Flame Shadow Steam 31/05 Nessa
Jun 3, 2022 23:10:27 GMT
Andy D, Orianna Èirigh, and 2 more like this
Post by Nessa al-Kiram on Jun 3, 2022 23:10:27 GMT
Good vs Evil – the diary of Nessa al-Kiram, aged 5,362 ¾
Morality is a moot point for all of us who have been blessed with the honour of carrying out the Moonmaiden’s work in mortal form. The material world corrupts, but the goddess – who, let’s be frank, worked behind a bar for a while whilst hiding out from the tribulations of the celestial plane – grants believers a certain licence. One might call it slack.
All the same… my list of good things and bad things is starting to reveal some uncomfortable moral compromises.
Good Things About the Dawnlands
1) The people seem very nice, largely. I mean, it takes all sorts but still.
2) Beer.
3) Enacting the will of the Goddess in her battle with the agents of Shar.
4) Lots of time off.
5) Emotions. Love, happiness, delight, camaraderie… even just the feeling of silk on skin can provoke a kind of ecstasy.
Bad Things About the Dawnlands
1) Emotions. Fear, pain, anger… and if I’m being very honest, lust. I think I need to park that one for a while.
2) All the fighting. And more to come. Space pirates and dragons are on the way and still I haven’t quite discovered why I have been called here.
3) Compromises. This is where it starts to get tricky… I need a new list.
Morally Questionable Things About the Dawnlands:
1) Helping a lich to become more powerful.
Let me circle back a little here…
This is what happened. The wizard Amble was mounting a hit and run raid on the flying city of Gadenthor in a bid to cripple the Githyanki war machine. He was putting together a team of specialists – there was our leader, the strategically minded wizard Amble, the cunning wizard Lolli, the wise and caring healer Boosya and the deliverer of the old ultraviolence Beets the Beetle.
I was explosives and munitions. I think that is acceptable. Why would I have the divine essence of Her Grace in the form of fireballs that can destroy a battalion of infantry if not to use them?
Once in the city, we found a house of steam from whence a muttering voice uttered dark imprecations against the Githyanki. This seemed promising to our leader, but we needed eyes on the possible ally, so I crept up to a window, sent in the essence of devotion and discovered we were dealing with the undead.
I’ll admit this gave me pause for thought which was a near fatal mistake as flame erupted from the window and seared my shoulder like a flash fry pork chop. I think there is a separate list to be drawn up over the challenge of finding the smell of your own well-cooked flesh utterly delectable.
Anyway, as the High Diviner tells us, it is better to speak with your enemy than slay them, so I cried out “Owwwww, we’re not Gith, you bastard, stop burning me.”
Not the most eloquent negotiation opener I admit. A dark voice demanded proof and all I think of was foul words about the enemy. Let history not record my use of the term ‘wanker.’
We were invited in and there in front of us was an animated skeletal form in ornate robes with bright emerald fire ablaze in its eye sockets who was clearly speaking telepathically to us.
Now, they give us a primer on the undead before deployment and this wheelchair-bound bone rattler screamed ‘lich’ to me, although I had not previously encountered one in a sauna.
“I am a lich,” it said – or words to that effect, which helped ID the thing. A mage from the ancient Netherese empire who had sought eternal life through the dark arts called Comerath Merroska. It had been trapped in its sauna for a millennium (which might account for the weight loss hahahahaha… humour is definitely one of the Good Things once I master it) and had left its spell book in a book binder just before the collapse of said Netherese empire, which had clearly been fairly rapid. Would we, it asked telepathically, help retrieve it.
Moral Quandary 1: Liches are Bad News. Achieving lichdom through the dark arts is unquestionably Evil. It’s bad on so many levels. It’s almost the worst thing you can do if you’re a mage - apart from the use of the shield spell which rips off an angel’s wings every time its cast. So technically my task was plain: bring down Holy Fire on this abomination, hunt down its foul phylacteries and lay waste to its corrupted soul.
And yet…
A) Leaving a powerful mage who hated the Githyanki and was all but immortal right in the heart of their camp was clearly strategically useful.
B) This one seemed quite a dude.
C) It could be fun.
I am not comfortable with that list but there we are.
With the combined minds of a thousand-year-old lich, two wizards and two clerics you would have expected us to have come up with some sort of plan. I am learning, however, that planning is not the Kantas way. So we basically walked down the road to the shop and when we encountered a group of three Githyanki we busked it.
Which meant we ended up fighting all of them plus a dragon that plunged from the sky to protect its allies.
It was a curious combat. Lolli deployed the scent of apple, a new one on me, which charmed the Seven Hells out of the dragon. Beets was trading blows with one Gith, I cindered another, Booysa was overseeing Boney Maroney and everything seemed under control until the dragon shook itself free and unleashed its flaming breath.
And lo, great anger came upon me, and I was revealed in wrath as mighty wings unfurled and righteous fire blazed from my eyes, until I was terrible to behold. And I rose up and smote the unbelievers.
Smiting, I am finding, is strangely enjoyable. As I torched a second Gith from on high, my voice rolling like thunder, I faced…
Moral Quandary 2: Killing is Bad. Seeing another living soul light up like a bonfire and collapse to the pavement should bring pangs of remorse and some hefty soul searching.
I should not think – 'that looks cool.'
Then Beets went down, Boo was healing away and I thought, Goddess forgive me, and took out the dragon.
On our return we were paid right handsomely for our troubles and offered a coat of purest mithral mail. It matched mine own and I found I wanted it. I could see Booysa sharing my desire and she suggested a game of chance.
Well then, I thought, if I have sinned the Goddess will punish me and the mithral coat will not be mine.
I won. It is mine.
What exactly is Selûne trying to tell me?
Morality is a moot point for all of us who have been blessed with the honour of carrying out the Moonmaiden’s work in mortal form. The material world corrupts, but the goddess – who, let’s be frank, worked behind a bar for a while whilst hiding out from the tribulations of the celestial plane – grants believers a certain licence. One might call it slack.
All the same… my list of good things and bad things is starting to reveal some uncomfortable moral compromises.
Good Things About the Dawnlands
1) The people seem very nice, largely. I mean, it takes all sorts but still.
2) Beer.
3) Enacting the will of the Goddess in her battle with the agents of Shar.
4) Lots of time off.
5) Emotions. Love, happiness, delight, camaraderie… even just the feeling of silk on skin can provoke a kind of ecstasy.
Bad Things About the Dawnlands
1) Emotions. Fear, pain, anger… and if I’m being very honest, lust. I think I need to park that one for a while.
2) All the fighting. And more to come. Space pirates and dragons are on the way and still I haven’t quite discovered why I have been called here.
3) Compromises. This is where it starts to get tricky… I need a new list.
Morally Questionable Things About the Dawnlands:
1) Helping a lich to become more powerful.
Let me circle back a little here…
This is what happened. The wizard Amble was mounting a hit and run raid on the flying city of Gadenthor in a bid to cripple the Githyanki war machine. He was putting together a team of specialists – there was our leader, the strategically minded wizard Amble, the cunning wizard Lolli, the wise and caring healer Boosya and the deliverer of the old ultraviolence Beets the Beetle.
I was explosives and munitions. I think that is acceptable. Why would I have the divine essence of Her Grace in the form of fireballs that can destroy a battalion of infantry if not to use them?
Once in the city, we found a house of steam from whence a muttering voice uttered dark imprecations against the Githyanki. This seemed promising to our leader, but we needed eyes on the possible ally, so I crept up to a window, sent in the essence of devotion and discovered we were dealing with the undead.
I’ll admit this gave me pause for thought which was a near fatal mistake as flame erupted from the window and seared my shoulder like a flash fry pork chop. I think there is a separate list to be drawn up over the challenge of finding the smell of your own well-cooked flesh utterly delectable.
Anyway, as the High Diviner tells us, it is better to speak with your enemy than slay them, so I cried out “Owwwww, we’re not Gith, you bastard, stop burning me.”
Not the most eloquent negotiation opener I admit. A dark voice demanded proof and all I think of was foul words about the enemy. Let history not record my use of the term ‘wanker.’
We were invited in and there in front of us was an animated skeletal form in ornate robes with bright emerald fire ablaze in its eye sockets who was clearly speaking telepathically to us.
Now, they give us a primer on the undead before deployment and this wheelchair-bound bone rattler screamed ‘lich’ to me, although I had not previously encountered one in a sauna.
“I am a lich,” it said – or words to that effect, which helped ID the thing. A mage from the ancient Netherese empire who had sought eternal life through the dark arts called Comerath Merroska. It had been trapped in its sauna for a millennium (which might account for the weight loss hahahahaha… humour is definitely one of the Good Things once I master it) and had left its spell book in a book binder just before the collapse of said Netherese empire, which had clearly been fairly rapid. Would we, it asked telepathically, help retrieve it.
Moral Quandary 1: Liches are Bad News. Achieving lichdom through the dark arts is unquestionably Evil. It’s bad on so many levels. It’s almost the worst thing you can do if you’re a mage - apart from the use of the shield spell which rips off an angel’s wings every time its cast. So technically my task was plain: bring down Holy Fire on this abomination, hunt down its foul phylacteries and lay waste to its corrupted soul.
And yet…
A) Leaving a powerful mage who hated the Githyanki and was all but immortal right in the heart of their camp was clearly strategically useful.
B) This one seemed quite a dude.
C) It could be fun.
I am not comfortable with that list but there we are.
With the combined minds of a thousand-year-old lich, two wizards and two clerics you would have expected us to have come up with some sort of plan. I am learning, however, that planning is not the Kantas way. So we basically walked down the road to the shop and when we encountered a group of three Githyanki we busked it.
Which meant we ended up fighting all of them plus a dragon that plunged from the sky to protect its allies.
It was a curious combat. Lolli deployed the scent of apple, a new one on me, which charmed the Seven Hells out of the dragon. Beets was trading blows with one Gith, I cindered another, Booysa was overseeing Boney Maroney and everything seemed under control until the dragon shook itself free and unleashed its flaming breath.
And lo, great anger came upon me, and I was revealed in wrath as mighty wings unfurled and righteous fire blazed from my eyes, until I was terrible to behold. And I rose up and smote the unbelievers.
Smiting, I am finding, is strangely enjoyable. As I torched a second Gith from on high, my voice rolling like thunder, I faced…
Moral Quandary 2: Killing is Bad. Seeing another living soul light up like a bonfire and collapse to the pavement should bring pangs of remorse and some hefty soul searching.
I should not think – 'that looks cool.'
Then Beets went down, Boo was healing away and I thought, Goddess forgive me, and took out the dragon.
On our return we were paid right handsomely for our troubles and offered a coat of purest mithral mail. It matched mine own and I found I wanted it. I could see Booysa sharing my desire and she suggested a game of chance.
Well then, I thought, if I have sinned the Goddess will punish me and the mithral coat will not be mine.
I won. It is mine.
What exactly is Selûne trying to tell me?