A Conversation with Death - Ruthenia Truelove - 4.6.24
Jun 9, 2024 21:57:57 GMT
Andy D, Orianna Èirigh, and 3 more like this
Post by Ruthenia Truelove on Jun 9, 2024 21:57:57 GMT
Ruthenia had gotten quite used to timing the initiation of rituals while she was walking back from missions, such that she could now reliably ensure that her Unseen Servant, Myrtle, was summoned as soon as she crossed the threshold of her door and not a moment sooner. Certainly, she could use the undead to attend to her but they just didn't have the delicacy and having to instruct them individually the commands of remove my jewels, undo my dress, brush my hair and so forth was just cumbersome. No, when you needed the services of a handmaiden who would do all that while listening to and subsequently scribing diction, only the very best would do. If she were back in Thay Ruthenia would probably have had at least one girl in her employ for this role. It was simply the method of any well-to-do Thayan lady, particularly a Red Wizard at that. But that was a lifetime ago, so Myrtle would have to do. Ruthenia breathed a small sigh, reminiscing on the days where she was the one scribing, and almost found herself wishing for those days to return.
Almost, but not quite.
She began.
"Entry following on from the last, time: early evening, 4 cadavers, open brackets plus minus zero, close brackets, condition stable physically, magically addled, open brackets details to follow, close brackets, full stop. New paragraph..."
The Fugue Plane is not unknown to me. It is in fact a source of great study for those of the art, even if it is inherently dangerous for our kind to tread on Kelemvor's domain. Nevertheless, several of our predecessors have done so and have left us with depictions and traits of the plane, it being the initial terminus of souls before they are spread throughout the outer planes, the Wall of Souls being the accretion of those left unclaimed and the such. Interesting academic details, particularly for those in the fields of planar translocation and post-mortem communications (PMC), however neat trivia doesn't particularly help me.
Nevertheless when I overheard agaggle cadre band of adventurers discussing traversal to said plane to commune with some being, it piqued my interest. The few times I tolerated my contemporary in PMC Salz's diatribes on the matter he alleged that souls by and large struggle to understand that they have indeed passed and become profoundly distressed when alerted to this fact. Clearly then they wished to commune with a native of the realm. Curious, I introduced myself as a seasoned veteran of matters necromantic and joined.
This is when the fairy called me, and I quote, 'the death lady'.
Now if I were a lesser person I would have responded 'and you must be the vermin girl everyone is talking about', but I bit my tongue and held it there, for if being raised in a monastery, working as a handmaiden and a life in academia has taught me anything, it is tact. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disconcerting that my reputation has begun to precede me to such an extent, though I haven't made my school of magic a particular secret. It always starts like this and ends in mobs with pitchforks. In any case, one of my goals is the normalisation of the practice of necromancy. That is to say, in the specific study of necromancy. People so easily forget that clerics by virtue of healing and resurrection are far better necromancers than any wizard could hope to be.
Beats (spelling uncertain) is what I understand 'the vermin girl's proper name to be and from her interactions it was quite clear they were all familiar with each other. I had thought myself to be a stranger to them all but on review of my notes it appears that I am acquainted with one Felix Gould. Poor form then, for a capital B Bard to not have remained at the forefront of my mind. I must have been quite occupied at the time. I'll be generous in this regard.
The others present were one Orianna (assuming conventional spelling), a tiefling who I can only assume is a practitioner of Old Religion magics, if the star motifs are anything to draw upon. Clearly of the caring sort as the kind tends to be when they are not trying to oust you from their lands.
There was also one, or rather two, Frigus (spelling assumed from common stem frig- referring to cold) and Waffles (assumed named after the foodstuff). An interesting pair, a perpetually congested kobold with some variety of young dragon in tow. Dragonology is not a particular interest of mine, but I understand this form of arrangement is unusual. I will commend the former's proficiency with knitwear however I will say that the stethoscope as a medical motif is a touch trite. The token is appreciated nonetheless and shall remain around Verbena's neck until it inevitably gets torn or burnt or splashed with acid or what have you.
The last of our company was one Digs (spelling assumed from the verb) who turned out to be the spearhead of this operation, though a dull spearhead he proved to be. Skittish and indecisive doesn't inspire much faith in one's company, especially when one is expecting them to take the lead. It was by this young(?) kobold’s will that we were gathered, so a proper itinerary and reasoning are the least of my expectations. With considerable coaxing it transpired that he wished to consult one Azherul (spelling assumed from limited knowledge of Draconic word construction) concerning the destination of draconic souls. The reasoning being wanting to explore if there was such a thing as divine retribution, that sin is punished.
How luxuriant. How positively indulgent of these adventurers!
Most people have to be content to ponder these questions in their own time, in their own lives and to draw their own conclusions. Most die without definitive answers. And they cope and they live their lives. But no, one man has to interrogate an aspect of death to assuage his own feelings, to attempt to justify his actions. How positively, terribly accommodating!
Yes, I understand that he has clearly suffered loss at the hand of a dragon or dragons, I am not so insensate that I cannot read subtext. To which I say and? The toll of death on this world is large and a not insignificant amount of that is indeed callous murder. You are not owed answers to these questions. You are not unique or special.
It transpires that the magic armour that he wears functions as a sort of soul cage. It tracks therefore that he has already acted at least once on his desires. Thus, the crux of the matter becomes abundantly clear, at least from my perspective.
He wants to know that his actions are ‘good’.
Can he not just convince himself that he is following the just and righteous path like any good paladin or warrior or king or cleric worth their salt? Instead he wavers even when he has made his convictions known. Indecisiveness is one thing; it is a sign of consideration of your actions, but it is action taken amid indecisiveness that I cannot excuse. That means you didn’t consider it fully. And when it comes to the purposeful extinguishing of life, that is abhorrent to me especially as a physician. I cannot accept impulse or action taken in the moment as an excuse; the very act of slaying a dragon implies a certain level of premeditation.
This is all conjecture of course. It may just be simple regret. However, if it is just regret, the way forward should be to acknowledge the mistake for what it is and why it was made, make necessary amendments to one’s behaviour and lifestyle and move forward. That is learning. That is progress. And I learnt that a long time before my mentor drilled the words into me directly. If it is regret motivating the action then it becomes abundantly clear he wishes neither to grow nor learn, merely make the feeling of regret go away. He wants to be told he was right all along, that he is free to be exactly who he is, who he has always been, and that he doesn’t need to change. I am desperately trying to be generous here but the more I consider the matter the less charitable I find myself becoming.
I mentioned none of this because as I already mentioned, I have tact. Being a stranger it is simply not my place to address these matters. Concerning then, that his apparent friends had seemingly made no attempt either and were conversely actively encouraging this behaviour. I imagine this was related to the involvement of minor deities.
It is starting to become a concern of mine, the number of minor deities I seem to be encountering. First the denizen of the mirror realm, and now these archwyrms. Apparently a group of draconic minor deities have taken to taking on certain adventurers as ‘heralds’. This sounds suspiciously like warlockry although multiples of the party did state that this is not the case. Which feels like something that people in denial of their warlockry would say. This on its own wouldn’t be overly alarming; while in general I do not agree with the concept as a whole, not only due to shortcutting the careful study of magic but also due to the inherent risks of contracting with fiends, celestials and the various other denizens of the planar cosmos, I am quite aware that for several power is a means to an end and not necessarily the end itself. As a singer doesn’t need to know the theory of music, neither does a caster need to understand the rudiments of magic. No, the issue is with the sheer familiarity that these ‘heralds’ address these archwyrms. The power balance and oftentimes unknowable agendas of these minor deities should in theory lead to an inherent distrust and distance, however in this case both the heralds and the archwyrms seem to regard themselves as some sort of found family. Indeed when they called upon Thalistraza (spelling assumed as per Azherul) Frigus referred to her directly as ‘mum’.
I do not like this.
As ants are to people, so are people to the gods. I assert that even with the greatest of intentions any being of that magnitude could not possibly empathise with us feeble, short lived beings, and could never approach the familiarity of friendship, let alone the precious bond of family. They of course could imitate this, however. But to what end? Is this overbearing familiarity a tool to make them easier to control? One would hate to disappoint family after all. If this is a tactic to prey upon vulnerable adventurers, who even at the best of times seem to have tenuous connections with their actual families, then my concern would swiftly become disgust.
But again, I am a stranger and it is not my place to address these matters.
Thalistraza, the presumptive Archwyrm of Frost, was impossibly beautiful, which as a shapechanger was neither novel nor impressive, impossibly patient, which as a being of age in the millennia was neither novel nor impressive and impossibly powerful, which, well, you get the picture. The discussion that followed mainly concerned our path of travel to the Fugue Plane but I came to learn of another disturbing truth.
Calla Prim is dead. And not just dead in the usual manner, which given her general comportment I quite frankly expected at one point or another, but dead in such a manner that her soul was irretrievable.
I let my emotions get away from me at that moment to great admonishment from the rest of the table. However I was careful to warn her about this very sort of thing and she gave me her assurance that she wouldn’t martyr herself. Clearly then, she had a plan and it went violently, horribly wrong. I feel justified in calling her a fool then for I normally trust her to make good decisions. Clearly she was in over her head, so what else is new? The table gave me assurances that she did everything correctly but I can’t trust their judgements on the matter because they simply are intellectually inferior to Calla, and I do not say that as a means to insult but simply as a matter of objective truth. Clearly if I am ever to make sense of affairs, especially as Calla seems to be herald to another one of these archywyrms which seems extremely out of character, I am going to have to prise it from those tight lips of hers once we have means to revive her.
With my frustrations appropriately aired Thalistraza planeshifted us away with barely a thought and the wave of a hand. At times I’ve wondered what it would be like to have that level of phenomenal power. I don’t wonder for long however; if liches are any measure to go by it seems the acquisition of great power erodes one's sense of humanity. Certainly not a path I wish to follow.
As we stepped onto the Fugue Plane, I lost control of my undead and they froze in place, which in retrospect I should have anticipated. It makes sense that Kelemvor’s domain naturally abhors created undead. How small minded, my only crime here is to make old bodies useful again.
With a light akin to the moon on an overcast night, the City of Judgement that I had only previously seen in illustrations came to view. Kelemvor’s spire, the Wall of Souls, the gate, even the devil petitioners that I had only ever heard rumours of, all present in full view to me. Given that this was the initial terminus of fallen souls it made sense that the simpler forms of resurrection would pull the souls from here. It leaves me to wonder if I ever made it this far when I passed.
Our pathway in was mostly uneventful thanks to Frigus’ cloaking magic and Orianna’s apparent familiarity with the plane. This was not her first trip here it seemed. Although on the way, a curious incident occurred.
By some manner of strange coincidence, we seemed to encounter a spectre resembling Calla. On later discussion it was asserted that this was an echo, an impression of Calla from another plane that closely bordered this one, so while we chased and monitored it accordingly, we were powerless to intervene in any meaningful way. At intervals she was distressed and at other times she was affected by some form of sedating enchantment. While I understand the sentiment from what I will generously assume is her chosen archwyrm, I am not in particular agreement. I’ve never been fond of mind altering magic and only use it in dire circumstances. Then again, is there a more dire circumstance than death?
We eventually reached a grand chamber, similar to a court of law. Apparently this is where Azherul, Archwyrm of Death judges the souls of dragons departed, and we witnessed the very same, as a green dragon was cursed with the pestilences that they inflicted on mortals in life. How nice. Who would I have to punish to redeem the atrocities I’ve seen. Chance? Fate? Chauntea and Ilmater, who heard the cries of their faithful and did nothing? No, of course that is unreasonable. We are but ants after all.
I did ask Digs if he was satisfied with this, as technically speaking this did answer his initial premise; bad dragons are punished accordingly. This did not mollify him however. Now he wanted to know if anything would be done in life. He didn’t understand, wasn’t accepting of understanding, that that simply wasn’t this Azherul’s job.
The others aired similar concerns as to how punishing them now does no good for the world and doesn’t offer a chance for redemption or rehabilitation. But this being wasn’t an arbiter of morals, a person one can be reasoned with. He was, as all beings divine are, an embodiment of a concept with a job to do. The implication was made that if this Digs wanted to see punishment be dealt that he must enact this with his own hand. I am of course in agreement. I have written at length about my Divine Apparatus theory and the necessity to emancipate ourselves from the will of the gods. We must be allowed to self determine and self regulate.
I thought that the fact that the young man could only see him doing good in the world in the context of killing bad people, in this case, dragons, spoke to his poor sense of imagination and lack of faith in himself to do anything else but murder, but as it transpired, it seems he has unfinished business with a dragon. Fine, but after that, then what? It strikes me that he has an ill defined concept of himself outside of his grudge.
Clearly Azherul was curious as to the same, as after a tedious back and forth philosophical debate he offered Digs a challenge; to judge a soul for himself. Good, I thought. Put him in the position where he has to determine the ultimate fate of a soul. Then maybe he might reflect on his own insipid behaviour. Maybe he might realise his own wavering nature and consider whether his need for punishment and retribution is a true mission of his or just a means to absolve his own guilt.
The soul was that of a dragon who led a war against a lich which they ultimately won, but not without great human cost. They thought it regrettable that that many passed but ultimately felt justified in the action.
And he wavered once again, and turned to us for guidance.
I am but a stranger. How very dare you involve me in this mess you’ve made for yourself of your own volition? You learn for the first time that the world doesn’t exist solely in black and white and suddenly you can’t make a choice any more? Some very nice principles you have indeed!
The others gave some input into the matter, not that I paid particular attention for I was still extremely incensed at the utter presumption that he had in taking up a mantle of judgement and then turning to us for advice. Then Orianna made a comment that I thought was particularly revealing. She asked if it were Digs, would he forgive himself.
And he declined forgiveness for himself but granted it to the dragon.
Failure in one’s past often leads to a loss of self-esteem. I understand this too well. But one who only has his eyes trained on his past will only ever see his own failure as opposed to his present victories or future potential. As he is he will never recover.
I am but a stranger, so it was good at least to see his so-called friend actually take him to task on this. This callous disregard for not only the self but the people surrounding who care about you for reasons I quite frankly cannot fathom should not go without significant examination.
This foray ended with Azherul giving Digs yet another challenge. From the shadows he crafted a fine dark dagger that apparently would mortally wound the particular dragon he has ire towards, and challenged Digs to face said dragon with the dagger but without the armour. I suppose he wishes to see if Digs can overcome his reliance on this soul caging armour in order to deliver his punishment. With our business almost concluded I thought it prudent to use this time now to explore with Azherul options for arcane resurrection, which were about as fruitful as a barren tree. I am already aware of the nature of the Wish spell and have already heard apocryphal accounts of philosopher’s stones. These are not the answers I seek due to the fundamental inaccessibility of these methods. My hope for arcane resurrection is for it to be at least as accessible as the divine variant. Only then will my vision approach reality.
With that all said and done, Orianna secured a tuning fork to this realm alongside a soul cage like device to contain Calla’s soul once properly apprehended and planeshifted us back to our own, with the faint echoes of Azherul naming Digs as his herald behind us. I will thank Azherul for returning my property, namely my skeletons and zombies, back to me promptly and unscathed. As for the others, it was clear that Orianna and Frigus had some choice words to have with Digs, so I elected to excuse myself and retire to my quarters.
I have made it clear that I will be present and available at any hour to retrieve Calla’s soul when the time comes. As one of my few contemporaries on this continent I have a vested interest in seeing that she is returned to the mortal coil. And once she is back, I will give her ample time to rest and recover, treat her to some wine and cake and the such.
And then I will rake her over the coals.
As for Digs, I do not intend on spending my time with such a tedious being, not as he is at the moment. I have precious little time to waste and I prefer my acquaintances with backbone, principles and forward thinking. And if he truly is to be a herald of death, clearly Azherul is having an employment crisis. Either that or my assumption that this heraldry business is a scheme to prey on vulnerable, impressionable people with some other ulterior motive was correct all along. I will be sure to give this lot a wide berth in matters that don’t directly pertain to Calla.
Considerations:
1. One must consider the ramifications of bringing undead to the Outer Planes. Necromantic magic tends to behave differently and it would be useful to know of these properties prior to planeshifting
2. The Fugue Plane has a natural tendency to want to bring souls to its fold. This is a known phenomenon and thus I should be careful to not get into near death scenarios for the next few weeks.
3. This entire messy affair occurred because curiosity got the better of me and I interjected in a matter that ultimately proved only to frustrate me. In future I should refrain from taking jobs on a whim.
“End diction.”
The quill stopped writing and placed itself on the desk. Ruthenia, now changed into her nightgown, allowed the page to dry fully before turning to the section where her spells lay, and turned to Life Transference. The symbol of trust that Ruthenia had allowed Calla to copy.
“What trust?” Ruthenia mused to herself, for she realised that while she considered Calla a valued colleague, she knew very little about her. But then of course, Calla also knew nothing of her. As Ruthenia dismissed Myrtle and commanded her undead to contort themselves into her wardrobe before retiring to her bed, she thought to herself that she must amend that once Calla was back.
Almost, but not quite.
She began.
"Entry following on from the last, time: early evening, 4 cadavers, open brackets plus minus zero, close brackets, condition stable physically, magically addled, open brackets details to follow, close brackets, full stop. New paragraph..."
The Fugue Plane is not unknown to me. It is in fact a source of great study for those of the art, even if it is inherently dangerous for our kind to tread on Kelemvor's domain. Nevertheless, several of our predecessors have done so and have left us with depictions and traits of the plane, it being the initial terminus of souls before they are spread throughout the outer planes, the Wall of Souls being the accretion of those left unclaimed and the such. Interesting academic details, particularly for those in the fields of planar translocation and post-mortem communications (PMC), however neat trivia doesn't particularly help me.
Nevertheless when I overheard a
This is when the fairy called me, and I quote, 'the death lady'.
Now if I were a lesser person I would have responded 'and you must be the vermin girl everyone is talking about', but I bit my tongue and held it there, for if being raised in a monastery, working as a handmaiden and a life in academia has taught me anything, it is tact. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disconcerting that my reputation has begun to precede me to such an extent, though I haven't made my school of magic a particular secret. It always starts like this and ends in mobs with pitchforks. In any case, one of my goals is the normalisation of the practice of necromancy. That is to say, in the specific study of necromancy. People so easily forget that clerics by virtue of healing and resurrection are far better necromancers than any wizard could hope to be.
Beats (spelling uncertain) is what I understand 'the vermin girl's proper name to be and from her interactions it was quite clear they were all familiar with each other. I had thought myself to be a stranger to them all but on review of my notes it appears that I am acquainted with one Felix Gould. Poor form then, for a capital B Bard to not have remained at the forefront of my mind. I must have been quite occupied at the time. I'll be generous in this regard.
The others present were one Orianna (assuming conventional spelling), a tiefling who I can only assume is a practitioner of Old Religion magics, if the star motifs are anything to draw upon. Clearly of the caring sort as the kind tends to be when they are not trying to oust you from their lands.
There was also one, or rather two, Frigus (spelling assumed from common stem frig- referring to cold) and Waffles (assumed named after the foodstuff). An interesting pair, a perpetually congested kobold with some variety of young dragon in tow. Dragonology is not a particular interest of mine, but I understand this form of arrangement is unusual. I will commend the former's proficiency with knitwear however I will say that the stethoscope as a medical motif is a touch trite. The token is appreciated nonetheless and shall remain around Verbena's neck until it inevitably gets torn or burnt or splashed with acid or what have you.
The last of our company was one Digs (spelling assumed from the verb) who turned out to be the spearhead of this operation, though a dull spearhead he proved to be. Skittish and indecisive doesn't inspire much faith in one's company, especially when one is expecting them to take the lead. It was by this young(?) kobold’s will that we were gathered, so a proper itinerary and reasoning are the least of my expectations. With considerable coaxing it transpired that he wished to consult one Azherul (spelling assumed from limited knowledge of Draconic word construction) concerning the destination of draconic souls. The reasoning being wanting to explore if there was such a thing as divine retribution, that sin is punished.
How luxuriant. How positively indulgent of these adventurers!
Most people have to be content to ponder these questions in their own time, in their own lives and to draw their own conclusions. Most die without definitive answers. And they cope and they live their lives. But no, one man has to interrogate an aspect of death to assuage his own feelings, to attempt to justify his actions. How positively, terribly accommodating!
Yes, I understand that he has clearly suffered loss at the hand of a dragon or dragons, I am not so insensate that I cannot read subtext. To which I say and? The toll of death on this world is large and a not insignificant amount of that is indeed callous murder. You are not owed answers to these questions. You are not unique or special.
It transpires that the magic armour that he wears functions as a sort of soul cage. It tracks therefore that he has already acted at least once on his desires. Thus, the crux of the matter becomes abundantly clear, at least from my perspective.
He wants to know that his actions are ‘good’.
Can he not just convince himself that he is following the just and righteous path like any good paladin or warrior or king or cleric worth their salt? Instead he wavers even when he has made his convictions known. Indecisiveness is one thing; it is a sign of consideration of your actions, but it is action taken amid indecisiveness that I cannot excuse. That means you didn’t consider it fully. And when it comes to the purposeful extinguishing of life, that is abhorrent to me especially as a physician. I cannot accept impulse or action taken in the moment as an excuse; the very act of slaying a dragon implies a certain level of premeditation.
This is all conjecture of course. It may just be simple regret. However, if it is just regret, the way forward should be to acknowledge the mistake for what it is and why it was made, make necessary amendments to one’s behaviour and lifestyle and move forward. That is learning. That is progress. And I learnt that a long time before my mentor drilled the words into me directly. If it is regret motivating the action then it becomes abundantly clear he wishes neither to grow nor learn, merely make the feeling of regret go away. He wants to be told he was right all along, that he is free to be exactly who he is, who he has always been, and that he doesn’t need to change. I am desperately trying to be generous here but the more I consider the matter the less charitable I find myself becoming.
I mentioned none of this because as I already mentioned, I have tact. Being a stranger it is simply not my place to address these matters. Concerning then, that his apparent friends had seemingly made no attempt either and were conversely actively encouraging this behaviour. I imagine this was related to the involvement of minor deities.
It is starting to become a concern of mine, the number of minor deities I seem to be encountering. First the denizen of the mirror realm, and now these archwyrms. Apparently a group of draconic minor deities have taken to taking on certain adventurers as ‘heralds’. This sounds suspiciously like warlockry although multiples of the party did state that this is not the case. Which feels like something that people in denial of their warlockry would say. This on its own wouldn’t be overly alarming; while in general I do not agree with the concept as a whole, not only due to shortcutting the careful study of magic but also due to the inherent risks of contracting with fiends, celestials and the various other denizens of the planar cosmos, I am quite aware that for several power is a means to an end and not necessarily the end itself. As a singer doesn’t need to know the theory of music, neither does a caster need to understand the rudiments of magic. No, the issue is with the sheer familiarity that these ‘heralds’ address these archwyrms. The power balance and oftentimes unknowable agendas of these minor deities should in theory lead to an inherent distrust and distance, however in this case both the heralds and the archwyrms seem to regard themselves as some sort of found family. Indeed when they called upon Thalistraza (spelling assumed as per Azherul) Frigus referred to her directly as ‘mum’.
I do not like this.
As ants are to people, so are people to the gods. I assert that even with the greatest of intentions any being of that magnitude could not possibly empathise with us feeble, short lived beings, and could never approach the familiarity of friendship, let alone the precious bond of family. They of course could imitate this, however. But to what end? Is this overbearing familiarity a tool to make them easier to control? One would hate to disappoint family after all. If this is a tactic to prey upon vulnerable adventurers, who even at the best of times seem to have tenuous connections with their actual families, then my concern would swiftly become disgust.
But again, I am a stranger and it is not my place to address these matters.
Thalistraza, the presumptive Archwyrm of Frost, was impossibly beautiful, which as a shapechanger was neither novel nor impressive, impossibly patient, which as a being of age in the millennia was neither novel nor impressive and impossibly powerful, which, well, you get the picture. The discussion that followed mainly concerned our path of travel to the Fugue Plane but I came to learn of another disturbing truth.
Calla Prim is dead. And not just dead in the usual manner, which given her general comportment I quite frankly expected at one point or another, but dead in such a manner that her soul was irretrievable.
I let my emotions get away from me at that moment to great admonishment from the rest of the table. However I was careful to warn her about this very sort of thing and she gave me her assurance that she wouldn’t martyr herself. Clearly then, she had a plan and it went violently, horribly wrong. I feel justified in calling her a fool then for I normally trust her to make good decisions. Clearly she was in over her head, so what else is new? The table gave me assurances that she did everything correctly but I can’t trust their judgements on the matter because they simply are intellectually inferior to Calla, and I do not say that as a means to insult but simply as a matter of objective truth. Clearly if I am ever to make sense of affairs, especially as Calla seems to be herald to another one of these archywyrms which seems extremely out of character, I am going to have to prise it from those tight lips of hers once we have means to revive her.
With my frustrations appropriately aired Thalistraza planeshifted us away with barely a thought and the wave of a hand. At times I’ve wondered what it would be like to have that level of phenomenal power. I don’t wonder for long however; if liches are any measure to go by it seems the acquisition of great power erodes one's sense of humanity. Certainly not a path I wish to follow.
As we stepped onto the Fugue Plane, I lost control of my undead and they froze in place, which in retrospect I should have anticipated. It makes sense that Kelemvor’s domain naturally abhors created undead. How small minded, my only crime here is to make old bodies useful again.
With a light akin to the moon on an overcast night, the City of Judgement that I had only previously seen in illustrations came to view. Kelemvor’s spire, the Wall of Souls, the gate, even the devil petitioners that I had only ever heard rumours of, all present in full view to me. Given that this was the initial terminus of fallen souls it made sense that the simpler forms of resurrection would pull the souls from here. It leaves me to wonder if I ever made it this far when I passed.
Our pathway in was mostly uneventful thanks to Frigus’ cloaking magic and Orianna’s apparent familiarity with the plane. This was not her first trip here it seemed. Although on the way, a curious incident occurred.
By some manner of strange coincidence, we seemed to encounter a spectre resembling Calla. On later discussion it was asserted that this was an echo, an impression of Calla from another plane that closely bordered this one, so while we chased and monitored it accordingly, we were powerless to intervene in any meaningful way. At intervals she was distressed and at other times she was affected by some form of sedating enchantment. While I understand the sentiment from what I will generously assume is her chosen archwyrm, I am not in particular agreement. I’ve never been fond of mind altering magic and only use it in dire circumstances. Then again, is there a more dire circumstance than death?
We eventually reached a grand chamber, similar to a court of law. Apparently this is where Azherul, Archwyrm of Death judges the souls of dragons departed, and we witnessed the very same, as a green dragon was cursed with the pestilences that they inflicted on mortals in life. How nice. Who would I have to punish to redeem the atrocities I’ve seen. Chance? Fate? Chauntea and Ilmater, who heard the cries of their faithful and did nothing? No, of course that is unreasonable. We are but ants after all.
I did ask Digs if he was satisfied with this, as technically speaking this did answer his initial premise; bad dragons are punished accordingly. This did not mollify him however. Now he wanted to know if anything would be done in life. He didn’t understand, wasn’t accepting of understanding, that that simply wasn’t this Azherul’s job.
The others aired similar concerns as to how punishing them now does no good for the world and doesn’t offer a chance for redemption or rehabilitation. But this being wasn’t an arbiter of morals, a person one can be reasoned with. He was, as all beings divine are, an embodiment of a concept with a job to do. The implication was made that if this Digs wanted to see punishment be dealt that he must enact this with his own hand. I am of course in agreement. I have written at length about my Divine Apparatus theory and the necessity to emancipate ourselves from the will of the gods. We must be allowed to self determine and self regulate.
I thought that the fact that the young man could only see him doing good in the world in the context of killing bad people, in this case, dragons, spoke to his poor sense of imagination and lack of faith in himself to do anything else but murder, but as it transpired, it seems he has unfinished business with a dragon. Fine, but after that, then what? It strikes me that he has an ill defined concept of himself outside of his grudge.
Clearly Azherul was curious as to the same, as after a tedious back and forth philosophical debate he offered Digs a challenge; to judge a soul for himself. Good, I thought. Put him in the position where he has to determine the ultimate fate of a soul. Then maybe he might reflect on his own insipid behaviour. Maybe he might realise his own wavering nature and consider whether his need for punishment and retribution is a true mission of his or just a means to absolve his own guilt.
The soul was that of a dragon who led a war against a lich which they ultimately won, but not without great human cost. They thought it regrettable that that many passed but ultimately felt justified in the action.
And he wavered once again, and turned to us for guidance.
I am but a stranger. How very dare you involve me in this mess you’ve made for yourself of your own volition? You learn for the first time that the world doesn’t exist solely in black and white and suddenly you can’t make a choice any more? Some very nice principles you have indeed!
The others gave some input into the matter, not that I paid particular attention for I was still extremely incensed at the utter presumption that he had in taking up a mantle of judgement and then turning to us for advice. Then Orianna made a comment that I thought was particularly revealing. She asked if it were Digs, would he forgive himself.
And he declined forgiveness for himself but granted it to the dragon.
Failure in one’s past often leads to a loss of self-esteem. I understand this too well. But one who only has his eyes trained on his past will only ever see his own failure as opposed to his present victories or future potential. As he is he will never recover.
I am but a stranger, so it was good at least to see his so-called friend actually take him to task on this. This callous disregard for not only the self but the people surrounding who care about you for reasons I quite frankly cannot fathom should not go without significant examination.
This foray ended with Azherul giving Digs yet another challenge. From the shadows he crafted a fine dark dagger that apparently would mortally wound the particular dragon he has ire towards, and challenged Digs to face said dragon with the dagger but without the armour. I suppose he wishes to see if Digs can overcome his reliance on this soul caging armour in order to deliver his punishment. With our business almost concluded I thought it prudent to use this time now to explore with Azherul options for arcane resurrection, which were about as fruitful as a barren tree. I am already aware of the nature of the Wish spell and have already heard apocryphal accounts of philosopher’s stones. These are not the answers I seek due to the fundamental inaccessibility of these methods. My hope for arcane resurrection is for it to be at least as accessible as the divine variant. Only then will my vision approach reality.
With that all said and done, Orianna secured a tuning fork to this realm alongside a soul cage like device to contain Calla’s soul once properly apprehended and planeshifted us back to our own, with the faint echoes of Azherul naming Digs as his herald behind us. I will thank Azherul for returning my property, namely my skeletons and zombies, back to me promptly and unscathed. As for the others, it was clear that Orianna and Frigus had some choice words to have with Digs, so I elected to excuse myself and retire to my quarters.
I have made it clear that I will be present and available at any hour to retrieve Calla’s soul when the time comes. As one of my few contemporaries on this continent I have a vested interest in seeing that she is returned to the mortal coil. And once she is back, I will give her ample time to rest and recover, treat her to some wine and cake and the such.
And then I will rake her over the coals.
As for Digs, I do not intend on spending my time with such a tedious being, not as he is at the moment. I have precious little time to waste and I prefer my acquaintances with backbone, principles and forward thinking. And if he truly is to be a herald of death, clearly Azherul is having an employment crisis. Either that or my assumption that this heraldry business is a scheme to prey on vulnerable, impressionable people with some other ulterior motive was correct all along. I will be sure to give this lot a wide berth in matters that don’t directly pertain to Calla.
Considerations:
1. One must consider the ramifications of bringing undead to the Outer Planes. Necromantic magic tends to behave differently and it would be useful to know of these properties prior to planeshifting
2. The Fugue Plane has a natural tendency to want to bring souls to its fold. This is a known phenomenon and thus I should be careful to not get into near death scenarios for the next few weeks.
3. This entire messy affair occurred because curiosity got the better of me and I interjected in a matter that ultimately proved only to frustrate me. In future I should refrain from taking jobs on a whim.
“End diction.”
The quill stopped writing and placed itself on the desk. Ruthenia, now changed into her nightgown, allowed the page to dry fully before turning to the section where her spells lay, and turned to Life Transference. The symbol of trust that Ruthenia had allowed Calla to copy.
“What trust?” Ruthenia mused to herself, for she realised that while she considered Calla a valued colleague, she knew very little about her. But then of course, Calla also knew nothing of her. As Ruthenia dismissed Myrtle and commanded her undead to contort themselves into her wardrobe before retiring to her bed, she thought to herself that she must amend that once Calla was back.