Chapter 12 - Light of Burning Bronze

Play by Post Campaigns Ars Magica 5th Edition: Light of Andorra
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The orphanage was cavernous and dirty. It was odd to see such a richly dressed man standing there. The symbol of House Tremere was expertly weaved with gold filigree to be subtly found in the pattern of his robe for those that knew to look for it. He looked over a series of children that stood before him while presented by an elderly nun. The children's clothes were likely the best the orphanage had to offer and worn only on occasions such as these or Christmas Mass.

"Monsieur, these are our finest children." The kids stood up straight, trying to make themselves as presentable as they could to be adopted. Nevertheless, the man seemed unimpressed. The nun introduced him to each child in turn. The first, a boy named François, tried to earn favour by showing his skill at juggling. "Send him to the circus", the man scoffed. The second child was a girl, with pretty blue eyes and gold spun hair. He smirked: "She is a pretty one. You would do well to sell her to the brothel for she will make quite the sum there when she is older." He remarked, but quickly apologized to the nun who was covering her ears to pretend she had not heard the suggestion. And on it went for the better part of the hour; none of the children satisfying him.

As the nun went to show the man the door, he stopped and pointed in a corner where a scrawny boy sat with his head cradled into his knees in dirty clothes. His exposed limbs were not spared of bruises and his unkept hair covering the upper part of his face just below the brow. The elderly nun shook her head vigorously from side to side. "You don't want him. He is a nasty child! Always gets into fights with the older boys and his eyes! They are of the devil! He speaks of things he should not know. No, his parents were likely sinners and burning in hell for such a child." This somehow peeked the man's interest who approached the boy and looked down at him. "So, do you have a name?"

The boy raised his head only high enough to see the pant legs of the man. He spoke meekly. "Marcel, if it pleases monseigneur."

The Tremere frowned. "It does not. I am no lord, boy. And your name is common for orphans in Marseilles with no known parents."

The boy apologized. "I am s-sorry monsieur. It is the name mother superior gave me. I apologize for assuming you were a lord. I thought that the symbol on your clothing was meant to be heraldry although it is strange in shape and I have never seen it in the city."

Now the magi quirked an eyebrow. "What symbol is that?"

The nun, flustered, quickly interrupted. "There is no symbol you naughty boy. Stop saying things that don't exist! I should wash your mouth out with soap if it wasn't so expensive for the likes of you!"

The Tremere sneered out of sight of the nun but otherwise ignored her. "The symbol, boy?" he ordered in a voice that brook no insolence

Despite the beating that was likely to come after the stranger was gone, the boy felt an urge to raise his hand, albeit timidly, to indicate one of the symbols of House Tremere hidden in the tailoring. His face was now in view, but his gaze was downcast with a downtrodden expression on his face. Nevertheless, the Tremere now saw the "devil eyes" through the boy's strands of hair the nun had been going on about: green and sinister like a virulent poison.

The magi smiled, amused while the nun began scolding the boy. "I'll take him." He said as she was pulling out a wooden paddle. The old woman, stunned, dropped the paddle to the ground. "I beg your pardon monsieur?" she said not only for herself, but for the boy whose face was now finally clear from his knees. "You heard me mother superior. I'll adopt the child."

The woman did her best to hide her joy at being rid of the boy. Normally there would be questions before allowing a child to go to make certain it would be to a good home. There was little fuss in this case as they figuratively threw him into the man's arms.

By the time the Tremere left the orphanage with the boy in tow, it was nearly nightfall and raining. Despite the weather and the fact the child was sent away to a stranger with nothing but the clothes on his back, Marcel beamed as if he had long forgotten how to smile but just remembered. His eyes once downcast and defeated were full of hope, albeit it strangely terrifying at the same time. The Tremere waited until they had left the confines of the city before breaking his silence to invoke a ward against the rain for himself.

The spell cast, he looked to the boy and proclaimed. "You have a choice boy. You can remain in that city and likely live to see a beggar's death. For no orphanage is like to take you or will you come with me and be of some use? I warn you boy: friendship, comfort and encouragement... I do not need these things- nor should you expect them from me."

The look of joy the boy's features was dashed. He looked down to the ground silent. Having no immediate reply, the magus turned to walk away but stopped as he felt a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see the boy looking up with closed eyes and a smile wider than one might think possible while the rain poured over his face. Without reservation the boy answered: "I understand monsieur. I am yours. I am only an instrument of your will. Think of me as a tool to be kept at your side and used as you see fit."

The Tremere was taken aback by the reply before smiling in satisfaction. "Obedience. Yes, you will do nicely, boy."

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Finally, the vision ended. The rock in front of Octavian was now moist. His face remained stoic as always, but he could not control the tears that escaped from his eyes. He looked up at Metron's form once more. No longer maintained the effort of keeping the full strength of his eyes in check, he removed his backpack and stepped out into the open ground.

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Seeing the Tremere reveal himself was a shock at first. Metron quickly scanned the area to verify if this was another trick. He cast a pillum of flame but was countered impossibly fast by Octavian's fast casting. He knew now this was the authentic one. "So you have finally decided to fight me then?"

The Tremere gave him a stare that could wither plants. "Descend." he replied.

Despite no reason to give up the advantage, Metron could not help but be compelled by the request. Slowly he lowered himself to ground level. He could feel the Tremere's eyes in the back of his head, as if peering into his very mind and soul and finding him lacking. He tried desperately to cast a spell but he couldn't. Nothing could deter him from his descent. He tried looking away but no, their gazes were locked.

"Step forward." came next. Now Metron was able to measure up some resistance and only slowly moved forward, his will fighting the tremere's. Just as he thought himself finished, the woman ran out of cover...

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Marjolaine ran out towards Octavian, the blood now mixed with tears at the ordeal. "Thank you master!" she said in relief. She went to hug him. But after a few moments, she stepped back, a dagger protruding from her wind pipe. "H-how...?" she gurgled.

"That magnitude of imaginém doesn't work on me." said Octavian as he advanced on the woman while Metron regained control of his body..

Marjolaine sneered and returned to her true form; that of Releganta. She fell to the ground and pulled the dagger out of her throat before receiving a boot to the face knocking her unconscious and dying both from blood loss and asphyxiation.

Metron had stumbled back and kept his eyes on the Tremere's feet to avoid locking gazes. "I knew she would prove useful."

Little time did Metron have after uttering those words that Octavian was upon him with fisticuffs. He was not fooled by the wizard's sidestep. Metron only managed to escape mêlée when Octavian's sleeve caught flame with a missed punch by a wayward flicker of flame. Octavian quickly slipped out of the coat but it gave Metron a long enough time to try to break his opponent's parma with a Lancea Magica. However, the spell was resisted harmlessly. "I HATE YOU!" yelled Metron at wits end. You think yourself so superior with those accursed eyes. As if you were looking down on all of us. Judging all of us! I knew it the first time I saw you at Jaferiya that I had, no NEEDED to kill you!"

By now both men were sweating from the ambient heat. The fires had turned into an inferno. While his body showed outward signs of fatigue, Octavian did not feel them from the casting tablet. He pressed on without reservation through the tears that never stopped flowing from his eyes. Finally, he managed to pin down Metron to the ground, his hands wrapped tightly around the ex-flambeau''s wrists. Metron tried to cast a spell but was interrupted with a headbutt. Octavian pulled his head back once more, his hair falling loosely as his ponytail had come undone. Metron looked up and was unsure if the blood on Octavian's forehead was his, Octavian's or both. He pleaded: "You can't hold me... we'll both die if we don't get out..."

"Yes, we will." said Octavian, strengthening his grip.

Metron cursed. "YOU WILL NOT KEEP ME FROM ACCOMPLISHING MY DREAMS! MY DESTINY WILL NOT BE STOPPED HERE BY YOU!" It was then that Metron noticed Octavian's tears. The man was crying, he couldn't help but laugh. "Are you scared now that you know you'll die? It isn't too late, let go of me and save yourself." If he could just get the Tremere to let go he could escape thought Metron.

Octavian answered back through gritted teeth: "Can you understand? Not having a dream ... not being needed by anyone ... the pain of merely being alive in this cruel and miserable world..."

Metron was incredulous. "What nonsense are you spouting!?! You're just a tool of the Quaesitores and your House!"

"A tool without purpose is the cruelest fate of all. If a tool can find purpose in killing you at its own expense then perhaps it wasn't so terrible after all?" He mused. His face was serene but unguarded like it normally was. He was at peace with the prospect of dying.

It was then that Metron knew fear. The Tremere must have gone mad! he thought. He frantically looked around for anything that could help him. He struggled to find his sword hanging at his belt but could not quite overpower his assailant. Without any recourse, he yelped out the name of the most powerful spirit he knew to call upon, which appeared in a puff of sulfuric smoke.

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The shadowy spirit looked down on the pair of tangled up magi with a malicious smile. "You summoned me for help Metron? I thought you said you Flambeau were too powerful to succumb to us."

"Please! I'll do anything if you help me! I’ll agree to your bargain!" cried out Metron before Octavian's hands wrapped themselves around Metron's throat in an attempt to choke him to death before uttering another word. It was that opportunity that allowed Metron to grasp the handle of his short sword and stab Octavian in the side.

Metron was able to pull himself free from the staggered Tremere and sat up gasping for air. Once recovered, he began casting a ward against the heat and flames while Octavian tried to banish the newly arrived enemy.

The spell was too weak to overcome its might. The being took exception to the attack and entered the fray. One hard blow was enough to send the Tremere flying into the burning tree. Octavian tried standing up but his legs were of no use and would not respond.

Metron shrugged and turned to the shadow in a sarcastically disappointed tone. "Well it looks like I won't be needing your help then. Thanks for the distraction. HAHA!" his form melded into the shadows and disappeared. The shadowy spirit howled in fury at Metron’s duplicity, and instead turned its attention at the likely paralyzed in front of him with sadistic glee. It spoke in a cacophony that tore at the mind. "What is the value of your life little man?"

Broken and defeated, the only recourse he had was to end the spell of the casting tablet keeping him conscious. The shadow sneered and scooped up Octavian's prone body and only paused to check on Releganta. The woman was dead from the stab wound to her throat. No matter.

Metron’s latest double-cross was the last straw, enough of these games. Time to end the charade, shatter Metron’s delusions, and force his final destiny upon him. This fallen magus, Metron’s enemy, he shall prove a useful tool in this.

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OOC: Oh my! The incense is almost exactly like something I devised for 4th Ed.--only it had a Perdo component and was intended to dispel the Infernal. Mass produced as "potions" (Charged items, now) they could be used to protect large communities from the Infernal by making the effect persistent (again, we're talking about 4th Ed., when Permanent was an accepted Duration). That was also incense, based on the same ceremonial inspiration.

It also sounds like something a Sahira Alchemist, Layla of Alexandria, I came up with would have devised. Her family made its fortune in perfumes and incense.

ahem

How strong is the incense? I.e. how high a Might does it shield against?

Vares will definitely want the jar. It's what the group has been searching for. The catch is that if they can trap Khyrom, it won't be resuable by anyone else without releasing him. Unless it Binds the spirit to the jar and forces it to serve whoever holds it (like certain other legends)? Vares will inquire if this is the case, or if the spirit simply remains trapped until it is opened. If so, then there is the question of what Andreas Greco will expect, since he won't be able to reuse it. Vares isn't declining the offer--far from it--only trying to work out a suitable bargain. He is willing to perform a season of service if the container is a trap and won't be reused, or will not be reused until the Andorra Covenant finds another way to dispose of the Efreet should he be trapped inside (i.e. it will revert to Andreas Greco's possession, but when the Andorra Covenant has a method of disposing of the Efreet permanently he will let them have it do to so, then it will be returned to him empty). If the one trapped inside serves the holder, then the deal becomes something very different since the Andorra Covenant will effectively be providing Verdi (Andreas Greco, anyway) with a very potent servant!

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The warding chimes are good for up to Might 50, and since it fals in the Real/Form specific HR, no Penetration is needed.
The Jar has no known upper limit as to what can be contained. Controlling the spirit is a secret of Soloman's Holy Magic, so it is unknown if it will work on a spirit that was not the original inhabitant. But that is not anything to worry about. Trap it and hand the bottle off to Archamgus Antonio to deal with it (and the Verditius magus).

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OOC: How many doses/uses/Charges of Incense and how long does it last? The beauty of Hermetic standardisation is that the information should be related readily.

I'm trying to work out how much they cost in terms of Vis. That will affect Vares' haggling.

The Jar of Solomon is acceptable, provided it includes instructions on use and the other terms are agreed upon.

Concerning Vares' promise of payment, the following boundaries must be part of his season of work.

  1. It will not require him to go against any prior oath or obligation, nor offend his sense of justice nor his moral compass.

Explicitly, this means that he will not do anything that might undermine his Covenant or his existing relationships, nor will he act as a weapon in a Wizard's War nor accept an assignment to kill someone, mortal or otherwise. Flambeau are viwed as mercenaries who live to fight. Vares does not. He would accept an assignment to defend someone to the best of his ability, and to "deal" with a potential threat, provided he was allowed to use his own discretion. He MAY have to slay an adversary if they refuse to back down in a battle that arises because of his service, but he must be able to choose or seek an alternative.

  1. The service shall be rendered within three to five years time. Any extension of the wait beyond that must be agreed upon by both parties. If the Verditius Magus wants a narrower time of repayment, that is fine. The main point of this is to prevent it from hanging over Vares indefinitely.

  2. It will not take the form of any votes on his part unless there is a mutual agreement of such. He's not presently a part of a Tribunal, and anything to that effect would be untenable.

  3. If it is a mission that requires significant preparation, support will be duly given. He may need time to prepare in advance of fulfilling the service if, for example, it is a lengthy journey or assisting in a quest.

If the Verditius has a specific form of service in mind such as lab work, then most of the above isn't terribly relevant. Vares will ask if there is a given task in mind ahead of time.

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The inscence isn't a charged item. That is just a cosmetic effect. It is a lesser enchanted device.
The service season would be either lab work or alchemy initiation for his apprentice.

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Vares agrees to the terms of service in exchange for the use of the Jar of Solomon. Inwardly, he is relieved--and perhaps even pleased at the prospect of bringing yet another into the Alchemical Mysteries.

To make certain that there is no misunderstanding, he reminds the Verditius Magus that he will be entering the Magic Realm. He will do everything possible to return the Jar as promised, but time does not always run the same way there; what is a Season there may not prove to be that in the material world. He will provide instructions for the others from Andorra to return the Jar should something happen to him on the expedition.

He haggles a bit over the price of the 'incense'. "Creo is a rare Technique of Vis and in great demand. With it, you can achieve many more effects and produce useful things. 4 pawns of it are easily worth 6 of another Technique. I have 4 with me that are worth 12 of some mere Vim Vis at least! I can pay the rest within a year of my return, in a Form of your choosing."

OOC: Might have been able to get a better deal than that, but the terms for the Jar are more than satisfactory.

I need to know how many activations per day the 'incense' has and the Target size. Is it a Room, a Circle, or what?

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Target is "Group" for the insence.
Four Creo is worth 8 vim using the normal ratios. So 4 Creo and 8 Mentem will suffice as proper payment.

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OOC: I still need to know how many times a day the 'incense' can be called and the nominal duration. In the Magic Realm it will persist for a full Season.

Vares was arguing that Creo Vis is worth more than other Techniques because it is so rare and highly prized. He has the extra Mentem Vis on him, yes, but he was hoping to save that for use on the expedition if necessary. He would prefer to send off the rest of the payment later.

If haggling isn't an option then he'd owe them 8 pawns of Form vis or 4 of Technique. He promised any Form that the Verditius requested as an incentive to accept the delayed remainder of the payment. The Verditius wouldn't have to run through any exchange to get whatever he wanted: Vares would provide it. That would save any 'currency exchange' fee from the Mercere.

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Duration is "Item Maintains Concentration", and it has unlimited daily use.
No haggeling over the relative value of vis. Creo is useful, but so is Vim and all of the other Arts. But he will allow you to owe him a portion of the payment, but the interest rate is steep. 50% compounded per season.
If you need vis for the mission, Rodrigo brought some reserves with him and will give you a rooks worth when we launch, or if need be, Andorra will pick up the cost for the item if it then belongs to the covenant. That just takes a written letter from you, the Redcaps will take care of the rest.

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OOC: Given its history in dealing with the Efreeti, it would probably be best for Andorra to pick up the cost of the item, therefore owning it. Vares doesn't really need it for his personal collection at the present time--though that may change.

Creo IS the most useful Technique Vis. It's the only one that allows one to create lasting wealth and to heal. The Limit of Creation is what makes it so important. But that's an argument for another time, since Andorra will be buying the item.