Post by mcian on Apr 21, 2024 18:39:34 GMT -5
Scar found his father pacing, as usual, at his palace. He wondered what he did all day, every day. What was it like to live as undead, having vast knowledge of the world, experiencing most everything in it, sordid or otherwise, and still finding any happiness or joy? He would have to ask him sometime. In fact, he would do that now. He unwrapped the item from its cloth binding and offered it to him.
“My scepter!” Damian exclaimed joyfully. He accepted it and began looking over it carefully. It was the genuine article, not the exact imitation James had made. No enchantments surrounded it either, other than the ones it already had. He wrapped it back up but held firmly onto it. “Come, let us sit and talk for a while. It has been too long,” he suggested.
Scar nodded. Damian led him to a lower level, a dining hall where they sat across from one another. The waiter servant, Elise, brought Scar wine and a large bowlful of stew. He began eating. “Too bad you cannot enjoy this,” he remarked honestly. “What is that thing to you… that relic?”
Damian laid the item on the table and patted it. “It is very dear to me. One of the reasons I did not agree to kill Lord Thraxas outright… perhaps the only reason… was to ensure I could find it if need be. I needed him alive for that.”
“So you were not being merciful to him. Figures.” He took another spoonful of stew.
Laughing, Damian nodded. “You know me well, son.”
“You did not answer my question.”
“I will tell you because I trust you to tell no one else, not even your wife. This item is a phylactery as well as a magic item. You still remember what that is, don’t you?”
Scar nodded, gulping down some wine. “I remember. How could I forget? Liches put their life essence in them to stay alive when killed. They reform and reappear later. Virtually deathless.”
Damian nodded. “This is a part of me. Even though I am no longer a lich, that portion of my life essence is still there. I cannot retrieve it, sadly. I need it to feel whole and sane. If it were destroyed a part of me would die and I would likely become… well, completely insane.”
“The world doesn’t need that! Luckily it was evidence so they did not try it.”
“It would take more than mere mortal magic to do that.”
“They have a Fae in their employ. I bet he could have done it.”
“Ah yes, he who placed the wards inside the building where the unfortunate Inquisitor was held. What is his name?”
Scar smiled. “Find that out for yourself.”
Damian grinned wickedly. “I may.”
Finishing the meal, Scar belched loudly after quaffing the wine. “Sorry,” he lamely offered. “By the way, father, what do you do every day to be happy, to enjoy your… shall I say, un-life? Doesn’t mere existing become a colossal bore?”
“A silly question only a mortal would ask. Death to me will bring torment, eternally. It is a practical thing. I am also an artiste, a lover of the arts and knowledge. I take enjoyment from upsetting the plans and aspirations of those who think they are wise; exposing the hypocrisy of the elite do-gooders; posing as the antithesis of Order to reveal the fallacies of Order. They make me sick with their displays of “Virtue.” Bringing them low, to despair and know their true self, is thrilling adventure.”
“So life to you is just a game, that you could use to establish beauty and prosperity to others. Sad.”
Damian shrugged. “A necessary game perhaps but I find it entertaining.”
Scar sighed, wiped his mouth, rose from the table and bowed respectfully. “Thank you for the fine meal and the conversation, father.”
“My pleasure. Come again.”
“One thing I ask: please leave Yew alone; they have enough to deal with. Turn your attentions elsewhere or attention will be drawn to you.”
“Is that a threat or a request?”
“Consider it a personal request from me. Yet it is a warning. There are people whom I love and admire who will set themselves against you. I want neither them nor you to come to harm if you fathom that.”
“You sound like your beautiful wife; she has had a remarkable influence on you.”
“Influence toward the good. She has taught me the hidden truth that true love makes life worthwhile.”
Damian sneered slightly. “True love you say? Lucky is the one who finds it. Luckier still the one who keeps it,” he commented. “I will take your request under advisement.” Then, narrowing his eyes, “You know me. Whoever steals my property, harms those I love, or injures my servants, will suffer.”
“No one wants anything you have, father. Your imagined wrongs and evil only endanger them and yourself. Those who hated you are long dead; you will learn to live and love again if you quench the hate.” With that, Scar walked away, his curiosity somewhat satisfied.
A short distance from where they spoke, Pea Dee the goblin worked trimming the plants that grew profusely atop the building. She heard every word they said. From a distance, she followed her new master to a room where he kept his mementos, watched him start to place the scepter/phylactery within a display case before turning to see the goblin staring out of curiosity...
An hour later she arrived at the Settlement where her dearest friend, Deminatza, made her home with her husband Scar. She carried with her yet another gift for her friend, this time from someone else. She had attached a note to it: “For my dearest friend, Demi. You only keep this. Master says so. It will protect you from evil ones I am sure. Tell no one you have it, not even Scar.” She then placed it where she knew only Deminatza would find it even if eventually.
The scepter/phylactery now had a new home…
“My scepter!” Damian exclaimed joyfully. He accepted it and began looking over it carefully. It was the genuine article, not the exact imitation James had made. No enchantments surrounded it either, other than the ones it already had. He wrapped it back up but held firmly onto it. “Come, let us sit and talk for a while. It has been too long,” he suggested.
Scar nodded. Damian led him to a lower level, a dining hall where they sat across from one another. The waiter servant, Elise, brought Scar wine and a large bowlful of stew. He began eating. “Too bad you cannot enjoy this,” he remarked honestly. “What is that thing to you… that relic?”
Damian laid the item on the table and patted it. “It is very dear to me. One of the reasons I did not agree to kill Lord Thraxas outright… perhaps the only reason… was to ensure I could find it if need be. I needed him alive for that.”
“So you were not being merciful to him. Figures.” He took another spoonful of stew.
Laughing, Damian nodded. “You know me well, son.”
“You did not answer my question.”
“I will tell you because I trust you to tell no one else, not even your wife. This item is a phylactery as well as a magic item. You still remember what that is, don’t you?”
Scar nodded, gulping down some wine. “I remember. How could I forget? Liches put their life essence in them to stay alive when killed. They reform and reappear later. Virtually deathless.”
Damian nodded. “This is a part of me. Even though I am no longer a lich, that portion of my life essence is still there. I cannot retrieve it, sadly. I need it to feel whole and sane. If it were destroyed a part of me would die and I would likely become… well, completely insane.”
“The world doesn’t need that! Luckily it was evidence so they did not try it.”
“It would take more than mere mortal magic to do that.”
“They have a Fae in their employ. I bet he could have done it.”
“Ah yes, he who placed the wards inside the building where the unfortunate Inquisitor was held. What is his name?”
Scar smiled. “Find that out for yourself.”
Damian grinned wickedly. “I may.”
Finishing the meal, Scar belched loudly after quaffing the wine. “Sorry,” he lamely offered. “By the way, father, what do you do every day to be happy, to enjoy your… shall I say, un-life? Doesn’t mere existing become a colossal bore?”
“A silly question only a mortal would ask. Death to me will bring torment, eternally. It is a practical thing. I am also an artiste, a lover of the arts and knowledge. I take enjoyment from upsetting the plans and aspirations of those who think they are wise; exposing the hypocrisy of the elite do-gooders; posing as the antithesis of Order to reveal the fallacies of Order. They make me sick with their displays of “Virtue.” Bringing them low, to despair and know their true self, is thrilling adventure.”
“So life to you is just a game, that you could use to establish beauty and prosperity to others. Sad.”
Damian shrugged. “A necessary game perhaps but I find it entertaining.”
Scar sighed, wiped his mouth, rose from the table and bowed respectfully. “Thank you for the fine meal and the conversation, father.”
“My pleasure. Come again.”
“One thing I ask: please leave Yew alone; they have enough to deal with. Turn your attentions elsewhere or attention will be drawn to you.”
“Is that a threat or a request?”
“Consider it a personal request from me. Yet it is a warning. There are people whom I love and admire who will set themselves against you. I want neither them nor you to come to harm if you fathom that.”
“You sound like your beautiful wife; she has had a remarkable influence on you.”
“Influence toward the good. She has taught me the hidden truth that true love makes life worthwhile.”
Damian sneered slightly. “True love you say? Lucky is the one who finds it. Luckier still the one who keeps it,” he commented. “I will take your request under advisement.” Then, narrowing his eyes, “You know me. Whoever steals my property, harms those I love, or injures my servants, will suffer.”
“No one wants anything you have, father. Your imagined wrongs and evil only endanger them and yourself. Those who hated you are long dead; you will learn to live and love again if you quench the hate.” With that, Scar walked away, his curiosity somewhat satisfied.
A short distance from where they spoke, Pea Dee the goblin worked trimming the plants that grew profusely atop the building. She heard every word they said. From a distance, she followed her new master to a room where he kept his mementos, watched him start to place the scepter/phylactery within a display case before turning to see the goblin staring out of curiosity...
An hour later she arrived at the Settlement where her dearest friend, Deminatza, made her home with her husband Scar. She carried with her yet another gift for her friend, this time from someone else. She had attached a note to it: “For my dearest friend, Demi. You only keep this. Master says so. It will protect you from evil ones I am sure. Tell no one you have it, not even Scar.” She then placed it where she knew only Deminatza would find it even if eventually.
The scepter/phylactery now had a new home…