I have been playing around with my cleric more and more, and have been having fun with her. Really, I had forgotten how fun and versatile clerics are to play -- I think maybe I started to believe a bit some of the comments I've heard that have labeled clerics as 'broken'. Sure, clerics do seem a bit dated at times, and a bit too tied to the D&D version of the cleric, but all in all, they're still one of my favorite guilds, and in my opinion, one of the least-broken guilds out there.
Are there things that I would change if I had free reign to redesign clerics? Sure. I would like to see a bit more differentiation in the different orders of clerics. As it stands, the most noticeable differences between clerics of Odin and clerics of Ilsidahur are the color of their flame strike spells and their specialty access. I think that personally, I would favor a design philosophy that would add more uniqueness and expand upon clerics' existing powers and play style rather than a complete re-imagining of the guild in the fashion of the Red Magi/OIA, Azure Magi/OZM, and Rangers/Verynvelyrae/Zetesai/Coven.
But I digress. I am really having a lot of fun rediscovering what a well put-together cleric can do. I have always enjoyed versatile characters, and Esmene is pretty versatile -- she can heal, can use a spear quite well, can debuff, has tons of protection, can dish out a good amount of magical damage, can create food and water for herself -- the list goes on.
Anyhow, I think that I may try to make Esmene my first Amberite legend. Only 20 million xp to go.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Scrying changes.
Changes to the way scrying works went in yesterday. So goodbye, crystal balls & mirrors of revelation. All in all, I'm pretty impressed by and happy with the changes. The one negative I would pick out is that the whole process takes a lot longer to accomplish, so it's not really possible anymore to scry every named mob on the MUD in ten seconds or less. On the other hand, it seems to take a lot less spirit, and doesn't rely on hard-to-obtain and/or expensive items anymore. Plus, the entertainment value of being able to scry using an aqua frizzante is alone more than worth any added difficulty. ;P
Monday, August 24, 2009
Chapter 10, Part 2
The interior of the pub was cheerful and bright, with colorful tapestries hanging on the walls. The tapestries depicted various scenes of torture and cruelty, illustrated in vivid colors that seemed dissonant with their subject matter. Whoever had created the artwork was undoubtedly a master of his or her art, as the images on each tapestry was rendered with intricate detail. Vurp paused to admire the stitching on one picture which depicted the burning of the entrails of a still-living figure in white robes. The look of horror and agony on the figure's face was captured in such detail that Vurp wondered if it had been rendered from memory, or if an actual live model had been used.
Porphyria took a seat at the bar, motioning for Vurp to take the seat next to her. The diminutive boglin mage had some trouble climbing onto the seat, remembering that he was under orders not to fly, float, or otherwise use magic to make his life any easier. Under his breath, Vurp complained about the unreasonable demands of his mistress.
The inn's bartender was an elven lady of indeterminate years with long brown hair and a seemingly-perpetual smirk on her face. Porphyria motioned the bartender over, and ordered a meal for herself and Vurp, as well as a pint of ale for each. The bartender served two bowls of stew with little ceremony and pulled two bottles of ale out of the cooler beneath the bar. Vurp quickly began devouring his meal as Porphyria paid for both and began eating her own stew.
"Excuse me, madam," Vurp whispered once the bartender was tending to other customers, "but I thought that you couldn't eat regular food."
Porphyria glanced over at Vurp, responding quietly, "It's important to keep up appearances, and it won't do me any harm to eat this. Sure, it's pretty much indigestible for me, it doesn't particularly taste good to me, and I'd probably starve if I only ate this stuff, but it's not a matter of 'can't'. You could swallow pebbles if you wanted to, although you'd derive about as much benefit from them as I do from this food. And I can always go hunting later."
Porphyria beckoned over to the bartender, and asked, "What would a room for myself and my servant cost? I'm looking to stay for at least a few nights."
The bartender looked from Porphyria to Vurp, seeming to consider the possibility that Vurp wasn't entirely housebroken. "I'd ask for two gold a night, each, although if you're looking for an extended stay, you can pay in advance by the week, and it would only be 20 gold a week for the both of you."
Porphyria rummaged around in her coin pouch for a moment, counting out a number of gold pieces and handing them to the bartender. "Is Sanctuary coin good enough? I haven't had the chance to change my money for anything local."
The bartender looked suspiciously at one of the coins she had been handed, and nodded. "As long as you don't try and pay me in that debased Mycenaen crap, I don't have any problems. We don't get many visitors here from Sanctuary. It's kind of far, and the Pantarchic Church isn't especially strong there." The bartender seemed to be waiting expectantly for more information.
"We're not from Sanctuary - It just happened to be our last trade stop." Porphyria's response seemed to satisfy the curiosity of the bartender.
"Well, your rooms are upstairs. Second and third on the left. Breakfast is served 2 hours past daybreak, and you're on your own for other meals." The bartender turned her attention to a gnome at a nearby table who was attempting to order a drink, leaving Vurp and Porphyria to themselves.
Porphyria took a seat at the bar, motioning for Vurp to take the seat next to her. The diminutive boglin mage had some trouble climbing onto the seat, remembering that he was under orders not to fly, float, or otherwise use magic to make his life any easier. Under his breath, Vurp complained about the unreasonable demands of his mistress.
The inn's bartender was an elven lady of indeterminate years with long brown hair and a seemingly-perpetual smirk on her face. Porphyria motioned the bartender over, and ordered a meal for herself and Vurp, as well as a pint of ale for each. The bartender served two bowls of stew with little ceremony and pulled two bottles of ale out of the cooler beneath the bar. Vurp quickly began devouring his meal as Porphyria paid for both and began eating her own stew.
"Excuse me, madam," Vurp whispered once the bartender was tending to other customers, "but I thought that you couldn't eat regular food."
Porphyria glanced over at Vurp, responding quietly, "It's important to keep up appearances, and it won't do me any harm to eat this. Sure, it's pretty much indigestible for me, it doesn't particularly taste good to me, and I'd probably starve if I only ate this stuff, but it's not a matter of 'can't'. You could swallow pebbles if you wanted to, although you'd derive about as much benefit from them as I do from this food. And I can always go hunting later."
Porphyria beckoned over to the bartender, and asked, "What would a room for myself and my servant cost? I'm looking to stay for at least a few nights."
The bartender looked from Porphyria to Vurp, seeming to consider the possibility that Vurp wasn't entirely housebroken. "I'd ask for two gold a night, each, although if you're looking for an extended stay, you can pay in advance by the week, and it would only be 20 gold a week for the both of you."
Porphyria rummaged around in her coin pouch for a moment, counting out a number of gold pieces and handing them to the bartender. "Is Sanctuary coin good enough? I haven't had the chance to change my money for anything local."
The bartender looked suspiciously at one of the coins she had been handed, and nodded. "As long as you don't try and pay me in that debased Mycenaen crap, I don't have any problems. We don't get many visitors here from Sanctuary. It's kind of far, and the Pantarchic Church isn't especially strong there." The bartender seemed to be waiting expectantly for more information.
"We're not from Sanctuary - It just happened to be our last trade stop." Porphyria's response seemed to satisfy the curiosity of the bartender.
"Well, your rooms are upstairs. Second and third on the left. Breakfast is served 2 hours past daybreak, and you're on your own for other meals." The bartender turned her attention to a gnome at a nearby table who was attempting to order a drink, leaving Vurp and Porphyria to themselves.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Chapter 10, Part 1
The sun peeked over the distant mountains that formed the natural border between Celydon and Korindim, spilling light across a walled city whose most prominent feature was a huge cathedral whose towers and spires loomed above the city walls. Vurp sighed with relief upon seeing that the distant city was no more than a few hours' walk away. Porphyria had decided to travel from Sanctuary to Camille the hard way -- by boat across the vast Southern and Surdassic seas from Sanctuary to Halfmoon Bay, and then on foot the rest of the way, over the jagged and mountainous landscape of Korindim to the lowland forests and rolling plains that characterized much of Celydon's landscape.
Vurp grumbled under his breath. Porphyria had the ability to travel to nearly any place in just a handful of seconds through her powers as an ELF guerilla, or she could at least fly, which would be much faster, and yet she insisted upon walking. There wasn't much Vurp disliked more than walking around. The ability to fly was half the reason he had become a mage. To be honest, Vurp thought, blowing stuff up was pretty much the other half. The thought caused Vurp to chuckle slightly, distracting him somewhat from the foul mood his hurting feet had put him into. Even Vurp's robe was stashed away at Porphyria's insistence, and Vurp was dressed in a simple, ill-fitting pair of trousers and a white tunic in order to avoid attracting attention. Certainly, walking into a stronghold of the Pantarchic Church openly as an agent of chaos might not be the best idea, but Vurp still missed the comfort of his robe.
It was nearly midday when Porphyria and Vurp made their way through the gates of Camille, Porphyria posing as a religious pilgrim in a simple brown robe, and Vurp posing as her porter. Vurp was not able to pass as a pilgrim because goblinoids of any kind were barred from seeking salvation within the Pantarchic Church, while Porphyria could pass as an aviar without too much trouble. Vurp didn't mind much, anyhow. The Yehovists had always struck Vurp as a singularly stuffy and fun-fearing lot. Besides, the robes pilgrims wore looked as if they chafed horribly.
Camille was an attractive town, in its own way. The Cathedral of Cianna seemed to dominate the city, giving one the impression that the city was almost an afterthought to the Cathedral. Most of the other buildings in the town had a bit of class to them, though. The city held many of the stately manor homes of the officials of the Pantarchic Church alongside a number of other buildings that mirrored the stonework and stained-glass architecture of the Cathedral.
The Cathedral of Cianna itself was a popular place for pilgrimages, and the pilgrims brought a great deal of money into the city. As a result, many of the buildings closest to the Cathedral housed businesses that catered to the pilgrims -- inns, public houses, religious curio shops, and so on. Further away from the Cathedral were the various other districts of the city -- the warehouses, seedy bars, and dens of iniquity that could be found in just about any city, a stronghold of the Church of Yehovah notwithstanding.
"Right middle finger of the Angel Tyristael, ma'am? Only 500 gold pieces." The call came from one of the many street vendors who sold relics of dubious provenance - in this case, the vendor was a middle-aged human man who was holding up what appeared to be a finger bone, but could just have easily been from a chicken. Porphyria waved the man away, but he followed undeterred, "No? Well, how about a vial of holy water? Blessed by the Archistator himself! 50 gold pieces!" The man produced a small vial of water from a pouch on his belt and held it up for inspection. Vurp peered at the somewhat cloudy water inside with some curiosity, but was quickly dragged away by Porphyria, who was intent on ignoring the vendor.
"Just ignore them and they'll go away, Vurp," Porphyria whispered in Vurp's ear, bending down to do so, "these shysters are looking for an easy mark. And even if any of what they sold was holy, what would you want with it?"
Vurp sniffed, somewhat offended, "I'm just curious. I'm not planning on buying anything. Besides, the stuff over there in that shop looks much more interesting." Vurp pointed to one of the curio stands that lined the street around the Cathedral. The shop displayed a good number of items of silver jewelry bearing the holy symbol of Yehovah, and several of the pieces gleamed with an obvious aura of enchantment.
Porphyria noted a hungry look in Vurp's eye, and quickly remembered the circumstances of their meeting. "I'd leave those alone if I were you, Vurp. The Pantarchic Church is not especially known for their mercy towards thieves, especially when those thieves come from the ranks of the 'benighted races'. Besides, we're not hurting for money at the moment. Let's go find a place to stay for the night, and then we can go browse in shops if you're really that interested in Yehovist tchotchkes."
Vurp took one last look at the item shops and followed Porphyria down a small side street that looked to be lined mostly with hostelries and eating-houses. The smells of cuisines of various cultures wafted through the air of the street, making Vurp's stomach growl as he remembered that he had not had lunch yet. Porphyria headed towards an establishment with a faded sign depicting a white-robed figure hanging from a tree. The Anglic letters underneath dubbed the establishment the "Hanging Adonaist Inn and Public House".
"The Hanging Adonaist?" Vurp wondered aloud.
Porphyria looked up at the sign, and explained, "Yeah. The Adonaist schism split the Church awhile back. It originated from some argument over whether or not the divine nature of Yehovah pre-existed the universe, or some silliness like that. The Adonaists were for the most part driven out of Almeria by the Yehovists, and a good number of the Adonaists were executed, although historically speaking, hanging was generally considered too merciful a fate for them."
Vurp shuddered slightly at the morbid sign, and followed Porphyria inside. Once inside, Vurp's eyes quickly adjusted to the relative darkness, and the scents of good Filialtri cooking overwhelmed his nose.
Vurp grumbled under his breath. Porphyria had the ability to travel to nearly any place in just a handful of seconds through her powers as an ELF guerilla, or she could at least fly, which would be much faster, and yet she insisted upon walking. There wasn't much Vurp disliked more than walking around. The ability to fly was half the reason he had become a mage. To be honest, Vurp thought, blowing stuff up was pretty much the other half. The thought caused Vurp to chuckle slightly, distracting him somewhat from the foul mood his hurting feet had put him into. Even Vurp's robe was stashed away at Porphyria's insistence, and Vurp was dressed in a simple, ill-fitting pair of trousers and a white tunic in order to avoid attracting attention. Certainly, walking into a stronghold of the Pantarchic Church openly as an agent of chaos might not be the best idea, but Vurp still missed the comfort of his robe.
It was nearly midday when Porphyria and Vurp made their way through the gates of Camille, Porphyria posing as a religious pilgrim in a simple brown robe, and Vurp posing as her porter. Vurp was not able to pass as a pilgrim because goblinoids of any kind were barred from seeking salvation within the Pantarchic Church, while Porphyria could pass as an aviar without too much trouble. Vurp didn't mind much, anyhow. The Yehovists had always struck Vurp as a singularly stuffy and fun-fearing lot. Besides, the robes pilgrims wore looked as if they chafed horribly.
Camille was an attractive town, in its own way. The Cathedral of Cianna seemed to dominate the city, giving one the impression that the city was almost an afterthought to the Cathedral. Most of the other buildings in the town had a bit of class to them, though. The city held many of the stately manor homes of the officials of the Pantarchic Church alongside a number of other buildings that mirrored the stonework and stained-glass architecture of the Cathedral.
The Cathedral of Cianna itself was a popular place for pilgrimages, and the pilgrims brought a great deal of money into the city. As a result, many of the buildings closest to the Cathedral housed businesses that catered to the pilgrims -- inns, public houses, religious curio shops, and so on. Further away from the Cathedral were the various other districts of the city -- the warehouses, seedy bars, and dens of iniquity that could be found in just about any city, a stronghold of the Church of Yehovah notwithstanding.
"Right middle finger of the Angel Tyristael, ma'am? Only 500 gold pieces." The call came from one of the many street vendors who sold relics of dubious provenance - in this case, the vendor was a middle-aged human man who was holding up what appeared to be a finger bone, but could just have easily been from a chicken. Porphyria waved the man away, but he followed undeterred, "No? Well, how about a vial of holy water? Blessed by the Archistator himself! 50 gold pieces!" The man produced a small vial of water from a pouch on his belt and held it up for inspection. Vurp peered at the somewhat cloudy water inside with some curiosity, but was quickly dragged away by Porphyria, who was intent on ignoring the vendor.
"Just ignore them and they'll go away, Vurp," Porphyria whispered in Vurp's ear, bending down to do so, "these shysters are looking for an easy mark. And even if any of what they sold was holy, what would you want with it?"
Vurp sniffed, somewhat offended, "I'm just curious. I'm not planning on buying anything. Besides, the stuff over there in that shop looks much more interesting." Vurp pointed to one of the curio stands that lined the street around the Cathedral. The shop displayed a good number of items of silver jewelry bearing the holy symbol of Yehovah, and several of the pieces gleamed with an obvious aura of enchantment.
Porphyria noted a hungry look in Vurp's eye, and quickly remembered the circumstances of their meeting. "I'd leave those alone if I were you, Vurp. The Pantarchic Church is not especially known for their mercy towards thieves, especially when those thieves come from the ranks of the 'benighted races'. Besides, we're not hurting for money at the moment. Let's go find a place to stay for the night, and then we can go browse in shops if you're really that interested in Yehovist tchotchkes."
Vurp took one last look at the item shops and followed Porphyria down a small side street that looked to be lined mostly with hostelries and eating-houses. The smells of cuisines of various cultures wafted through the air of the street, making Vurp's stomach growl as he remembered that he had not had lunch yet. Porphyria headed towards an establishment with a faded sign depicting a white-robed figure hanging from a tree. The Anglic letters underneath dubbed the establishment the "Hanging Adonaist Inn and Public House".
"The Hanging Adonaist?" Vurp wondered aloud.
Porphyria looked up at the sign, and explained, "Yeah. The Adonaist schism split the Church awhile back. It originated from some argument over whether or not the divine nature of Yehovah pre-existed the universe, or some silliness like that. The Adonaists were for the most part driven out of Almeria by the Yehovists, and a good number of the Adonaists were executed, although historically speaking, hanging was generally considered too merciful a fate for them."
Vurp shuddered slightly at the morbid sign, and followed Porphyria inside. Once inside, Vurp's eyes quickly adjusted to the relative darkness, and the scents of good Filialtri cooking overwhelmed his nose.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Chapter 9, part 2
Porphyria stood a small distance away from Vurp, considering something that had been tickling the back of her mind. For one thing, goblinoids of any stripe were not known to be exceptionally gifted magi, since their short lifespans made the kind of intensive long-term study required to be a mage of any caliber a life-long pursuit. Hell, humans barely had time to make a serious go of being a decent mage, and they tended to live a couple of decades longer than any goblin. And yet here was a boglin who was wearing the robes of a full Frater Zephyrius Mutatoris, and had obviously learned a thing or two about magic. Porphyria wondered if boglins ever got gray hair, or went bald -- the hair on Vurp's head was a stringy black mess, not showing any real signs of aging.
"Uhm Vurp," Porphyria started, causing the boglin to fidget uncomfortably at the sound of his name, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you?"
Vurp smiled slightly at the question responding, "I'm somewhere around thirty-five years old, madam."
"But you don't look all that old..."
"I live a clean and healthy lifestyle, and generally keep out of danger. And I'm also a devotee of a certain sect of worshippers of the longevity aspect of Zo, goddess of life -- we learn some useful techniques to retard the aging process. Very useful for one whose lifespan would normally be measured in decades." Vurp grinned proudly at his own cleverness, showing a mouthful of sharp yellow teeth. Whatever other benefits that might have been passed on to worshippers of Zo, good oral hygiene was obviously not one of them.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you won't be keeling over anytime soon then. At least, not from old age." Porphyria saw the boglin's smile dull slightly as she made the comment. She knew that the magi of the OZM tended to be a lot more careful with their lives than the typical ELF operative. Hell, almost everyone was more careful than the typical ELF operative, and often times, that recklessness spilled over onto those closest to the agent. Vurp would either learn to excel in his craft, or find himself on the wrong end of something sharp and pointy (if he was lucky) fairly quickly.
Vurp shifted nervously in his seat, and Porphyria realized that she had been staring at the boglin in an almost predatory fashion while she had weighed his chances of survival. She smiled reassuringly, and Vurp relaxed somewhat. "You and I should make a good team," Porphyria told him, "I've worked with people from your order before, and always enjoyed the experience."
Vurp nodded slightly. Some of the other magi of his order had been quite vocal in the past concerning their experiences with Porphyria. The phrase 'madwoman' came up with astonishing frequency, but then again, what could one expect from an ELF guerilla? The ELF form of magic basically relied upon calling up ancient and terrifying Powers and letting them rampage, all the time hoping that they hit the right target. It was nothing like the studied control that an experienced Frater gained over the elements. One would almost acquire madness as a survival tool, working as an ELF agent.
Vurp gathered up what little courage he had, and asked, "So what's the plan, mistress? Taking over the world might be a bit much for just the two of us."
"Oh, it probably is, and I was just joking, really. I think we should start with someplace smaller first, like Camille."
"You really mean to take over Camille? But why? I thought that we'd be spreading chaos. It seems like taking a place over would require imposing some sort of order, which is kind of the opposite."
Porphyria smiled happily, and replied, "Sometimes the surest path to true discord is to encourage the aneristic principle to flourish and begin to dominate. After all, very few really good revolutions start because there's too little control. And when empires finally fall, they tend to create enough discord to last hundreds of years, even if the empire only lasted a handful. Loosen the reins of power enough, and society becomes essentially self-ordering, but tighten them until society has no concept of self-order, and then let those reins snap, and that's when things really get interesting."
Vurp looked into Porphyria's eyes as she leaned towards him, entranced by the yellow runes that seemed to swim through her deep black irises. He looked for a hint of sanity somewhere behind those eyes, but could only see inscrutable depth. Vurp felt some fear at what this strange ELF agent proposed, but at the same time felt against his better judgment that he should work with her to see that her goals would be achieved.
"Madam, excuse me for questioning you," Vurp begain, seeming to wince at each word as it came out, "but I thought that chaos was all about giving people freedom, not about causing a new dark age."
"It's not about giving people freedom, Vurp. It's about making them realize that they already have freedom, no matter what their king or priest says. The State and the Church enforce order through a complex system of fear and force, and people buy into it -- they even begin to crave it. If you just kill the king, soon enough people will raise up another king. But if you make it so that people don't want any more kings, then you've got something that can last." Porphyria stood back form Vurp and turned around, looking into a dark corner of the room, continuing, "Dark ages are when people are the most free, anyhow. In order for people to experience real freedom, the system has to break down as utterly as it can."
Wow, Vurp thought, she really is completely bonkers. But there was still something in the back of his mind that couldn't simply dismiss what she was saying. For some reason, he found himself twisted more and more towards Porphyria's way of thinking, the more he thought about it. Maybe there was something to what she was saying, even if the first impulse of his gentle nature was to rebel against it.
"I see your point, Madam." Vurp's answer was timid and reverential.
Porphyria stood silent for some time, and then said, "We'll leave for Camille in a few days. I doubt we'll have much trouble with the Justicars there -- the strength of the Pantarchic Church in the city does tend to push out all the other religions. At the very least, we ought to be able to make a bit of a stir there, won't we?"
Vurp nodded, happy to at last have a hand in bigger events -- to have a Higher Purpose, even if it would probably get him run out of every town he set foot in, if not killed.
"Uhm Vurp," Porphyria started, causing the boglin to fidget uncomfortably at the sound of his name, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but how old are you?"
Vurp smiled slightly at the question responding, "I'm somewhere around thirty-five years old, madam."
"But you don't look all that old..."
"I live a clean and healthy lifestyle, and generally keep out of danger. And I'm also a devotee of a certain sect of worshippers of the longevity aspect of Zo, goddess of life -- we learn some useful techniques to retard the aging process. Very useful for one whose lifespan would normally be measured in decades." Vurp grinned proudly at his own cleverness, showing a mouthful of sharp yellow teeth. Whatever other benefits that might have been passed on to worshippers of Zo, good oral hygiene was obviously not one of them.
"Well, I'm glad to hear you won't be keeling over anytime soon then. At least, not from old age." Porphyria saw the boglin's smile dull slightly as she made the comment. She knew that the magi of the OZM tended to be a lot more careful with their lives than the typical ELF operative. Hell, almost everyone was more careful than the typical ELF operative, and often times, that recklessness spilled over onto those closest to the agent. Vurp would either learn to excel in his craft, or find himself on the wrong end of something sharp and pointy (if he was lucky) fairly quickly.
Vurp shifted nervously in his seat, and Porphyria realized that she had been staring at the boglin in an almost predatory fashion while she had weighed his chances of survival. She smiled reassuringly, and Vurp relaxed somewhat. "You and I should make a good team," Porphyria told him, "I've worked with people from your order before, and always enjoyed the experience."
Vurp nodded slightly. Some of the other magi of his order had been quite vocal in the past concerning their experiences with Porphyria. The phrase 'madwoman' came up with astonishing frequency, but then again, what could one expect from an ELF guerilla? The ELF form of magic basically relied upon calling up ancient and terrifying Powers and letting them rampage, all the time hoping that they hit the right target. It was nothing like the studied control that an experienced Frater gained over the elements. One would almost acquire madness as a survival tool, working as an ELF agent.
Vurp gathered up what little courage he had, and asked, "So what's the plan, mistress? Taking over the world might be a bit much for just the two of us."
"Oh, it probably is, and I was just joking, really. I think we should start with someplace smaller first, like Camille."
"You really mean to take over Camille? But why? I thought that we'd be spreading chaos. It seems like taking a place over would require imposing some sort of order, which is kind of the opposite."
Porphyria smiled happily, and replied, "Sometimes the surest path to true discord is to encourage the aneristic principle to flourish and begin to dominate. After all, very few really good revolutions start because there's too little control. And when empires finally fall, they tend to create enough discord to last hundreds of years, even if the empire only lasted a handful. Loosen the reins of power enough, and society becomes essentially self-ordering, but tighten them until society has no concept of self-order, and then let those reins snap, and that's when things really get interesting."
Vurp looked into Porphyria's eyes as she leaned towards him, entranced by the yellow runes that seemed to swim through her deep black irises. He looked for a hint of sanity somewhere behind those eyes, but could only see inscrutable depth. Vurp felt some fear at what this strange ELF agent proposed, but at the same time felt against his better judgment that he should work with her to see that her goals would be achieved.
"Madam, excuse me for questioning you," Vurp begain, seeming to wince at each word as it came out, "but I thought that chaos was all about giving people freedom, not about causing a new dark age."
"It's not about giving people freedom, Vurp. It's about making them realize that they already have freedom, no matter what their king or priest says. The State and the Church enforce order through a complex system of fear and force, and people buy into it -- they even begin to crave it. If you just kill the king, soon enough people will raise up another king. But if you make it so that people don't want any more kings, then you've got something that can last." Porphyria stood back form Vurp and turned around, looking into a dark corner of the room, continuing, "Dark ages are when people are the most free, anyhow. In order for people to experience real freedom, the system has to break down as utterly as it can."
Wow, Vurp thought, she really is completely bonkers. But there was still something in the back of his mind that couldn't simply dismiss what she was saying. For some reason, he found himself twisted more and more towards Porphyria's way of thinking, the more he thought about it. Maybe there was something to what she was saying, even if the first impulse of his gentle nature was to rebel against it.
"I see your point, Madam." Vurp's answer was timid and reverential.
Porphyria stood silent for some time, and then said, "We'll leave for Camille in a few days. I doubt we'll have much trouble with the Justicars there -- the strength of the Pantarchic Church in the city does tend to push out all the other religions. At the very least, we ought to be able to make a bit of a stir there, won't we?"
Vurp nodded, happy to at last have a hand in bigger events -- to have a Higher Purpose, even if it would probably get him run out of every town he set foot in, if not killed.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Chapter 9, Part 1 - Boglin
Porphyria enjoyed the cool night air as she sat on the porch of the Discordian safe house. In the week since she had come to the city, she had come to tolerate its various eccentricities. The small but lively nyloc community in the city had come to regard Porphyria as one of their own -- due in part, no doubt, to the influence of the Golden Apple -- and Porphyria enjoyed their company.
A sudden crashing noise off to her left brought Porphyria out of her reverie and into a combat stance as she quickly engaged her psychic invisibility. Out of the darkness from the direction of the noise, a smallish, green-skinned creature came flying as it made a beeline for the door of the Discordian safe house. Damn, Porphyria thought, looks like someone's bringing trouble with them. Porphyria sighed. She had just gotten the safe house comfortable, as well. If she was forced to abandon it due to the antics of this creature, she would be quite annoyed.
Luckily, there was little sign of anything chasing the creature, as it made it to the door and quickly rushed inside, slamming the door behind it. Moments later, a pair of guardsmen came rushing around the corner, stopping and looking slightly confused as they peered around, searching for their quarry. They strolled down the road, poking piles of garbage and peering into shadows, but walked straight past the safe house without pausing. As the two guardsmen turned the corner at the other end of the street, Porphyria breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the door. It was time to see who this new guest was.
As Porphyria slipped in the door, she heard a strange, hissing voice chant in Enochian. Porphyria's future sense alerted her to oncoming danger, and she dove aside just in time to avoid an almost-solid gust of wind which screamed past her ear and slammed into the door behind her, causing it to shudder violently. In the middle of her dive, Porphyria applied psychokinetic energies to change her course and propel her towards the small figure in the darkness, who was already chanting another phrase in Enochian. Porphyria crashed into the short figure about waist-height, knocking the breath from it and disrupting its spell. Grabbing the creature by the neck, Porphyria stood and examined her catch, holding the creature at arms-length as it attempted to smile ingratiatingly.
On close inspection, the strange creature was obviously a boglin -- a race rumored to be a cross between a goblin and a slaan, which shared little of the redeeming qualities of either race. The boglin's green skin oozed a slimy moisture which reminded Porphyria unpleasantly of urine, and its homely, frog-like face showed an expression of terror behind its sickly smile. The boglin was dressed in a thigh-length, sky-colored robe that looked almost comical on the creature's skinny form. Porphyria felt little weight at the end of her arm -- the boglin obviously had the ability to levitate, and was doing so in order to avoid being choked at Porphyria's hand.
Porphyria looked into the eyes of the boglin, and threatened, "Now, there will be no more of that magic in here, understood?"
The boglin nodded cautiously, its eyes darting around, apparently searching for some means of escape.
"Good, because if I hear any language other than Anglic from you, I swear that you won't survive to get out more than two words." At that, Porphyria released the boglin's throat and smiled with amusement as it hovered in the air before her rather than dropping to the floor. "Now, I would like to know who you are, and why you came here."
The boglin gulped, rubbing its neck, "My name is Vurp, apprentice brother of the Ordo Zephyrius Mutatoris, and Discordian Legionnaire. And I'm sorry for attacking you, madam, but I thought you were a Hellhound."
Porphyria nodded slightly, replying, "No problem. My name's Porphyria, ELF guerilla," -- the boglin's eyes widened slightly as a flicker of recognition played across his face -- "Why were the Hellhounds chasing you?"
"A simple misunderstanding, mistress Porphyria. I was accused of attempting to liberate a small amount of coin from a nobleman." Vurp's eyes continued searching the room for a means of escape, even though his body was almost completely relaxed. Perhaps it was a nervous habit.
"So you're a wizard, eh?"
"Merely an apprentice, madam. I have yet a long way to go before I am able to do more than the simplest of spells, but I am learning the best that I can."
Porphyria paused for a moment, considering. "Well, you're welcome to stay here, Vurp. As long as you promise not to send any lightning bolts my way, that is."
Vurp's eyes widened, "Of course not, Lady Porphyria. Even if I could muster a lightning bolt, I would never dream of harming you. By the way, is there any food in here? I'm hungry."
"There's some in the pantry there, although I don't know how fresh it is. I usually go out to eat," Porphyria said, "You're welcome to anything you can find."
Vurp smiled happily, saying, "Thank you. I'm really hungry." The boglin climbed up on the countertop in the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets.
Porphyria watched as Vurp found some dried meats and fruits and began to unceremoniously devour them. Perhaps this little creature would prove useful. After all, the magi of the Ordo Zephyrius Mutatoris had potent magic when properly trained, and Porphyria felt that she could use the ally.
"How would you like a job, Vurp?" Porphyria asked the boglin once he was done shoveling a meager meal into his mouth.
"Eh? What sort of job, madam?" Vurp seemed slightly confused at the question, and appeared as if he was looking for some possibility for escape, although Porphyria assumed that this was just his general demeanor.
"You'll be helping me take over the world, of course," Porphyria laughed, only partly serious. "You'll be my assistant, and help wherever I need it."
Vurp thought for a moment, considering. The Ordo Zehyrius Mutatoris had been his life for the past dozen years, but Vurp felt that he might be able to learn much more through this infamous ELF agent and her adventures. "Fine. I'll come along with you, madam." Vurp felt that perhaps he was making a mistake, but assumed that things would work themselves out eventually, even despite the strong sense of foreboding within his gut.
A sudden crashing noise off to her left brought Porphyria out of her reverie and into a combat stance as she quickly engaged her psychic invisibility. Out of the darkness from the direction of the noise, a smallish, green-skinned creature came flying as it made a beeline for the door of the Discordian safe house. Damn, Porphyria thought, looks like someone's bringing trouble with them. Porphyria sighed. She had just gotten the safe house comfortable, as well. If she was forced to abandon it due to the antics of this creature, she would be quite annoyed.
Luckily, there was little sign of anything chasing the creature, as it made it to the door and quickly rushed inside, slamming the door behind it. Moments later, a pair of guardsmen came rushing around the corner, stopping and looking slightly confused as they peered around, searching for their quarry. They strolled down the road, poking piles of garbage and peering into shadows, but walked straight past the safe house without pausing. As the two guardsmen turned the corner at the other end of the street, Porphyria breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the door. It was time to see who this new guest was.
As Porphyria slipped in the door, she heard a strange, hissing voice chant in Enochian. Porphyria's future sense alerted her to oncoming danger, and she dove aside just in time to avoid an almost-solid gust of wind which screamed past her ear and slammed into the door behind her, causing it to shudder violently. In the middle of her dive, Porphyria applied psychokinetic energies to change her course and propel her towards the small figure in the darkness, who was already chanting another phrase in Enochian. Porphyria crashed into the short figure about waist-height, knocking the breath from it and disrupting its spell. Grabbing the creature by the neck, Porphyria stood and examined her catch, holding the creature at arms-length as it attempted to smile ingratiatingly.
On close inspection, the strange creature was obviously a boglin -- a race rumored to be a cross between a goblin and a slaan, which shared little of the redeeming qualities of either race. The boglin's green skin oozed a slimy moisture which reminded Porphyria unpleasantly of urine, and its homely, frog-like face showed an expression of terror behind its sickly smile. The boglin was dressed in a thigh-length, sky-colored robe that looked almost comical on the creature's skinny form. Porphyria felt little weight at the end of her arm -- the boglin obviously had the ability to levitate, and was doing so in order to avoid being choked at Porphyria's hand.
Porphyria looked into the eyes of the boglin, and threatened, "Now, there will be no more of that magic in here, understood?"
The boglin nodded cautiously, its eyes darting around, apparently searching for some means of escape.
"Good, because if I hear any language other than Anglic from you, I swear that you won't survive to get out more than two words." At that, Porphyria released the boglin's throat and smiled with amusement as it hovered in the air before her rather than dropping to the floor. "Now, I would like to know who you are, and why you came here."
The boglin gulped, rubbing its neck, "My name is Vurp, apprentice brother of the Ordo Zephyrius Mutatoris, and Discordian Legionnaire. And I'm sorry for attacking you, madam, but I thought you were a Hellhound."
Porphyria nodded slightly, replying, "No problem. My name's Porphyria, ELF guerilla," -- the boglin's eyes widened slightly as a flicker of recognition played across his face -- "Why were the Hellhounds chasing you?"
"A simple misunderstanding, mistress Porphyria. I was accused of attempting to liberate a small amount of coin from a nobleman." Vurp's eyes continued searching the room for a means of escape, even though his body was almost completely relaxed. Perhaps it was a nervous habit.
"So you're a wizard, eh?"
"Merely an apprentice, madam. I have yet a long way to go before I am able to do more than the simplest of spells, but I am learning the best that I can."
Porphyria paused for a moment, considering. "Well, you're welcome to stay here, Vurp. As long as you promise not to send any lightning bolts my way, that is."
Vurp's eyes widened, "Of course not, Lady Porphyria. Even if I could muster a lightning bolt, I would never dream of harming you. By the way, is there any food in here? I'm hungry."
"There's some in the pantry there, although I don't know how fresh it is. I usually go out to eat," Porphyria said, "You're welcome to anything you can find."
Vurp smiled happily, saying, "Thank you. I'm really hungry." The boglin climbed up on the countertop in the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets.
Porphyria watched as Vurp found some dried meats and fruits and began to unceremoniously devour them. Perhaps this little creature would prove useful. After all, the magi of the Ordo Zephyrius Mutatoris had potent magic when properly trained, and Porphyria felt that she could use the ally.
"How would you like a job, Vurp?" Porphyria asked the boglin once he was done shoveling a meager meal into his mouth.
"Eh? What sort of job, madam?" Vurp seemed slightly confused at the question, and appeared as if he was looking for some possibility for escape, although Porphyria assumed that this was just his general demeanor.
"You'll be helping me take over the world, of course," Porphyria laughed, only partly serious. "You'll be my assistant, and help wherever I need it."
Vurp thought for a moment, considering. The Ordo Zehyrius Mutatoris had been his life for the past dozen years, but Vurp felt that he might be able to learn much more through this infamous ELF agent and her adventures. "Fine. I'll come along with you, madam." Vurp felt that perhaps he was making a mistake, but assumed that things would work themselves out eventually, even despite the strong sense of foreboding within his gut.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
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