Goldfish
Friendly Spider-Fish Abomination
- Location
- Formerly of the Far Realm
The Virtue of Choice
Seventeenth Day of the Third Month 293 AC
How odd for a goddess whose faithful had raised the temple that surrounds you in carved and gilded majesty should send a being to send so small and seemingly fragile to carry her word. Still you would be the last to mistake size for the measure of worth. You offer a rueful smile: "Indeed, the Plane of Molten Skies is no place for the unprepared or weak of heart, and not merely due to the fiery climate. It was a fel place, and one that could have claimed the lives of myself and my Companions many times over, but it also served its purpose, and as a result we have grown stronger and made valuable contacts with friendlier sorts of beings out among the Planes."
To your surprise the mirror spirit turns abruptly serious, speaking not in Low Valyrian, but the hissing tongue of wyrms: "Worse things than blades and fire there are there, those that even the victorious might carry back: greed, cruelty, pride."
A part of you still bridles in anger at the words, but you distrust wrath too much to ever listen to its counsel without thought. To what purpose change tongues? The Herald did not mention your heritage and it does not seem the prideful sort that it would revel in knowledge most mortal men do not possess. Perhaps it does not wish to influence then before all had been said... a test. The realization does not quench all your frustration, but it makes it far easier to keep in check. For now pride works at cross-purposes with it. You will not be baited.
"What I have seen beneath the walls of the City of Brass I would not condone in a thousand thousand years," you answer, words soft, but unwavering as steel.
"Yes," the mephit replies, fluttering up until its eyes are as high as yours. "Great evil have you seen, and so the lesser does not seem so black. Only the fiends bound as slaves. After all, is it not their nature to destroy? Only the damned bled to feed ancient hungers, for does it not bring plenty? Upon a shadowed path you have stepped, one that is not, that cannot be free from greed, hate, and pride. So tell me, dragonlord who would darken the sun with thy wings and hold the world in thy talons, what if you should live a thousand thousand years and one?"
The question again hangs as a challenge in the air, and again you refuse to take it. "Tell me, Bearer of the Wayfarer's Lantern, why did you open a path to that realm, are you then blind to the ends of thine own deeds?" you ask, baiting a trap of your own.
"It is not my place to judge another's path, nor to refuse..."
"Horseshit," Lya declares, the joining of words to make the curse so utterly incongruous in the tongue you are all speaking that it is all you can do to keep in laughter. She continues in the same matter-of-fact tone, "You are responsible for the consequences of your own actions, morally and otherwise. Angels can fall and fiends can stand redeemed. The choices before you may not be those a mortal faces, but they are no less real for it."
"Perhaps that is so," the herald relents surprisingly. "But it is not my tale that will be sung though the ages, not my place to weave the world's fate. However lightly judgement may lay upon your shoulders, you are yet the one who stepped into these halls with an offer."
"So it is and as any man of business offering an opportunity I would be entirely content to withdraw my offer, without rancor if it becomes clear our differences cannot be reconciled," you reply sincerely. "One thing of all that you have said however is untrue: that I would reject your aid lightly. If such can be called light it is because all the good that has been done by spilling the blood of monsters is heavy as a mountain. Yet I would not, could not turn my back upon this temple without sadness over all you could have done to light the way and better the lives of my subjects. "
"All paths are as rivers leading to sea," Lya says softly, with the air of someone recounting a quote of some sort. "Remember ye, that sea is boundless and beyond knowing."
"So you do remember," the little spirit muses, rubbing its chin.
"I've always had an excellent memory," Lya replies a touch wistfully. "Perhaps in another life it might have been more than that, but in this one here I stand, though blood may lap at my heels. I can do no other."
"I do not ask that you agree with me, or approve of my deeds," you begin softly, though passion is threaded into every word. "I ask only that you respect the laws of my realm and the powers that have helped me build it. I ask that you not let fear of some nebulous future lessen us all, darkening the paths that thousands might walk."
"Your words are wise, dragonlord, perilous as that wisdom may be," the herald admits. Then as swiftly as it had vanished the wide grin flashes again upon its features and it turns to the priests: "Did I ever tell you how I met them? There's pirates, fish-men, sorcery, adventure... you know, I never heard the whole story myself..." It turns to you with a board wink: "Mayhap you have the time to tell the tale of how you made an end of the madman who enslaved me."
With a cautious nod of thanks of the obvious opportunity to hear of blood magic in the best light possible you begin your tale. By the end midnight had come and gone and you are quit thankful for the chance to wish away the wine's effects upon you. Another temple would grace the Deep soon enough. You do not even regret the coin needed to build it... not more than a twinge in any case.
What do you do next?
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OOC: There were a lot of good rolls this update leading to excellent synergy.
Damn, DP, that was a good chapter!