(Read the previous chapter here.)
System: Tunnels & Trolls (affiliate link)
Author’s Note: I just wanted to give everyone a head’s up that his chapter is primarily narrative. As far as the story goes, it provides a lot of information. However, there is very little in the way of game mechanics.
[Scene 1]
“Alas, the Treasure of the Gods! As empty as their faith!”
Sylralei the Elf gazed inside the sarcophagus, bare except for the dry, dusty bones of Mindrek, the Priest of Zeriel. The rest of the party stood around the structure: Dalen, the dwarven historian; Kristopher, the ex-outlaw; Nen, the young halfling wizard; Jonik, the elf mercenary; and Fiddlestix, the fun-loving leprechaun. Each face drooped of disappointment.
“What a fool I’ve been,” Syl continued, “To let you talk me into following the fanciful musings of worthless religion.”
“The priests had no way of knowing the grave was robbed,” Nen stated. “That doesn’t mean their religion is worthless.”
“Doesn’t it?” Syl struck back. “An All-Powerful God, and he can’t even protect his own offerings. Does that sound Omnipotent to you? How many more simpletons are going to be led astray by the mythological promises of useless gods?”
“I’m not so sure that they’re useless,” Jonik countered. “I’ve seen things and heard tales that, at the very least, leaves me open to the possibility they exist.”
“Even if they do, for what reason should they be worshiped?” Syl asked. “Wars. Divisions. Superiority. Aren’t they the real fruits of religion? Where was Moro, the Great God of Knowledge, when I left Cyenannore? His blessing or protection? I had to fend for myself on the road. I was often shunned when I looked for food and shelter. Unless, of course, he was a fat, stinky, imbecilic tavern owner. They were very accommodating, as long as I was willing to exchange my body for a bed. What a surprise for them when I blasted them across the room. Take That you Fiend!
“If I needed anything, I had to earn it. I gained respect on my own terms, not due to the reliance on any god. When I got to Baybrook, Garlen took me in, not the church. And trust me, Garlen is no god. But he does have a good heart and I found a home helping him and Shemar, his son, as they look after others. We did good and Shemar and I had a future. But where were the gods, even in that. Ilmis, the goddess of Life, where was she? Isn’t she supposed to have protected our love? No! She let it be torn apart when Shemar’s life was taken from him.”
Kristopher remembered Syl telling him about that fateful night in the warehouse {https://tevsnextidea.blogspot.com/2020/04/chapter-12-shemar.html} when Shemar saved her by sacrificing his own life. “Syl, I know that must have been painful, but if Kelseen were here, I’m sure she would say that Ilmis saved your life through Shemar’s love and protection for you.”
Sylralei’s lips twisted in venomous hate as she scolded Kris. “Of course you would side with Kelseen. Did she also tell you that Ilmis has a plan for you and me? Well, don’t flatter yourself. You were a slave on a ship that needed rescuing. That’s all you are to me.”
The wizardess turned away from the group. “As soon I’ve regained my strength we are getting out of here. I’ve wasted enough time. We still have a long way to Cyenannore.”
“Pay no mind to her ranting,” Dalen assured Kris as they watched Syl’s retreat to the furthest corner of the room. “She always gets that way whenever she talks religion with Kel.”
Kristopher offered no response, but turned to find his own place to rest.
[Scene 2]
“Are you hurt?”
In response to Fiddlestix’s inquiry, Nen quickly pulled his arm out of her reach and turned away as much as possible.
“No! I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Fiddle asked, taking a seat on the ground next to him. “Those were some mean imps!”
“They didn’t touch me,” the halfling assured her. “I don’t need . . . “
“Poor baby,” Fiddle quickly said, casting the spell of the same name, just in case Nen was unnecessarily toughing it out. Despite being truly being unharmed, Nen felt the slight jolt of healing power run through him.
“Hey! I told you I was fine! Now . . . just leave.”
“Hmm. What is your problem, little one?” Fiddle made no attempt to cover the mirth in her question.
Nen scowled at the leprechaun. “Don’t call me that!”
“What? ‘Little one’? If you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty little myself.” Fiddle spread her arms, presenting herself for inspection. “I think I’m allowed to make that observation.”
They sat in silence. Once Fiddle realized Nen was not going to answer her question, she tried again.
“You don’t like me, do you?”
Nen rolled his eyes. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“I don’t know,” Fiddle answered sincerely, ignoring his sarcasm. “I don’t believe I’ve done anything to hurt you. In fact, I pretty much did all I could in that fight to protect you and your friends.”
Nen took a moment before offering an explanation. “Everyone knows leprechauns are mischievous and carefree. They’re too curious. They’re always looking for fun. And often that involves being annoying, troublesome, demeaning, and pesky.”
“You’re being redundant.”
“Huh?”
“Pesky and annoying are the same thing.”
“See what I mean! Everything’s a joke to you.”
“I, as well as most leprechauns I know, can be serious when we need to. But even if when we’re not, you seem to be more adverse to me than most. Can you tell me why?”
Nen flinched as she placed her small, comforting hand on his upper leg. However, whether he was tired or just knew it was no use to protest, he let it stay. With a sigh, he quietly gave in to Fiddle’s request.
“You grew up in L’Preia, didn’t you.” the halfling asked.
“Of course!” Fiddle replied, as if there could be no other answer.
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t, silly!” Fiddled giggled. “You’re not a leprechaun.”
“No. I mean, I didn’t grow up with my kind. Sure, plenty of halflings live in Baybrook, but there are a lot less of us than humans. As a result, I didn’t have the greatest childhood. The other kids teased me because of my size. When we split up for games, the other halflings and I were often chosen reluctantly or overlooked all together. While that wasn’t great, I learned to live with it.
“What I couldn’t live with, however, were the pranks. The bigger kids would steal my pouch and toss it around while I tried to get it back. When I did, I would often find stuff missing that they somehow removed while I was distracted. They’d play ‘Half in a Sack,’ which was exactly what it sounded like. They would throw a sack over me, tie the top, and leave me to free myself.”
“That sounds awful,” Fiddle admitted.
“It was too much. Most of my halfling friends simply kept to themselves, trying to avoid any confrontation. But I knew that wasn’t enough. I had to do more.”
“So that’s why you learned magic,” Fiddle stated more than asked.
“Yep. I had to learn how to defend myself and quite possibly give some of it back to them. I was done being teased or made to look ridiculous.”
“And I threaten your feelings of security. The fact that I easily find joy and humor makes you feel like I’m laughing at you.”
“Until just now when you asked, I always thought you were just annoying.” Fiddle made a face at this. “But then I thought about it. When you, or other leprechauns, are being playful, it reminds me of being teased for the fun of others while they laughed. I just want to get away and disappear.”
A conspiratorial grin crossed Fiddlestix’s face. She leaned in close and Nen tensed as the leprechaun put her lips to his ear and whispered. The halfling relaxed as Fiddle jumped up and skipped across the room to join her partner Jonik, who sat against the now resealed sarcophagus.
Slowly, almost curiously, Nen raised his hand up in front of his face. Carefully, he went over the instructions that were just spoken in his ear and focused his thoughts and words. He stared intently at his hand as he quietly spoke the words, Hidey Hole, hoping to see some change. However, after a long, wishful minute, Nen lowered his hand with a dejected sigh before laying down to try and take a nap.
<Fiddle taught Nen how to cast the spell Hidey Hole, which is an invisibility spell. However, Nen isn’t just able to use the spell. He must practice until he masters it. To accomplish this, I generated the following homegrown rules:
Unless there is a reason the time to learn a spell would be accelerated or prolonged, the following formula will be used to simulate the practice and improvement used to learn a spell. The learner must make an INT SR at a level based on the following formula: Character Level + 1 + (Spell level minus Character level) (i.e. A 2nd level wizard wants to learn a 4th level spell. He must make an L5 SR [Char level 2 +1 + (Level 4 spell minus Lvl 2 Character, or 2]) The spell learner gets one attempt a day. If they fail after 5 attempts, the SR Level drops by one. After another 5 attempts, it drops again by 1 until they reach a L1 SR. At that point, it stays at level 1 until they learn the spell. If someone who knows the spell is actively helping the student while they are physically practicing, they get to use 2 attempts in one day. (Reduction in SR Level is based on the number of attempts, not the number of days.)
Nen’s first attempt: Lvl 1 + 1 + (Spell lvl 2 - Chr Lvl 1) = L3 INT SR (30) Roll: 5+2+14 INT = 21 fail.>
[Scene 3]
“Don’t take it too personally,” Dalen assured Kristopher as he sat against a wall and stared across the room at Slyralei. “She gets that way when the subject of the gods is brought up.”
“Does she really despise them that much? I always thought she was just teasing Kel.”
“I think it’s the idea of control that she objects to. Moro is highly worshiped in her home Cyenannanore, but for Syl that meant her duty was to stay, learn, and eventually teach. That’s not what she wanted, and leaving meant incurring the disappointment, possibly rejection, of everyone she knew.”
The human and dwarf sat quietly a bit longer until Syl extinguished her lantern. Jonik, Fiddle, and Nen soon followed. Eventually, Kris and Dalen were the only two awake.
“You, out of any of us, probably know the most about the gods,” Kris said.
“I have gathered a lot of stories and legends.”
“Where did the gods come from?”
Dalen took a moment to answer. “That’s an ambitious question, but I guess we have some time. I’ll tell you what I’ve learned . . . “
[Scene 4]
“Moro, Ilmis, and Zeriel, otherwise known as the modern gods, have only been followed for a short time. Short that is, in light of all history. A few thousand years. But before them, the histories say that there was a single God. His name was Megapha.
“Megapha, of his own desire, created the universe. Historians vary on their reasons why or how he did this, but what all the legends agreed upon was that everything we know and all that we do not was created by Megapha.
“The first civilization the God created was Achana. No one is sure if there was a single race or many, but whoever the first beings were, they flourished under Megapha’s protection. The God provided everything they needed: food, shelter, companionship, guidance. They wanted for nothing, and all was good. The only warning was that they remain in Achana under Megapha’s care. If they ever left, they would come to destruction.”
“Did that mean they were prisoners?” Kristopher broke in.
“Hardly. They often explored the world beyond Achana’s boundaries, and over time, those boundaries grew. Basically, the world they knew was getting bigger, but at a pace that kept up with the natural growth of the community as families had children. Magapha’s concern was that individuals would try to rush exploration and start living away from Achana on their own, where they had no guarantees of sustenance or support from the others. Hence, his warning.
“Achana had years of peace and prosperity, but it wasn’t to last. One day, an expedition, to their surprise, came upon another settlement. The histories dispute who actually lived in this settlement. Some say it was one of the known races, but not many people believe that. We have enough suspicion between the races as is to start branding one as “god-haters”. No, the most common explanation about these inhabitants was that they were demons, or at least what would eventually become demons. For ease, that’s how I will refer to them.”
“Back then, the demons weren’t the hideous, scaly creatures we know today. They looked very much like the Achanans and welcomed them into their village, which they had called Sorgon. The Achanans saw a thriving community, much like their own. They were treated like honored guests with a feast. They were told stories of what the world beyond Achana had to offer, shown gems and metals that glowed with a beauty they had never seen, and introduced to various customs and activities that were strange to them, yet interesting and pleasurable. I’m sure you can image.
“The Achanans were intrigued but agreed to seek out Megapha’s advice. The Sorgonians, however, assured them that wasn’t necessary. In fact, that was one of the great things about Sorgon: they didn’t have to follow someone else's set rules. They could determine what was best for the group, and, more importantly, themselves. They even suggested that Megapha’s “advice” was really his way of controlling the Archanans, to make sure they remained his servants. There was so much more to see and do than what they had in Achana. Why would they limit themselves?
“In the end, the Achanans believed the demons and decided to stay. When they did not return, other expeditions from Achana set out to find them. Eventually, they did and implored their lost brothers to return. Instead of listening to them, however, the old Achanans repeated what they had believed, that all Megapha told them was a lie. They tried to explain what’s been hidden from them and share what they found in Sargon. After much debate, most of the new expedition decided to return to Achana. A few, however, decided to stay.
“Over the next year, several more groups traveled to Sargon, hoping to bring home the wayward Achanans. The result, however, was often the similar. A portion returned while others stayed. Eventually, Megapha forbid any more contact with Sargon. Even so, the people couldn’t forget what they saw and heard, and the stories spread. More and more Achanans left on their own, curious about what life outside their land was like. Those that stayed not only began to question God more, but tended to distrust what he said. The rift grew greater and greater until, eventually, the people became convinced they no longer required Magapha’s care or guidance. They could decide on their own what was best. Though it saddened him greatly, Megapha made the decision to give his people what they wanted. He left them on their own.”
“Sounds like a some of the spoiled children I knew growing up in Crowkeep,” Kris interrupted. He began to mimic a young boy. “‘If you really loved me, then you’d let me do whatever!’”
“How did that usually work out for them?”
“Not very well,” Kris admitted.
“Neither did it for Achana or the Sargons. Over time, the demons disappeared and the people were truly left on their own. With their new freedom, they reached out beyond the lands they had known for new and exciting places to explore and settle. Food and shelter wasn’t always easy to find, and they came upon creatures and environments they had never seen. Weather was harsh. They were unprepared for the sickness and disease they encountered. As you would expect, with no ultimate source of guidance, everyone thought they knew the best way of doing things. Those individuals or groups who were either more persuasive or just stronger gained control and built their own followings. Sure, some groups thrived and great cities and civilizations were built. But overall, the people were divided. Social classes were created. Wars broke out. People either took what they could or were oppressed by those who didn’t care. What Megapha intended to be a paradise turned out to be . . . well . . . to put it bluntly, the mess the world is today.
“However, despite the world’s rejection of Megapha, Megapha did not reject them. In his love, he continued to keep watch over his creation from afar. From the basics of preserving life to the more complex tempering of evil and blessing good, the God had his hand is all aspects of his creation. In fact, pockets of Mepahanites could still be found trying to keep his name and precepts alive. But without the direct communion with the God himself, their efforts were fair at best. So, Megapha decided it was time to return to the world, in a manner of speaking.
“God began taking on human form and visiting his creation. He would go from one village or city to another, spending time there to live among the people and interact with them. While doing so, he would help solve problems, demonstrate how to relate to other people, and instruct them on ways to improve their lives. Sometimes it was as simple as bringing a couple together. Other times it was more ambitious, like helping found a library or university. In times of war, he was instrumental in leading troops to victory. In times of peace, he helped artists bring beauty to their town. Wherever he went, the lives of the people were changed for the better.”
“So why do we no longer hear about Megapha?” Kris asked. “Where did Moro, Ilmis, and Zeriel come from.?”
“To answer that,” Dalen explained,” I will have to tell you about Urz.
“There was a time when most of the world was controlled by a great empire. Urz was its capital and, as a result, a very influential city. Urz housed several schools, universities, and museums. They manufactured all sorts of textiles, furniture, and tools. Great works of written and visual art were produced there. The land’s trade and laws were managed by the various councils and guilds housed in Urz. And over it all, of course, was the Emperor.
“That would have been all good and well if the Emperor was a fair man. But unfortunately, he wasn’t. If something didn’t honor or benefit him, it was likely that he would put an end to it. Schools were forbidden to teach lessons he didn’t approve of. Art was destroyed if it wasn’t pleasing to him. Nothing could be written that was critical of his rule or beliefs. But even when the Emperor gave his blessing, the citizens still had to pay excessive, even oppressive, taxes and duties. It’s hard to fully explain Urz’s corruption, but basically everyone and everything was considered to belong to the Emperor. He had free rein to do as he please, and he exercised that rein greatly.
“Megapha felt he needed to visit Urz, so he took on the guise of a simple laborer named Panaan. He began slowly by lending a hand to anyone who needed it. But over the next three years he influenced the city more and more, all the while teaching them about Megapha’s love.
“Panaan introduced books and texts to the libraries and schools that offered them visions of history and the world that was unfamiliar to them. He encouraged artists to become more imaginative in their work. He taught the merchants the benefits of looking at their customers as someone to help instead of just getting their money. Most importantly, however, Panaan’s example led others to be ready and eager to help their fellow Urzians. If a family was hungry, they were brought food. If someone was sick, the healers would offer their services, even when a patient couldn’t pay. When the Emperor’s taxes forced someone out on the streets, another soul was willing to take them in. Eventually, a small Church of Megapha was begun where the people could meet and worship.
“Of course, Panaan’s influence didn’t escape the Emperor’s notice. He was constantly fighting to have these new ideas squelched and banned. He increased fines to punish anyone found with anything that was unofficial or unapproved. However, these efforts were constantly thwarted when by the people’s generosity and caring. The Emperor felt his rule threatened, especially by the growing interest in Megapha. In one great push to kill it once and for all, he had the head priest of Megapha arrested and thrown in the dungeon.
“The people were outraged and decided to strike back at the Emperor. Panaan implored them to remain peaceful and trust in Megapha, but they ignored him. A mob stormed the palace and broke through the guard. Their intent was to take captive the Emperor’s daughter and hold her until the priest was released. Not the greatest plan, I admit, but the people were mad with vengeance. They accomplished their goal, but, unfortunately, in the midst of the attack the Emperor’s wife was killed. In retaliation, the Emperor had any guild master that supported or was suspected to support the teaching of the church arrested and sentenced to be put to death before the end of the next day
“One of the young men living in the town was Wahlter, the son of the Builder’s guild master. While Wahlter didn’t outright oppose Panaan’s teachings, he was certainly wary, concerned about what harm it might bring them. These current events confirmed this, and he began to think of a way to save his father from the executioner’s axe. Gathering a group of allies, he requested a meeting with the Emperor and explained to him how the recent rising interest in Megapha was due to Panaan. Furthermore, Wahlter lied and claimed it was Panaan’s plan to kidnap the Emperor’s daughter. The outsider led the revolt, and even killed the Emperor’s wife to keep her from identifying him. Finally, Wahlter knew where the traitor could be found, and he could lead the guards to him
“When they got to Panaan’s home, they found him waiting outside with the Emperor’s daughter, whom he kept her safe from the mob. He immediately released her to the guard before they led him away in chains, Panaan never protested as he was marched to the town square where he was interrogated by the Emperor.”
Slipping slightly into character, Dalen reenacted the meeting, changing voices between the Emperor and Panaan.
“‘Is is true that you have been encouraging the citizens of Urz to the teaching and cultures of the world, even if such knowledge was not approved by our councils?’ ‘Yes, I have.’ ‘Have you been teaching the citizens about the ways of the God Megahpa?’ ‘Yes, I have.’ ‘So you have to admit that the recent attack and kidnapping was a result of these teachings.’ ‘Sadly, yes.’ ‘And it was you who murdered my wife.’ ‘Such is your judgement.’ ‘Then I order you executed, here in front of all!’
“Panaan made one last request of the Emperor. If the Emperor has declared him truly guilty of leading everyone astray, then the other prisoners should be found innocent and released. The Emperor was reluctant to let the rest go free and unpunished, but he was shrewd and knew he could regain favor, or at least some momentary respect, from the crowd by turning the decision over to them. He agreed to release the priests and guild leaders, providing that there were no objections to executing Panaan for all crimes against Urz.
“No one spoke up.”
Kristopher was dumbfounded. “No one defended Panaan? They let him die?”
“Correct. But before he laid his head on the executioner’s block, Panaan addressed the crowd one last time. ‘Magapha has given his life for you, but your own understanding lacks what he desires. To truly know him, you must understand three-fold.’
“Then he willingly knelt, laid his head down, and was beheaded.”
“Megapha was silent for around four hundred years,” Dalen continued. “He didn’t visit or speak to his creation. They were left on their own with only the memories of and writings about their creator. Sure, other religions popped up here and there, but they were usually localized or relevant to a particular race: Angar of the Urooks, Yllanna of the Elves, Hermestus of the Dwarves. Whether they were true gods or just ancient heroes, legend, wishful thinking, or even early manifestations of Megapha himself was unclear. But as for a universal all-knowing, all-powerful God, the world was empty.
“Then suddenly, worship of the three modern gods arose: Moro of the Arch, the God of Knowledge; Ilmis, Lady of the Light, the Goddess of Life and Love; and Zeriel the Free, God of Creativity. They represented three very distinct realms of interest and drew different followers. Professors, archanists, historians worshiped Moro. Healers, altruists, and romanticists followed Ilmis. And the artists and inventors followed Zeriel.
“As is typical, each god’s worshipers viewed the betterment of their craft as their way of pleasing their god. Conversely, the more their god was pleased, the most each person would receive blessings that not only helped them in their craft -- gain intelligence, paint more beautifully, introduce more compatible people -- but also improved their own lives in the way of finances, comfort, and fame. In a way, all people benefitted from what the gods offered. There were schools for learning, museums for viewing, hospitals for healing. But ultimately, what was important was to please the gods.
“In fact, each church felt their god was supreme. The other gods were only useful as much as their abilities helped their own god. For instance, a Zeriel worshipper might rely on cultural wisdom, something typically associated as coming from Moro, to paint more beautiful, accurate landscapes of places they had never visited. While Moro helped, the intended result was to create something that would honor Zeriel and display his power. It could be compared to a Master-Servant relationship. As you can assume, this often led to suspicion, oppression, judgmentalism, and even hatred.
“Despite this, however, there were people who viewed the modern gods with a different perspective. What if, instead of being their own individual deities with their own individual purposes, they were meant to compliment each other. Instead of looking for gifts and offerings from their followers, what if the three gods were the ones giving gifts that were to be used together to help people thrive and flourish. For instance, Moro’s knowledge could be combined with Zeriel,s creativity to create better tools that, in turn, would be used to build and repair homes for the poor, fulfilling Ilmis’ call to help the needy.
“Do you remember Megapha’s final words before being executed as Panaan? ‘To truly know him, you must understand three-fold.’ To the people of that time, the words meant little. But to those who knew of the three gods, the words began to make more sense. They began to believe the gods weren’t so much pleased by what they people could do for them as they were when the people used their talents to help those around them. In fact, this small group began to wonder if Moro, Ilmis, and Zeriel weren’t three separate gods at all, but different manifestations of the one God Megapha. Three different talents that were intended to be equal and inseparable. Thus was started the New Church of Megapha.”
“The New Church of Megapha?” Kistopher repeated. “I’ve never heard of them.”
“Formally, you may not have. They’re still a rather small movement. You rarely see them build temples or the such. Instead, they meet in people’s homes, taverns, and other public places. They go out and do their work often in anonymity. Have you ever met someone running an orphanage who never mentions Ilmis? Or a novelist who never speaks of Zeriel? It’s quite possible they are actually New Megaphans. They trust there will come a day when Megapha is recognized by all the world and worshiped openly. But that is not today.”
Kristopher waited for Dalen to say more, but the dwarf just closed his eyes and sat back against the wall, seemly done with his tale.
“What about you?” Kristopher asked. “Do you think the New Megaphans are right?”
“Ah, their theory is definitely compelling. But it is still a story like all the others. It is only my job to collect them, not play favorites. It is getting late, my friend. I think it’s time we follow the others’ lead and get some rest ourselves.” The little historian laid his head on his pack and turned away from the lantern.
Kristopher extinguished his own lantern and tried to find a comfortable position on the hard marble floor. As he did, his mind drifted to Dalen’s love for history and his dogged pursuit of collecting tales and legends. Furthermore, nothing excited the dwarf more than sharing these stories with the children of the town, watching their faces light up with joy at hearing about the world around them. For many of them, they were poor and life was hard. This may have been one of the few times they could let their imaginations soar. Finally, Dalen’s skill at taking a bland set of facts and bring them to life by given them shape, color, and emotion -- weaving them into a beautiful tale -- was unparalleled.
Falling off to sleep, Kristopher smiled, feeling as if he was beginning to understand Dalen a little bit more.
========
John 1:1-3
