Brother Warming

But as the demons companions began to materialize, its summoning was interrupted, and Drodja stepped forward again and slew the monster in a single blow. Brother Warming ground out in frustration: “Dammit, I just dropped my two best buffs!”. Reverend Cleophothus looked at him quizzically, asking “Would you have preferred to fight three vrocks?” Brother Warming – honest in the heat of battle – exclaimed “Yes!”, and headed up around the corridor looking for more demons to fight.

“Yes!”, he would rather find more demons to fight. “Yes”, he craved honest battle with a simple foe. It is not for nothing that a man abandons his name and his past, and takes a name “Warming-light-of-Sarenrae”. Long ago he had fled an enemy not simple, but devious and subtle. A lifetime ago he had fled into the arms of the goddess of sunlight and health, of purity and cleansing, of simple green and growing things. The first prayer he had practiced until he perfected it was “light” – Sarenrae’s light, yellow-white and warm, with all the promise of summer. It was his talisman, his promise that his goddess was with him always.

Yes, he sought combat. It occupied the mind. He greatly feared that something of the enemy that he had long ago fled might be ahead of them. Waiting.

Baisek

Damn I hope my message pouch still works. Baisek Toasten is “The Occultist”, from “13 True Ways”.

Dearest Mother,

I write in hope that this message finds you in continued good health, as is mine thanks be to all the gods. (or something like that). This letter concerns certain peculiarities about the magics of one of my companions; which has been something of a mystery to me for some time; and, having become more acquainted with it earlier today, I am at something of a loss as to what might be the import of it. Which is to say, perhaps Father should know.

I travel with a dwarf, one Baisek Toasten. He is a user of magic, but not a wizard, or sorcerer, or necromancer, or divine caster, or – in short – any form of magic that I am familiar with or have ever heard of. He is certainly self-trained, but his magics are not driven by passion in the same way that those of a sorcerer are. On occasion, he would mention “threads” – moving them, manipulating them. It seemed to me that this was as good a metaphor for what we do as any other, and I thought not much more of it.

A recent incident that I was not privy to had put him into some sort of induced insensibility for about two days. Last night, I resolved to take action. Baisek is bonded to a magical item, a stone orb (originally some sort of geode I believe), and so it seemed I might be able to reach him though a Speak With Item ritual thought that orb.

The ritual I believe was a success, although Elsbeth did interfere and credits Baisek’s awakening to her intervention. I suppose we will never know if Baisek awoke from his magical coma because I had managed to make some sort of contact with his soul through an item bonded to him; or if it was because Elsbeth stabbed him to wake him up. It is an enigma, and shall remain forever a mystery.

In any case, Baisek and I “got to talking” as they say. As near as I can make out, the threads that he speaks of are threads of time, or perhaps ‘fate’ is a better word. He assists we his allies in battle by somehow altering the outcome of what would have otherwise happened, or by augmenting a blow by adding to it the blow from another possible reality, so doubling it. I am persuaded that he is being truthful – I have several times noticed the effects of his magics which, while not especially showy or obvious, are indeed visible to the eye.

Recently, I was entrusted by Edmund of the Circle of Four with a certain book; which describes certain aspects of astrology and the overworld; and from which I have been supplementing my studies. “As above, So below”, but that simple formula unpacks into – well – hundreds of pages, and really this book merely scratches the surface. The Gods decide our fates, or orchestrate it, or perhaps argue over it; but nevertheless certainly have something to do with it; and we see this in the motions of the stars above us. There is a resonance between the courses of the stars in the sky and human affairs, and the stars are manifestations of the gods – their thoughts, perhaps, their will.

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the message was lost.
For want of a message the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Now, it’s all very well to credit the gods with great grand designs, but all plans however grand must come down to action, to events “on the ground”. All strategy must be implemented through logistics and tactics. If the gods influence human affairs, then that influence must in the end come down to the outcome of a sword blow, a rogue wave on the sea. “And all for the want of a horseshoe nail”, as the saying goes.

The question then is: what do we make of a dwarf who more-or-less directly – as he puts it – pulls on the strings of fate? Oh, only in a very limited way, of course, in a limited scope. For now. As far as I have seen. But nevertheless, fate – the province of the gods. Is he a servant of the gods? A messenger, a pawn, a priest? Is he an an offence to them, a blasphemy, an abberation? A mere mortal interference to their plans? Does he wrest these “strings” from their hands? Does he merely tug a little on the strings that are already in place?

All I really know is that Baisek himself does not know.

Perhaps I make too much of this. Perhaps there are places where “fate magic’ is quite common. It’s simply that the things that Baisek tries to describe and the things I am reading in this book seem to be – seem to be two different ways of saying the same thing, if that makes sense. It may not be a coincidence that we travel to Santa Cora. If someone is pulling us by the string, I hope they mean well.

I should be grateful for any insight into the matter.

Your most obedient son,
James.

Drewf’s mini-campaign finale

Well, Drewf’s mini-campaign is done. A good time was had by all. And he finished up with a tie-in to Andy’s campaign.

In the end, the amulet was the lich’s phylactery, with a gold dragon bound into it which was released when the amulet was destroyed. The ruby was destroyed by the final blow to the lich (what kind of idiot lich wears his phylactery?), and I was like “oh noes, we failed the misson”, but our principal wanted the amulet found and was happy with that, and we also retrieved a stack of dragon loot for the Zero Company kitty.

The gold dragon was expecting some other group. The dudes from Zero Company were not “the ones”. He (?) killed the occultist, nicely making way for another one to be born (as there can only ever be one). Our actions also released a load of dead gods, at least one of whom has been reborn in our main campaign.

Notes:

• The 13th age Ranger is a DPS beast. John rolled a quadruple crit at one point. Insane. Crit range bufs can stack in 13th age, so for his first attack he was critting on 15-20 or something ridiculous like that.
• My druid build tanked like a goddamn tank. He had 60 hp, dead at -30. Came back – by himself– from taking a 60 hp hit and being 20 hp down to being pretty much good to go. Druid regeneration, d10 recovery dice, and the rule that if you get healing you start at 0 (13th age is a forgiving, casual game system). A potion from a concerned party member fixed the rest of the damage.

Prize for coolest character went to AJ’s cigar-chomping dwarven crossbow ranger, who regrettably was not there for the final battle. Nearly half our original party did not make it out of the tomb alive. I expect the rest of the company poured out a beer onto the ground for them, and then went on to even more exciting and mercenary adventures.

Next week Andy is back on board. We will mainly be doign talk, catch-up, and sorting out characters out. Everyone is 4th level.