Neither Knowledge Gleaned nor Wisdom Gained?

Dear Mother,

I must apologize for the accumulating pigeon poop on your doorstep. I have only recently become aware of the impertinence of my continued correspondence and humbly beg your forgiveness. It pains me to pen this into the ears of an androgynous avian but such are the whims of magic; and so are the ways of the wizard. It is rather like the pompous pointy-hats to invent an incantation the likes of which puts parcel post out of business, derives postage from potential psychic energy, and delivers missives with pigeon poop. Excrement exceptions aside, I’ve been blessed by Thoth, Bennu, and Greminor with a fair number of these scrolls. My only wish is that the blasted creatures would tarry long enough to practice my animal husbandry. Alas, mother, you may rest-assured that the future terminus for tureens of terrapin-terrine turds will land squarely at someone else’s feet.

I have been remiss. Since I last wrote much has transpired in the life of Tyvernos and the adventure of CrIsis. Slowly but surely we are piecing Humpty Dumpty back together again. When last we spoke the city of Llorn was harboring the heroes of Palladium and we had opportunity to visit Karowyns and appraise our “wizard jars.” Their worth proved far less valuable than the corresponding warlock-jars. We went on our way and made our ways with Karowyn’s Notes that would soon be used to liberate Matilda from hock. During our grand tour the the Trog capitalized on the opportunity to lick and taste every building in the city. Imagine the stamina of a tongue capable of such endurance!

We visited Venner’s Place, an Alchemy Laboratory, where Cava was forcibly removed for mentioning our connection to Greminor. Doh! It’s a cut-throat business that Alchemy! On our way back to Nicole we notice a disturbance in the Force and Gina, it turned out, was mercilessly slaying the guards of Llorn to Terramore’s chagrin. Now that’s what I call a pet! While it was a terrible pity about the Llornian lost lives there was truly no love lost for the languishing vanquished. Mother, there and then, I decided that the primal tenets of Warlockry walk a fine line between entropy and anarchy. Any way the wind blows…

I resurrected two of their fallen and we begged to shove off but we were bade visit the Dick Duke Due-Good escorted by Thurgood. A cavalcade of twelve knights as CrIsisian chaperones! How charming! The regal reception: ‘Crisis! You are usurpers and challengers to all thrones! Cava especially, you are known to us.’ Our reputation precedes us. Nice to know that book-deal and autograph signing is doing the trick. On Horseback, with lance and shield, the youngest approached and glared, “You insulted me and insulted all leaders of eastern territory. I know not what magicks you gave my father, but I will not pray to any of them…” blah blah blah. I stopped listening somewhere in there and started to daydream of wild nights and wide thighs. I miss home. I truly miss Avramstown and Oric…and his tobacco. I wish we could get on with the business of saving the world; being a face in the limelight of popularity and a hero in the spotlight of Palladium’s paparazzi was more than I bargained for. I have never wanted fame and glory and the prestigious positions or posts. And now I never want for fame and glory and all the happy horseshit that Rod Rambler has so generously bestowed. I believe our bard, Terramore, has been contributing copiously to our prestige and two have turned CrIsis into teen heartthrobs and global icons. Monarchies don’t like it when their popularity is challenged. The Dick Duke was no different. Though we were of a mind that he had been ensorceled by some hidden demonic minion.

Somehow my brother in warlockry arms convinced the Duke not to press charges against CrIsis. That tongue is not only dexterous but impossibly persuasive! Methinks it’s nigh prehensile. Regardless, we escaped with our lives if not our taxables and coin. A trip down-river took us to Wisdom and eventually to the tower of “Weavers” in the Tri-Arcanum Magic Guild. Where Overkill showed the librarian Elanu’s likeness from the ring and we were invited up to the fourth floor for tea and crumpets.

We brainstormed while being waited upon by a human female naughty librarian. So fixated was I on the pendant that lay nestled gently in the cleavage of her…*ahem* I failed to notice the giant fucking symbol of Anubis around her neck. We decided to take our leave. Roggan ran up to the woman in an attempt to give her a critical hug but she shied away and sloughed our attempts to disarm the situation. Eventually an ancient looking white-hared elf came out and accused us of treachery. Nothing new there. Cava displayed righteous indignation at being accused of lying about our relationship with a Defiler…Elanu. I perceptively noticed that the female librarian was scribbling furiously into her log when the image appeared from Overkill’s ring. We were forced to use it’s ability to make a holographic image of him when we were put up against the wall. The elder elven librarian escorted us — taking the stairs 3 at a time — to a room with a roof and no walls. The most beautiful view of the city of Intelligence. He closed the door and told us NEVER to show that image in public again. He also informed us that the young woman scribe who we ran into in the library would now have to be killed. Add Involuntary Manslaughter to the growing list of CrIsis Crimes. Would that we could claim premeditation! Wink.

I came forward and introduced myself as Tyvernos, son of Oren and Shaniqua Oriflamme, and the man said that he is the student and disciple of Xar Xar. We had encountered Kel-ed, Master Wizard and head of the Tri-Arcanum Guild; incidentally I now know that the three branches and buildings are Wizardly pursuits, Warlockry pursuits, and Psionic pursuits.

Then! All of a sudden! We heard a clap of thunder and in a brilliant flash of light we were treated to the awesome visage of an Old One Worshiping Centaur replete with heathen horns, golden shower flail, bull-shit. Before CrIsis stood an imposing eleven foot tall, gray skinned minotaur who was wearing a leather sleeveless robe and wielding a 5ft tall bronze flail with Egyptian markings. He also wore a CrIsis ring. With such an entrance I correctly identified him as a fellow air warlock. And a centaur no less! Right here in the middle of the terrace. Elemental Expletives! I shouted, “HEATHEN! SURRENDER YOUR HORNS AND DEFEND YOURSELF AGAINST THE MIGHT OF CRISIS THE ALMIGHTY!” I then readied the Fulmination of Greminor and prepared to electrocute the living shit out of this bull in a China closet. He introduced himself as Xerx’ses, knelt, and told us with few words that he is ready to serve. I silently thanked Greminor’s tiny cattle-prod.

Then, as if out of nowhere, we were surrounded by a magical bubble that quickly began constricting. Kel-ed didn’t trust the minotaur and accused Xerx’ses of serving the Old Ones. Gasp! Is this what life is going to be like in the company of our newest member of CrIsis? Xerxes produces an ancient symbol / gem that is Dwarven in nature and the writing on his flail is in ancient dwarven — Overkill is WOWed! Both Roggan and I were stumped at the mysterious nature of the gems.

I perused the gem and appraised the stone fairly. “Clearly, it is a mystic heirloom dildo descended from the clan Runic Fucktard.” Roggan believed that it’s an ancient sex toy from the clan that invented the art of “Kama Sutra.” I don’t know of such a clan but the Sutra of Sumatra is my favorite Javinese coffee. I cleared my elemental throat and whispered to the trollop…er, Trog, “It’s a mystery to me, my friend. Maybe the mystic clown lady will udder some enlightenment. Roggan whispered to Tyvernos in Elemental appreciatively, “Roggan think that it right. Roggan ask Cow Lady.”

Kel-ed, after we vouch for the minotaur, accepted Xerx’ses in perfect Dwarven language. He then hugged Overkill — though not as critically as our earthen warlock’s attempt on the Anubisian Librarian. We stayed the night with an invisible minotaur and then returned the next day to meet with the Tri-Arcanum guild and gain admittance — and Kel-ed ridiculed the School of Warlockry. Hah! As a disciple of one of the Defilers you’d think this upstart would recognize the raw, unbridled power in the hands of Practitioners of Warlockry. Not one to let it lie, I took umbrage at his offenses and challenged him to an arcane duel on the singular condition that my providence be endorsed by Wesvon, the leader of the Warlock guild. Wesvon, either an asshole or an impostor, lured us back to the Warlock guild and abused us with the “mute” spell to prevent us from speaking. Between Roggan and I a wind-rush and petrification were in short order. I immediately sent a magic pigeon to Cava, “Roggan and I have been taken to an unknown location. We have encountered a heretic who we windrushed and turned to stone. We have uncovered a demonic presence that has infiltrated the Tri-Arcanum Guild and perhaps more in Wisdom. We must be reunited with the group and inform the Tri-Arcanum guild at once.”

The grateful sots generously offered any spell of our elemental vocation from level 1 through 6 as a reward for vanquishing the Dyval presence and making them aware that there was a foul presence here in the Tri-Arcanum. Personally, having already collected all pertinent and useful lower-level magical spells from my particular area of elemental expertise, I declined their offer of knowledge in favor of pecuniary reward that I might donate to my lady, the Phoenix. They also allowed us 72 hours of unfettered access in the library of the Wisdom Tri-Arcanum Magic Guild. I used the time wisely and found a rare level 3 Library of Bletherad spell…called Electric Arc! Useless. What a let-down! The last spell I need to complete my tome of elemental air warlockry is Keyhole Lightning. Mother, let father know I will not return without it!

When we stepped out into the streets the people shouted, “John Jacob Jingleheimer SCHITT it’s an Old One! Run!” Traveling with a Minotaur is going to be an exercise in patience. We got an amulet to invisify the minotaur and an invitation to go see the King Half-ton before we leave. Kel-ed appears out of breath to vouch for us so we can get into the palace. He’s lucky we never got a chance to take-up arms in a wizardly duel. I am not so confident that I do not fear the awesome powers at his command. However, I am positive that whoever was ready with initiative first would win the day. All things being equal, without external aid from items and magical foci, my globes of silence and wind-rush are cast-able with but a thought and will hinder another spell-caster as a severed achilles hinders a marathoner. As you well know there are no saving throws for half of my arsenal and when the Fulmination strikes twice in the same spot it will fell even the mighty! Alas, enough of my posturing and conjecture, we are only as good as our saving throws. *wink*

Roggan slunk off to create a new metal golem after we found out that Gina died in the defense of Terramore, Tyrone, and Nicole. The Trog makes us aware that he intends to inhabit this new metal body. To thy own self be true!

I used the brief surcease to donate $178,300 to the Church of Light. CrIsis is now stuck with two characters who are huge — one more huge than the other — and both with terrifying images that are sure to attract much negative attention and publicity. The excrement er…excitement never stops! I hope this finds you well and without a long-hemmed dress.

Love,

Tyvernos


Written by Tyvernos on the 3rd of Selestra, in the 69th Year of the Wolfen Empire.

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