Seeker of Perfection
Twenty-Eight Day of the Third Month 292 AC
As evening gathers over He'nekar, both close and infinity distant from the gloom shrouded tower in which you reside you hind yourself sitting at a fine cedar desk desk... writing lists, long increasingly elaborate lists to clear your heads of all the projects you have yet to do: all the potential gains and all the hurdles. Your mind jumps between the mundane and wondrous and back again with such swiftness that you've no doubt that were anyone to find the parchment now before you and naught else they would think it the ravings of a particularly imaginative madman. The flight of whimsy sours on the final note as your mind drifts back to your father...
No, not tonight, you vow.
Willfully you turn your attention to the "stylus" in your hand, the servitor of sorcery and gold wrought of Valyria of old. You had asked him for tales and made use of his talents, but never since the day you found him did you ask him of his wishes and desires, you realize with a pang. You gently set the odd golden stylus upon the table and call out his name.
The air shimmers briefly and then the diminutive wyrm-kin uncurls itself gem-like eyes meeting yours. "Yes, what do you require?"
"Ah," you hesitate unsure about how to begin. "I was curious as to what you require actually."
"Me?" Aebys gives off a low metallic hum as he thinks. "You know I've never really considered the matter...in quite those terms. I'm not made to want or to do things merely to assist in the projects of others..."
"And that does not bother you?" you ask, intrigued and a trifle disquieted all at once.
"Well now I would be rather
poorly designed if it did," the servitor replies a not of wry amusement in his voice. "I suppose if one were to articulate my nature it would be to improve things, polish them, the grander the working the more worthy it is to seek perfection. What I am most inclined to is arcane studies... though there is a simple pleasure in a well-crafted missive."
"Good," you reply, doing your best to hide your discomfort at encountering an intelligent, articulate being that is satisfied in utter servitude. "Then you will not mind helping with teaching anew crop of mages."
"Certainly," the wedge-shaped head nods energetically. "Although that is rather..." he cuts himself off. "There is one thing I would want: to make more of my kind."
"Can you?" you ask, bemused by the sudden turn of the conversation.
"Yes... though the process is rather inefficient in the absence of a flesh-forge. I would have to consume several times my mass in unadulterated gold." Seeing your hesitation he adds: "My progeny would be every bit as willing to serve as I."
And therein lies the heart of the matter. Should you reintroduce a slave race to the world? The thought is abhorrent. Yet is it not purest hypocrisy to refuse his sole request and then claim you care for his capacity to choose?
What do you reply?
[] Pledge to make more Calligraphy Wyrms (Cost 200 Gold for each one)
-[] Write in how many
[] Refuse to make more Calligraphy Wyrms
[] Write in
OOC: A bit of an odd query, but I hope an interesting one.
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