes all surrounding color into itself.
Aravis rubs his chin. “I think now that we have the Watcher’s Kiss, the next step is to go back to the island, and go after Meledien and Tarsos.”
Kibi makes a mild protest, as he doesn’t want to make any irrevocable journeys until the repatriation of the Gurundian dwarves is taken care of, though the rest think that saving the world should perhaps be made a higher priority. Ernie raises the point that enemies might find out they now possess a God-killing blade and come after them, and so they should not dawdle. On the other hand, none of them are particularly eager to give chase to someone with a spear that annihilates souls.
Morningstar is also quick to remind her friends that Octesian is still at large, killing people in their sleep.
/*/
Though the castle is no longer time-shifted, the Astral Blob still hovers above the courtyard. Aravis spends a few more minutes examining the phenomenon, and decides that it’s probably not connected to the rest of the Astral Plane, but is rather more like a Slice from Het Branoi.
It starts to drizzle, so Grey Wolf gently lifts Moirel and carries her into a building before she becomes soaked. He thinks her breathing might be growing a bit less ragged, though she’s still unconscious and pale. And he keeps carrying her, as the Company decides it’s time explore the subterranean portion of the castle, and are unwilling to leave Moirel by herself.
It doesn’t take long for the party to find something worthwhile. Beyond a small warren of cold rooms and wine cellars, the Company discovers the secret heart of Moirel’s fortress. There are two main rooms here, and the first of these is a small study. The wide desk there is crammed with notes, the shelves crowded with books, and the walls adorned with planar maps, all of which depict the Astral Plane in various contexts. Aravis glances through the notes on the desk, and realizes that the entire project here is dedicated to understanding the nature and properties of the Astral Plane. Some of the books and little more than introductory primer material, but the book opened in the center of the desk contains some extremely advanced planar theory.
The second room is closed, and from behind the door comes a faint whiff of Essence; not as strong as the Black Book from Kallor, but still worthy of a circle of protection from Ernie before they open it. Dranko carries the Watcher’s Kiss at the moment, though it’s wrapped in cloth and tied to his belt. The Company has no torches or lanterns lit; they are relying on the daily mass darkvision. Though the spell usually restricts vision to greyscale. Dranko glances down and sees the bright gold of the Watcher’s Kiss peeking through the cloth.
Flicker pops the lock on the door and pushes it open. Beyond is a square stone room, twenty feet on a side, and squatting in the middle is a large black-iron cauldron. The wizards flinch, but there is no taint of null shadows here. There is a foul reek coming from it, a smell that none of them can identify, though all agree is unpleasant. From the doorway no one can see what, if anything, is inside the cauldron. The only other object in the room is a large wooden stick, intricately carved, with an obsidian cap on its upper end. It leans against the back wall of the room.
Dranko stares at the cauldron for a moment, using his innate ability to detect magic. He doesn’t have the knowledge to fully understand what he’s looking at, though he does ascertain that the cauldron’s magic is both extremely complex and monstrously strong. As for what it does – well, the answer to that question is made clear by a page of notes the Company came across while researching the Necromantic Forge and Califax’s Soul Shard:
“Gurthin’s greatest claim to fame was his forging of the Three Cauldrons: Shadow, Smoke and Lies. In the Great War he used the first two to produce fell soldiers to counter the Spire’s greatest heroes. Their wizards quailed before the Null Shadows, and their priests uttered oaths at the sight of Smoldering Ghosts. But it was the Cauldron of Lies that was his greatest achievement, for knowing lies, one discerns truth. Of course, while lies are treacherous, the truth can be even more so. The story is told that when Naloric stirred the Cauldron of Lies, it told him that he would be trapped forever in the Prison of Volpos. Perhaps it would have been better for him had that been true, since he was slain by Alander soon after his escape. Let us hope Darkeye makes better use of it.”
Ah. So this is the Cauldron of Lies.
/*/
“That’s awesome!”
Everyone turns to stare at Dranko. They do not immediately share his optimism.
He blows an exasperated breath. “If we stir the cauldron, then it tells us a lie. Whatever it tells us, we know it won’t come true.”
Aravis, whose inhibitions are scarce when there’s something new to experience, wants to stir the cauldron straight away. Grey Wolf and Kibi take a step back, wanting nothing to do with it.
“It’s evil!” Kibi protests. “It’s more evil than the Null Shadow cauldron was! Why are we even thinking about messing around with it?”
But the dwarf’s concerns do not dissuade Aravis and Dranko. The others are mildly curious, but not enough to stir them to action. Ernie reluctantly agrees to accompany the two would-be cauldron users into the room, so that they can stay within the penumbra of his protection from evil.
Dranko peers into the Cauldron of Lies. At first he thinks it’s empty, but then he sees that the bottom third of its volume is swirling with thick black vapors. Aravis picks up the obsidian-capped stick, dips it into the cauldron, and begins to stir. He feels a tingle in his hands, and experiences a tactile illusion of the stick becoming slimy and befouled. As the seconds tick by, a deep malaise comes over him, a despairing lethargy that threatens to overwhelm his senses. But he stays focused, girds his will, and continues to swirl the vapors.
After a minute or two of this, the vapors leap vigorously from the iron vessel, filling the air above it and forming into words as if pressed onto an invisible tablet. The others cannot make out the forms of the letters, but Aravis can read their message clearly.
Corilayna has indeed joined Drosh in the Crosser’s Maze.
Then the vapors break apart, and Aravis is left feeling drained and fragile, as though he has just had an unpleasant emotional encounter with someone he loves.
Dranko displays his usual sympathy. “So? How’d it go?”
Aravis staggers to the nearest wall, sits, and puts his head in his hands. “I feel… awful. But I learned something, I think.”
He tells the others the message from the cauldron, but there is some disagreement about which part is the lie. Did Corilayna go in, but Drosh had left? Or is Drosh still in it, but Corilayna is not? Or are neither of them there? None of them can say; it’s a bit out of their ken.
“Well, you didn’t die, and that’s good enough for me.” Dranko picks up the stick himself, and finds it heavier than he expects. With an effort he lifts the end of it into the cauldron, though it’s difficult to muster the will to even hold it. Gritting his teeth, he begins to stir, and like Aravis is overcome with sadness and depressing thoughts. He’s reminded of his argument with Kibi about talking back to Lord Tapehon, and of his worst days suffering the cutting discipline of Califax. His arms continue to stir, but soon he has personally lost interest, and has nearly become lost in his own misery when he realizes that words have formed above the squatting black pot.
Tapheon has forgotten all about his encounter with Dranko.
The stick drops from his hand with a clatter.
“Are you okay?” Ernie asks.
“I’m fine. It’s alright. Any time now Tapheon will seize my soul, and there’ll be eternal torment, and blah blah blah.”
“My turn next!” says Flicker.
“Let’s wait,” says Morningstar. “Let’s wait to see if this…” she motions to Dranko and Aravis, both of whom have grown quiet and morose, “… wears off, before anyone else tries it.”
Ernie gives Dranko and Aravis some food, and this cheers them up slightly. Flicker lights a cigar and puts it in Dranko’s mouth, and that improves the half-orc’s spirits further.
“Group hug!” says Ernie, and before too long Aravis and Dranko are feeling more like their old selves.
“I think,” says Aravis slowly, “that this cauldron distracts you with lies. It’s telling us things that are true, but which in the grand scheme of things aren’t important. I mean, we knew Tapheon hadn’t forgotten you, Dranko. Now we’ll just worry about it needlessly.”
“This is like, if everyone jumped off a bridge, would you?” says Ernie.
Dranko laughs. “Have you ever jumped off a bridge. It’s actually kind of fun!”
Ernie still has no desire to try his hand with the stirring stick. “Is it really worth our time trying to outthink a pot?”
“If we can’t, that’s embarrassing,” says Flicker. “I still think I should stir it.”
Dranko turns to him and grins. “You know how we always say, ‘at least you’re not as unwise as Flicker?’”
“You say that?”
“Not in front of you we don’t.”
“Fine. I’ll go scout out more of this basement.”
Flicker heads out into the hallway to check for secret doors.
“You know,” says Kibi. “I think I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to try it. I don’t really want to, but it’s a possible source of information, which is something we never seem to have enough of.” He picks up the stick, and adds, “And even if I became mopey and depressed, you guys probably wouldn’t notice any difference.”
Kibi stirs the cauldron, and fights his way through the unnatural depression it brings. The smoke rises before him, and brings this message:
The Cranchus you remember is alive and well.
Aravis frowns. “See? Kibi, it’s a distraction. Remember, people change. We don’t know what it means.”
Kibi sits heavily, tears coming into his eyes.
“Kibi,” says Ernie gently, “He could have lived a long and good life, and still have died of old age by now.”
“It’s not like I could have visited him anyway,” says Kibi sullenly.
“Kibi needs a hug,” says Dranko. “Ernie! Hug the dwarf.”
…to be continued…
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Joshua Randall
Legend
All three of those statements are sufficiently ambiguous that even knowing they are lies doesn't tell us anything useful.
Well payed, Sagiro.
Well payed, Sagiro.
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