Delurking to say this is an excellent story of D&D and give it a bump.
Also, Sagiro, would you be opposed to me ste...erm borrowing some of your story for my own campaign I'm going to be running?
You -- and anyone else -- should feel free to steal anything you want from my story!
Speaking of which, here's the next installment. It's pretty action-free, I'm afraid.
Sagiro’s Story Hour, Part 306
My Dinner with Califax
Kibilhathur wakes early the next morning, checks on the progress of his beer in the basement, and gets to work. His mission before lunch: to pore through their pilfered Black Circle library looking for information on the term “Morbid Link” – the bit of necromancy by which Mokad stole Praska's body. Kibi's certain that he's seen the term before – maybe when they were looking for ways to destroy the Null Shadow cauldron?
It takes him less than an hour to find what he's after. He calls the others down from breakfast and reads aloud the latest disturbing findings from their enormous Collection of Unsavory Writings:
“The Morbid Link is an advanced Black Circle ritual in which the seeds of a devotee’s consciousness are planted in the mind and soul of another person (“the subject”) who need not venerate the Black Circle, nor even be a volunteer. The subject typically retains no knowledge of the link afterward, and the ritual leaves no residual auras subject to divinations arcane or divine.
“When the adherent dies, his soul, intelligence, personality and memories are instantly transferred to the mind of the subject, who for all intents and purposes becomes the adherent. The subject’s own consciousness is subsumed in sub-layers of the psyche, faintly aware of his surroundings but unable to exert any control over the body.
“After a Morbid Link is triggered, the death of the single body results in the annihilation of the subject’s soul, so caution is advised.
“Once the original devotee has died, and the two beings come to occupy a single body, there are two ways in which the souls involved can be affected. First, assuming that any objects are at hand that were once in possession of the subject, one can enact the Ritual of the Fourth Derivation. This will not have any noticeable effect on the Morbid Link itself, but afterward, if the body is killed, the soul of the original subject will continue on to the afterlife, rather than become null.
“Second, if a Ritual of Seven Stars is performed directly upon the adherent, the subject’s consciousness and mind will be fully restored, and it will be the soul of the transferred devotee that is annihilated. To configure this ritual properly, a Ritual Circle of 31 spans should be inlaid, adjunct to the Seven Star equations in standard configuration.”
Kibi looks up from the book. “I hope the black circle we just tore up wasn't 31 spans,” he sighs.
“We still have Mokad's ritual room in Kallor,” says Aravis. “Mostly intact, I think.”
All three wizards then hit the books to learn what they can of the “Ritual of Seven Stars.” It turns out that said ritual isn't inherently Evil, but it's still creepy and complex, with some odd material components including “moontears that have been immersed in Dustwine.” Like most highly-involved Black Circle ceremonies, this one will involve a meticulously-prepared chamber set with obsidian rings and obscure equations. Fortunately the Black Circle provided thorough documentation. The ritual itself looks like it takes about six hours to complete.
“Look here,” says Aravis, inviting Grey Wolf and Kibi to look over his shoulder. “If we're going to do the Seven Stars, Mokad will have to be alive and restrained through the whole thing.”
“It looks like the Ritual of the Fourth Derivation would only take 15 minutes,” notes Grey Wolf, “and it's much simpler.”
“The problem with that one,” says Kibi, “is that it leaves Mokad's soul intact. He could be raised from the dead by his Black Circle buddies.”
The wizards share their findings with the others over lunch.
“Have you noticed?” says Ernie, chewing on a hunk of cheese. “It's always 'adherents' and 'devotees' with them. Never 'believers' or 'worshipers.' They sound less like a priesthood and more like a cult of evil mathematicians.”
“Could Mokad have more of these Morbid Links going?” asks Morningstar.
“Nope,” says Grey Wolf. “You can't chain them, or be part of more than one at a time.”
“Another problem with that simpler one,” says Dranko. “It's possible that if we do it, Mokad will sense it somehow. But I still think we have to do it, given that someone
else could kill Mokad in the meantime. Which, if I'm understanding you smarty wizards correctly, would destroy Praska's soul.”
* *
The Company settles in for several weeks of research, spell-scribing and item creation – with occasional globe-hopping forays when necessary. For example, an hour spent with an acolyte of Kemma in Djaw gets them a primer on the Kivian pantheon, and Myr Madar (newly self-appointed master of Drosh's old portfolio) in particular:
The Kivian High Gods, Yulan (God of Time and Reality) and Manisette (Goddess of Creation) arrived on Abernia millennia ago. With them came Myr Madar, whose relation to the High Gods is not known, and who takes no worshipers unto himself. The three found the land of Kivia, uninhabited and ruled by no other Gods, and they claimed it for themselves. Yulan and Manisette first created the five Greater Gods, who are: Kemma, Goddess of the Sun; Drosh, God of Death; Tiria, Goddess of War; Palamir, God of Magic; and Posada, God of the Sea. They also made the first humans who settled in Kivia, though these were soon joined by other creatures who came through the Ancient Archways. For it happened that there was another land on Abernia, and another God who ruled it. The land was called Char'gan, and the God was Pikon, but he stayed aloof from the Kivian Gods across the Sea.
Myr Madar has always stood outside the "family tree" of the other Gods. For the Greater Gods created the Lesser Gods, one to one -- Heros from Kemma; Nifi from Tiria; Quarrol from Posada, and Dralla from Drosh. Palamir, God of Magic, was prideful and created four Lesser Gods instead of one, but his creations were flawed, and weaker than the others. They were Paro, Laramon, Svetla and Vinceris, mere demigods among the pantheon. Manisette was angered by Palamir's pride, and though she was a Goddess of Creation, she showed that she could also destroy. She unmade Palamir and remade him as a God of Loyalty and Duty.
Myr Madar is the shadow that looms over all other Gods; and they fear him, even Yulan and Manisette. But has always judged fairly, and no soul ascends to heaven without his scrutiny. Drosh holds the dead, and Drosh keeps those who deserve no good fate, and Drosh releases the righteous to heaven, and Drosh allows the undead to walk; but it is Myr Madar who judges, and Myr Madar who points the way.
With Drosh's recent unexplained absence, it seems to many religious scholars that Myr Madar was the logical choice to assume his duties.
* *
They also look up the sage Four Keen Mind while in Djaw, he being the scholar who once sold them information about the land of Branoi far to the north. It only takes him a few hours to dig up a very old reference to 'dustwine,' and for some gold coins he shares it with the Company:
Far to the northwest of Djaw, in the rocky country of Bederen, is the town of West Greydust, and in that town it is said that that they once drank from a holy pool a magic elixir known as "dustwine." There are no credible accounts of its effects, since the spartan inhabitants of Bederen have always been reclusive, but one who imbibed it was said to be cured of any number of afflictions both physical and spiritual.
This information is in a book of exotic potions written over 100 years ago, and there is no more recent information on the subject.
* *
About two weeks later, late in an afternoon when most of the Company are busy in the basement laboratory, they hear a knock at the door upstairs. A moment later Eddings calls down.
“Dranko, you have a visitor. It's Califax.”
Dranko sets down his tools. “Show him in. We'll be right up.”
It's strange to see his one-time nemesis standing and fidgeting in the Greenhouse living room. Dranko's not quite sure what to say.
“How are you feeling?” he offers, after an awkward moment.
“Better,” says Califax with a wan smile. “They've been feeding me well. May I sit?”
“Of course. Would you like something to drink?”
“I'd love something, thank you,” answers Califax, sitting carefully down in a chair like he's afraid he might break it.
Kibi has come up as well by this time. “How about a beer?”
“Sure!”
Dranko sits in the chair opposite Califax. Now his scar-covered tormentor is relaxing in his house with a beer!
“Well, I wouldn't have predicted this,” he says.
“No,” Califax agrees. “I guess not.”
For one of the few times in his life, Dranko is finding it difficult to generate small talk. “So. Got your soul back.”
Califax chuckles. “Yes, I'm well aware of that. Father Tomnic told me everything. I understand you put yourself in great physical danger on my account.”
Dranko nods. “Giant monster, made out of huge crypts and earth and stuff. It was full of undead. It was great.”
“Great?”
“For certain definitions of great, that involve excitement more than safety.”
Califax, who has never been inside the Greenhouse, looks around with great curiosity.
“This is... how did you come to be in this house?”
“Classified,” says Dranko with a smile. “Let's just say it was a gift from one of the arch-magi, who saw a certain amount of potential in me and my friends.”
He gestures to his friends, who by now have all filtered up to join the reunion. “Califax, this is my wife Morningstar, a shield-maiden of Ell, and a Daywalker.”
“I've heard a lot about you,” says Morningstar, keeping a neutral tone.
“Yes, I'm sure you have,” says Califax, not meeting her gaze. “I wish I could say Dranko was entirely wrong, but I don't doubt he's been honest.”
“This is Sir Ernest Roundhill,” Dranko continues, pointing to Ernie,
“'Sir?'”
“Yeah, we're all knights,” says Dranko. “Did I mention we even have a keep? We have a keep! Do you have a keep?”
“No,” says Califax. “But I do have a church, which I'm fortunate to have been let back into.”
“This is Grey Wolf. This is Aravis Telmir, a very powerful an impressive wizard. And over there is Kibilhathur Bimson, also one of those. And that's Flicker.”
(Edghar grumps to his master over an empathic link.
You're a powerful wizard too. Want for me to remind him?)
Califax regards the Company with poorly-concealed awe. “Father Tomnic has told me that you... all of you... have saved Charagan several times over.”
“Once or twice,” says Ernest modestly.
“Three times, actually.” says Dranko. “Maybe four.”
Califax says nothing for a minute, so Dranko speaks again.
“Like I said, the Archmagi saw our potential. And it turned out that there was a better way for me than being cut and healed every time I did something wrong. You could say I've been re-channeled into more productive opportunities.”
Califax steeples his fingers and speaks carefully. “Every part of your past is part of what has made you the man you are today.”
“True,” Dranko admits. “I would not be me, without you. And sadly, without Mokad.” He turns to Ernie. “Can I spit in here?”
Ernie shakes his head. “No, but we'll take it as read.”
“I'm... I'm very sorry about Praska,” says Califax quietly.
“Yes, me too,” says Dranko. “So, yeah, we fought Praska, and knew that she had turned, but didn't know that was Mokad inside of her. I'm glad you got that info to us, so we have the opportunity to actually save her.”
Califax nods. The two regard each other in silence for another minute or two, taking occasional sips of beer.
“I'm thinking,” says Califax suddenly, “about all the meetings of the elders of the Church, back when you were a child. The meetings about you, I mean, and what we should do about you.”
“Did I ever apologize for the time I set the fane on fire?”
“You did... break a lot of things,” Califax laughs. “And they weren't always easy to fix. You were... difficult. I'm just trying to reconcile certain things. I think I needed to see you here, in person.”
Dranko extends his arms. “I'm just me.”
“Yes. It's obvious you're still the same person I remember. But now, married and respectable...”
“Our very first mission involved some unfortunate moments with rats,” says Morningstar. “Afterward, some in our very young Company were having trouble sleeping. My fumbling attempts at using dreams to help could only do so much, but someone else here found a more direct solution. He went out and found an old, bedraggled stray cat, that had no home, and brought it in so the house would be safe from rats.
That is Dranko.”
She fixes Califax with a prideful look.
“So you are,” says Califax. “And... I'm sorry, that you feel your childhood was less than fair.”
Dranko leans forward. “All of my resentment and anger that was aimed at you was forgiven and dismissed a long time ago. I was set a task by Brechen, in exchange for bringing back one of our friends that was killed, to find a way to forgive you. And I'm glad I did. Because frankly, you were worthy of forgiveness.”
“Thank you. I guess I served some greater purpose after all.”
“Well the fact is that you were able to find the strength in yourself to do what was right in the end, instead of what Mokad wanted you to do. I have tremendous respect for that, and I don't know that I've ever told you. Or expected to.”
Califax looks studiously at his hands. “I spent so long not liking you, Dranko... this is going to be hard for me.”
“It's okay for you not to like me.”
“You're clearly a different person now, to a great extent. I shouldn't hold old grudges, especially in light of debts I owe to you now.”
Dranko smiles. “Why don't we start over? Not in an annoying bards-singing-love-songs-by-candlelight kind of way, just a two adults sort of way.”
Califax glances over at Morningstar.
“Yes,” she says. “He's worth it.”
“Dranko Blackhope, hero of the realm,” says Califax. “That's going to take some getting used to.”
“It's 'Brightmirror' now. I changed my name after marrying Morningstar.”
“That's the last thing I would have expected of you. Just remarkable. I'm pleased things have turned out the way they did. But... I'm really here to talk about Praska. I'm sorry to get sentimental.”
“It's okay,” says Dranko. “Why don't you stay for dinner?”
* *
“She has a secret hideout under the capital,” says Califax between bites of roast chicken. “It's possible that she's there right now.”
Dranko shakes his head. “We've already raided it. She was there. Do you know that she sent Null Shadows after us?”
“Extra nasty ones,” Kibi adds.
“Mokad did that, not Praska,” Califax corrects them.
“Right,” says Dranko, thinking sheepishly again of the mean things he said during the battle.
“He even used Praska to taunt me,” says Morningstar. “Through a
thought capture”
The Company gives Califax a summary of their battle against Mokad/Praska beneath Hae Charagan, ending with their frustration when she teleported away, and their subsequent failure to track her down.
“Where would you guess she is now?” Dranko asks.
“If I had to guess, I'd say probably Kai Kin.”
“Really!” exclaims Dranko. “Have you ever had their custard?”
“No,” says Califax, not getting the reference. “I've never been to Kai Kin. There is a Black Circle temple there. Highly regarded by the locals, I understand. The Black Circle is one of the prominent religions in the country. I don't know what he was up to there; frankly, they weren't wholly sure of me, and eventually found me out, right before you rescued me. I was never deep in their counsels. I believe – though I have no proof – that they are working again to find a way to rescue Emperor Naradawk from Volpos.”
“Attempt number four!” Ernie exclaims.
“I don't know how far along they are,” says Califax, “or what their plan is.”
“Mokad has powerful anti-divination magic going, unfortunately.”
“Their entire temple is safeguarded,” says Califax.
“How did they recruit you?” asks Morningstar abruptly. Califax freezes for a second before putting down his fork.
“And is anyone else in the temple still compromised?” asks Dranko.
“No,” says Califax. He turns to Morningstar and answers: “I don't wish to discuss it. Let's just say they recruited me by... it was a personal matter. They preyed on my personal weakness.”
“Oh, I know how it is,” says Dranko. “They hated Dranko. You hated me. It was a perfect fit!”
“It's not funny, Dranko. Suffice to say, I found Mokad persuasive, and I fell.”
“But you clambered back up,” says Dranko, smiling. “And that's what counts.”
Ever tactically-minded, Kibi asks, “In Kai Kin, where is the temple specifically?”
“I'm sure it's location is no secret,” says Califax. “The Black Circle is worshiped openly; you could probably ask anyone on the streets of Kai Kin. Though, Kai Kin – and all of Ocir – is xenophobic in the extreme. Insular. But here's what I think. You know the Black Circle in Kivia collects life energy, from people seeking knowledge. And that life energy is ultimately put to use for some grand purpose of theirs that was never made clear to me. I
think that purpose is being brought about in Kai Kin.”
“And something tells me their plan isn't to feed the hungry or heal the sick,” says Ernie.
Califax chuckles. “The Black Circle – I'm embarrassed to say, I don't exactly know what it is. It is the embodiment of certain attitudes. But it is also tangible in its way. There is a malign will of some sort...”
“That's the goo,” says Ernie.
“The what?”
“Long story,” says Dranko. “Concentrated Evil.”
“We're not prepared to talk about it,” Aravis interjects, glaring at the others.
“So,” says Dranko. “Califax, is there any way
we can help
you at this point?”
“You can sit and talk with me while you feed me dinner,” laughs Califax. And so they do, making small talk for another hour. Eventually Dranko leans back in his chair and lifts his mug of beer. “You know, this is way, way nicer than I imagined it would be. Cigar?”
Califax declines, citing his soul-weak state. Flicker, ever insensitive to social niceties, asks what it was like to not have a soul for so long.
Califax darkens and doesn't answer for a minute. Then he says simply, “it was hell.”
Dranko breaks the tension by telling Califax the story of their encounter with Lord Tapheon in Het Branoi. When he has finished the part where the Demon Lord turned him into an inside-out fish, Califax shakes his head in disbelief.
“All I ever did was give you scars. I don't feel like such the villain anymore.”
“Heck,” says Dranko with practiced nonchalance, “I've been eaten a few times.”
They show Califax the trophy case.
“And he's licked most of those things,” Aravis chimes in.
Califax looks at Dranko. “You still have that revolting habit?”
Dranko looks affronted. “Aravis doesn't understand that people don't properly experience the world through all of their senses.”
“Well, you certainly know what everything in the church tastes like,” says Califax. “Including some holy relics, as I recall.”
“They tingle,” Dranko grins.
“He also knows what addictive, strength-draining powder tastes like,” says Aravis.
“We don't have to air all of our dirty laundry, you know,” says Dranko, aggrieved.
“I'm not airing all of it,” Aravis answers. “Just the funny stuff.”
Califax peers out a window at the dark Street of Bakers. “You can save some stories for my next visit. I should probably take my leave.”
Dranko walks him to the door. “If you need anything, let us know.”
“Well, you don't need anything from
me,” says Califax. “You're a savior of the world after all. Good night everyone. Thanks so much for dinner.”
And Califax departs. Dranko closes the door, turns to his assembled friends, and lets out a long breath.
“That was the strangest visit we've had in a long time.”
...to be continued...