Goodbye Tavern Hopping...

I read the changelog today to find out that tavern hopping has been taken out of the Brotherhood of Wine and Song. So with them losing that, and having lost the ability to identify items a long long time ago, the Brotherhood becomes yet another association that's nothing more than some decent spec access and a trainer.

Oh well.

Of course, I can understand that the tavern hopping ability was pretty much illogical, but it was still a useful ability, and its removal eliminates yet another shortcut between points of interest. At the same time, other methods of traversing the world without necessarily needing to hit the amazingly-barren overland map and type 'go 160 n' to reach the nearest point of interest have gone largely unrealized.

Chapter 11, Page 2

Quilline glanced hesitantly at the demon beside her. Despite having been commanded by her superiors in Ordo Maleficus to assist Porphryia in any way to bring about as much suffering amongst the Inquisition as possible, she still felt as if perhaps too much faith was being placed upon this demon. Although in theory, all mazikah served the same dark God as Ordo Maleficus did, Quilline knew from experience that many demons had ambitions and designs that put them at odds with the gods who would be their "masters".

"You have not been with your Order for long, have you?"

Porphyria's question caught Quilline off-guard, and it took a moment for her to respond, "No. I was initiated two years ago, so I am still in the process of learning." Quilline lowered her eyes, continuing, "I hope that my lack of experience does not displease you..."

The demon seemed to consider for awhile, and then replied softly, "No. I will not hold your inexperience against you. On the contrary, I have found the older members of your Order somewhat set in their ways, and quite a bit less ambitious than those, like you, with something to prove." Porphyria looked about her before lowering her voice and saying, "I do require that you swear your loyalty to me. I know you have probably been commanded by your superiors in your Order to follow me faithfully, but I would have your personal oath. And know this: Not only will I hold you to this oath; I have the means to ensure that any breach of trust by you will result in the most delicious punishment my mind can devise."

Quilline paled slightly at Porphyria's threatening words, and the strange little goblin-thing at the table grinned toothily at the witch's discomfort. Quilline closed her eyes for a moment in deep thought; one did not swear oaths to demons lightly, and while Quilline had few pretensions over who truly owned her soul, she was still quite hesitant to deliver herself into the hands of this strange creature.

"I swear the oath you request of me," Quilline finally said, resigning herself to intertwining her fate with that of Porphyria. After all, what else could she do? If she returned to her Order without having completed the mission they assigned to her, she would fare no better than she would with the demon. And, she thought, looking appraisingly at Porphyria, this assignment could very well be fun.

"Good." Porphyria smiled at Quilline in what appeared to be a reassuring manner, "Now have a drink with me and Vurp here." Porphyria indicated the goblinoid companion who was still leering at Quilline. "We've got all day to relax. This town doesn't get really interesting until night falls."

Chapter 11, Page 1

The witch walked down the streets of Camille with some hesitation; it was dangerous for a Malefici to operate so closely to the seat of power of the Almerian Inquisition. The Inquisitors were mostly overzealous fools who had no understanding of witches, but mixed in with those fools were some surprisingly-competent individuals. Even so, the Inquisition had taken its toll upon Ordo Malefici; witches were vanishingly rare in the area around Camille. While the persecution of the innocent in the occasional witch scare was an amusing and fitting fate for the followers of Yehovah, it also spoke of the zealousness with which a true Malefici would be pursued if found within the walls of Camille.

Quilline had left her blood foci behind; even concealed, the taint of unholiness upon them could possibly call too much unwanted suspicion. The need for such discretion rankled Quilline as she considered how easy it would be to cause a maleficent pox to spread amongst the city-dwellers. With the right tools, Quilline would be able to cause much pain and suffering and disappear before the Inquisition ever caught wind that a servant of Samael was operating within their midst.

Quickly, Quilline drowned such urges, promising herself that she would make up for the self-restraint with a good deal of future mayhem. For now, there were more important things to do.

The witch turned the corner to see her destination -- a relatively nondescript tavern with little outside adornment that would recommend it. Probably a lousy pilgrims' dive, Quilline thought to herself with derision, a place for the hypocrites to come and fill their souls with 'sin' so that they'll have plenty to boast of to the Patris who takes their confession. Although it was still daytime, the sound of raucous merrymaking emanated from the establishment, and Quilline smugly reflected upon the corruption any hypocrisy of the Yehovist pilgrims.

Although Quilline's advenus blood had gifted her with the ability to detect psychic activities, her abilities merely confirmed what she immediately suspected upon entering the tavern. Quilline could sense powerful and subtle psychic activity centered on a woman at a table near the center of the room. The woman Quilline was here to meet was seated next to an ugly and diminutive creature who Quilline dismissed without a second thought. Quilline recognized the dark, ethereal beauty of the mazikah, whose golden wings merely further confirmed Quilline's presumptions. That such a creature could walk through Camille unhindered merely reinforced Quilline's contempt for the Inquisitors, and further put her at ease.

Quilline slowly walked up to the demon's table, smiling with grim satisfaction at the flinching of the demon's goblinoid companion under her gaze. The mazikah's gaze had stuck on Quilline as soon as she had started across the tavern, and Quilline now found a strange tingling at the edges of her consciousness, while her psychic senses informed her that the demon's psychic facilities were actively probing her defenses. Quilline grimaced in what she hoped was a friendly manner, and bowed slightly to the woman at the table.

"I have been sent here by my master to serve you, Lady," Quilline said in a calm and quiet voice which was drowned out by the noise of the crowd around her after mere dimins. Quilline was confident that the mazikah would hear, as she could feel the psychic contact from the demon probing the surface of her thoughts.

The mazikah's response intruded suddenly into Quilline's mind like a question that had been asked seconds earlier but was only now grabbing Quilline's attention. "Your master," the strangely unheard voice said, "and who would that be, that I should be impressed or grateful?"

Quilline took a deep breath, looking around herself instinctively as she subvocalized, "Samael. Ordo Maleficus has taken an interest in your activities here, and I have been sent to offer you any aid I can provide."

The mazikah's eyebrows raised a fraction of a dimin as she appeared to ponder this information. Quilline could see the strange goblinoid at the table picking at his food, looking studiously ignorant. Again, the thoughts of another intruded into Quilline's mind, saying, "Why should I trust your order of witches? You play about as nicely with others as I do."

Quilline considered her response for a second, and then thought, "Our causes are aligned here. Samael has foreseen that your activities here might cause the fall of the Almerian Inquisition, and there is little that Ordo Maleficus desires more than to see those hubristic Yehovists weakened."

The mazikah nodded, and Quilline was pleased to see her smile and motion to a seat next to her. Once Quilline was seated, the mazikah leaned over and whispered in her ear, "I am pleased to have your assistance, if only because you have so much more to fear here than I do, what with the Inquisition surrounding us. I am Porphyria, and I am glad to accept the aid of you and your master."

Back to Clerics

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.

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

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.

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.