Sepulchrave II
Legend
Okay, time for another update. I had hoped to continue on a 1 post = 1 session basis, but that seems too ambitious.
First, some answers. I'm trying to be conscientious:
MasterOfHeaven wrote wrt Oronthon:
Maybe in your campaign he wouldn't be. Alignment debates are largely futile, as the individual DM decides the defining characteristics of each Alignment to suit his or her own campaign style.
Glad you removed the assertion about OT Yahweh, though. That was kind of inflammatory.
Warrior Poet asked:
I am a fan of Blake. I love his work, but I am certainly not a scholar.
linnorm asked:
Probably no more than 1/week.
BiggusGeekus asked:
Absolutely no absolutism!
tleilaxu pointed out that
Early in her career, she was an acolyte of Jeshi - a local elemental goddess worshipped in Fumaril.
rackabello asked:
No halflings or half-orcs. Or orcs, for that matter. There is no 'integrated society' of humanoids - mostly, I use feys and folkloric monsters (goblins, giants, dragons etc.) - excepting extraplanars. They seldom appear in the story. The Wyre Game is very 'humanocentric.'
Sorcerers exist, but they are marginal to society. Hedge-witches, purveyors of charms, that kind of thing.
grodog asked:
I've tried eveything - taking notes, recording sessions on audiotape, picking the players' brains afterwards etc. I try to keep the ad lib to a minimum, but I can always recall the tenor and context of comments, even if I don't remember words verbatim.
I think that's everything. I'll probably trim this thread brutally in the near future.
Sooo...
**
Soraine mused.
"I thought that you had decided upon a ‘softly, softly’ approach," she said to Eadric. "This hardly seems consistent with it."
"That had been the initial plan," Eadric agreed, "but Rintrah commanded a more direct tact."
"In which case," Soraine replied, "I should relinquish control to you formally – if you think you can handle the nobility of Trempa."
"Fewer of them have doubts now, and the ones that do are less distrusting and intractable. Although it will prove difficult. I have already required Ryth to bring his skirmishers south to join the main force."
"It will leave the northern flank vulnerable to assault from Thahan. I am reluctant to…"
"I will ask Nwm to deal with it," Eadric said simply. "Besides – we cannot have him present and active in the main force. It would be too controversial, and would give an unwelcome slant to what is essentially an internal Temple affair."
Soraine was staggered. "You need him with you. Even if you displace the Temple troops across the river – which is by no means certain – if the royal army is deployed against you, he is your best assurance against defeat. And any attempt that you make to woo Tagur’s sympathies now is likely to be met with hostility: you may have lost a potential ally, there."
"It can’t be helped," Eadric shrugged. "I have been instructed to march on Morne as soon as is feasible. The Bishop of Kaurban is interceding on our behalf with the Duke – Tahl has spoken with him. He has always been sympathetic to our cause."
But Soraine shook her head. "The Bishop has been neutered by this whole affair. He has little temporal power left. I can’t believe that you told Brey of your intentions – a surprise assault would have been much more effective. Now they have time to prepare."
Eadric raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, forget I said that," the Duchess smiled. "But I find this whole enterprise to be very worrying. Even if you get as far as Morne, you still have to get into Morne."
"I am hoping for popular support," Eadric admitted ruefully. "If I only had the opportunity to speak with people…"
"I fear the common man will view you as simply another potential oppressor."
"I was thinking of speaking more to the Temple troops, actually," Eadric explained. "I may be able to turn large numbers of them towards our cause. Brey is misliked. Melion, Rede, Irian and Hembur are all dead. Rumours are abroad of the encounter with Eniin at Deorham, and the Templars who have rallied to me are well-respected…"
"I suspect that the view amongst many is that you have seduced them. There is also the matter of Rede’s assassination – Nwm is implicated, and thus, you."
"That is another reason why he may not accompany me in this," Eadric sighed. "Tahl is investing me as Grand Master of the Temple tomorrow morning."
"That may be a hollow title," the Duchess remarked drily. "I don’t imagine it will carry too much weight – he could anoint you as Oronthon incarnate, for all that it’s worth. A name is worth little without the resources to back it."
Eadric shrugged. "I have been restrained for long enough. It is time to assert my spiritual authority. It will not be easy – I still have doubts about my abilities."
"That, at least, is reassuring," Soraine laughed. "I will summon the nobility. It’s time that we met in conference again – and all should be present for the ceremony. When did you plan to lead the assault?"
"In four or five days," Eadric answered. "I will attempt to speak to Tagur again in the interim."
Soraine raised an eyebrow. "Good luck," she said.
*
As a clear dawn broke the next morning, before the assembled aristocracy of Trempa, Eadric took oaths and was blessed by Tahl. He assumed the titular command both the Temple and the Inquisition, and chose the unassuming title of ‘First Magistrate’ for the unprecedented dual leadership. He also reclaimed the title of ‘Protector of the Nineteen Tenets,’ which had been stripped from him at his trial.
In a second ceremony, which followed shortly afterwards, Soraine conferred the estates of Hernath and Droming upon the Paladin, appointed him the chief of her comitati – those knights, thanes and bannermen sworn to her service – and raised him to the rank of Earl. He was ceded absolute command of Trempa’s forces. This was a formality as far as Eadric was concerned, although Soraine’s legitimacy was unquestioned in the eyes of those present – unlike Tahl’s.
But before the day was out, in a development which left Eadric feeling extremely uncomfortable, all such titles were forgotten. The Paladin did not determine the source -although he (wrongly) suspected one of the Penitents to have started it - but a new appellation was given to him: Ahma*. It spread quickly amongst the zealots, and was picked up by the more secular aristocrats and even the Uediians. Eadric attempted to have the name forbidden, but it was too late. To him, it verged on blasphemy. He spoke to Tahl, and the Inquisitor shrugged as if it were an inevitability. He related his concerns to Nehael.
"Actually, I began it," the demoness smiled.
"But why? It is a profanity."
"Applied to anyone else, perhaps. But you are an emissary. A vehicle. Your ego is of no concern. You are simply the agent of Oronthon’s will: nothing more, nothing less. Soraine said that you needed to exert your spiritual authority. You cannot do that in half measure, Ahma."
"Do not call me that," he snapped.
She slapped him. He winced. "See?" She said. "Don’t worry – you’re still a man."
**
"This is a development I could have done without," Eadric said to Nwm regarding his new name.
"Your modesty is becoming, Ed," Nwm said, "but this is a religious war. You’re bound to get some weird title or other foisted upon you, if you play the role of Oronthon’s chosen representative. Don’t worry about it."
"But I don’t feel I deserve it. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Good," Nwm said unsympathetically. "The moment that you feel happy about it, is the moment that you become crazy."
"I hope that you will continue to offer a critical perspective regarding all of this, Nwm. It’s good to look from the outside in. Let me know if things are going too far. I can’t believe that Nehael started it."
"She has an expanded perspective," Nwm grinned. "Trust her. And you may count on my brutal objectivity."
"She talks of surrender. Of forgetting my ego. Of agency." Eadric sighed.
"What do you expect?" Nwm laughed. "She is a mystic. She is also, of course, correct. Relax, Ed. Let go of your concerns. Let it – whatever it is - flow through you. Forget your own judgements and preconceptions. Zhuel can be your guide in this. It is actually ridiculously simple."
Eadric sighed. "I’ve recalled Ryth’s longbowmen. I need you to sort out the Temple troops in northern Trempa. Can you deal with it?"
"Yes, but…"
"I cannot have you with me, Nwm. It compromises my position too much."
"I understand that," the Druid said. "It’s hard, though."
"I will take Nehael, if she is willing – assuming that’s alright with you."
"She is a free agent," Nwm laughed. "I have no authority over her. It is a good choice: she is an able counsellor."
"It seems appropriate that she should be present in whatever transpires," Eadric explained. "After all, this whole mess started with her. Did you know that she is in contact with Rintrah?"
"She mentioned as much to me," the Druid admitted. "I trust her implicitly, but her motives are quite unfathomable. She seems equally comfortable dealing with the Goddess, and most of the Uediians are willing to defer to her authority in matters religious. I think she works to preserve openness and communication – in all of its forms – more than anything else. She spoke to me of a ‘Middle Way.’"
"With regard to what?" The Paladin asked.
"Everything?" Nwm suggested. "Who knows? She is eight billion years old, and has a lot of experience to draw upon. She foresees ends which we cannot. Are you still, you know…?" The Druid waved his hands vaguely.
"I don’t know," Eadric mused. "I haven’t really thought about that for quite some time. And at the moment, it seems like a bit of an unnecessary distraction. Before you head north, I need you to take me to Gibilrazen – I’m going to try talking with Prince Tagur again."
"Tact or honesty?" Nwm asked.
"The latter, unfortunately," Eadric said.
"Be careful. I doubt he’ll appreciate any threats."
"No more equivocating. It’s time to act decisively."
"There you are," Nwm jibed. "Being the Breath of God is easy. You don’t mind if we drop in on a friend of mine on the way, do you?"
Eadric looked puzzled.
"Yes, Ahma, even I have friends," Nwm said sarcastically. "Hullu. I need to keep abreast of his progress. And you should meet him – he may be a potential ally."
**
"You can use this," Iua said to Mostin, giving him a plain silver ring. "It used to belong to him."
The Alienist grunted. "Very well. Normally, of course, I would demand a fee…"
"Oh just hurry up and do it, Mostin," Ortwin interrupted. "I thought we’d got beyond all of the ‘fees for this’ and ‘fees for that’ business."
"We have," Mostin agreed, "but it doesn’t hurt to remind people once in a while of my generosity and magnanimity."
The Alienist clasped the ring in his hand, and stood before the looking-glass of Urm-Nahat, invoking its powerful magic yet again. The mist upon its surface – eerie and supernatural – gradually gave way to clouds which appeared more natural in origin. Wisps broke in them, to reveal a sky of such bright, perfect azure that Mostin had to squint. There was no sun, but the air seemed to glow with an inner light.
Ortwin gasped in wonder. The scene before him was utterly fabulous: a vast island of rock, suspended in mid air, supporting a city constructed entirely of white marble. Towers and pinnacles stretched high into the sky, and domed roofs glistened with silver and gold. Gardens and orchards of fruit trees grew in profusion: each, apparently, meticulously nurtured and tended. Water ran freely through pristine aqueducts, and accumulated in pools and open cisterns.
"What is this place?" Ortwin marvelled. He felt that he had been missing something for both of his lives.
"It is called Magathei," Iua replied. "It is Ulao’s capitol. Around ten thousand Djinn live there – but it is not the largest of their cities on the Plane of Air by some way."
"I have visited Kalkinassus," Mostin bragged. "This is a backwater compared to that place. I first met Mulissu there."
"And attempted to seduce her?" Iua asked archly.
"Mostin!" Ortwin said with mock gravity. "I didn’t know that you were capable. And she rejected your advances? Inconceivable!"
"Yes. Quite." Mostin agreed, perfectly seriously. "I will accompany you, if that is acceptable – a day or two here will make for a pleasant outing. And there are a variety of interesting inhabitants. It may be worth my while."
"What can the Djinn offer you?" Ortwin asked.
"Not just Djinn," Iua explained. "Elementals, Mephits, Sylphs, Aerial Servants, Stalkers, Vortices, Arrowhawks and Wind-Walkers. Wizards and sorcerers from who-knows-where. Not to mention Auran analogues of every creature that you can conceive of – and more. And creatures from other Elemental Planes. It is a very cosmopolitan city."
"I always thought the Djinn were rather parochial," Ortwin mused. "That is good news: I assume your father’s progressiveness extends to his daughter’s potential suitors?"
"Hmm," Iua sighed sceptically. "In any case, do not attempt flight with your boots whilst there – you will be ridiculed. A gift of some kind would be appropriate – overt displays of generosity are well received. Be tolerant of unusual customs. And you should be aware of my name."
Iua pronounced a long string of sibilants and aspirated syllables.
"Iua is easier," Ortwin remarked.
"Ulao will simply call me one-eight-six. He has many children."
"But you are the only non-Djinn?"
"Gods, no," Iua replied. "I’ve got elemental, half-elemental, half-celestial, half-fiendish and every other conceivable kind of bastard sibling. Ulao is quite undiscriminating in his lust."
Ortwin nodded. At least they had that in common.
"Wait," Mostin remembered. "I must get my hat."
**
"Damn, Nwm, how many does he have here," Eadric was astounded.
"More than when I last visited," Nwm said, equally surprised. "And that was only a fortnight ago."
Within seconds of their materialization from a vaporous state, the Paladin and the Druid were surrounded by dozens of men and women of all ages, mostly – Eadric noted – of the same racial group to which Nwm belonged.** They bore spears, bows and swords. Several were wearing chainmail shirts of Thalassine construction, others were clad in studded armour or hauberks looted from Temple troops and men-at-arms.
Nwm quickly held up a hand. "Peace. I am Nwm, the Preceptor. This is Eadric of Deorham. I seek Hullu." The Druid quickly realized that he recognized only one or two faces from his previous visit.
Their reaction made Nwm nervous. Some were suspicious, whilst others were confused – their awe of the Druid offset by what they considered to be the enemy in their midst: Eadric. Whatever the Paladin’s own leanings he was, in the final analysis, a Templar from their viewpoint. And many of them lacked the broader political perspective which may have made them more understanding. Trempa was two hundred miles away, and the troubles there had had little direct bearing on the situation of those present.
A woman in her early thirties, with a face worn with concern stepped forwards. She wore a byrnie of blackened mail, and in her hand she carried a powerful horn bow. She was girt with a bastard sword with aristocratic motifs on its scabbard – no doubt plundered from an unsuspecting Temple knight.
"I am Tarva," she said assertively. "Hullu is not present. He has mentioned you, Nwm. How may I help?" Her manner was cold.
"I wished to discuss strategy and progress with him," Nwm said easily.
"That will not be possible," Tarva replied. "He is briefing a mission. Is there anything else?"
Nwm was mildly irked by her attitude, but hid it. "Then I should like to speak with you, Tarva," he said.
"Not while the Templar is present," she said, turning away.
This has to be resolved immediately, Nwm thought. "That was not a request, Tarva," he said icily.
She turned back to face him. "By what authority do you command me – or any of us here – Nwm?" She said bitterly. "I have yet to see you suffer at the hands of the Temple. I have yet to see your support for us, beyond striking the enemy when and where your whim dictates. You cannot be depended upon."
"No, I will not be depended upon," Nwm snapped. "Do you think I should raze Morne for you, Tarva? Obliterate the Temple? Replace it with a grove of trees? I have more to consider than your immediate needs. My responsibility is to future generations. Do you not think that I have considered all of this?" His tone was one of exasperation.
"Then why did you begin all of this?" She gestured around at the stockade, the smithy, the dozens who were flocking to hear the exchange.
"To empower you," he smiled ruefully. "A little too effectively, it would seem. This is Eadric of Deorham, as I said. Have you heard of him?"
Tarva nodded. "The Heretic Templar with the Demon concubine."
Eadric coughed.
"He may be our best hope for a solution to this situation." Nwm explained "He plans to disestablish the Church, and remove taxation. All taxation – not just of Uediians."
"A reformer?" Tarva said sarcastically. "Big deal! Five hundred years of oppression aren’t going to be removed by a few tax breaks. Uediians farm the most marginal land. They form the majority of indentured workers. There are five times as many Uediian tenant farmers as there are Oronthonians, but they only comprise a third of the population. Work it out!"
"I agree," Eadric said unexpectedly. "I will take an oath, here and now, that every Uediian household in Wyre will be compensated. I will empty the Temple coffers to achieve this."
Hmm, he thought. I hadn’t planned to make that commitment.
"Promises are easily made," Tarva growled.
"I do not lie," Eadric said.
"I do not trust you," Tarva groaned. "I am tempted to have you captured and bound. You would fetch a fine ransom."
"You would fail," Eadric said in a matter-of fact way, shaking his head. "There is no man in Wyre who can withstand me in arms."
"I could," Hullu grinned, walking into the middle of the group. "Although, obviously, I’d prefer to avoid the demonstration. Greetings, Nwm – it’s good to see you again. I regret that the ale is still not ready, although we have mead, now. I am honoured, Eadric. Nwm seems to trust you - which is a rare thing in this dirty world – and therefore I am inclined to too."
Eadric glanced down, and his stomach turned. He had all but forgotten the sword, but there it was, hanging from the hip of the Tunthi tribesman.
"Don’t worry," Hullu said, following his eyes. "She is firmly under control. I had thought about renaming her ‘Merriment’ or ‘Exuberance’ – after all, Melancholy is such a depressing name."
She? Nwm thought.
**
"You have achieved a great deal here, Hullu," Eadric said. "And in a very short period of time."
The Tribesman nodded. "Resistance is relatively easy to organize amongst the hopelessly disenfranchised," he pointed out drily. "But I am regarded as a kind of cingetomaru in their speech– a war leader, only. My customs mean that I suspect I will never be fully accepted."
"But you are mastering the old tongue quickly," Nwm said. "Your inflexion is close to perfect."
"I have a knack for languages," Hullu smiled. He grunted. "Don’t be discouraged by Tarva, Nwm. She is a radical – even amongst these people. Most still regard you favourably."
"I admit that I am surprised that you have bestowed so much power on one so controversial."
"I’d rather have her close to me, than undermining me," Hullu explained. "Besides, she has remarkable energy and natural leadership skills – it is better to channel that ability than repress it. And she possesses political savvy."
Eadric nodded. This man was intriguing. Much more than a simple warrior. "How much strength can you field?" He asked.
"From this camp, three hundred who are at least reasonably competent," he said. "But there are other cells establishing themselves – I admit that we reached capacity here more quickly than I had anticipated."
"And altogether?" Nwm asked.
"Close to a thousand, perhaps," Hullu replied carefully. "Even I am not sure of exact numbers. You have sown the wind, Nwm. It didn’t take much."
The Druid shifted uneasily, and wondered whether he should assume a more active role before things ran away from him. "How do you feed them, Hullu?"
"I finally acquiesced to Tarva’s desire to raid Oronthonian farmsteads," he admitted, but added quickly, "but only the largest and wealthiest ones. And not to the point of destituting the owners. I am merely skimming some of the fat off."
"That tendency may get out of hand," Eadric pointed out. "If you set a precedent for it, it will become stretched by need and spurious logic."
"They are more disciplined than you give them credit for," Hullu replied. "But the forest alone cannot support them – unless they spend all day hunting, of course. And boar are getting scarce in these parts." He grimaced. "We’ve messed up the balance of nature already, Nwm. It is an inevitable compromise, but it doesn’t mean that I hate it any less."
The Druid nodded sympathetically. "Then you should move, before things get worse. Although your defenses here…"
Hullu laughed. "I can erect a stockade in two days, Nwm. That is no concern. It is the beer that worries me. I have already considered it: I will leave a skeleton garrison here, a store of provisions, and move the bulk of the bagaudas to a new site. It should also give the forest time to recover here."
"Where will you go?" Eadric asked.
"Eastwards. Maybe four or five days. The land beyond the forest is richer there, although more populous."
"Towards Morne?"
"Towards Morne," Hullu replied.
*Without getting too heavily into Oronthonian theology, the name can be roughly translated as "Breath of God." It also has metaphysical associations which are similar to Sophia or Logos or Shabda in RL religion. The first syllable is pronounced as in German ‘acht,’ ‘machen’ etc.
**These people are the descendants of the Crixi, one of the first racial groups to inhabit Wyre, before Old Borchia was founded. Although great individual variety exists, and bloodlines are much confused with later migrating groups, typical Uediians possess sufficient different features to distinguish them from Oronthonians in Wyre. Descendants of later migrants are taller, have fairer complexions and tend to be rather more slender. Nwm and Eadric conform quite closely to their respective racial stereotypes.
First, some answers. I'm trying to be conscientious:
MasterOfHeaven wrote wrt Oronthon:
Maybe in your campaign he wouldn't be. Alignment debates are largely futile, as the individual DM decides the defining characteristics of each Alignment to suit his or her own campaign style.
Glad you removed the assertion about OT Yahweh, though. That was kind of inflammatory.
Warrior Poet asked:
I am a fan of Blake. I love his work, but I am certainly not a scholar.
linnorm asked:
Probably no more than 1/week.
BiggusGeekus asked:
Absolutely no absolutism!
tleilaxu pointed out that
Early in her career, she was an acolyte of Jeshi - a local elemental goddess worshipped in Fumaril.
rackabello asked:
No halflings or half-orcs. Or orcs, for that matter. There is no 'integrated society' of humanoids - mostly, I use feys and folkloric monsters (goblins, giants, dragons etc.) - excepting extraplanars. They seldom appear in the story. The Wyre Game is very 'humanocentric.'
Sorcerers exist, but they are marginal to society. Hedge-witches, purveyors of charms, that kind of thing.
grodog asked:
I've tried eveything - taking notes, recording sessions on audiotape, picking the players' brains afterwards etc. I try to keep the ad lib to a minimum, but I can always recall the tenor and context of comments, even if I don't remember words verbatim.
I think that's everything. I'll probably trim this thread brutally in the near future.
Sooo...
**
Soraine mused.
"I thought that you had decided upon a ‘softly, softly’ approach," she said to Eadric. "This hardly seems consistent with it."
"That had been the initial plan," Eadric agreed, "but Rintrah commanded a more direct tact."
"In which case," Soraine replied, "I should relinquish control to you formally – if you think you can handle the nobility of Trempa."
"Fewer of them have doubts now, and the ones that do are less distrusting and intractable. Although it will prove difficult. I have already required Ryth to bring his skirmishers south to join the main force."
"It will leave the northern flank vulnerable to assault from Thahan. I am reluctant to…"
"I will ask Nwm to deal with it," Eadric said simply. "Besides – we cannot have him present and active in the main force. It would be too controversial, and would give an unwelcome slant to what is essentially an internal Temple affair."
Soraine was staggered. "You need him with you. Even if you displace the Temple troops across the river – which is by no means certain – if the royal army is deployed against you, he is your best assurance against defeat. And any attempt that you make to woo Tagur’s sympathies now is likely to be met with hostility: you may have lost a potential ally, there."
"It can’t be helped," Eadric shrugged. "I have been instructed to march on Morne as soon as is feasible. The Bishop of Kaurban is interceding on our behalf with the Duke – Tahl has spoken with him. He has always been sympathetic to our cause."
But Soraine shook her head. "The Bishop has been neutered by this whole affair. He has little temporal power left. I can’t believe that you told Brey of your intentions – a surprise assault would have been much more effective. Now they have time to prepare."
Eadric raised an eyebrow.
"Alright, forget I said that," the Duchess smiled. "But I find this whole enterprise to be very worrying. Even if you get as far as Morne, you still have to get into Morne."
"I am hoping for popular support," Eadric admitted ruefully. "If I only had the opportunity to speak with people…"
"I fear the common man will view you as simply another potential oppressor."
"I was thinking of speaking more to the Temple troops, actually," Eadric explained. "I may be able to turn large numbers of them towards our cause. Brey is misliked. Melion, Rede, Irian and Hembur are all dead. Rumours are abroad of the encounter with Eniin at Deorham, and the Templars who have rallied to me are well-respected…"
"I suspect that the view amongst many is that you have seduced them. There is also the matter of Rede’s assassination – Nwm is implicated, and thus, you."
"That is another reason why he may not accompany me in this," Eadric sighed. "Tahl is investing me as Grand Master of the Temple tomorrow morning."
"That may be a hollow title," the Duchess remarked drily. "I don’t imagine it will carry too much weight – he could anoint you as Oronthon incarnate, for all that it’s worth. A name is worth little without the resources to back it."
Eadric shrugged. "I have been restrained for long enough. It is time to assert my spiritual authority. It will not be easy – I still have doubts about my abilities."
"That, at least, is reassuring," Soraine laughed. "I will summon the nobility. It’s time that we met in conference again – and all should be present for the ceremony. When did you plan to lead the assault?"
"In four or five days," Eadric answered. "I will attempt to speak to Tagur again in the interim."
Soraine raised an eyebrow. "Good luck," she said.
*
As a clear dawn broke the next morning, before the assembled aristocracy of Trempa, Eadric took oaths and was blessed by Tahl. He assumed the titular command both the Temple and the Inquisition, and chose the unassuming title of ‘First Magistrate’ for the unprecedented dual leadership. He also reclaimed the title of ‘Protector of the Nineteen Tenets,’ which had been stripped from him at his trial.
In a second ceremony, which followed shortly afterwards, Soraine conferred the estates of Hernath and Droming upon the Paladin, appointed him the chief of her comitati – those knights, thanes and bannermen sworn to her service – and raised him to the rank of Earl. He was ceded absolute command of Trempa’s forces. This was a formality as far as Eadric was concerned, although Soraine’s legitimacy was unquestioned in the eyes of those present – unlike Tahl’s.
But before the day was out, in a development which left Eadric feeling extremely uncomfortable, all such titles were forgotten. The Paladin did not determine the source -although he (wrongly) suspected one of the Penitents to have started it - but a new appellation was given to him: Ahma*. It spread quickly amongst the zealots, and was picked up by the more secular aristocrats and even the Uediians. Eadric attempted to have the name forbidden, but it was too late. To him, it verged on blasphemy. He spoke to Tahl, and the Inquisitor shrugged as if it were an inevitability. He related his concerns to Nehael.
"Actually, I began it," the demoness smiled.
"But why? It is a profanity."
"Applied to anyone else, perhaps. But you are an emissary. A vehicle. Your ego is of no concern. You are simply the agent of Oronthon’s will: nothing more, nothing less. Soraine said that you needed to exert your spiritual authority. You cannot do that in half measure, Ahma."
"Do not call me that," he snapped.
She slapped him. He winced. "See?" She said. "Don’t worry – you’re still a man."
**
"This is a development I could have done without," Eadric said to Nwm regarding his new name.
"Your modesty is becoming, Ed," Nwm said, "but this is a religious war. You’re bound to get some weird title or other foisted upon you, if you play the role of Oronthon’s chosen representative. Don’t worry about it."
"But I don’t feel I deserve it. It makes me uncomfortable."
"Good," Nwm said unsympathetically. "The moment that you feel happy about it, is the moment that you become crazy."
"I hope that you will continue to offer a critical perspective regarding all of this, Nwm. It’s good to look from the outside in. Let me know if things are going too far. I can’t believe that Nehael started it."
"She has an expanded perspective," Nwm grinned. "Trust her. And you may count on my brutal objectivity."
"She talks of surrender. Of forgetting my ego. Of agency." Eadric sighed.
"What do you expect?" Nwm laughed. "She is a mystic. She is also, of course, correct. Relax, Ed. Let go of your concerns. Let it – whatever it is - flow through you. Forget your own judgements and preconceptions. Zhuel can be your guide in this. It is actually ridiculously simple."
Eadric sighed. "I’ve recalled Ryth’s longbowmen. I need you to sort out the Temple troops in northern Trempa. Can you deal with it?"
"Yes, but…"
"I cannot have you with me, Nwm. It compromises my position too much."
"I understand that," the Druid said. "It’s hard, though."
"I will take Nehael, if she is willing – assuming that’s alright with you."
"She is a free agent," Nwm laughed. "I have no authority over her. It is a good choice: she is an able counsellor."
"It seems appropriate that she should be present in whatever transpires," Eadric explained. "After all, this whole mess started with her. Did you know that she is in contact with Rintrah?"
"She mentioned as much to me," the Druid admitted. "I trust her implicitly, but her motives are quite unfathomable. She seems equally comfortable dealing with the Goddess, and most of the Uediians are willing to defer to her authority in matters religious. I think she works to preserve openness and communication – in all of its forms – more than anything else. She spoke to me of a ‘Middle Way.’"
"With regard to what?" The Paladin asked.
"Everything?" Nwm suggested. "Who knows? She is eight billion years old, and has a lot of experience to draw upon. She foresees ends which we cannot. Are you still, you know…?" The Druid waved his hands vaguely.
"I don’t know," Eadric mused. "I haven’t really thought about that for quite some time. And at the moment, it seems like a bit of an unnecessary distraction. Before you head north, I need you to take me to Gibilrazen – I’m going to try talking with Prince Tagur again."
"Tact or honesty?" Nwm asked.
"The latter, unfortunately," Eadric said.
"Be careful. I doubt he’ll appreciate any threats."
"No more equivocating. It’s time to act decisively."
"There you are," Nwm jibed. "Being the Breath of God is easy. You don’t mind if we drop in on a friend of mine on the way, do you?"
Eadric looked puzzled.
"Yes, Ahma, even I have friends," Nwm said sarcastically. "Hullu. I need to keep abreast of his progress. And you should meet him – he may be a potential ally."
**
"You can use this," Iua said to Mostin, giving him a plain silver ring. "It used to belong to him."
The Alienist grunted. "Very well. Normally, of course, I would demand a fee…"
"Oh just hurry up and do it, Mostin," Ortwin interrupted. "I thought we’d got beyond all of the ‘fees for this’ and ‘fees for that’ business."
"We have," Mostin agreed, "but it doesn’t hurt to remind people once in a while of my generosity and magnanimity."
The Alienist clasped the ring in his hand, and stood before the looking-glass of Urm-Nahat, invoking its powerful magic yet again. The mist upon its surface – eerie and supernatural – gradually gave way to clouds which appeared more natural in origin. Wisps broke in them, to reveal a sky of such bright, perfect azure that Mostin had to squint. There was no sun, but the air seemed to glow with an inner light.
Ortwin gasped in wonder. The scene before him was utterly fabulous: a vast island of rock, suspended in mid air, supporting a city constructed entirely of white marble. Towers and pinnacles stretched high into the sky, and domed roofs glistened with silver and gold. Gardens and orchards of fruit trees grew in profusion: each, apparently, meticulously nurtured and tended. Water ran freely through pristine aqueducts, and accumulated in pools and open cisterns.
"What is this place?" Ortwin marvelled. He felt that he had been missing something for both of his lives.
"It is called Magathei," Iua replied. "It is Ulao’s capitol. Around ten thousand Djinn live there – but it is not the largest of their cities on the Plane of Air by some way."
"I have visited Kalkinassus," Mostin bragged. "This is a backwater compared to that place. I first met Mulissu there."
"And attempted to seduce her?" Iua asked archly.
"Mostin!" Ortwin said with mock gravity. "I didn’t know that you were capable. And she rejected your advances? Inconceivable!"
"Yes. Quite." Mostin agreed, perfectly seriously. "I will accompany you, if that is acceptable – a day or two here will make for a pleasant outing. And there are a variety of interesting inhabitants. It may be worth my while."
"What can the Djinn offer you?" Ortwin asked.
"Not just Djinn," Iua explained. "Elementals, Mephits, Sylphs, Aerial Servants, Stalkers, Vortices, Arrowhawks and Wind-Walkers. Wizards and sorcerers from who-knows-where. Not to mention Auran analogues of every creature that you can conceive of – and more. And creatures from other Elemental Planes. It is a very cosmopolitan city."
"I always thought the Djinn were rather parochial," Ortwin mused. "That is good news: I assume your father’s progressiveness extends to his daughter’s potential suitors?"
"Hmm," Iua sighed sceptically. "In any case, do not attempt flight with your boots whilst there – you will be ridiculed. A gift of some kind would be appropriate – overt displays of generosity are well received. Be tolerant of unusual customs. And you should be aware of my name."
Iua pronounced a long string of sibilants and aspirated syllables.
"Iua is easier," Ortwin remarked.
"Ulao will simply call me one-eight-six. He has many children."
"But you are the only non-Djinn?"
"Gods, no," Iua replied. "I’ve got elemental, half-elemental, half-celestial, half-fiendish and every other conceivable kind of bastard sibling. Ulao is quite undiscriminating in his lust."
Ortwin nodded. At least they had that in common.
"Wait," Mostin remembered. "I must get my hat."
**
"Damn, Nwm, how many does he have here," Eadric was astounded.
"More than when I last visited," Nwm said, equally surprised. "And that was only a fortnight ago."
Within seconds of their materialization from a vaporous state, the Paladin and the Druid were surrounded by dozens of men and women of all ages, mostly – Eadric noted – of the same racial group to which Nwm belonged.** They bore spears, bows and swords. Several were wearing chainmail shirts of Thalassine construction, others were clad in studded armour or hauberks looted from Temple troops and men-at-arms.
Nwm quickly held up a hand. "Peace. I am Nwm, the Preceptor. This is Eadric of Deorham. I seek Hullu." The Druid quickly realized that he recognized only one or two faces from his previous visit.
Their reaction made Nwm nervous. Some were suspicious, whilst others were confused – their awe of the Druid offset by what they considered to be the enemy in their midst: Eadric. Whatever the Paladin’s own leanings he was, in the final analysis, a Templar from their viewpoint. And many of them lacked the broader political perspective which may have made them more understanding. Trempa was two hundred miles away, and the troubles there had had little direct bearing on the situation of those present.
A woman in her early thirties, with a face worn with concern stepped forwards. She wore a byrnie of blackened mail, and in her hand she carried a powerful horn bow. She was girt with a bastard sword with aristocratic motifs on its scabbard – no doubt plundered from an unsuspecting Temple knight.
"I am Tarva," she said assertively. "Hullu is not present. He has mentioned you, Nwm. How may I help?" Her manner was cold.
"I wished to discuss strategy and progress with him," Nwm said easily.
"That will not be possible," Tarva replied. "He is briefing a mission. Is there anything else?"
Nwm was mildly irked by her attitude, but hid it. "Then I should like to speak with you, Tarva," he said.
"Not while the Templar is present," she said, turning away.
This has to be resolved immediately, Nwm thought. "That was not a request, Tarva," he said icily.
She turned back to face him. "By what authority do you command me – or any of us here – Nwm?" She said bitterly. "I have yet to see you suffer at the hands of the Temple. I have yet to see your support for us, beyond striking the enemy when and where your whim dictates. You cannot be depended upon."
"No, I will not be depended upon," Nwm snapped. "Do you think I should raze Morne for you, Tarva? Obliterate the Temple? Replace it with a grove of trees? I have more to consider than your immediate needs. My responsibility is to future generations. Do you not think that I have considered all of this?" His tone was one of exasperation.
"Then why did you begin all of this?" She gestured around at the stockade, the smithy, the dozens who were flocking to hear the exchange.
"To empower you," he smiled ruefully. "A little too effectively, it would seem. This is Eadric of Deorham, as I said. Have you heard of him?"
Tarva nodded. "The Heretic Templar with the Demon concubine."
Eadric coughed.
"He may be our best hope for a solution to this situation." Nwm explained "He plans to disestablish the Church, and remove taxation. All taxation – not just of Uediians."
"A reformer?" Tarva said sarcastically. "Big deal! Five hundred years of oppression aren’t going to be removed by a few tax breaks. Uediians farm the most marginal land. They form the majority of indentured workers. There are five times as many Uediian tenant farmers as there are Oronthonians, but they only comprise a third of the population. Work it out!"
"I agree," Eadric said unexpectedly. "I will take an oath, here and now, that every Uediian household in Wyre will be compensated. I will empty the Temple coffers to achieve this."
Hmm, he thought. I hadn’t planned to make that commitment.
"Promises are easily made," Tarva growled.
"I do not lie," Eadric said.
"I do not trust you," Tarva groaned. "I am tempted to have you captured and bound. You would fetch a fine ransom."
"You would fail," Eadric said in a matter-of fact way, shaking his head. "There is no man in Wyre who can withstand me in arms."
"I could," Hullu grinned, walking into the middle of the group. "Although, obviously, I’d prefer to avoid the demonstration. Greetings, Nwm – it’s good to see you again. I regret that the ale is still not ready, although we have mead, now. I am honoured, Eadric. Nwm seems to trust you - which is a rare thing in this dirty world – and therefore I am inclined to too."
Eadric glanced down, and his stomach turned. He had all but forgotten the sword, but there it was, hanging from the hip of the Tunthi tribesman.
"Don’t worry," Hullu said, following his eyes. "She is firmly under control. I had thought about renaming her ‘Merriment’ or ‘Exuberance’ – after all, Melancholy is such a depressing name."
She? Nwm thought.
**
"You have achieved a great deal here, Hullu," Eadric said. "And in a very short period of time."
The Tribesman nodded. "Resistance is relatively easy to organize amongst the hopelessly disenfranchised," he pointed out drily. "But I am regarded as a kind of cingetomaru in their speech– a war leader, only. My customs mean that I suspect I will never be fully accepted."
"But you are mastering the old tongue quickly," Nwm said. "Your inflexion is close to perfect."
"I have a knack for languages," Hullu smiled. He grunted. "Don’t be discouraged by Tarva, Nwm. She is a radical – even amongst these people. Most still regard you favourably."
"I admit that I am surprised that you have bestowed so much power on one so controversial."
"I’d rather have her close to me, than undermining me," Hullu explained. "Besides, she has remarkable energy and natural leadership skills – it is better to channel that ability than repress it. And she possesses political savvy."
Eadric nodded. This man was intriguing. Much more than a simple warrior. "How much strength can you field?" He asked.
"From this camp, three hundred who are at least reasonably competent," he said. "But there are other cells establishing themselves – I admit that we reached capacity here more quickly than I had anticipated."
"And altogether?" Nwm asked.
"Close to a thousand, perhaps," Hullu replied carefully. "Even I am not sure of exact numbers. You have sown the wind, Nwm. It didn’t take much."
The Druid shifted uneasily, and wondered whether he should assume a more active role before things ran away from him. "How do you feed them, Hullu?"
"I finally acquiesced to Tarva’s desire to raid Oronthonian farmsteads," he admitted, but added quickly, "but only the largest and wealthiest ones. And not to the point of destituting the owners. I am merely skimming some of the fat off."
"That tendency may get out of hand," Eadric pointed out. "If you set a precedent for it, it will become stretched by need and spurious logic."
"They are more disciplined than you give them credit for," Hullu replied. "But the forest alone cannot support them – unless they spend all day hunting, of course. And boar are getting scarce in these parts." He grimaced. "We’ve messed up the balance of nature already, Nwm. It is an inevitable compromise, but it doesn’t mean that I hate it any less."
The Druid nodded sympathetically. "Then you should move, before things get worse. Although your defenses here…"
Hullu laughed. "I can erect a stockade in two days, Nwm. That is no concern. It is the beer that worries me. I have already considered it: I will leave a skeleton garrison here, a store of provisions, and move the bulk of the bagaudas to a new site. It should also give the forest time to recover here."
"Where will you go?" Eadric asked.
"Eastwards. Maybe four or five days. The land beyond the forest is richer there, although more populous."
"Towards Morne?"
"Towards Morne," Hullu replied.
*Without getting too heavily into Oronthonian theology, the name can be roughly translated as "Breath of God." It also has metaphysical associations which are similar to Sophia or Logos or Shabda in RL religion. The first syllable is pronounced as in German ‘acht,’ ‘machen’ etc.
**These people are the descendants of the Crixi, one of the first racial groups to inhabit Wyre, before Old Borchia was founded. Although great individual variety exists, and bloodlines are much confused with later migrating groups, typical Uediians possess sufficient different features to distinguish them from Oronthonians in Wyre. Descendants of later migrants are taller, have fairer complexions and tend to be rather more slender. Nwm and Eadric conform quite closely to their respective racial stereotypes.
