Well hello folks. Long time no... Sei?
I was feeling all nostalgic last week after discussing old gaming groups and games with a friend, so I came back and wound up spending several hours reading through old threads. After running into a little login problem and getting that fixed, I've found myself reading through the... good lord, somewhere in the vicinity of 4000, in game posts that I have access to. I've recently gotten to the point where Morgan accidentally resurrected a goddess.
While I have fallen away from play-by-post gaming (obviously) I have been keeping the nerd cred up with something called HEMA, or Historical European Martial Arts. It's lots of fun and good exercise.
Anyway, I just wanted to say hello to everyone, and thank you all for being awesome.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Last edited by SpatulaOdoom; May 20th, 2021 at 11:50 PM.
Hello Spat! Not much play by post from me either since Covid began, perhaps ironically.
Glad to know you're well! It's been tons of fun. You and Morgan really did awesome.
I still miss playing this and wonder how things were meant to go from what we did.
I'd argue you two were nearly as important as Makenshi to the game. I don't think we'll ever finish off the game in play, but maybe if Makenshi comes back, he'll write a summary on how the game would have ended, and we'll get to write our characters endings.
Well, the more I read the more I'm fired up to get back into it, but that would be dependent on Mak both coming back and accepting my return.
I'm only just now getting to the point where I stopped playing (just finishing chapter six now), and I have to admit that there have been a lot of cool and interesting player characters over the years.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Well I did ghost on everyone, which is not cool, and I would totally understand if he felt uncertain about having me join up again just to maybe ghost again later.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Well. Having read through everything (twice in some spots) and taken a few notes, I can see a few spots where we/I dropped the ball on a few threads.
-Eve's body bit. I think that might be/have been our way into Sanctuary. Destroy her body and the head regrows a new body, then she might be able to let us in.
-The Isabella being captured thing was something that I somehow entirely misconstrued as the guy hinting that she'd been a plant/fake.
-When visiting Vulcar's tomb we were so focused on the book regarding the godforge and capturing the paragons that we never got around to asking about the "some other books" that were also missing.
-Morgan really should have/should ask Shade to allow him access to the recovered shard of the godforge so that Morgan can hopefully do his seer thing on it.
-Asking L'arabel about whether she remembers much about her time being dead (I think there are four of Val'erin's coins rolling around at this point, and only two have Morgan examined? Unless the one Brood has is the same one Leon had)
-Did we/were we actually going to do something with Hywel?
-We also apparently failed to look into Venturo, who was mentioned a couple times as suspicious, but that has kind of been resolved (exposed as Deimos)
And probably more besides, although some of it might have happened/been resolved in threads/Secret text I don't have access to.
Interesting Nevh still hasn't been made a hybrid.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Last edited by SpatulaOdoom; May 23rd, 2021 at 04:31 PM.
I think Zilira was going to go through Hywel's mind, like she did with Nallaul. Otherwise Hywel is still imprisoned. I was more worried about Tris being released.
I suppose Hywel's capture at the end of chapter five and the entirety of chapter six occurred on the same day, so anything that happened to him would happen in the two week gap that hasn't been expounded on quite yet.
Is T'rissafay actually released as of now? The last I find mention of her is when Nall and Tel'shar are discussing his attempted (successfully technically, albeit briefly) assassination.
Side note. I've also done a quick look over the things Morgan would want to do in that two week period, and even with only needing two hours of sleep a night he needs some sort of "be in three places at once" spell. That's kind of been the story of his life from the end of Chapter 1 onwards.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
It might still be impending, but I don't think the king can legally hold her. Unless.... Hywel was technically her slave? Maybe she could be held on slavery charges. Diplomatic immunity might also be in play.
So I read through the last half dozen pages of the OOC and now I feel like kind of an ass. As good as it would be to start the game up again, your mental health comes first, so do what you feel is right, and I hope you're still moving forward. Don't shut down. Remember, if you're going through hell, keep going.
That said. Holy crap, you do HEMA?!? Awesome! What club do you train with? How long have you been doing it? What weapon(s) do you train and if more than one, what's your favorite?
I've trained with Always thought the name was a little edge-lord, but the people are pretty awesomeBlood and Iron since early 2018. Sadly the chapter I went to was killed by Covid and all the **** surrounding it, and has closed their doors with no plans to reopen. Fortunately, BnI, and other clubs, offer live online training. It's not as good as in-person, but it's something to keep me going until things open up enough for me to start training with my peeps again.
I've trained mostly Meyer, as well as Capo Ferro, I.33, Roworth, Leckuchner, and a smattering of other stuff here and there. So weapons: Longsword, dussack, sabre, messer, sword and buckler, rapier (solo and with dagger). I used to say sabre was my favorite, but I think rapier has firmly supplanted it (I spent a moderately disgusting amount of money on a Castille rapier just before Canada went into lockdown). I never really much liked longsword despite it being the golden boy of HEMA, but I still train it some since I figure I should at least be competent with it.
Are you a fan of Scholagladiatoria or Skallagrim (YouTubers that are HEMA folks)? Skallagrim is the reason I even know that HEMA is a thing, and I actually used to train with the guy before he moved to the other side of the country.
For your Seis'kerta The Next Generation, my suggestion would be to use basic pathfinder plus the Mythic rules. I think the Mythic rules does a pretty good approximation of how you've presented the whole godling thing. Raising your mythic level would represent unlocking more godly power.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Last edited by SpatulaOdoom; May 25th, 2021 at 11:34 PM.
Wrote this while I pondered what Morgan might have been up to in the two week interlude between chapter 6 and 7. Good lord it's a pretty long list. I think I figured out who the unknown gods are too. The clues were all there, but I just didn't put them together.
It shouldn't be too hard, but can you guess who Morgan is talking to?
One moment the space contained nothing but empty air, the next a gangly slightly scruffy wizard appears, displacing that air with a small pop. Morgan looks tired. He IS tired. The last two months and change have been hell, especially since things started ramping up, and it's starting to show. Bags are developing under eyes that never seem to be less than slightly bloodshot. Too much to do and too little time to do it in. If it weren't for his ring of sustenance he'd be a complete wreck by now.
In addition to his usual accouterments he has a bulky backpack with a pup-tent rolled up on top. He hefts the backpack up a little and glances at the sun, before turning and trudging purposefully south, using his staff as a walking stick to force his way through the wilderness. His familiar, a large black alley cat scampers along beside him looking even less comfortable in the natural surroundings. Mort sniffs at every other thing as they pass, his ears constantly swiveling at every noise.
He's not an experienced hiker, so he makes a fair bit of noise bulling through the underbrush and clamoring over hillocks and felled trees. Fortunately he knows he doesn't have too far to go. After a minute or two he pauses to look around.
This should be it, roughly speaking. ”Heloo? Are you-.”
He spots his quarry. Mort immediately slinks behind the nearest large tree to peek uncertainly at their target. ”Ah, there you are.
Relax.
I'm not here to get revenge for anyone or anything, nor do I have any intention of letting your adoring fans know where you are.”
With a small grunt he heaves the heavy backpack off his shoulders to thump down on a small cluster of ferns. ”I'm sure you're not in much mood to talk right now, so I'll keep it short. I'm not sure why Shade played things how he did, but I've come to trust his judgment, or at least his motivation.”
Well.
To a degree at least.
Morgan's tone is level and conversational, not condescending, no pity, recrimination, or hate, just... Thoughtful. The person before him would no doubt also detect the thread of uncertainty woven through the wizard's words. ”I'm not here to offer you a way back to civilization or to your old friends either. I think you probably need some time out here to come to terms with what has happened and consider your path forward.
I expect it's been a while since you've had to deal with stuff like finding food or caring about the weather, so I'm dropping off a little care package.”
Morgan pats the backpack while also producing a few small sacks of foodstuffs from his ever-present magical satchel. ”The usual camping gear, soap, rope, a lantern, a small wood axe, some warm sturdy clothes, a good pair of boots, one of my fancy lighters, a healer's kit. There are even a couple of books that you might find helpful, or at least interesting.”
Not knowing how well he could care for himself in the middle of nowhere, Morgan had included a book on survival in the wilderness, a small simple cookbook, and as surprisingly comprehensive one on local flora and fauna. He'd also included two works of fiction, The Samurai's Garden and the classic Illiad, in case the man before him felt like a distraction. ”No proper weapons, since I'm pretty sure that even in your current state you're more than capable of taking care of yourself. No booze either. Probably pretty hypocritical of me to say, but falling into the bottle might be pretty easy for right about now, and I don't really feel like enabling that.
I did however-” He pats one of the backpack's side pouches and a faint jingling sound can be heard- ”-include a little bit of money so if you run into anyone out here, you can do a little trading.”
It wasn't much, at least by the standards of people like them, but to a commoner it was was quite the sum. Hopefully it would encourage him to interact positively if he found anyone out here, rather than just trying to take what he needs.
Morgan cocks his head at the taciturn person before him. He's not sure what he's looking for. Maybe some spark of life. Some sign that this might not be a waste of time. Maybe even that he shouldn't go ahead and finish what Shade had started... Well. Not without a decent amount of backup at least. ”Not going to get preachy, well not much, but I will say I hope you can find a better way forward.
I'm not sure if my method of finding you will work again, but if I can I'll check up on you again in a few days. If you feel up to it, maybe we'll play a few rounds of cards.”
Mortimer quickly rejoins his master as Morgan raises his hands to cast the spell that will whisk him to his next destination.
Then pauses. ”I'm uhh... I'm going to try and visit your daughter as well. See if she has anything to say to the world at large. If you want to say anything to her I can pass it on for you, or if you prefer I can say nothing about you. Up to you.”
”Thank you for seeing me. I know I'm something of a problematic guest, and that you are a busy person, so I won't waste your time. That's the crux of the matter you see. Time. I've been complaining since this whole thing started nearly two months ago that I'm so busy I haven't even time to wipe my own ass.
I need to get stronger. As strong as I can as quickly as I can. If I'd been a little stronger perhaps I could have capitalized better on my cleverness in exposing Wade. Or saved a room full of innocent hostages in Feid. As I am, I'll be a problem for my allies in the coming days. I've made myself too much of a pest to not be targeted, either by ****ing Zera or the fiends, and I can't have my allies fighting with one foot pinned to the floor trying to cover me.
And...”
Morgan pauses. Momentarily unable to speak past the lump in his throat. ”And I have a child on the way. Zil...”
Carrying their child, fighting against Zera or the fiends, AND protecting his weak ass? No. All the other reasons were nice and logical and good, but this? This went beyond logic. This was primal and raw. He would claw his fingers to the bone, move heaven and earth, lash together an engine of blood and stars, split the cosmos asunder, but he would NOT let anything happen to them because he was too weak. ”So I need to climb up the ladder as much as I can, I don't have the time to do it the traditional way. Unless...”
Morgan might not be as scholarly as many Wizards, but he had opened a book on more than one occasion. A book on planar studies for example. ”Unless I could spend a great deal of time in a short time. I'm given to understand that there are planar locations where the flow of time is not in lock step with that of the rest of things. Do you know of such a place I could use as a training ground?”
Hopefully there was a place where he could spend a week in a day, more would be ideal. The idea of spewing his life away, something finite and precious, was a grim one, but every day, month, and year would be bitter ash if something happened because of him. "Please help me."
It was best to try to find his own way first, if he could, but... Well. Morgan had never really considered himself a prideful man. But thinking on this matter as he had been, Morgan had come to realize that in some ways he was. He'd always been the one providing for others, helping others. It had made him feel good about himself. Pride. He'd valued his independence, seeing his own path, free of the controls of others. Pride.
The idea of going to one of these other powers, maybe these new gods, or Shade, and begging a cup of their recently captured power. Maybe even speaking with Nehrak or Lykkar. It's scary. It hurts. He doesn't want to do it. But the truth is, as good as being a clever little monkey is, and it is good, it would be better to be a clever little monkey with some power to back it up when the time for clever ploys was past, or he ran up against someone more clever than he.
So if his other avenues dried up, or if they proved insufficient, he would need to swallow that pride and do what was needful.
Damn.
If only Valen had been able to do that, and accept help from Aldamil.
”So.” Morgan says. The mage is haggard and tired, but trying to keep his posture upright and respectful. ”I believe I have a part to play in what is coming. I've always considered myself strong, but that's because I was comparing myself to normal people. I'm not poking my nose in the realm of normal people anymore. Relative to a lot of the players on the field I might as well be an upstart child poking at bears. My being weak might put others, others I care about very deeply, in danger if they need to, or feel they need to, protect me while also fighting their own battles.”
Morgan locks eyes with the first vampire. ”I've always been someone who relied on his cleverness, but I've come to realize that cleverness without strength to back it up is a dangerous game. If I'd been stronger maybe we could have captured Zera's son when I tricked him in the shadow realm. So I need to get stronger. As strong as I can as quickly as I can.”
He holds up a hand momentarily. ”No, I'm not asking you to embrace me.” He doubts Sol had any suspicion Morgan would want to go that route, but just in case. ”Nor do I think you can pull from your cupboard some bauble that would let me trade blows with Morgan's name for the Blue Woman with the Eyes of the Void/Yostrah's hybridKelstra. But Zera's children. They are close enough to me that I might be able to do something meaningful when the time comes.
IF I can drag my ass a little further down that road towards parity with these people.
To that end, one of the things I want to do is beg of you to let me take out a sizable loan from house Sol for the purchase of magical equipment.
I seek three hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces.”
Morgan stares unblinking into Seneca Sol's eyes. No, he isn't kidding. Even assuming he manages to continue a lucrative employment, and live reasonably frugally, the loan would have him deep in debt for many years to come. ”If you happen to have some the equipment I'm looking for in your vaults, and you're willing to sell or loan it to me, I'd be more than happy to spend part of that loan purchasing or renting these items from you.”
Morgan sighs tiredly and despite his best efforts his gaze is dragged down to the desktop between them.
[b]”I know... I haven't been the most respectful person towards you, or kind. I have... Issues. Trust issues, reactionary issues, pride. I.”[b] He forces himself to again meet the vampire's eyes. ”I am sorry for how I've treated you and your kindred, and hope you can forgive me, and see your way to helping me in this so that I can protect the things that are important to me.”
The loan in and of itself wouldn't put him where he needed to be, but it would be a step closer.
This is one person Morgan doesn't have to feel shamed to speak to. Coiya is, in Morgan's opinion, one of the truly good ones. A worthy person. Morgan doesn't have to force the words. Instead they spill out as if desperate to escape. ”Until recently I've been ignorant of the true problems of the world. Until very recently, I thought I could get by on being clever and some small amount of personal power. Let my abilities progress as they would as I lived my life.
I've decided that's lazy and wasteful, and that small amount of personal power is getting smaller and smaller relative to the threats I'm butting up against.
Zilira is with child. Mine obviously. She has borne children before. Worthy ones. But none of them were mine, and I didn't realize just how much that changes things until it happened. I didn't realize just how strong the feelings... It's like nothing else.”
Morgan takes a deep breath, trying to find his focus again. ”I seek training from the Children in the Dark and any advice you and they can give on growing stronger in what time we have before the storm breaks. I don't care about pain, or exhaustion, or anything. I'll do what is asked of me, endure whatever is needful, and more. I WILL NOT hobble my family and allies in protecting me if there is anything I can do about it.
To that end, I've secured a place to train, a pocket plane where time passes very quickly.”
Mother Beneficent Isabella Rosa.
She'd raised Morgan from the age of seven to seventeen, and even in the years since she'd been his support and adviser. In her own austere way she'd shown him more nurturing, care, and love in one year than he'd seen from his real parents in all the time before. And when she'd needed him, really needed him, he'd not only not been there, but he'd somehow not even realized that she was in trouble. Misunderstood it as a ploy. Only the intervention of complete strangers had kept Isabella from a terrible fate.
It was something that Morgan would likely never forgive himself for.
How could people come to him for advice and counsel when he could so thoroughly **** up something as simple as caring for his own mother? Xander, Valen, the hostages in Feid. Hell, the group he'd “led” in Feid probably have all followed him to their death in that inn if Xu'deln hadn't shown up to save them and Kala to bring back Misa.
Agonize and berate and second guess however he might Morgan could not turn back the sands of time. The question was what to do next. What could he do to nudge things in the right direction?
Maybe.
Maybe he should stop.
Maybe things would turn out better if he stepped into the background and stopped meddling. He was just making things worse, wasn't he? He's been feeling like he is gradually going mad, maybe for ages. Like his brain was a rabid ferret and someone was shaking the cage. Was it always there and he was just now noticing? Had Tirleer's Heart or Ihnolker's meddling thrown his mind off the rails? Or was it just the endless parade of stress, absurdity, and raising stakes and danger that was breaking him? It just went on and on and on.
Despite his intent to stay at her bedside, watching and waiting for her to awake, sleep long denied creeps up on Morgan like a thief in the night. His dreams are bizarre and vivid, flashing tension through his body as he runs endlessly from some faceless terror.
Timeless time later Morgan slides out of troubled dreams and into the realm of the waking. His face is pressed up against soft cloth, damp with his spit. Some time in the night he'd slid down the arm of the chair to lie, half crouched half sprawled, across the foot of Isabella's bed. Pain jabs through his awkwardly twisted spine.
And a hand.
A hand is touching his head.
Softly stroking his hair. ”Izzy, I'm so so sorry. I'm an idiot and a fool and a bastard, and I thank every god in existence that they came to save you when I didn't. I'm just... I. I'm sorry. Mom.”
Grief and shame take him.
Morgan cries, truly utterly cries, for the first time in years.
Bawling like a child he wraps his arms around Isabella and holds her.
Morgan rests his chin on Zilira's silk clad shoulder and lets the simple comfort of her nearness flow through him. The smell of her hair creeping into his nostrils. The warmth of her body flowing into his chest and arms, wrapped around her middle. The weight of her reclining on his lap lent the whole thing a feeling of reality. He settles back a little deeper into the overstuffed armchair and sips on his port.
Bliss. ”Madam. I hope you're comfortable, because I'm not going anywhere anytime soon.”
Zera himself could burst through the door right now and Morgan would probably drowsily tell the great betrayer to kindly f@#k off and come back tomorrow. Better yet make it the day after.
Oh there was no shortage of things that needed to be done. It was impressive how much they'd all done in such a short amount of time, but there always seemed more. Zilira was going to have to decide what she was going to do about the Drow, if anything, now that they knew the Drow were still alive as a race. She'd never fancied herself their goddess back in the day, but things were different. Lolth had taken them down a bad path down in their hidden city, and pulling them back from it meant that Zilira might have to take up that role and raise a church of her own. Morgan suspected it might even be good for Zilira. Now that Halva's bonds over her were broken the demigoddess might feel like a rudderless ship, being able to chose from an infinite options instead of having her path forced on her. Besides the Halvan royal line needed to learn how to do things on their own rather than relying on Zilira.
And Zera, and Morgan's foster sister, and the war in Shali, and poor Xander, and the trolls, and the damn daggers and their poisonous payload, and the mysterious new gods. There was no damn end to it. Let somebody else save the world tonight. Right now, with Zilira being truly free for the first time in hundreds of years he wanted to be here with her. Celebrating however she wanted.
Apparently she wanted to celebrate by lounging in his lap in the Golden Hare, soaking up the heat of the winter's hearthfire in her true ebony skinned form, and have the staff of the elite festhall wait on them hand and foot. Both the staff and the other patrons of the festhall were trying not to stare. It was rare enough to see a strong elf-blooded, though the drow touched were more noticeable, but six and a half foot tall drow Zilira was so far beyond elf touched it seemed something out of a fairy tail. Zilira, being Zilira and finally out of hiding, seemed to enjoy the confusion and leaving these people in the dark as to exactly who she was and what was going on.
Morgan traces small circles on her flat stomach with his fingers ans he reaches to snag a couple of candied fruits off a side table. Except for his familiar everybody else had been told in no uncertain terms that they did not want company on their outing. If – ”Excuse me, umm.” Morgan hastily popped the candied cherry into his mouth and tucked an errant lock of white hair behind Zilira's pointed ear so he could see who was addressing them.
It was a slender young man, not yet twenty but very finely dressed. Here in the capital young noble scions were a dime a dozen and even gossiping political mavens wouldn't be able to keep track of every fourth child of the second daughter of the head of house of every noble family in the capital. Fortunately most of the young turks had a habit of wearing their family's colors unless they were important enough to be well known, or arrogant enough to think they should be. This particular young man, red faced with either nerves, drink, or both, was wearing blue and white and had a shock of pale hair unusual in the south. Probably meant he was an Eloweis. Not one of the council families, but up there.
Zilira shifted in her seat, silently regarding the young man. Morgan couldn't see it, but he could practically feel the aura of lazy power she was projecting. An idle empress regarding some peon with an air that rode the line between interest, amusement, and boredom. Many nobles attempted to project a similar superior air, but Morgan had never met anyone who could do it as well as Zilira. Well nobody human. Cats had the look down pat.
”Mmm?”
“My pardon Lady, but I was hoping you'd do me the honour of a name.”
Zilira took a sip of her wine and tilted her head to the side for a moment, considering. ”I've always liked Hector as a good strong masculine name. Yes I will give you the name Hector.”
The jest drew a snort of amusement from Morgan as he looked about the room. As suspected he spots a table with a group of nobles about the same age as their petitioner with an empty chair. He'd been the one elected to go meet this strange duo. Either he was the bravest, or the most easily pressured into these sorts of things. ”My thanks M'lady. As it happens I already have the name Lord Rowan Eloweis. One I'm rather fond of. But I'll keep the second in case I need a spare. No, I hope to hear your name, and that of your companion.”
So not a halfwit, or blind drunk. Nor had he entirely forgotten about Morgan, the mage's ego is pleased to learn. Any looks he drew were usually due to his height since he tended to be head, and sometimes shoulders, above the crowd. Being with a woman who was actually taller than him was a novel experience. Admittedly he was somewhat under-dressed for the Hare, but his name had sufficed with the door man.
Zilira considers Rowan for a moment, likely considering another intentional misinterpretation, before offering the young man a small nod. ”Zilira, and my cushion here is Archmage Morgan Wainraith.”
The young lord Eloweis blinked and took a second look at Morgan. He might not exactly be a household name in the Capital, not yet at least, but his fame had been growing quickly over the few months. Apparently Rowan at least knew the name. Morgan extends his hand around Zilira and after a moment's hesitation Rowan stepped forward and took it. Zilira extended her own hand and Rowan gathered his courage before kissing her knuckles, face flush. ”I... Ahem I was wondering where you might hail from Lady Zilira?”
“Originally Nerrassus a mountain range in Hell, but it's gone now. I've lived and worked in Halva for so many years now so I consider it my homeland.”
Rowan blinked, apparently momentarily stunned as his mind tried to wrap around the statement. “Hell? Gone?”
“Yes, there was a little incident with an angry geomancer and the mountains became hills. Small ones.”
Rowan squinted suspiciously. ”I... see. And when did you move to Halva?”
Zilira's pert lips curl into a small smile. “I cannot say precisely. You see Halva didn't completely exist back in those days. I suppose you could call it about seven hundred years ago at an estimate.”
At this point Ektor's polite attitude slipped, revealing itself in an annoyed glance between the two. ”If you don't want to talk you could simply say so instead of inventing these ridiculous fabrications to go along with your illusion.”
“Now sir.” Morgan interjects. ”I have it on good authority that that is indeed true. Zilira is a goddess you see, a veteran of the Demongate War. Though-” Morgan hastens to say, ”-she doesn't look a day over two hundred. You won't have heard of her unless you're a student of ancient history because she's had to keep her status as Halva's premier assassin and mentor to the royal family secret. Vulcar the first enslaved her with true magic bonds you see.”
At this Rowan looked ready to take a swing at something. Instead he spun about and strode moodily back to his friends. ”Wait Hector dear.” Zilira calls after him. ”Don't you want to hear about how Morgan broke my magic bonds? It's a thrilling tale.”
Morgan chuckles. ”Wouldn't mind seeing his face when he finds out that yes, we are telling the truth.”
The way news, especially juicy gossip, traveled in Halvanna Morgan suspected it would be no more than a day or two before that happens. Morgan pops another candied cherry in his mouth. ”So?” Zilira queries.
Morgan pulls out his pocket watch, unfolding the cover that protects his greatest creation's delicate hands. ”Less than a half hour. Looks like you win.”
They'd wagered on just how long it would take someone's curiosity to get the best of them and actually approach the six and a half foot tall drow.
I've been there before. Standing there. Nervousness washing cold prickles through my hair and plucking the strings of my gut. A father sits in judgment on a young man. Sitting behind a desk or at a table he looks almost too big to believe. And the stony regard, eyes unyielding, look upon the young man who would woo his precious daughter.
I've been there before.
The thing is.
This is the first time I've done it from the father's side. Me. Morgan Wainraith. Not just a father but one who's eldest is now old enough to be long past skinned knees and ABC's and edging into the realm of romantic wishes and stolen kisses
There's something I never realized from the other side, would never have even guessed. Those fathers never looked at me with those stony judgmental eyes and that frowning brow because they were angry, nor because they found me personally distasteful, at least so I hope. No, it's because they were terrified. Terrified!
Even if she is unusually blessed my little girl Isabella is entering a world of powerful confusing emotions, terrible anxiety, tears and hurt. And there is not a damn thing I can do to protect her. Nothing beyond the same thing dads have been doing since the beginning of time. Terrify the boy and see who's got the heart and stones to stick around.
My stony regard only brings a single eye to bear these days. A black silk patch covers the other side. It gives me a bit of a sinister air when you add it to my dark hair and gray streaked beard. I've tried other patches, but anything that isn't simple and a dark colored makes me look silly or vain, so I'm more or less stuck looking like a hack playwright's idea of an evil baron.
Sometimes though it can be beneficial though.
Lord James Kigo lingers near the door to my office. He's just turned seventeen, half a year older than my Isabella. He's tall, but then he would have to be, blonde, handsome, and I know that he has a nice smile. He's not smiling now though. In fact he looks like he's expecting me to strike him dead at any second. I don't feel like having a conversation with someone twenty feet away on the other side of the room so I gesture him towards one of the chairs in front of my battered old desk. "Welcome Lord James. Do you care for a drink or something to eat?"
He takes a small breath and tries to stride across the room and seat himself as though perfectly at ease. I've been reading people for longer than he's been alive, so he's fooling no-one. "No thank you sir."
A stunning conversationalist. He pauses, obviously hoping I'll get the ball rolling and ask him why he's here, even though we both know I know. Instead I let him squirm. I put my book aside and blow on the page of notes to dry the ink a little before piling them on top of the book. "Umm sir?"
"Yes James?"
I intentionally don't use his title. It's a little childish, but at the moment I officially don't care. "I expect you know already why I'm here but... Sir I have come to seek your blessing to court your daughter the Lady Isabella Wainraith. Your daughter is an amazing and unique lady and I count myself the luckiest man in the world that she has any interest in me at all."
To hear him say it out loud like that...
They're both so young.
God I'm getting old. "Refresh my memory master James, but isn't it traditional to seek the father's permission before you start dating the daughter?"
I hadn't intended to sound quite that strained. "I assure you M'lord I've done nothing that would be deemed inappropriate-"
I cut him off. "I'm well aware of that. If you had acted towards my daughter in a way I deemed inappropriate we would be having this conversation in a very different environment. We'd be in a room with drains in the floor and there'd be bits of sharp metal hanging from the walls."
James pales, but he bounces back quickly enough. Apparently he feels that last bit was a little hyperbole. At the moment I'm not so sure. "The Lady Isabella informed me that you and her mother have promised that she could associate with, and even date, whomever she wished. It's quite unusual, but then I suppose there isn't much about you that isn't at least a little unusual to hear my father tell it."
"In which case you don't need my permission. So why then are you here?"
James pauses and I can see the gears turning in his young head. He's actually thinking before speaking. That raises my opinion of him a little. "It seemed like the honorable thing to do honestly. And well..."
"It's unusual. You wanted to make sure I wasn't going to char your finely accoutred ass for seeming to be going behind my back about it?"
"Ahh yes m'lord, I suppose so."
He's honest, and apparently concerned about doing the right thing. He's actually making it rather difficult to dislike him. I reach for a pitcher of chilled sweetened tea and pour myself a glass. I offer but James again signals that he's fine. "Call me Morgan.
It is true that my daughter is allowed to associate with and date whom she wishes. So long as she lets her parents know about them and is willing to listen to our opinions on the matter. It's not because we don't care. Don't ever think that. It's because we want our children to feel in control of their own lives. No doubt this will cause them grief as well as happiness, but we feel when it comes to matters of the heart the interference of others brings more troubles than it solves. That said if you toy with my daughter's feelings or intentionally bring her to grief of any kind I will track you down and make you regret every decision you've ever made. Forget politics and who your parents are, I've said to hell with such things before and I'll happily do it again. Nowhere will be safe for you. Not the furthest corners of Ahkea, not the bottom of the sea, no plane of existence, nor even another world entirely if you know how to get there. Not even then will you escape me. I will find you and I will do things to you that would make Cinn herself ill to contemplate, and that's only if my wife doesn't get to you first."
At this point I realize two things. One, my knuckles have turned white around my mug, and two, James looks about ready to pass out. I ease up on the death glare and lean back in my old chair. Time to throw him a lifeline. "But I don't anticipate that being a problem. Everything I know about you says you are a decent person and would never intentionally harm others. Your peers, parent's friends, and the servants of your household all speak well of you. You're apparently a little over-brash and prone to shenanigans, but let he who is without sin and all that.
So if you really do want my leave to date Isabella, you have it."
It takes James a little longer to bounce back from this one. I steer the conversation into safer waters. James has a love of falconry and horses, two subjects which I know nothing about, so it's nice to learn a little something new. I'd hate to think Shade was right and there could ever be a point where I'd ever feel there is nothing new under the sun.
Soon enough our time is up and I send James off feeling much improved, if somewhat more sober of thought and face than a man of his age and leisure is accustomed. Me, I have things to do that leave me sober faced myself. I've got deep dark business to attend.
The circle in my secret sub-basement is un-touched. I go over it again just to make sure. After doing so I step inside it's written boundaries and cast a teleportation spell. The circle is necessary for a couple of reasons. It acts as both a power booster and a guided path. Down in the deepest depths of Ahkea strange and weird energies are known to throw off teleportation magic, making it chancy at best, suicidal at worst. We surfacers honestly don't know much about it so the circle is borrowed drow magic. It allows one to teleport to another specially prepared circle despite those interfering energies. Not only that but anyone attempting to teleport into this particular area without one of these specially keyed circles would find themselves shunted into a very unpleasant place.
I arrive to find myself staring down a dozen spears, swords, knives, and other implements of death, including two wands and three prepared holy symbols.
Good.
The Mushroom Brigade, as they only half-jokingly called themselves, were there for anyone who arrived uninvited. Not only is our foe is devious and wary, but than just our target calls the lightless depths home.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Last edited by SpatulaOdoom; Jul 13th, 2021 at 03:51 AM.
My theory on the new gods, is that they're time travellers from a bad future where Zera won. I've always strongly suspected that Sulion and her brother are Morgan's kids by Zilira.
And are you talking about The Lady in the Light and Tinker? A lot of that stuff is not visible to me (private threads or secret text), but that is one possibility that occurred to me. A couple of things don't fit too well. Tinker's eyes are hazel (which Morgan's are as well) but all of Zilira's kids have grey eyes. Also thematically at least the Lady in the Light doesn't seem to have much in the way of parallels to either Zilira or Morgan.
Mine is that they came from alternate realities. There was a vision when Morgan touched Mask's fancy "I survived death and all I got was this stupid coin" coin that suggests that they came from destroyed realities. Different "threads" and realities is a subject that has come up a couple of times in the game, time travel hasn't. Shadow could be an alternate reality version of Aldamil for example.
I'll have to go look over that vision again.
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
Last edited by SpatulaOdoom; Jun 7th, 2021 at 10:49 PM.
OK, so I'm three pages into re-reading chapter seven, and yea, you're definitely right. I'm pretty sure Sublime is Vulcar's daughter.
Just remembered that Zilira chose to make the grey eyed thing inherited by her children with Vulcar the first, so it's not something she HAS to do, also she is able to sense people of her own bloodline, so if she meets Tinker and Lady she might be able to tell.
EDIT: I'm might edit a few more vignettes into post #3072
__________________ Thanks to all the great great GM's. Especially: Makenshi, Birched, Savoylen, Davion, and Homestarbaby.
May 19th, 2021, 01:43 AM
