About Blood 44: Discussing Religion

44: Discussing Religion

While the party reached Beregost, further south, Montaron was obviously getting irritated. It was well past noon and they still hadn’t advanced a single step. The causes of this were the two mages who were sitting on a tree Talek had cut down for hem, intently studying their books. The conjurer and the necromancer had been difficult to rouse from their slumber, as Xzar had had a nightmare again, screaming for almost a full hour, and waking everyone.

While waiting for them, the rest of the party had packed their backpacks, Viconia and Talek had gathered water to wash up, causing Edwin to abandon his books for a few minutes. Talek had needed some time as the bloodstains were stubborn. Now Viconia was idly brushing her silver tresses, Talek was doing push ups in his plate and Montaron was chewing on a twig to contain his frustration.

“Pox on ye, wizards! Ye’re gonna stare at those pages till sundown? Hurry it up already!” He scowled.

“Hey! These are difficult spells, Monty! Some new ones too… hmm… new spells… Ghoul touch… Always wanted to be able to do that…” Xzar made a grabbing gesture. “I already have some ghoulskin. You know that while that spell is in effect, your hand becomes a bit undead for a little while? It has to, to contain the energy… I wonder what it’ll feel like?”

“Spare me the descriptions, nutter, and just learn the spells and quick. Why do ye have to learn them again anyway? Ye hardly cast any spells yesterday.” Montaron asked.

“Because, diminutive simian, after a day of journeying through the wilderness to arrive in the town, then practically being forced to flee that olfactory unpleasant hovel to avoid being lynched, followed by setting up camp in a bug-infested forest in the middle of the night and sleeping in dismal circumstances might just cause the necromancer’s, and even my amazing memory to make slight errors. And when dealing with the incredible powers beyond the comprehension of you and the other assorted goons, slight errors can result in catastrophes.” Edwin didn’t raise his eyes from his book.

“But…” Montaron started.

Edwin interrupted him. “Furthermore, the study and memorization of spells is a skill, and even incredibly gifted people such as myself need practice in order to one day be able to cast spells worthy of my intellect. Considering we have acquired new and more complicated spells, we need the practice to remember these as well, unless we want to remain in mediocrity, though I assume that looks pretty impressive from where you’re standing.”

“Just make it quick!” Montaron said.

Now Edwin did look up from his book. “Memorizing spells is not something that can be rushed, thief. It can merely be delayed. Among others by an unpleasant halfling interrupting us every ten seconds to tell us to ‘hurry up’ breaking my concentration and making me have start over memorizing the same spell again and again. If such delays would be removed, there might be a chance that we can leave before my parchment goes brown.”

“You know, the best parchment is the one from baby cows… Parchment is actually dead baby-cow skin… Mooo….” Xzar giggled.

“I… okay, fine, FINE!” Montaron raised his heads in concession. “Take all the time ye need. I’ll be over there growing older.” He walked away, mumbling. “I really gotta look into moving to Athkatla…”

“Hey Montaron. They ready yet?” Talek got up from the ground and wiped his forehead with some cloth.

“Nah, the big fancy mages need more time, and Mask knows how much. Blasted parchment eaters.” Montaron fumes.

Viconia grinned. “In the underdark, the last mage to memorize his spells is flogged to encourage concentration.”

Montaron answered the grin. “Now ye’re just teasing me, drow. But thanks for the image.”

Talek brought his hand to this sword. “Hmm… done all my exercises already… You guys wanna spar a bit while we’re waiting?” He offered, grabbing a branch that looked about as long as his sword. “The two of you against me…”

Montaron raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t we cocky? Ye think that’s fair?”

Talek rubbed his chin. “Ah, you’re right.” He dropped the branch and started taking off his breast plate. “I’ll fight in chainmail.”

Viconia and Montaron gave each other a look and both took branches as well. Viconia smiled cruelly. “Did I tell you that boastful males are ALSO flogged in the underdark?”

Talek grinned back at her. “Heh, if you wanna flog me, go ahead and try it.” He raised his branch in front of his face as if it was a sword and then took a combat stance, still holding the piece of wood as he would hold a sword.

As the sound of wood hitting wood started to sound through the small clearing Edwin sighed. “So far for concentration.”

Xzar gave the three a look and giggled. “Hey, be happy that Monty didn’t notice that these books are not our spellbooks.”

Edwin gave Montaron a cautious glance and then smirked. “When it comes to magic, these simians will believe anything. Fortunate as well. I have not been able to get a moment to study my tomes since I met this group. Between the halfling’s disrespectful prodding and the long-haired muscle-head’s mule-like ability to keep walking until I am too exhausted to do anything but fall asleep, I need to assume a pro-active role in getting some reading time.”

Xzar nodded. “Yesss… Monty can be so grumpy! And he never helps me finding spell-components.” Xzar looked at the cover of Edwins book. “Ooooh… demon summoning! Calling hellhounds to chase the bunnies away!” He giggled. “Planning to make some big, bad fiends do what you want?”

Edwin grinned confidently. “Hah, once I have gotten near the dazzling apex of my potential magical aptitude, the likes of Domogorgon will fetch my slippers. It is, of course, extremely dangerous and less competent conjurers than myself have had their souls ripped out of them, but that is only the culling of the herd, so those demons can be free and powerful for when they are inevitably bound, shackled and made use of by me! And then nobody shall be able to deny my genius or mock me!” Edwin’s eyes, vague in his daydream suddenly focused. “And what are you reading?” He looked at Xzar’s tome. “Ah, Lich transformation.” He said in an approving tone. “An interesting subject, though I do not intend to undergo the process myself. There must be a better way to avoid death.”

Xzar bit his nails. “Hmmm… maybe… but we’ve got so little time.” He looked at his fingers. “We’re rotting already. Slowly rotting away, our minds, our bodies! Bunnies chewing at our fingers! I’ll escape! I will!” He giggled again and grinned at Edwin. “We can, because we are smart. Borders between planes, borders of life and death, of time and space! Doesn’t mean anything. We KNOW how weak they are, and that we can pluck what we want like the warm, juicy liver out of a man’s fresh corpse! We know. We see…”

Edwin grimaced slightly at the analogy but nodded. He looked at the three sparring figures with a certain measure of contempt. “Though I think you see things that aren’t there sometimes, you said what I thought… in… different wordings. One of them wants nothing more than a shiny sword and people to use it on, the other scavenges for gold and the drow lives to lick the boots of her goddess. All of them busy with things that don’t affect anything in the larger scale of things, completely blind to the phenomenal powers waiting for those daring and brilliant enough to bend them to their will! That is what magic is about! To them it’s nothing more than a handy way of disposing of orcs and mending their armour! And they then have the preposterous idea that it is US that are blind to reality, while we are the only ones that are not blinded by their petty worries!”

He looked at Xzar who was muttering to himself. “’Us’ meaning wizards in general.”

The necromancer looked up at Edwin and grinned. “Sooo… you conjurers… you can summon anything… Rip them from the planes?”

Edwin groomed his beard a little. “Given the time and resources I deserve, there is nothing you can name that my school can’t procure. Except dead spirits and other such matter that I leave to your kind. (Hm, dead people. If they were truly powerful, they wouldn’t be dead, would they? Still, it has its uses.) Objects, devils, demons, elementals, you think of them and one day they will be at the mercy and under the command of Edwin Oddeiseron.”

Xzar bit his nails. “Devils and demons and elementals… oh my… anything else?”

Edwin raised his eyebrows. “You mean like Slaads? Or celestials? Those would need some enchantments to be useful…” Xzar shook his head with a dead-head grin. Edwin’s eyes lit up in understanding. His hand that had been stroking now twisted the beard in a nervous gesture.

“Ah… you mean that…That’s a… dangerous subject. Especially so short after the Time of Troubles. While I of course, fear no one, I am more that intelligent enough not to discuss those limits with people… especially one of your… convictions. Your patron knows all too well just how immortal his kind are, even if he might forget everything else.”

Xzar removed his hand from his mouth. “What do you mean?”

“Who do you think I mean? You’re a Zhentarim, a necromancer and have the mental health of a berserked rooster. I’m talking about that dark sun of yours.”

Edwin’s words were hardly out of his mouth when Xzar dropped his book and grabbed him roughly by the face. Their noses almost touched and Xzar’s sharp, dirty nails almost broke the skin of Edwin’s cheeks.

“I am NOT a Cyrist! Not! Do you hear me! Understand me! NOT a Cyrist! NOT, NOT, NOT!” His voice was high-pitched and unstable.

Edwin looked aside, Montaron, Viconia and Talek were still caught up in their sparring match. The look in Xzar’s eyes suggested he was only keeping himself by a thread.

“Okay, okay, okay…” He said breathlessly. “Not a Cyrist… Got it… (Why do I always have to deal with the nutters?)”

Xzar released him. “Good!” His smile was cheerful, as nothing had happened. “Good that we cleared that up.”

Edwin shakily stroked his skin, looking deathly pale. “Okay… okay… So, not a Cyrist… What then? Bane? That’s who you Zhentarim went for when he was still alive no? Or that other dead god, Bhaal?”

“Nonononoooo…” Xzar said, looking around suspiciously, especially at Viconia who just narrowly dodged a sweep from Talek. “You can’t trust them! Any of them! They’re on the bunnies’ side! Bring bunnies to us! Always watching! They want to eat my soul and kidneys, but I’m not letting them! I’ll eat my kidneys myself first! Hmmm… kidneys!” The necromancer blinked. “What about you?”

Edwin gave a small chuckle. “Oh, I’ve investigated and browsed the pantheon, a few pantheons actually, and looked long and hard for such a diety I felt was worthy of my attention (Worship would be… overmuch. I AM worshipped, not the other way around) and have come to the conclusion there is no such thing. Some of them are more clever than others, but I haven’t found a single deity of which I am not convinced that I would do a much better job (those deities that have jobs that NEED to be done, that is)” He lowered his voice. “As of your other question, between us, yes, it would be theoretically possible if a suitable genius, ambitious and experienced conjurer (two out of three is a tolerable start) would turn his mind to it. It would need a whole new brand of spells but…”

“Studying hard?” A voice interrupted Edwin. Xzar and Edwin jumped up and looked at Montaron who was staring at them. The halfling looked very displeased. The reason was obvious. His ear was red and clearly swelling, his forehead was developing another lump and he was avoiding putting weight on his right leg.

“Euh… we were… discussing wizardly matters. Weren’t you busy sparring?” Edwin answered.

“Sparring’s over before the boy beats us into a grave! Gather yer books, we’ve been dallying around here too long alreeady!” Without another word he went to gather his backpack. Talek followed him, protesting his case as he re-equipped his plate-mail.

“Ah come on Montaron! I didn’t hit you THAT hard! And it’s good training!” He turned to Edwin and Xzar. “I mean really, you can’t learn to swordfight by STROKING people! The branch didn’t even break.”

A red-eyed figure, hunched over appeared behind Talek. “You… vicious, violent, uncouth, brutish OAF OF A MALE!”

Talek flashed fastened the belts of his armour and flashed a grin. “Ah come on, Viconia. It can’t hurt THAT much!”

Viconia looked like it had though. One hand was on the back of her neck, the other one was on the front of her chainmail.

“You PUNCHED me in the CHEST!” She hissed at him.

“You were wide-open!” Talek defended himself. “I mean, couldn’t just tag you, could I?”

“Don’t… hit me… there!” The red eyes were doing the best to wipe the smile of Talek’s face.

“But we’re practicing! What good is a sparring match if we’re not going to make it as real as possible?” He said. “I got hit too.” He rubbed his arm a bit.

Viconia suddenly answered the grin. “Why, you’re absolutely right Talek. We SHOULD strive to fight as realistic as possible.” She stepped forward and put her hands on Talek’s shoulder.

“Euh… yeah…” answered Talek, looking confused.

Montaron, who had been looking from afar, opened his mouth. “Hey, wait…”

“Shut up, thief. Well then Talek, allow me to show you a technique that served me well!”

“Sure… show me!” Talek said.

Edwin raised his hand. “Talek, she…”

Viconia rammed her knee upwards between Talek’s legs. Edwin and Xzar winced while Montaron had a fatalistic expression. Talek just had a look of surprise on his face. Then, with a groan, Viconia fell over, clutching her knee.

“I tried to tell ye, drow, I already tried that trick. He’s got protection.” Montaron said.

Talek looked down at Viconia with a concerned expression. “Yeah, I mean.. that’s one of the first things we learned. Never spar without protecting those parts. I thought you knew.” He crouched, grabbed Viconia’s arm and carefully but forcefully got her back on her feet. “You all right?”

“Let GO off me!” The cleric got out of the gauntleted grip, wobbled a bit, found her balance and started to limp away. “Get your gear ready instead of standing there with your mouth open catching insects! And what are YOU TWO laughing at!” The last remark was at Edwin and Xzar who had been very busy trying not to chuckle, then stalked away, muttering curses about surfacer fighters, surfacer wizards, surfacer thieves, the surfacer sun and the surface in general.

“I think she’s a bit angry at us.” Talek said to the two wizards..

Montaron walked up to the three. “Small hint… don’t get injured today. Now let’s go. We got a mage waiting for us in Beregost.”