If you've been following the write-ups this week, I hope you enjoyed the glimpse of what it's like to play in one of our games. For those with no patience for game-inspired fiction, I do know what you mean. Most of this stuff only really makes sense if you were there. But after all, roleplaying games are not a spectator sport (not the good ones, anyway) and write-ups of blow-by-blow game action are always tedious, so I hope that by making this account character-driven I've turned it into something at least readable. And take heart -- normal blog service will be resumed tomorrow.
Oh, one other thing -- I should probably clarify that my character, Surma, is no more powerful than the other PCs, but I did manage to roll a lot of critical successes (5 or less on 3d6) for his spell-casting that helped him do exactly what he set out to do. In particular when it really mattered I several times rolled a 3, and it was interesting how the other players reacted to that. Some accepted it as part of game-reality, ie that Surma evidently was an exceptional wizard, but others insisted that he "didn't realize his own luck". (How different from the real world, where if somebody gets lucky several times in a row we think he or she is a genius.) I suppose that sums up the two different approaches to roleplaying, ie whether you see the world through the character's eyes or as a tabletop simulation where you always remain aware of the mechanics.
SESSION SEVEN
Were
I to grant every prayer, it would still not be enough, for entitlement is in
the mortal heartbeat and ingratitude in their life’s breath. You doubt my
words? If you who read this are a mage, work a miracle. Twist reality till it
snaps, reshape it, build a new truth out of your will. Do you hear that whine,
tedious to your ears as the buzzing of mosquitos? Those are mortal voices,
prompt with their complaints that your miracle could have been done better.
But I return to my narrative. On
the deck of the Sea Lion, the Watcher lately avoided, I addressed my
companions. ‘We need a spirit who can tell us the path Obsidian walked to
godhood.’
‘Summoning such a one from the
Dry Lands is a drastic measure,’ said Hurstyk.
‘We are embroiled in total war.
Behold the hourglass. The Watcher is barely a minute behind us. No action is
too drastic.’
‘I have summoned a wind,’ said
Wax as our sails strained to fullness. The sands of the hourglass reversed
their flow.
‘Breathing space,’ muttered
Farris with a wry smile.
‘I could summon my dead master,’
offered Aareth. ‘He and I had a complex relationship. What is the best way for
me to describe it? First I must tell you of events from twenty years past…’
I began to seriously consider
joining Pale’s faction, until Wax said, ‘I will call up the spirit of my
father, Ear of Ear, who taught me to be a shaman.’
Perhaps it was the effort of the
summoning, but the wind he had lately raised died to a flutter. We waited. A
streak drew itself from the western horizon across the water. As it reached us,
a wet shape boiled up out of the depths and hauled itself aboard. A giant
crustacean, garlanded in years of coral growth, stood dripping there. I could
not understand its chittering speech, but it seemed to cast trepid glances out
to sea as if it feared pursuit.
As Wax communed with his father’s
shade, I elaborated on the plan. ‘We will send our emissary into the Dry Lands,
and there he will walk the dreamquest that Obsidian used to amplify her power.
With the counsel of Ear of Ear, along with the pattern Idhelruin can read, he
will know the way. Gate will get him there bodily. I will provide the rainbow
armour that refracts and resists Pale’s attempts to blur together all names,
just as the rainbow splits white into distinct colours.’
‘You mean to send Eli?’ said
Hurstyk.
‘He is an inquisitor, whatever
that means.’
‘What does it mean?’ wondered
Aareth.
‘It means he is one who believes
himself to have a purpose. What one mage can do, another can do. Eli will
undergo apotheosis and challenge Obsidian directly in the Dry Lands just as we
stand against her here.’
‘Inquisitors are sworn to protect
the world from malevolent sorcerers who seek to destroy or conquer it,’ said
Abdiel. ‘Like you.’
‘Like me? Not Obsidian? She does
threaten exactly that – but I, who seek to prevent her, excite you to ire?
Abdiel, you are an imbecile.’
‘Woe!’ cried Wax. ‘My father
comes apart. Surma, save him!’
The first prayer. The crab-form
that Ear had taken in this world was decaying, its shell cracking apart. I read
the spirit’s name with exact precision, caught the laws of life and death neatly
between two fingers, undid and retied the knot of existence. ‘Ear of Ear, stand
before me in your true form, in your prime, with your powers at their peak. You
are once more a living man.’
There was a presence beside me. A
woman in pale garments with a rent in space behind her. She stroked her hand
over the fingers I had brushed against the Watcher’s. ‘Surma, come; you belong
with me.’
I regarded her. ‘You squat in the
Dry Lands, Obsidian, but I am the god of sudden death and I banish you.’
She could not resist. Another
miracle? Perhaps we overestimate her power. It had been no struggle for me to withstand
her, and yet –
‘Your arm,’ said Hurstyk.
‘Yes, it seems to have no feeling
in it. The effect began when the Watcher touched me and now is spreading.
Perhaps it is the White Death.’
Hurstyk shook his head. ‘Some
other kind of curse.’ He began to work his healing magic, then reached for aid
from Idhelruin. ‘Aareth, you help us too.’
‘Perhaps the blurring of well and
unwell is what my Lady Pale wants,’ said Aareth, declining to add his force to
the enchantment.
Hurstyk stood back, momentarily
drained by his efforts. ‘It is all I can do to stop the curse spreading further
up your arm.’
‘No matter. I’ll see to it myself
when there is time.’
‘You should already be dead,’
said Idhelruin.
‘There has not been time even for
that. Ear, what can you tell us of Obsidian’s long game?’
‘My father can tell us little,’
said Wax. ‘He died long after Obsidian entered the Dry Lands twenty years ago.’
‘Then why did you propose we – ?
Never mind. Is there anything he can tell us?’
‘Pale’s design is to erase all
differences in the world. There will be no true names left for a mage to
discern.’
‘Thank you. We already knew as
much.’
‘I saw her crush an apple and an
orange together,’ Aareth remembered. ‘It is a ritual that represents loss of
identity.’
‘And she uses that ore, which is
not gold nor silver nor mercury. This is not new information. Mirrowaith, can you
elaborate?’
‘We of Hythe know nothing of any
practical use,’ he said, or words that amounted to as much.
‘I depart for my home,’ said Ear
suddenly. ‘My son, I thank you.’
Of course. Why would he thank the
living god who restored him to life? Mortals, as I have said.
‘Take Sprugel with you, Father,’
said Wax.
‘I go now. But I leave you with
this.’ And he put a small blessing on Wax’s coral spear, such as I might grant
on a whim if distracted by other matters. We watched him depart on the turtle’s
back.
‘I have read the pattern for
Eli’s journey into the Dry Lands, such as I am able,’ said Idhelruin.
‘And see where the gate stands
open,’ said Hurstyk. ‘I have tried to ensure it opens only one way.’
Encased in the rainbow armour,
Eli took a step forward. He was like a man who, sunk days in draining fever,
suddenly awakes and musters all his remaining strength. He went through the
gate, closing it behind him – but in that moment we saw a woman, tall and
pallid, stand ready in the other realm to embrace him.
We looked at each other. ‘Eli is
resourceful,’ I said at last. ‘Obsidian may think she has the measure of him,
but even if she has him captive she dare not relax her guard, and in the Dry
Lands she will not have power to destroy him. Eli will be a constant threat to
her, one that distracts her attention from us.’
‘Remember the hourglass!’ said
Wax. ‘Behold, the thing is upon us again.’
‘He’s right,’ said Abdiel, who
had stationed himself at the stern. ‘There is its hand upon the rudder. But it
shall not pass me.’
Farris glanced over the rail,
raised his bow, and loosed an arrow that dislodged the creature’s grip. Gripping
his coral spear, Wax ran to the side and jumped in, giving me just seconds to
weave the Watcher’s true name into the spear’s tip so that it could not fail to
find its target.
Idhelruin read the patterns of
the sea around us, ensuring that currents would favour us and not the Watcher.
‘Give me the means to breathe
underwater,’ called Abdiel.
‘You have gills,’ I told him.
‘Webbed fingers. Fins on your heels and arms. You may move through water as
easily as air.’
He plunged in. Already Wax had
found his foe and hurled the spear like a harpoon against a whale. It broke on
his breast, and the Watcher was sorely injured, but not enough to stop him from
using Wax’s true name. Wax went rigid, forgetting to breathe, and sank like a
stone into lightless depths still more absolutely representative of finality
than the Dry Lands.
‘See there!’ said Aareth. ‘The
turtle is coming back!’
And it seemed mere moments since
Ear had left us. Of course, he must have set out on his long voyage to the
south and then considered how ill-omened it would be to undertake the journey
without giving due thanks to the one who had brought him back to life. As it
happened, events were to come thick and fast and so he would forget a second
time to render those thanks, but his return was fortuitous. He plunged the
turtle against the Watcher. A brave and futile gesture. Sprugel resurfaced bloody
and near to death, while Ear sank after his son.
Abdiel swam close and tried his
sword against the Watcher, but it deflected him with ease and if not for
Idhelruin’s foresightful patterning it would have gutted him there and then.
Hurstyk worked magic to cure
Sprugel of his wounds so he could dive to recover Wax and Ear. By now you may
be sure I had grown tired of the Watcher’s continual appearances and I decided
it was time to end them. Naming it exactly, I bound its fate to the hourglass
in which I had made Time’s sands to flow. Then I reversed the effect. Now,
instead of tracking the Watcher’s progress, the hourglass compelled it. And
lastly I turned the hourglass on its side, and with a crunching of the gears of
reality the Watcher was held between two instants of time. Upside-down it hung
in the frothing furrow between two waves, some of Sprugel’s breath caught
forever as bubbles hanging frozen there around it.
‘Why don’t you send it to attack
her holy reverence the Lady Pale?’ said Aareth.
‘Is it frozen in space or just in
time?’ mused Mirrowaith.
‘Can we transport it?’ wondered
Idhelruin.
‘It depends if the world is round
and moves, or flat and stationary,’ said Hurstyk. ‘If you consider the angular
velocity of a point in space…’
‘You should have controlled it,
not merely frozen it,’ grumbled Abdiel as he climbed back aboard.
In short: ‘I don’t like that
miracle, why can’t I have a different miracle?’ Again I could appreciate the
sentiments that led Obsidian to conclude the entire world should be razed and
built anew.
Sprugel resurfaced with the limp
bodies of Wax and Ear, which he dropped on the deck. Hurstyk and Abdiel bent
over them. Seeing them busy at healing, I decided it was time to rid myself of
the Watcher’s curse, not least because in freezing it in time I had also frozen
the hourglass and my hand. If I could not break the curse, the ship would have
to sail on without me.
Knowing the Watcher’s name made
it easier. I drew out the curse and flung it away into the Dry Lands. What I
had not anticipated, but was not unwelcome, was that the Watcher went with it.
The hourglass was now empty of sand as the Watcher had no location in the world
anymore.
‘She summoned the Watcher here
when she was still alive herself,’ I said. ‘Now, if none of us is foolish
enough to summon him, perhaps he’ll stay there in the Dry Lands.’
‘But your arm,’ said Farris.
I glanced down. It was turning to
a gritty black dust.
‘That’s just like the dust her
magnificent highness Lady Pale wanted me to taste when she saw me in the
underworld,’ said Aareth.
Pale’s influence again? She was
becoming simply boorish. I dispensed with her attempt to exsiccate me with one
syllable of power – even to use an entire word would have too far dignified her
frankly tedious efforts.
Mortals, at least, are infinite
in their variety. I like the world as it is, coloured by them. Pale is drear,
her outlook stale, and so despite their carping ingratitude I resolved to stand
against her on humanity’s behalf.
‘The
people of Tartuva do not believe in wizards,’ Hurstyk told us as we sailed
towards the port.
‘They think all magic is
chicanery,’ agreed Idhelruin. ‘All except the power of their god, the divine
Warrior-King.’
I looked at Mirrowaith. It had to
be asked, though I knew the answer. ‘Did the wizards of Hythe ever make a study
of these people?’
‘We leave them alone. It is the
balance.’
‘If only you had applied that
principle to all of nature, not a one of your books need ever have been
written. Well then, we’ll go ashore armoured in ignorance.’
‘They will not take me for a wizard,’
said Idhelruin. ‘I seem but a shambling old man.’
‘What does a wizard look like in
any case?’ said Farris. ‘If they see few strangers here then they’ll have no
reason to suspect us.’
‘For myself, I bear no taint of
magic,’ spat Abdiel. If only he and not Eli had gone to the Dry Lands; Abdiel
and Pale would get on well, I think.
‘Then perhaps I should remove
those gills I gave you,’ I suggested.
‘I… have already removed them
with my own magic,’ he said, pulling a scarf close around his neck.
A platoon of militia stood ready
to meet us at the quay. They seemed suspicious of outsiders ‘Why are you here?’
asked their captain, a man named Canto.
‘We are interested in your
religion, which is widely admired,’ said Hurstyk.
‘You speak courteously, stranger.
But you could have gone to one of the larger ports. The ziggurat here is but a
small shrine to the divine Warrior-King.’
‘You are too modest. This is
thought to be the origin of the faith, and so we hope to find the worship of
the divine Warrior-King in its purest form.’
‘Again, well said. Will you dine
with us?’
‘With pleasure.’
Canto and his men led us through
streets that seemed exceptionally squalid even in comparison to the festering
ports I’d seen so far. Down one alley stood some rudely nailed coffins, stacked
for victims of the White Death that we sensed in the mud and ordure all around
us. It gave me pause to reflect and even feel a stirring of that emotion
mortals call nostalgia for, I thought, at least my own worshippers are clean,
given that the wind there dries all filth in minutes and they have not enough
possessions for their shacks ever to become cluttered. Between rock and ice
floes and leaden sea, with ice-sharpened gales scouring the land under sun and
stars alike, it is a land of beauty most unlike the teeming foetid pits of –
But no. That is the line of
thought that led Obsidian to the Dry Lands.
Despite the squalor, Hurstyk spoke
as though the town were immaculate, praising it for cleanliness and order until
even Canto could take no more. ‘Do you press your finger in that wound to mock
us?’ he demanded.
‘We can help.’
Canto was torn. ‘I must consult
with the elders,’ he said.
‘Do so. We’ll wait.’
‘Touch nothing,’ said Aareth in
my ear. ‘The water in the pitcher is infected with a multitude of ailments, and
the blankets on the beds are rife with the White Death.’
We looked out of the window
towards the ten-metre ziggurat from which the Warrior-King’s temple overlooked
the town. The shrine of the Sightless Ones lay further inland. Possibly some
details of the relationship between these two cults could be found in the books
that Aareth and the others had read, but I could not bear to hear the Hythean
explanation, more tortuous than any maze, that would ensue if I asked them. And
what did it matter anyway? To save the world we needed the prismatic jewel that
lay in the labyrinth. That single thing was our sole purpose here.
Canto returned. ‘The elders have
agreed to accept your offer of help. Come with me.’
He took us to a hall in which
some fifty plague victims lay on pallets. ‘I must not seem to use magic to heal
them,’ said Hurstyk.
‘Of course not. They would regard
it as chicanery and refuse to be well.’
He began to walk between the
patients, touching them with herbs to cover the use of magic. As each sat up,
fully restored, he urged them to lie still and rest. Because, of course,
mortals would hate to tolerate a miracle cure and would surely file back the
next day to demand why Hurstyk hadn’t made them younger and more handsome along
with merely banishing the deadliest disease in creation.
Seeing that Hurstyk had it under
control, and his ministrations would usefully distract the attention of Canto
and the other militiamen, I decided to head inland to reconnoitre the temple of
the Sightless Ones. Farris accompanied me, but all the others decided the best
use of their time would be to stay and watch Hurstyk perform his herbcraft.
Immediately we left, from the hall behind us, we heard the muttering begin:
‘Where are those two going? Has
Lady Pale subverted them?’
‘Can they be trusted?’
‘Why didn’t Surma stay and watch
me heal these people, the toad?’
‘Surma cares nothing for mortal
lives…’
The voices trailed mercifully
away. ‘They do realize we’re literally trying to save the world, don’t they?’
wondered Farris.
‘If you gave a bunch of chickens
the power of magic they would be more use,’ I said with a sigh. ‘You and I
together will accomplish more without them, I suspect, though it is passing
strange that none of them wants to come with us to the labyrinth that is the
whole purpose of our being here.’
We walked a mile or two inland
from the port, followed by the two bodyguards I’d freed from Jude’s control
into my own. The air was sweeter on the downs, away from the stink of
habitation. Tough grass ruffled in the wind.
‘Do you notice,’ said Farris,
‘that there’s no White Death here?’
‘And something else,’ I said.
‘The names of things are sharper. See how reality shines with inner light. It
is the opposite of Pale’s bane, that flattens and blurs all into an
indecipherable oneness.’
‘Curious that the Warrior-King’s
cult should be so opposed to magic, on an island where it is potentially easier
than anywhere else.’
I nodded. ‘How are the cults
related, I wonder? Does that one exist to hold this one in check – a warrior
immune to magic holding wizards at bay?’
‘Sounds like Abdiel’s fondest dream.’
I laughed. ‘Or is it that the
Sightless Ones set up that cult to deter mages from travelling here? They want
to stay aloof. Otherwise, if it were widely known how much stronger magic is
here, Hythe would want to relocate the college.’
‘Mysteries,’ said Farris with a
shrug. ‘We just need the jewel.’
‘Yes.’
We reached the crest of a low
hill and saw the compound less than a mile ahead. A low oval wall, that even a
child could climb over, surrounded an area about a third of a mile long. The
buildings included a temple and what seemed to be living quarters, of an
architecture pleasing in its brute simplicity. At first you could take it for
great blocks of stone simply piled one on another, like ancient monoliths, but
on second look there was more artifice there.
People moved around the compound
but had not seen us.
‘The captain warned against
entering the compound,’ Farris reminded me. ‘which the priests regard as
sacrilege. So we must use stealth – or Send magic – or come up with a plan.’
‘A plan. Just as well we didn’t
bring the other five, then. But what do you think those are? Those seven
standing stones – no, is it six? Eight? I cannot count them by eye.’
I resorted to Pattern. There were
exactly seven. I felt their outrage at being named and numbered, though they
were powerless to resist.
‘I could almost imagine them
having faces,’ said Farris. ‘And there are seven of them, seven of us. It’s
ominous, you have to admit.’
‘We need someone with better
Pattern skills.’ I sent a breeze to carry my words to Idhelruin: Come at
once.
Shortly came his reply: I am
busy watching Hurstyk pretend to give herbs to people he has cured, but will
come when I can.
I replied: Our souls may have
been taken.
‘Let’s hope not,’ said Farris.
I shrugged. ‘We need to make him
appreciate the urgency. In honesty I cannot understand why the others didn’t
want to come along.’
We waited a full minute, or very
nearly. ‘Oh, this is intolerable.’ I cast a Summoning. Idhelruin appeared on
the hillside behind us, kneeling.
‘I regret the discourtesy, but
this matter is most pressing. You can stand up, by the way.’
We explained the situation. ‘Is
it not likely we have been seen?’ said Idhelruin.
‘Very probably.’
‘We must be careful not to
display any use of magic.’
‘You just appeared in front of us
out of thin air. That ship has sailed.’
‘A fair point. Why… I cannot
count those cromlechs. Sometimes I think there are seven, at other times – now
it might be five. Or six…’
‘And have you noticed they seem
to have faces?’ pointed out Farris.
‘Disturbing.’ Idhelruin
concentrated. ‘Oh, they didn’t like that one bit. But now I see there are
seven.’
I leaned to speak in Farris’s
ear. ‘I thought the old man would read a pattern better than I did. I’ll have
to summon Wax.’
He too arrived kneeling. I don’t
think I specify that in the spell, do I? Perhaps it is the natural condition of
those who are brought by magic before me.
‘Why do you make me kneel,
Surma?’ raged Wax.
‘I make you do nothing. Stand.’
‘The others think you and Farris are
both under Lady Pale’s influence. Also they resent that they didn’t get to come
with you.’
‘They are children. Just as Eli
is hopefully confounding Pale in the Dry Lands, distracting her from her plans,
so do we have the mages of Hythe, who I could almost believe Pale has sent to
try me.’
Wax read the patterns of the
statues, but with no clearer result than Idhelruin.
‘Perhaps I had better summon
Hurstyk. Oh, here he comes now.’
The others caught up to us. ‘We
thought you were controlled by – ’
‘Oh, stop it! I have actually
lost count of the number of miracles I’ve performed in the last week
specifically to oppose Pale. From now on I will not hear talk of balance,
restraint, or unspecified dithering. We have a world to save, and to do so we
need the prismatic jewel that Diamansus left in the labyrinth beneath that
compound. Let us now act together, as we briefly did aboard the Sea Lion
when the Watcher attacked, and perhaps between us we will prevail against this
threat that Pale has unleashed.’
‘Work as a team?’ said Farris.
‘That indeed would be a miracle.’
