Day 2
—
Name: Phoenix
Attributes: 0 points
Strength: 5(6) Constitution: 13, Coordination: 12(13), Mentality: 21, Will: 16(17), Charisma: 17, Luck: 13
Magic: Fire, Air , Conjure, Draw.
Skills: Ritual (Worship Arachnae) 20%->23%. Survival 25%->28%, Meditate 0%->18%
Luck Uses: 1
Hit Points: 13(14) [healing, 37 hours remaining]
Magic Pool: 16(34) [respiration, 13 hours remaining]
Exhaustion 1 [effects offset by high willpower], Starvation 1
—
He groggily opened his eyes, rubbing the grit out them with one hand and pushing himself upright with the other. The panel sprang to life in front of him, but before he could really take it all in he had to deal with the myriad of complaints from his limbs, back, and neck. Grunting he got to his knees and quickly checked the fire, and then groaned in despair when he saw it was cold and dark, about a third of the wood still unconsumed where it had not been close enough to fully burn. At least the water he had boiled last night was still there, cold but clear, and he drank it all to shock his system awake.
He couldn’t face the fire situation yet, so he focused on the panel instead. There are a lot of new things there, he noted, starting with the reduced stats. Some concern to be sure, deducing that the Exhaustion or Starvation was the responsible party. Concentrating on Exhaustion, it helpfully opened up to show the penalties to his strength, coordination, and will. The starvation also opened under his scrutiny, but simply said “Penalties deferred due to high constitution.” Which was a nice hidden boon that he was pleased to take. He could guess that the improvements to his skills had to do with the activities of yesterday, although he still wasn’t sure if these were large or small changes. The meditate change seemed large, especially if the scale was 0 to 100, and perhaps he could credit Prodigal Learning for that? Regardless, it was the magic entries that most excited his interest.
He could remember the feeling of the meditation last night, with crystal clarity. It was disappointing that water hadn’t been included in the list as well, but perhaps he was just being greedy at this point. Now, how to use them! Invoke. Nothing happened. Invoke Fire. Nothing. “Invoke Fire” out loud this time, with intent. Nope, no apparent effect. Oh, silly of himself, of course. “Conjure Fire”. Ah… he felt something with that, but still no effect.
Taking all the leftover wood and placing it in a careful pile, he stood a short distance back. He needed something more than just the words, he knew that, and more than just intent. He remembered that feeling from last night once more. Maybe… he called it to the front of his mind, letting the feeling suffuse him once again but trying to focus on the pile of wood. As he stood there, he could almost see the dancing flames behind his eyelids, and before he could even speak the words a thin trail of smoke appeared, then a tiny flame.
Elated he allowed himself a cheer, then hurriedly started husbanding the fire back to full life once again. No sense relying on beginner luck for his survival! He checked the panel again, most of which was unchanged.
—
Magic Pool: 14(34) [respiration, 14.1 hours remaining]
—
One the one hand, he was still completely amazed that he really could use magic to start a fire! On the other he was a little disappointed that more than an hour's worth of his Magic Pool had been required to conjure that tiny lick of flame. Perhaps it would become more impressive as his power increased.
The gurgle of his empty stomach reminded him that he had no food other than fresh pine needles. Looking down he was dirty, covered in scratches, and both his hands were still bloodied and sore. In other words, a tremendous stride forward but he was still in pretty dire straits and needed to act soon to get out of them.
He decided he should work while he planned, gathering more wood and water while he tried to figure out the best path forward. He was very aware of the various small woodland creatures in the trees all around. Rabbits, squirrels, birds of various kinds, as well as fish darting about the canal, turtles and frogs in the rocks along the shore. Abundant life, most of which was probably edible if he could bring himself to kill something and figured out a way to do so with some efficiency. If he could afford to do some exploring, he might find edible berries, at least amongst the gaps in the trees where the stones had worn away but the pine trees had not claimed everything. And he had put off earlier even exploring the remains of the building he had been occupying; it was distinctly possible that there were hidden treasures still in that dark opening, but without a means of making and carrying light he had been reluctant to stumble around.
So, first task, food. He was shaky and a little dizzy from hunger already, and it would only get worse, so correcting that while he still had the energy and wherewithal to do so was priority one. He knew, deep down, that trying to create some kind of spear or bow would be fruitless. His flaw would make him clumsy and weak, and while that might be overcome with extensive practice, he had chosen a path, he might as well walk down it. He had some magical ability now, could he leverage that into acquiring food? Given that he unlocked or increased his skills and spells quickly, it wasn’t too much of a risk to spend some time practicing Fire, Air, and whatever combination of the two he could think of that might form a hunting power.
He spent the better part of an hour practicing creating fire. It quickly became a routine- summon the feeling of Fire he had first felt, still a crystal clear memory, focus on a target, feel the connection between his feeling and the target, BOOM! Or rather fwoosh. The fire he could summon did get progressively larger with each try, until by his fourth attempt he called a ball of flame about the size of a torch, which might reasonably harm a living being fast enough to be called a weapon. He noted with some concern, however, that those successive attempts had drained almost all of his remaining Magic Pool, and while he had recovered some during the couple hours that had passed, he was still left at…
—
Magic Pool: 7(34) [respiration, 19 hours remaining].
—
The fist sized ball he had managed, in particular, used more than twice as much power as the small candle sized flames he had been practicing with. He decided switching to air for a bit would be best. If he had to, he could wait the three or four hours to recover enough to go hunting with the ball of flame, but he wasn’t sure that he could outright kill even a squirrel with that, and he was also somewhat leary of the potential to set the forest around him ablaze. His vague hope (it was too vague to call a ‘plan’) was a combination of summoning a smaller more efficient flame, then pulling oxygen from around to rapidly increase its heat and fuel consumption into something weapon-like. Without fuel like gasoline or the like, he couldn’t really make a fuel-air explosive, but a bright hot flame like he was thinking might kill or incapacitate a small animal.
With that in mind, he brought back the feeling of that constant, long slow inhale that had originally unlocked Air for him, and focused on himself, wanting to draw from nearby. Once again, he could sense a breeze on his skin, gentle and light, but he wanted more, so he tried to intensify that pulling feeling. No change, but he felt… something… what was that… he was feeling energized, light even, until suddenly he gasped and had to stop, a little sweaty and shaky from the sudden intense influx of energy he had felt.
—
Magic Pool: 34(34)
—
He was left in awe. This time his magic felt not just magical, but practically like a cheat, bypassing a day worth of ‘respiration’ in a matter of minutes! The possibilities spread out before him, instead of hours wasted respiring his Magic Pool back, he could alternate between practicing fire or any other spell, and then recharging with air! Instead of worrying about how much energy it would take, he should concern himself first with how much energy he could use, get to the point where he could charbroil a rabbit in one intense pulse. Oh and maybe figure out if he could draw fire, too, just in case he needed to put a, say, sizable forest fire out for some reason…
HIs hunger forgotten in the excitement of his discovery, Phoenix set to practicing with a will. Hours passed in a blur, conjuring first increasingly large fires, drawing them until they were extinguished (which also recharged his Magic Pool, it turned out), and making up any deficit by drawing air. Eventually he discovered some limits. The first was that he was limited to targets relatively close by, ten or so meters. The second was that he could only maintain a fire that didn’t have any fuel for 4 or 5 minutes at most, at which point it would wink out all on its own. However, with fuel, he could stop concentration at any point after ignition and it would continue to burn merrily. And finally that he could produce a free standing, fuel-less flame about the size of his two fists together, but no more. He had been unable to boost the fire with air, so far, because every time he switched his concentration to the second feeling, the first immediately dissipated. Still, he couldn’t be too upset at the limits, as he had what amounted to a short range flame thrower with effectively infinite ammo over the course of a day.
Armed with this new found power and increasingly unable to ignore the pangs of his hunger, he stalked out into the buildings. He wanted to avoid the deep forest, for now, just to limit the possibilities that the fire got out of control. The more stone, he figured, the safer. Besides, there were an abundance of rabbits and squirrels about. He picked a man-made glade some distance from his camp, hunkered down, and selected his target. A fat rabbit eyed him warily, chewing on a grass stem, just at the edge of his range. A pang of conscience there, as his all too civilized, supermarket shopping past self had not at all prepared him to stare his dinner in the eye before killing and eating it. Hunger pushed him past that hurdle quick enough, and he focused on the rabbit's head, specifically. Maybe he could just char its head clean off…
The rabbit’s scream was shockingly loud, and jolted him out of the concentration needed to maintain the fire. Quickly moving over to the poor thing, he finished it off with a handy rock, then staggered a few steps away to gag and breathe deep for a bit. The smell of burned fur and flesh was nearly enough to put him off the idea of eating.
“That was horrible. Ugh.” The first words he had said in some time, but he needed the comfort of his own voice right at that moment. After recovering his nerve, he returned to the dead thing, gingerly picking it up to take it back to the camp. Skinning and gutting the rabbit was incredibly messy, not to mention gross and disturbing, with nothing more than a sharp rock to use as a knife. He dumped most of the tissue he wasn’t planning on eating into the canal, where the fish went crazy over it, and rinsed off his hands and arms from the blood and goop. Then he propped the carcass over his fire rotisserie style, and forced himself to patiently wait for the thing to cook thoroughly. Still put off by what he had had to do to get a meal, he forced himself to take that first bite. A bit tough, a bit overcooked, but hunger really did make the best spice for it tasted heavenly. He deliberately ate only half, setting the other half aside for the morning, so as to not waste it all by overeating and causing his quivering insides to reject it all violently.
Day 3
—
Name: Phoenix
Attributes: 0 points
Strength: 6 Constitution: 13, Coordination: 13, Mentality: 21, Will: 17, Charisma: 17, Luck: 13
Spells: Conjure Flame, Conjure Breath, Draw Flame, Draw Breath
Skills: Intensity 0%->36%
Luck Uses: 1
Hit Points: 13(14) [healing, 25 hours remaining]
Magic Pool: 34(34)
—
Belly full, warmed by his fire and with no fear of it extinguishing in the morning, water still annoying but easy enough to acquire, he felt very accomplished for the day. He even slept through the night decently, despite still being naked and bedding down in a nest of pine needles on a hard stone floor. For the first time since he had arrived so inauspiciously, he could ponder something beyond brute survival for a few moments.
He pulled up the panel with a thought, and contemplated everything there, and the questions he still had. He noticed removal of the debuffs to his abilities, as well as the two statuses, presumably due to a meal and nights sleep and perhaps just the still lingering good mood from his successful magical exploration. He was quite curious about the Luck Uses: 1 entry. He strongly suspected that his arrival here in this temple to Archanae, where things were at least minimally supportive of life and everything he needed wasn’t impossible to find, had to do with the expenditure of that point during his arrival. He wanted to be able to put that under his conscious control, but having it as an emergency backup wasn’t the worst thing. It did justify his stronger dip into Luck at least!
Finishing a breakfast of cold cooked rabbit, he stood and gazed at the dark pit of the rooms off the temple proper, and resolved to do some exploration. First the temple itself, then any of the intact buildings near to him. So far, the worst danger he had seen had been a three foot long snake down by the canal, which may or may not have been venomous. If that was indeed all of the danger to be had, a bit of exploration was an excellent risk to take. Besides, he had nothing better to do for the next twelve days until he was supposed to contact Arachnae again.
What was up with that anyway? It certainly implied there was a limit to how often he could contact her, if she made it a command to not contact her for two weeks, despite knowing how desperate his situation was. A few minutes of pointless speculation didn’t bring him any closer to a solid reason behind it, although he felt that it might be connected to why he was here and not comfortably ensconced in a civilized land with a priestess guide and an academy to train him. Enemies, presumably? Some divine conflict? Layers upon layers, wheels interlocking with wheels, and him here butt naked and with a handful of spells to his name. Frustrating, possibly lethal lack of knowledge and resources. Well, if that luck point was going to be of use, maybe he could come across a buried treasure hoard?
He needed portable light. He could just brute force it, setting little fires as he moved along in the dark and recharging his Magic Pool when needed, but that seemed inelegant to him. Instead he summoned the feeling of fire, and instead of the flames and heat, he concentrated on the light he remembered behind his eyelids, and focused just above his head. A ball of floating light, to show the way. A half minute of this, and he felt his Magic Pool decrease and some kind of light appeared above his crown. He foolishly tried to tilt back to look at it, but naturally it followed the top of his head like it was glued there, so he wasn’t able to look at it directly. Still, it was producing a quite gratifyingly bright glow, and he was gleeful with the easy win.
Careful still of his bare feet, which had certainly seen enough abuse on the stones around with all the walking he had done, he stepped through the side doorway. This was a dusty hallway, with gaping black rectangles of more entrances placed at regular intervals down its length. The light was bright, but it cast odd shadows and his movement caused them to jump and swing wildly sometimes, which was making him skittish and nervous. Each of the doorways led to a small cubicle-like room, bare but more intact than the rest of the church. At the end of the hallway was a set of stairs down, and he paused at the top.
He had never had to consider, in his past life, whether he was brave. Or indeed what it meant to be brave. Oh sure, he had been scared a few times and he vaguely remembered he had acquitted himself decently enough. But his last life had been safe, civilized, and predictable. Never a mugging or home intruder to test him, no wars or violence had marred his life, not directly anyway. But standing on top of those stairs looking down into a pitch blackness so deep it was like nothing he had ever seen before, the trepidation he felt was more than just nervousness, it was a primal dread. It took a conscious effort of will to force his foot to take that first step down. Was he brave? He didn’t feel very brave right then. He felt very naked, very alone, and rather weak. He held onto the knowledge that he could pull fire out of nothing, if he needed to, and let that drive him downwards.
At the base of the stairs, a short hallway ended in the first intact door he had seen. Presumably, the other doors in the structures he had seen had been made of wood or some similar material, and they had rotted away with time into dust. This door, however, was stone, taller than he was and thrice as wide, with no apparent handle, hinges, or frame. As he approached, he could see a variety of inscriptions on its surface, centered around the figure of Arachnae holding a medallion by its chain, her other hand held aloft, palm outwards towards him.
He leaned in close to light up the inscriptions. With only a little surprise, he realized he could read them. “The light and blood of the faithful will open the way. The faithless, corrupted, and foul will face the wrath of the guardian!” Well ok, straightforward he supposed. Some kind of ritual sacrifice, but did he count as a faithful? He didn’t like the sound of a guardian’s wrath, whatever the heck that was, and given that magic and deities were real, he could imagine a number of grim possibilities. Still, he considered his contract with Arachnae to be a kind of faithfulness to her, right? It would be quite the irony if he was struck down by her power in service to her goals.
Blood wasn’t too hard for him to procure from himself, given the state of his hands and the numerous scratches across his body. Question was where to put it, and if it required some words or such. For some reason he got the sense that this wasn’t a lock so much as it was the demarcation between the public and private sections of the temple, which gave him hope that the entrance requirements were a little simpler than they would be for a vault.
Reaching his hand out he traced his fingertips over the inscriptions, looking for an indentation or sharp point or something that might indicate where he could place a drop of blood. He was assuming just a drop! He was assuming a lot actually. He traced over the picture of Archanae, and on a whim, placed his palm against hers. A slight shock, and a shiver through his spine, and the door moved.
—
Luck Uses: 0 (1 point used and refreshing, 24 hours)
—
“Holy shit.” he exclaimed, pulling his hand away and stepping back quickly. The door rolled, quickly and quietly, into the left hand wall and his head light illuminated the interior. Did his luck activate to open the door, or did it activate to prevent the wrath of the guardian? Did he almost die, just now? His heart was beating just a bit faster now, and then he registered what he was seeing inside the room.
Skeletal remains, scattered across the floor, leaning against the walls of the large room beyond. A foul breath of air puffed out, sending him gagging and coughing halfway back up the stairs as it billowed out into the hallway. He spent a minute concentrating on Conjure Breath to get clean air down into the room beyond, and by the time his five minute limit was reached the air was basically breathable. Refreshing his head lamp, he was suddenly glad, then, that he wasn’t using the basic flame for his light source! If that had been flammable gas, he could be… was that his luck again? How much could he credit one point, he wondered. Sweating despite the cold, he stepped back down to examine what he had uncovered.
There were thirteen corpses in the room beyond. A handful against the door he had just opened, as if they had died there, dressed in some kind of armor, overlapping scales of tarnished or rusted metal on a backing of completely rotten leather that fell apart the instant he touched it. The rusted out line of weapons were scattered near their hands. Guards, he guessed anyway. Then, another handful split between the two walls, leaning as if tired, dressed in equally time ravaged clothing, pants and long tunics. Worshipers? Civilians? Two more dead near what looked like another altar, more ornate but smaller than the one he had appeared on, and they were dressed in robes, just as rotted as the others. Priests, presumably.
How many years would it take for clothing to rot like this, undisturbed in the dark? Ten years? Fifty? On the order of the age of those trees outside, probably, and consistent with the damage to the buildings all around. As he approached the altar, the last body came into view. This one's robes were pristine, if a little dusty, shining golden in the reflected light of his head lamp. Excited but still wary, he knelt next to it, and gently fingered the material. Slick and cool, like some kind of metallic thread, and entirely intact. It resembled a dress, cinched at the waist and with a hood a bit deeper than the other presumed priests in front of the altar. A cowl, or vestment, and clearly special. Resting on the corpse's chest was a book, similarly constructed of some metallic silvery substance. A treasure trove for real.
He reached for the book, but then paused. How sacrilegious was he feeling, right at this moment? He sat down and leaned against the nearby altar, staring at the body as he pondered. While Phoenix thought that looting the body of a dead high priest of Arachnae was well within the concept of survival, and indeed, consistent with achieving her goals, did Arachnae agree? He crawled around to the side of the body and lay down, stretching out so he could estimate its size. Very close to a perfect match for him, as scrawny as he was, and of a height. That cowl was practically tailored for him already.
As to the book, no doubt a religious text of some kind. Maybe not immediately useful to his survival, but important historically perhaps, or at least as a way to gain insight into Arachnae and how she liked to be worshiped. With his luck uses expended, not that he should be relying on those dammit! He was feeling a little vulnerable to sudden death via divine sanction, but could he really afford to give up clothing at this point? No, he was being nonsensical. And if Arachnae disapproved, well he was sure she could task him with some kind of penance to make up for it.
Fine, here we go. He picked up the book, intending to set it on the altar while he worked on divesting the cowl from the corpse. Just as the book left the grip of one hand of the body, the other hand shot out, snake quick, locking around his wrist in a painful grip.
“Holy fucking shit!” His scream was entirely involuntary, and he bolted upright, wrenching his left arm out of the things grasp, leaving bloody trails on wrist and forearm. He took a step back and hit the altar, hard, which pitched him backwards over it, his shoulders and head hitting the rocky ground beyond with sickening thuds, leaving him splayed out on the other side. The book in his hand bounced with a metallic clang into the room behind him.
—
Hit Points: 10(14) [healing, 7 days remaining]
Light Concussion
—
“Fuck fuck fuck” Dizzy and nauseous from the impact, he scrambled to his knees, desperately scanning the room in the wildly dancing light of his headlamp. Were the other bodies moving, or was that just the shadows? Staggering to his feet just resulted in him falling dizzy to his knees again, so he rather awkwardly crawled at his best speed to the door and the hallway beyond. The skeleton priest had made its way around the altar at this point, one hand reaching out towards him but its gait slow and awkward. He had a few breaths of distance between it and him to make a decision. It’s head, just like the rabbit, do it! Leaning back on his hands, he went through the steps hastily, feeling time tick away like molasses as the skeleton approached. Feeling… it was most of the way across the room, focus… it was at the door now, fire! The blossom of heat and light engulfed the things head, crackling and popping loudly. It didn’t scream like the rabbit, in fact it hardly reacted at all, just taking a few uncertain steps forward before suddenly collapsing in a heap at his feet, inches away, a smoking stinking mass of charred bone where its skull used to be.
At that point, the after effects of the adrenalin hit him, and he started shaking uncontrollably. Tucking his knees up to his chest, he held his wounded arm close to his chest while his other hand felt the back of his head, coming away red with blood but not feeling like anything was broken. He sat there for he didn’t know how long, staring at all the corpses, daring them to move, until his head light extinguished. A very unmanly squeak, followed by an equally hasty reapplication of the light, and the room was as it had been before, quiet, still, and dead.
—
Shock I [Effects deferred due to Will], Light Concussion
—
He cycled his way through a set of his favorite curse words, mumbled under his breath. Was that the guardian? He could only be thankful that it had been so weak that his fire could stop it, and that none of the other corpses had joined in. Yet. Swallowing hard, he gathered his nerve and crawled over to the now properly inanimate skeleton. He noticed that whatever connecting tissue or magic that had previously held it together had since vanished, and the bones inside the cowl had collapsed into a heap. Taking the cowl by the neckline, he shook the bones and dust out from inside, then folded the cool metallic cloth over his wounded arm. He staggered over to the book, holding his aching head, and picked it up gingerly, a wary eye on the other dead, but none of them reacted. Treasure trove in hand, he retreated back upstairs to his nest, setting his haul down next to his bed and curling up to try and nap the ache away. He was extremely tired, and sleep took him tumbling into darkness.
Day 4
—
Name: Phoenix
Attributes: 0 points
Strength: (4)6 Constitution: (12)13, Coordination: 10(13), Mentality: 19(21), Will: 17, Charisma: 17, Luck: 13
Skills: Fists and Feet 0%->23%, Intensity 36%->39%
Luck Uses: 1
Hit Points: 11(14) [healing, 5.9 days remaining]
Light Concussion, Exposure I, Dehydration II, Starvation I
—
Phoenix woke to daylight from the crack in the ceiling playing across his face. His throat was cracked and parched, his stomach once again tight and painfully hungry, his body shivering in the barely warm enough air. Oh damn, this is totally not working. He must have slept for the whole day and night. The list of status effects was becoming daunting, although the refresh of his luck was welcome. Levering himself over to his water pit, he blessed his foresight in having filled it before his ill fated exploration yesterday, and drained it one handful at a time. He was crusty from blood that had leaked down his neck and back, as well as across his chest from his arm. He stank of sweat and fear. And of course, while he had managed to acquire clothing, it was still filthy with the dusty remains of its previous owner. In other words, he was a mess.
Well no one's gonna help me but me.
Grabbing the cowl, he headed down to the canal. Picking a spot well away from the fish (and where he had seen the snake), he washed the cowl first, scrubbing it with a handful of sand from the nearby shore (which didn’t even scratch or dent whatever it was made out of), then laying it in the bright sun to dry. He then gingerly immersed himself into the chill water, shivering and chattering as he scrubbed his skin raw and red with the same sand. Ducking his head under the shallow water, he gently washed the dried blood away, rinsing out his hair and doing his best to explore what damage was back there without access to a mirror.
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“What do we have here? A little boy?”
Once again his heart nearly exploded out of his chest in shock as he tore himself out of the water to look around wildly for the source of the gentle, feminine voice.
“Who is it? Where are you?” He called out, gaze darting from one tree to another, to the rocky mass of one of the nearby buildings, trying to see where they were hiding.
It was the trees that she emerged from. Tall, stately, voluptuous and clothed in bark. Short, pixie cut hair the same color as the pine tree needles all around her. Reassuringly lacking any obvious weapons. Her eyes were a clear light blue, like the shallow water he was standing in, with no differentiation between the sclera and the iris, just solid orbs of color. Another deity?
“Be at ease, I am not here to hurt you.” she raised one hand placatingly. “You can call me Melite. I am the nymph of these woods. How are you called?”
“Ah, um, right. Phoenix. Pleasure to meet you, Melite.” He stammered out. How does one politely greet a nymph, after all? Probably not naked and shivering in a stream, at a guess. He sloshed back to where the cowl was blessedly dry.
“Phoenix, an auspicious calling. Tell me, Phoenix, what is a little boy doing here, in this sad abandoned place?” Her emphasis on little and her unwavering gaze sent a heated blush to his face, and he hurriedly pulled the cowl over his head and down to cover himself up. Well excuse me for the water being cold! The metallic threads seemed to warm his body instantly, silky smooth and comforting against his poor tortured skin, and that warmth almost immediately quelled the shivering cold from the canal water. Magic clothing? He couldn’t spend the time wondering.
“No disrespect, mistress, I am not a little boy, but an adult, a very lost and alone adult who has come here via strange paths and is just trying to survive. I apologize if I have trespassed on your grounds, it was out of ignorance, not malice.” a little honey in his words couldn’t hurt right?
“Ah! I have given offense. My apologies, Phoenix, it has been so long since I have talked to a man, I mistook you there, beardless and hairless as you are.” say what? Oh, well, sure, I guess it is a little weird that he hadn’t had to shave in four days, and he did lack hair elsewhere except the wild tangle of black hair on his head, but of course he had been far too distracted to make a fuss over such minor details.
“As to trespass, you are welcome to my woods, as is all life who can survive here. You have not taken axe to the trees, and you have eaten all that you have killed here, and in that you are no different than the fox or the deer or the rabbits. In the way you are different is in the way that I am curious about you.” Her gaze was rather heavy on him then, and his anxiety spiked a little. “Magic. I have felt your power draw in over these last several days, and at last had cause to investigate. Perhaps you would explain why you pull so lustily at your surroundings, when you are so lost and alone?” Melite tilted her head to the side, a slight frown on her lips.
Phoenix wrung his hands at that, “Ah, again, I must plead ignorance. I did not know such, uh, displays, were sensible to others, or might arouse suspicion. I was merely testing my new found power and using it to sustain my life, perhaps clumsily and without full awareness of what it is I do.”
“Curiosity only, not suspicion.” She smiled then. “An adult who stumbles around like a child, awkward as a fawn but proud as a cat. Very well, I am satisfied. Thank you for answering my questions, Phoenix.”
As she turned to go, he reached out a hand. The first person he had seen here and just like that she was going to leave. “A moment, mistress. As I said, I am alone and woefully unprepared to be here, when I should be with my people instead. I am not so proud that I can’t beg for aid, if you can find it in your heart to provide such to me. I could… well I can not swear myself to service as I am already beholden, but I could perhaps serve in some capacity, if you have a need, in exchange for aid?” his voice and eyes both were pleading.
—
Luck Uses: 0 (1 point recharging, 24 hours)
—
She turned back to him, cool and collected but not hostile. “Just Melite, Phoenix, I am not your mistress. As to aid? I do not aid the rabbit, such that the fox will starve. All the denizens of my forest struggle night and day for their survival, as it is with you.” She paused, then “But I am not a stranger to your people or the concept of honor. Let it not be said I was a poor host, when a fellow practitioner of magic visited me for the first time in half an age. I invite you to visit my court, today and tonight, where we can eat and drink and talk about many things.” She beckoned to him then.
“Ah, let me just get my book, one moment mistress.” When she nodded, he made the best time he could, given his still shaky condition, back to his crude campsite, and grabbed the metallic tome he had wrested away from the undead. Then, he joined Melite as she walked gracefully through the woods. A heavy feeling surrounded him, reminiscent of when he called on fire or air but of a different quality, and the forest blurred beside him, and in mere steps he was lost inside the deep part of the woods, no sign of ruins around him. It would be impossible for him to find his way back after that, which was not a calming thought. But his luck seemed to be what had brought him here, if its sudden use before was anything to go by, so he was trusting that she was more boon than bane.
They entered an immense grove of pine cedar trees, towering sentries which gave a deep impression of age. No underbrush could push its way through the thick mat of fallen needles below, and the sunlight was a dim memory above, just enough penetrating through to not leave him completely blind in the dark. Everything was still, the treetops did not rustle, no breeze or birdsong disturbed this place. The scent of cedar was a pleasant companion, and as he finally penetrated the outer wall of trees he saw the one immense pine, as wide around as a red wood, lost to the branches of its lessers all around and into the sky above. Just in front of this mighty specimen, a dimly lit meadow stood, alive with the lights of fireflies.
Melite turned and gave an ornate half bow, fluttering her hands out besides her and lowering her head. “Welcome, gentle guest Phoenix. Bring no fire or axe to my demesne, and while you are here no harm will come to you, so I say.” and she held it there, plainly expecting a response.
Awkward, but wanting to return the formality, he bowed as he knew- straight back and from the waist, feet together, one hand across his chest to rest on his heart, head lowered. He went deeper than her bow, to acknowledge that she was of a higher station here. “I do not know the proper reply, but I bring no axe nor will I conjure fire for as long as I am here in your demesne, nor will I seek to harm any here as long as I am in your care.”
She raised her head as he finished, and flashed him a heartstopping smile. “That is perfectly acceptable, Phoenix. Annirith! Damuyre! Lalan! We have a guest!” and then she clapped her hands twice, before moving back to the enormous tree that dominated the grove.
Three of the firefly lights coalesced into miniature winged people, clad in bark like Melite but much smaller, perhaps as tall as his knee, and with each a different style of wings on their back. Melite made the introductions as they appeared “Annirith, my head maid.” elfin ears, large solid black eyes, and four dragonfly wings glitter iridescent behind her. “Damuyre, my head butler.” a shock of green hair, eyes like Phoenix’s but green in color, and gentle butterfly wings adorn his back. “Lalan, captain of my guard.” a tough looking person of indeterminate gender, brown carapace wrapped around their torso, arms, and legs, with solid beetle wings buzzing beneath the open carapace on their back.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Phoenix bowed to each in turn, not as deeply as he had to Melite but still respectful. Annirith stalked out en pointe, like a dancer, toes barely touching the ground, and then curtseyed low, performing the same elaborate gestures with her hands that Melite had done. Damuyre fluttered back and forth in the air, before bobbing a bow mid flutter, legs crossed at the ankles, chest bending in a curve. Lalan did not bow or curtsey, but rather brought their arm to their forehead in a salute-like gesture.
“I have matters to attend to until mid afternoon. Damuyre, if you would announce a feast for this evening with Phoenix as the guest of honor? Annirith, if you could please give Phoenix a tour and see to whatever needs he has in the interim. Lalan, attend me if you please?” and with that Melilte then took a seat on the roots of the tree, a Queen on her throne, with Lalan kneeling before her. Damuyre winked back into a glowing pinpoint and flew off to attend to his duties, while Annirith alighted just in front of Phoenix, as still as a doll.
“My Lord, this way if it pleases you.” Annirith gestured towards a break in the trees off to the side, hidden from view when he entered. Her voice was warm honey, and her eyes seemed to draw him in, inviting him to lose himself in that inky black.
“Oh, no, not my lord, I have no lands or title to call my own. Just a lost magic user, as it were, who piqued your mistress's curiosity.” he corrected her reluctantly, but felt that honesty would serve him best in this place.
“As you say, my L-, that is, Magus Phoenix.” The unfamiliar honorifics made him uncomfortable, but he didn’t argue the point further. Annirith had led him through a maze of what appeared to be game trails, easily gliding through the wide spaced trunks and low branches of the trees.
“This is where the majority of the court resides, Magus.” she said, as the trees opened suddenly into a wide meadow, awash in flowers, a pond reflecting the morning sunlight in the center. The trees were adorned with little houses, ribbon-like roads, and a host of decorations, all sized for beings the size of a bumble bee to the size of a hawk. “In that direction, are the barracks of our defenders. I ask you not to disturb them, as you may provide a distraction from their duties and we would not want there to be any accidents.” The path out of the meadow that she showed him was darker than the rest of the forest, with the tree branches coming much lower to the ground and the trees themselves not as tall or stately as the others. “That way leads to where there are those who toil, where they work and dwell. Again, I ask you not to disturb them, as they are easily led astray from their tedium and difficult to get back on task.”
“Of course, I understand.” his stomach chose that moment to growl in protest to his continued politeness in the face of getting food.
Annirith spun to face him so suddenly he had to stumble to a stop to avoid stepping on her or some other embarrassing collision. “You are hungry. I am neglecting your well being. Please, rest here by the pond, and food and drink will be brought to you.”
Gratefully, he all but collapsed near the water, careful not to crush any of the flowers and arranging himself to take as little room as possible, very aware that all the people around him were tiny and vulnerable. It was hard to tell, with most of them being mere firefly sized points of light, what the overall reaction was to his presence. Many seemed to have gathered along the tree edges, while others flitted about overhead, and there was a constant surrash of musical voices, just beneath the level where he might understand what was being said.
Exhibit A, an adult human. He thought to himself, feeling very much put on display. Annirith vanished into the treeline, then returned bearing a plate overflowing with berries, nuts, tubers, and green leafy vegetables, as well a jug of sloshing liquid taller than she was, which she set down in front of him. He set the tome beside him to attack the plate of food, and was pleased to find the jug filled with what tasted like some kind of herbal tea with a hint of honey in it. While he ate, Annirith stalked around him, eerily reminiscent of a clockwork toy that would move and bow after you wound it up. Her unblinking gaze traced his form, then rested on the tome itself..
“You worship Arachnae, Magus?” she ventured as he finished off the food.
“Worship, uh, yes I suppose so. I would say I serve her and her purpose here, as we have a negotiated contract.” he attempted a smile at the little being, but her facial expression remained unchanged.
She walked onto one of his crossed legs, staring up at his face, the tips of her toes leaving little ripples in the metallic cloth but their touch so light he could barely feel her. “You are male, Magus?”
He blinked at that question, out of the blue as it seemed to be. “Uh, yes! Adult, male, human.” He paused then, recalling the oddity of his body hair and the whole panel thing and his boons. “Well, I think human anyway, the jury is still out on that one.”
“I have never met a male human before, Magus.” she perched on his knee, planted her hand on her hips, and gave him what he felt was a disapproving look. “I do not like it. You are stinky.”
He coughed into his hand and blushed, resisting the urge to catch a whiff of his pits. He was pretty sure he was quite rank after everything, despite splashing in the water this morning. “I apologize if I offend, Head Maid Annirith. I am not at my best right now, and lack access to soap and bathing facilities sufficient to properly clean up.”
“Come with me.” She said peremptorily, flickering into the air and heading towards one end of the meadow. He followed her past the pond, where it drained into a brook. Must be an underground spring, feeding the pond? Would explain why it was clear. A little further along, where the trees had once more closed about, the brook fell off a cliff, forming a small waterfall with another sedate pool of water below. Nature’s shower facilities. Annirith flew ahead of him, producing from seemingly nowhere a basket of bars of soap, and strange crystal decanters filled with a variety of colored liquids. By the time he had made his way down the cliff to where she was, she had everything arranged in a display on the rocks next to the pool. As he approached the water, she darted around him, tiny hands plucking at his cowl, caressing the palms of his hands, moving his hair away from the wound on the back of his skull.
“Undress.” This pulled a half grin out of him at her change in demeanor from reserved and rigidly professional to commanding and rigidly professional.
“Are you sure it is proper for me to be nude in front of you?” he was teasing her, he wasn’t all that modest. Well, unless someone is being particularly obvious about judging size in cold water!
“You are hurt, the rose water will help.” she ignored his question, tugging on the hem of his cowl once again.
Shrugging, he submitted to her insistent attentions. For the most part she let him bathe himself, although she did pass him various soaps and lotions, and assisted in applying the ‘rose water’ to the back of his head. Whatever magical properties it had, it proved true to her word, as the old blisters on his hands subsided and the headache of his concussion eased.
—
Hit Points: 14
—
The water, like the air in the meadow, was cool but not cold, so he wasn’t eager to linger. Redressing, he once again marveled at the ability of the cowl to warm him nearly instantly. Magic is awesome. Now I just need some shoes! Maybe he would find some on one of the (hopefully inanimate) corpses in the nave below the church, or another of the destroyed buildings.
Once returned to the meadow, Annirith explained she had other duties to attend to and left him more or less alone there so he decided to be productive with his time by examining the tome he had brought with him. The cover had that same icon of Arachnae that he had seen adorning the temple, her standing with a medallion and her palm out towards the reader, her face featureless except her eyes, as she had been when he met her before. On impulse he put his palm against hers, but nothing happened, and he chuckled to himself. Yeah that wasn’t likely to do anything, but worth a try.
Opening it up normally, he was gratified to find that he could read the language it was written in, so he dived in. From the beginning, it was obvious that it was more than a religious text. It wasn’t anything like the religious texts he was previously familiar with, although his memory of his previous life as always was spotty, and he definitely had the sense that he had never been particularly devout or a student of any religion. Still, this text was much less about creation myths or long lists of begats begetting begats, or even of stories with a moral commandment behind them. Instead it seemed to be a treatise on the theoretical underpinnings of what he would describe as magic. Jackpot! As far as treasure troves go, a magically comfortable set of clothes and a book about magic is definitely a win!
He spent a very pleasant several hours there, warmed by the sunlight, surrounded by quiet but unobtrusive whispers from the population, and engrossed in his reading. The picture he gathered was that Arachnae served as the goddess of “the exchange of energy between this world and the divine world”, which seemed to be the source of magic for this world. The book went through in detail about the value and utility of mortal sacrifice and how it would pull divine energy from the divine world, in a kind of endlessly repeating loop, energizing and empowering the magics of the chosen holy people. The primary sacrifice was a reduction in the practitioner's Magic Pool total (it used that word! Does that mean other people have panels too?) which then translated one for one into a new Glyph Pool that allowed the use of divine magic. The practitioner would then work to expand their Magic Pool back out again to allow for further, future sacrifices. More commonly, mundane sacrifices “pleasing to the goddess” were used to refresh the Glyph Pool after use. There was a single note, on its own page and in a larger font, after that.
“The sacrifice of other intelligent beings is anathema to her, all who do so shall be struck down.”
Phoenix paused there. He had no Glyph Pool, and he certainly hadn’t been sacrificing Magic Pool total, so this didn’t sound much like the magic he had been practicing. And like all good answers, it brought up even more questions. Apparently he could expand his Magic Pool? How did one do that! And while it was quite clear on prohibiting human sacrifice, that strongly implied it was possible which made him feel a little queasy. And what did Arachnae gain out of burning grain or meat? The book was silent on what the goddess desired with all these sacrifices.
Continuing on, it noted that each deity would be associated with a particular process, place, or concept, and would have Glyphs tied to that which could be sacrificed for and thereby used. There was a brief aside where it was mentioned that other, usually weaker, deities simply were associated with a Glyph, while greater deities owned the Glyph itself. So, Arachnae owned the process of magic, as a concept, and thereby owned the magic and power Glyphs, but was merely associated with truth. The book did not mention who owned the truth Glyph or why Arachnae was associated with it. Obvious by context, apparently, except for a random stranger incarnated fifty years after the last owner of this book died.
There was a one sentence mention of ‘truth, which pierced and dispelled illusion, the great lie’, but nothing further. No mention of the elements of fire and air, or indeed how many Glyphs there might be. After these introductory chapters, the book became what appeared to be a series of instructions on mental exercises, rituals, and spiritual self testing one could practice towards improving your magical power. Phoenix recognized the first of these as the goal he had been set by Arachnae earlier, to meditate on a Glyph for four thousand heartbeats at a time, in order to sense the essence of it and prepare yourself to sacrifice for it. The next exercise was to dwell on ‘each facet of the Glyph’ until the practitioner had ‘seen all sides, and could visualize not just the feeling, but the Glyph form itself, the Glyph.’ Doing so would enable not just a more complete understanding of the Glyph, but unlock greater sacrifices and more potent magics.
That sounded quite intriguing to him! He had already done a little of that, by separating light from heat and flame in the Fire Glyph. With these exercises in front of him, he had another, personal set of goals he wanted to achieve. The first was to figure out how to unlock full Glyphs and then do so for as many Glyphs as possible. He was leary of the sacrifice that was apparently required, for he didn’t want to cripple his magical potential by getting too broad a set of powers too quickly. Hand in hand with the first goal was the second, equally important goal, for as a Magus- he liked the title, so he was stealing it regardless of if he qualified or not- he needed a basic set of magical abilities. An efficient, reliable and deadly attack- the flame burst almost counted, but he could think of other possibilities and it desperately needed to be faster. Some kind of defense- getting clawed up or chewed on while trying to concentrate seemed counter productive. And a way to recharge- the book suggested material sacrifice, but he had been using Draw Breath, which apparently was ‘noisy’ enough to draw magical notice from other beings. Still, he was close. And with those three things in hand, he could start to defend himself from future assailants, undead or living.
The third goal, after or while accomplishing the first two, would be to stretch the limits of his casting as far as possible. Ten meters and five minutes was both far too close for comfort and just short enough to be annoying. And the amount of power he could push through into the end result intuitively appeared to be tied to… something, so identifying and grinding away at that would be valuable as well.
Checking the placement of the sun in the sky, he felt he had a few hours before the feast this evening, so he set about tackling those exercises now, while he had a full belly and relative safety in this meadow. Let’s see what this Prodigal Learning can do!
Time passed quickly. Phoenix didn’t realize he had been straining to read the book for a while now, as the sun set and the dark descended, so he was taken by surprise when Damuyre appeared in front of him, bowing in that peculiar ankle crossed way.
“Magus Phoenix, the feast begins.” Damuyre’s voice was alto, feminine, and confident, which threw Phoenix off his stride for a moment, as he tried to adjust his preconceptions about Damuyre’s gender. Annirith said ‘he’, right? Well, nothing for me to concern myself with, as long as I can avoid giving offense.
Damuyre gently took his hand, and guided Phoenix through the forest and back to the grove he had first entered. The entire place was now filled with tables, chairs, and little people of all sorts. He was led to a spot opposite where Melite was sitting at the head table, and then fussed over as maids layed out a set of pristine crystal plates, glasses, and eating utensils. Damuyre then took position up just behind Phoenix’s right shoulder, whispering into his ear “I will guide you on any manners or protocol you may forget, Magus.” Phoenix smiled back at him gratefully.
They were each brought some portion of the meal- salads, berries, mushrooms, baked pastries, bread, honey, even butter and milk. The crystal glass was filled with a golden liquid that smelled like mead, which he eyed warily and left alone for the time being. His food was placed before him by Annirith, precise as clockwork, her wings and her steps moving her exactly as far as needed, no more or less, and those inky orbs of her eyes would stare at him, whether in approval or disapproval he could not say. While that was happening Damuyre continued a monologue in his ear, describing each dish, and finally “Now, the guest should raise a toast to Melite. You may refer to her as Melite, which is her name and her title, or you may use ‘her majesty’, or ‘her majesty Melite’. Honor her generosity, delight in the bounty she has laid to table, and say you are looking forward to the company of the feast.”
Ok one drink won’t hurt right? Flaw or no flaw, I can’t be THAT lightweight! He was acutely aware of his empty stomach but he gamely raised his glass and cleared his throat.
The various servants and guests all paused in their activity, and Melite turned from her quiet conversation to gaze at him. Oh dear… find the strength Phoenix!
“Allow me to raise a toast to her majesty Melite, whose generosity is like the stars in the sky, beyond count in measure and yet shining on all who gaze on her. This feast truly brings a tear to my eye, with its breadth and savor and I eagerly anticipate both the flavor of the food and the excellent company of all who are here!” and with that he raised the glass to Melite. Thank you Charisma 17!
Lalan, sitting at Melite’s right hand, laughed and drank their glass dry. Melite looked pleased and took a more modest sip. Once he saw that, Phoenix also took a small drink as well, and a sudden influx of sound signaled the other feast goers doing the same. Perhaps a hundred people all around, a riot of color and sound, high pitched voices laughing, singing, and talking like a group of windchimes in a storm. The constant buzz of their wings reminded him of a large beehive in the background, and it was an overwhelming cacophony after days of solitude and hardship.
He focused on his food, forcing himself to take bites slowly, chew completely, and savor each dish. He didn’t much care for the salad, bitter leaves and no dressing were foreign to his palate, but the berries were a delight. The bread and butter was heavenly, warm and soft and fluffy, practically melting in his mouth. He would have happily gorged himself on it alone, but he was lavished with butter and honey on top of it, and after a day of hunger he could barely cope with the sensation. The mushrooms served as the protein, savory and with a heavy sauce on top. He recognized morels, matsutake, and saffron milk caps, but others were unknown to him. He trusted that nothing would poison him, though. He left the mead where it was for the time being, fearing further toasts, and stuck with drinking the milk, which didn’t resemble cow or goat milk, and whose providence he decided he didn’t need to know.
Once he slowed down a bit, Melite leaned over and patted a seat on the roots next to her, just across her feet from Lalan. With Damuyre’s prompting, he took his glass and joined the two of them there at the base of the tree, while the other revelers moved the tables into a circle, and a band began to play, pipes and harps and tiny violins. The revelers began to move in intricate dance in the center area, twirling and bowing and passing their partners on to the next in line, before making intricate crossing steps and wide lazy circular roundabouts. Lalan lit a pipe of some glowing golden substance, inhaling it deeply and blowing circular rings of glitter into the air, smiling at Phoenix the whole time.
“How did you find everything, Phoenix?” Melite asked. She was leaning back on her throne, looking relaxed and happy, gazing out at the dancers.
“Truly magnificent, your majesty. Full compliments to your chef and all those who caused this to be, it is a feast whose memory I will cherish the rest of my days." He maybe was laying it on a little thick, but it felt consistent with the mood and Damuyre nodded once, looking pleased.
“Compliments to the chef!” cried Lalan, who grabbed their glass and raised it high “All honor to the chef and her excellent technique!” and then downed its contents in a rush.
“Honor to my dear Annirith.” Melite echoed, also draining her glass, and reluctantly, Phoenix followed suit. Great, are we at the one million toasts stage of the party? This could get really bad. Annirith stalked over, standing rigidly besides Melite and bowing her head in acceptance of the honor. The mead and the meals were definitely getting to Phoenix now, and he sat there, detached and entranced, as the dancers started another round of intricate patterns on the floor.
“You said you took strange roads to get here, back in the old city. What did you mean by that?” Melite’s voice was casual, her gaze still on the dancers.
“Oh, yeah, a very weird week I am having.” he barely noticed as Annirith bent over and filled his glass again, this time with a deep red liquid, syrupy and sticky, then turned to the Queen and Lalan to fill theirs in turn. He cursed internally at being too slow (or not brave enough, truth be told) to cover his glass to prevent it. “I think, I think I might have died? Back home, I mean.” He missed the sharp glance between Melite and Lalan. “But, lucky me, I met two… two… it is really warm here, I haven’t been warm in a while…” he was drifting now.
“Two what, dear?” Melite prompted.
“Oh, goddesses, I guess? Although they didn’t really say that, you know, in so many words. Nu.. .Numena, who isn’t nearly as aloof as she… she… they… pretended to be, and Arachnae, who definitely probably maybe tricked me but you know, I can’t complain. I’m alive right?” He nodded several times at that, and smiled at Melite.
“I have never heard of Numena, but Arachnae is well known to me.” mused Melite, while Phoenix struggled to compose himself. “She is not a trickster type, in fact I might describe her as being too forthright and honest in her dealings. Even when it is to her detriment, a larger advantage could be had with a certain amount of reservation.” Melite paused, then added “Or tact.”
A hint of disapproval? Uh oh. Time to change subject? “I arrived here in her old temple, where we met. An old city? There is a story there I think, the dead that I found did not seem to have died peacefully.” Ok, I know I am out of luck, but please let it be that Melite isn’t the one to have killed everyone!
Lalan nodded gravely at that. “A grim story indeed, but a worthy tale. With your majesty's permission?” They looked to Melite, who nodded, still gazing at the dancers and seeming to not be paying much attention.
Lalan took another deep puff, letting the glitter smoke go slowly, like a sigh. The air was becoming a bit dense with the stuff, and Phoenix couldn't be sure but it might be giving him a secondary high at this point. “That city used to be a part of the Empire of Tul’Lia, some one hundred or more years ago. One of their many attempts at resettling the north, which they periodically send out, and just as regularly lose. This one, obviously was no different. They were good partners, good friends. Made sacrifices to Melite to move the trees away from where they built their stone structures, and organized themselves around those trees they didn’t move. Many parks, the streets kept clean, never too many people. Even their food was part of the city, not the surroundings, so they could live with a minimal impact on us. They have two goddesses they worship, The primary, Lia, and the secondary, your goddess Phoenix, Arachnae.”
“It wasn’t always thus. There were ten gods honored by the Empire, long long ago, when I was young.” Melite interrupted quietly, her eyes sad and distant.
“To the honored dead.” Lalan raised their glass. Melite raised hers and so Phoenix felt he had no choice but to take a drink of his own. The ruby liquid seared down his throat, and fire struck through to his limbs. This stuff had a kick. He felt dizzy and a wild energy gripped him, but also a deep languor, and when he tried to struggle upright gentle hands cupped his chin, and pulled his head back onto a pillowy surface, warm and soft. Damuyre took Phoenix’s glass and refilled it, then returned to his place somewhere behind, while those gentle hands massaged his neck and shoulders.
“So for a generation, we traded with them, and they protected our forest from the rapacious goblins and hobgoblins and their terrible storm Kan-Tal-Yek. Humans are good for many things, but what they are best at is war, and the Empire fought with courage and honor for all the good things of the world.” Lalan continued after a moment.
“Kan-Tal-Yek.” Melite’s angry mutter interrupted once again.
“Kan-Tal-Yek, I spit on the name.” Lalan suited action to words. “I curse him and his children, the goblins and hobgoblins, who so eagerly allied with the hags and the demons. That which they can not take they defile or destroy. And defile or destroy they did, that ancient city of the Empire. A great host raised by the hags came south from the mountains, and the armies of the Empire went to meet them. And while thus distracted, the goblins treacherously fell upon that city, and killed or enslaved all who dwelled there. And would have done the same to us, save for her majesty’s power.”
Melite nodded, but did not seem happy for the praise. “Kan-Tal-Yek contests with me still, in the winter when he knows my power is weakest. Cowardly, as usual. And his children creep through the woods, wrapped in glamour and hunting my people as slaves and meals. And we have heard naught from the Empire of Tal’Lia in fifty years, nor have any of my explorers survived to return with news of them. They may be gone forever now, and us the last remnants of the alliance. Although…”
Melite turned to Phoenix then, her attention fully on him for once and quizzical.
“You wear her dress, Arachnae’s dress, and it seems to fit you, as odd as that seems. And what of your time in the old city? You seemed distraught, and even hurt, when I found you.” Melite laid down on her side now, her head close to his own, her voice soft and comforting. Another maid, similar to Annirith in poise and appearance except for the color of her eyes, which were purple, was busy massaging the Queen’s back. Lalan, for their part, was once again smoking their pipe, eyes almost completely lidded closed, held tilted back. Some of the dancers had taken to the air, and the pattern of their dance was fully three dimensional now.
“Oh yeah…” he reached back to fumble at the wound on his head, but his hand encountered that soft pillow, and then one of the massaging hands grasped his and gave it a squeeze, before returning it to his chest gently. His words were coming out of a clumsy tongue, thick and stilted. “Bumped my head when I fell. There was… a skeleton… well a lot of skeletons. But one of them could move, and it was wearing… the cowl… “ he wagged his finger in the air, emphasizing his point. “It’s a cowl, not a… dress. Had to… to… burn its head off. Boom.” he spread the fingers of his hand out in front of him, to demonstrate, and then let it collapse back on his lap, suddenly weak. “Doesn’t hurt so much now… oh that feels good.” The mystery hands had found some of the knots from his poor sleeping situation and were working them out.
“A great victory!” Lalan said, and raised their glass in another toast.
“Oh I don’t… I don’t think I can drink more…” but the massaging hands had left his shoulders to raise the glass to his lips, and Queen Melite was drinking as well, so he drank, and then he had to drink it all, as the glass tipped back to empty into him. The world was definitely dim now, and strange, with the colors of the dance all blending together in a melange, and the fire in his belly from the liquor robbing him of all strength. Oh, I’ve been stupid haven’t I. The thought was distant but reproachful. Yet he couldn’t seem to grasp where he could have acted differently, at least not without giving offense.
“So Arachne sent you then?” Melite was breathing in his ear, or she was sitting back on her throne, both seemed equally plausible at this point. Phoenix was having real problems keeping his eyes open and focused.
“Uh, kind of. Something didn’t go quite right… but yeah, I am here to work… on her purpose.” the massaging hands reached down his arms, and he recognized them as Annirith’s hands finally. When did she get so big? Or… when did I get so small? He couldn’t say.
“Perhaps there is some hope still, that the goddesses still listen and the Empire still stands, somewhere.” Melite was smiling in the corner of his vision, not unkindly it seemed. “Fear not, brave Phoenix. No more questions. Annirith, dear, please take our guest to where he can sleep, would you? And Danmuyre, remind the others that he is still my guest and has my protection while he is here.”
Someone was carrying him, but he couldn’t open his eyes to see. Surely there had not been anyone big enough to carry him, right? He seemed to be floating up into the trees, and coming to rest on a cloud. That same warm pillow embraced him, and he fell through the alcohol, fatigue and stress into deep sleep, awash in dreams of color and dancing.