1227.2t Line of Dimication

Retired Play by Post Campaigns Ars Magica 5th Edition: In the Ruins of Bibracte
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"Well, then."Stultus smiles acidly and produces a skin of wine from somewhere, holding it out to Rodrigo."Have a drink, and a tale I will thee tell."

"It was a dark and stormy night when a dying Jerbiton related to me a great secret, hidden for centuries. A concealed regio, far from the lands the Order holds... beyond the Gates of Hercules, beyond the Seven Sisters, west of the Sun, east of the Moon, between the horns of the Sacred Chao. A regio populated entirely by elementals -- but not the elementals you're used to, my friend. Oh, no. Where ordinary elementals follow the elemental Forms -- Terram, Ignem, and so forth -- these follow the form of Vim. Raw vis in its purest natural form... wealth beyond dreams of avarice for such folk as you and I.

I wish to join the covenant of Mons Electi, for I seek companions of iron soul and stout heart, to brave for me... er, I mean with me... the dangers of the journey, and share in the wealth of the Regio. But be warned! For the trip will not be an easy one. Many dangers await us. Giants will confront us, sirens will try to lead us astray... and worse still..." He lowers his voice, dramatically. "Other magi will certainly try to stop us. House Guernicus would be our enemy... for they shall not allow such riches to be concentrated in the hands of magi not of their House."

Stultus bows to Rodrigo. "There you go, my fiery friend. Just as you requested: one fantastic story, with tidbits of truth mixed in. I certainly hope you were listening closely."

(( By the way... bonus points if you can identify the underlined reference. :smiley: ))

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Gimme my bonus points :wink:

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(( Sorry, only half a bonus point. :slight_smile: The entire underlined quote is from Barry Hughart's "Bridge of Birds", which is probably my favorite book in the world. Certainly in the top 5. I heartily recommend it. ))

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[color=red]That is not a story or tale at all, just a supposed fact. It is merely a description of a place you believe to exist. But perhaps it is the begining of a tall tale of adventure.
So my turn, eh? I am a fair man. What comes to mind?
El Cid's warhorse, the famous Babieca, given to him by his godfather, Pedro El Grande the monk. The monk called it Babieca because the thought the wild stallion to be a stupid and reckless beast. But the Cid was the wiser, and took the stallion to be his prized and favored steed. It fearlessly carried him into many battles, and upon it led the charge of his conquest of Valencia. Though it could be a stubborn and wilful beats, it was brave and ever faithful. Faithful unto death, for when the Cid died, his wife Jimena had his corpse dressed in armor and fixed atop Babieca to lead one last charge against his enemies.

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Stultus quirks a brow, impressed. Rodrigo is a more subtle man than he gave him credit for, it appears. Mons Electi is looking better and better by the minute.

"So what you're saying is that, though Babieca was a stubborn and willful beast, it possessed a certain amount of horse sense. Wise indeed of El Cid to recognize this." He strokes his chin, pondering. "Now as for my turn..."

As fun as it would be to continue to tweak this Flambeau's tail, a certain amount of honesty is perhaps in order. Cloaked, of course... and not too large an amount... Ah. I have just the thing.

"Rahere...."
The familiar perks up, sending a thought into Stultus' mind. <<< Yeah, boss? >>>
<<< Not you. The man I named you after. Go back to your peanuts. >>>

"Rahere, King Henry’s Jester, feared by all the Norman Lords for his eye that pierced their bosoms, for his tongue that shamed their swords; fed and flattered by the Churchmen (well they knew how deep he stood in dark Henry’s crooked counsels) -- fell upon an evil mood."

Stultus' tone is conversational: he is not declaiming, he's simply telling a story. It's just that the story happens to rhyme.

"Suddenly, his days before him and behind him seemed to stand
Stripped and barren, fixed and fruitless, as those leagues of naked sand
When St. Michael’s ebb slinks outward to the bleak horizon-bound,
And the trampling wide-mouthed waters are withdrawn from sight and sound.

Then a Horror of Great Darkness sunk his spirit and, anon,
(Who had seen him wince and whiten as he turned to walk alone)
Followed Gilbert the Physician, and muttered in his ear,
“Thou hast it, O my brother?” “Yes, I have it,” said Rahere.

“So it comes,” said Gilbert smoothly, “man’s most immanent distress.
‘Tis a humour of the Spirit which abhorreth all excess;
And, whatever breed the surfeit – Wealth, or Wit, or Power, or Fame
(And thou hast each) the Spirit laboureth to expel the same.

“Hence the dulled eye’s deep self-loathing – hence the loaded leaden brow;
Hence the burden of Wanhope that aches thy soul and body now.
Ay, the merriest fool must face it, and the wisest Doctor learn;
For it comes – it comes,” said Gilbert, “as it passes – to return.”

But Rahere was in his torment, and he wandered, dumb and far,
Till he came to reeking Smithfield where the crowded gallows are,
(Followed Gilbert the Physician) and beneath the wry-necked dead,
Sat a leper and his woman, very merry, breaking bread.

He was cloaked from chin to ankle – faceless, fingerless, obscene –
Mere corruption swaddled man-wise, but the woman whole and clean;
And she waited on him crooning, and Rahere beheld the twain,
Each delighted in the other, and he checked and groaned again.

“So it comes, – it comes,” said Gilbert, “as it came when Life began.
‘Tis a motion of the Spirit that revealeth God to man.
In the shape of Love exceeding , which regards not taint or fall,
Since the perfect Life, saith Scripture, can be no excess at all.

“Hence the eye that sees no blemish – hence the hour that holds no shame,
Hence the Soul assured the Essence and the Substance are the same.
Nay, the meanest need not miss it, though the mightier pass it by;
For it comes – it comes,” said Gilbert, “and, thou seest, it does not die!”

(( Poem is "Rahere" by Rudyard Kipling. Leandra, you can shut up and go back to Insula Canaria now. :smiley: ))

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Roberto is the man's name.

Rhymes in what language ?
:slight_smile:
Okay, if we are gonna quote other works, here's one for you...
[color=red]Know, O prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the years of the rise of the Sons of Aryas, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars - Nemedia, Ophir, Brythunia, Hyperborea, Zamora with its dark-haired women and towers of spider-haunted mystery, Zingara with its chivalry, Koth that bordered on the pastoral lands of Shem, Stygia with its shadow-guarded tombs, Hyrkania whose riders wore steel and silk and gold. But the proudest kingdom of the world was Aquilonia, reigning supreme in the dreaming west.
Hither came Conan the Cimmerian, black-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with gigantic melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet.

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(( I am really sorry, Marko. I misread his name. My apologies. ))

"...tread the jeweled thrones of the Earth under his sandalled feet..." Stultus repeats thoughtfully, and then says dubiously "To each his own, I suppose. Not an occupation that holds any appeal for me. It's essentially what, a highly up-scaled grape stomper?" He considers that. "I don't think wine made of jeweled thrones would taste very good." Stultus mimes holding an invisible wineglass -- looks at the sun through it, swirls the wine in it, takes a deep sniff, finally takes a taste, and pronounces judgment. "Mmmm. Pretentious, yet bitter. Rich and full-bodied, but with a sour aftertaste and a strong bouquet of kingly arse-crack." He wrinkles his nose in disgust. "Feh."

The dwarf paces back and forth for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought. "Bitter wine, bitter wine... now what does that remind me of? Ah, I know. Clytemnestra's line in 'Agamemnon'. I love that play. Do you know it, by chance? Some wonderfully dramatic moments in there. Cassandra railing against Apollo for bringing her there, and then launching into her insane rantings, for example."

"A house that hates the gods", he recites in a high cracked voice. "House full of death... kinsmen butchered, heads chopped off... Oh god, what's this she has in mind? What new agony inside the house is she preparing? How shall I describe how all this ends?"

His voice drops to a normal register and he winks at Roberto. "Completely mad, of course. Which the Chorus doesn't hesitate to point out. 'What good ever comes to men from prophecies? They talk of evil. All those skillful words encourage men to be afraid of what the prophet chants. Your mind's possessed. Some evil-minded spirit, swooping down, has fallen upon you, forcing you to sing. Poor girl, calm yourself. Tone down those words.'"

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(( Incidentally, even I am having trouble tracking all the implications that are flying back and forth. Any onlookers/eavesdroppers have got to be completely and utterly confused. :smiley: ))

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There was no connotation to my last quote. You quoted a poem, so I quoted a better one :mrgreen:

Robert E Howard is one of the greatest American authors (up there in the ranks with Robert Heinlein and Stan Lee). He was a master storyteller, and is pretty much the inventor of fantasy fiction as we know it today. I can reread Conan stories and his many other works again and again with undiminished enthusiasm and excitment.

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(( In that case, I read more into it than you intended, but I thought it was extremely apropos. Stultus' connection to "mirth" is obvious, and "melancholy" was implied in his prior post. So what Stultus thought Roberto implied with the last sentence of the quote was "mirth and melancholy aside, you might still be a thief/reaver/slayer, and I have doubts about your purpose here."

Robert E. Howard is terrific, you're right. I am very fond of Kipling -- more so than of Howard, if truth be told -- but I admit "Rahere" is not one of his better poems. :smiley: ))

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There was connotation to the Babieca story though. Basically, Roberto was using the tale of the stallion as an allegory for himself. Or maybe it was forshadowing, as mayhaps Roberto may seek a stallion as a familiar. Not a stomping clydsdale warhorse like the French and Germans use. A wild and rambunctious stallion of swift feet and steel nerve.

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(( And again, that's completely not what Stultus read into it. I find it fascinating that they're having two completely different conversations. We should perhaps post what each one THOUGHT the conversation was about once the scene is over. Should be good for a laugh if nothing else. ))

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bump
Or, if you think we've milked the scene for all it's worth, we can close it here. Just let me know.

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[color=red]I have one more story for you. It is about Ugly Pete the Pirate. Ugly Pete was the most horrid and nasty pirate to yet sail the Channel between England and Amsterdam. He was so ugly, he had to rape whores because they would not accept his money. In fact, they used to pay him to just go away (which was not always successful).
But there was one woman for whom his ugliness did not matter. The Sea Hag of Skull Rock Island. Ugly Pete struck a bargain with her, wealth and power on the high seas in exchange for a promise to marry her. Pete took the power and wealth, but jilted the hag at the altar.
So the Hag killed him.
A terrible storm struck the port town of Novus mane, capsizing his ship and breaking the keel, as well as destroying the rickety and rotted wooden dock. Yet most all of the pirates escaped and survived. All except one, Ugly Pete, who was drowned. Johan VanHalen, one of my entourage, he witnessed the whole thing. And the experience has marked him.
Still, that was not the end of Pirate Pete. His corpse haunted the sea and shore, perpetuating the hideous terror. In one spectacular showdown, the corpse was brought down low after Korvin Ex-Miscellanea stripped it of might and set the corpse ablaze.
But it is said that was still not the end of Ugly Pete the Pirate. For the curse of the Hag was Faerie Magic, as the Sea Hag was indeed a malicious faerie. The curse had upon it the Duration of Untill (Condition), with said condition being that Pete's undead misery can only be brought to an end when he finally fufills his end of the bargain and weds the hag. Rumor has it that the corpse recostituted and reanimated, and to this day, haunts the seas.

There is no special meaning or moral lesson to the story. It is just simply something that happened many years ago at my former covenant. But it is a story. Gleem from it what you will.

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((Might have been Havlard or possibly David))

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"All stories are worth listening to," agrees Stultus mildly, seeming somewhat distracted. (The line about Ugly Pete and the whores prompted a mental comment from Rahere about how that should elicit sympathy, and Stultus spent the next minute or two explaining to the familiar that Burgundy gets cold in the winter, and that he's going to need a fur hat and gloves, and the various uses to which uppity familiars can be put.)

"I am afraid I've only got one more story for you, and it's a partial one. I cannot for the life of me remember how it ends. So I shall not need a story in trade."

"It came to pass, long ago, that a certain Prince decided to host a grand convocation for his fellow rulers. He spared no expense. There were contests and tournaments, games and entertainments, buffoonish clowns and beautiful dancing girls. Everyone present enjoyed it immensely, and all agreed that the Prince was a truly magnanimous host. And yet... all was not at peace at the tourney. There was a fly in the ointment, as it were."
"A pernicious rumor started making the rounds. The tale is silent on the subject of who started it, but it swept the convocation like wildfire. The rumor was that the Prince was so lavish with his resources, and the convocation so grand an affair, that the Prince was deeply in debt. He had expended so much money that he was unable to pay his army, and his defenses were thin. He was weak to attack."
"I cannot remember whether the rumor turned out to be true, in the end, nor anything else about the tale. The only thing I do remember is that his neighbors, the Bandit Princes of the Green Mountains, listened very intently to the rumor, and took pains to find out more about it."

Stultus spreads his hands. "Like I said, that is all I remember." He sweeps his hat off with a flourish, setting the bells on it jingling, and inclines his head to Roberto. "It has been a fascinating conversation, sodalis. I look forward to speaking with you again."

(( Exit dwarf, stage left. End scene, unless Roberto has something to add. ))
(( By the way, I don't know if Roberto knows enough French to catch it. The conversation took place in Latin, but if you translate "Green Mountain" into French, you end up with "Montverte".))

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D'Oh!!

[color=red]I mean it was Havlard Ex-Miscellanea :smiley: