But Vaselle could not complain with his new lot, nor with his new acquaintance. Even though Teragdor was one of the FOG (Forces of Good) and he, Vaselle was a member of the FOE (Forces of Evil), at the end of the day, they had a lot in common. Strange how that sort of thing happened.
“So,” Teragdor continued. He was also quite drunk. Vaselle felt fortunate that half-orcs had only half the drinking stamina of full orcs, or he’d be under the bar at this point. He had learned that lesson at the party.
“So,” Teragdor started a second time after a hiccup, “you grew up in Eton…”
Vaselle nodded. “New Etonia, in a smaller town about fifty leagues from Hendel Hearth.”
“…and then moved to Justicia, when you decided to change your faith to Tiernon from Hendel,” Teragdor finished, recounting what he’d been told.
“Indeed.”
“Oh, would I love to see Justicia…” Teragdor sighed as the barkeep put a new mug in front of him.
“It is a truly glorious city, a fitting honor to the Lord God Tiernon,” Vaselle said, smiling, drunkenly remembering the beautifully clean city. The utter opposite of the shithole of a village they were now in.
“Amen,” Teragdor said.
“Amen,” Vaselle agreed.
“But then you moved to Freehold?”
Vaselle began to shake his head from side to side, but had to stop as he was getting too dizzy. “I spent several years in a school a hundred leagues or so from Freehold,” he corrected the other priest.
“And you graduated and moved to Freehold?”
“Correct.” Vaselle nodded in agreement.
“And you own your own business making arcane devices,” Teragdor confirmed.
“Yep. Like this one!” Vaselle tugged on his Amulet of Cooling, still around his neck.
Teragdor stared at it. “What does it do?”
“It cools a thin layer of air around your body and keeps you and the air you breathe cool even in extremely hot environments,” Vaselle proclaimed proudly.
“How hot?”
Vaselle shrugged. “I have it on some authority that it will keep you cool even in the Abyss!”
“No!” Teragdor drunkenly punched Vaselle in the shoulder, who swayed dangerously on his stool.
“Forsooth! I got the idea from a wizard who had travelled through the Abyss,” Vaselle said.
Teragdor looked at him as if he was insane. “That’s not possible!”
Vaselle started chuckling. “I assure you it is…” Alarmed by himself, he mentally put the brakes on his tongue before he admitted he had done it.
“How can that be?” Teragdor asked incredulously.
“I am not sure,” Vaselle lied. He knew very well that his master had taken Gastropé through. “But the great wizard Gastropé Al-Ghayrani, sid Mierkan Tolan de Turelane has done so, and he would not lie!” he proclaimed.
“You know Gastropé?” Teragdor asked incredulously and rather loudly. “Really skinny pale wizard with a turban?”
“How do you know Gastropé?” Vaselle asked, suddenly frightened he had blown his cover.
“Did I hear someone mention the great wizard Gastropé Al-Ghayrani, sid Miersssomething or ‘nother?” a drunken voice behind them shouted.
Vaselle and Teragdor tried to rotate on their bar stools to see who was addressing them. It was a satyr! A satyr of roughly their own age, if satyrs aged like humans.
“And who are you?” Teragdor asked.
“Why, I am Gastropé’s carpet comrade in arms! He’s a combat pyromancer on my carpet!” The satyr stumbled drunkenly over towards them, leaving his colleagues at their table, ignoring them; as happens with groups of drunken — dwarves? Vaselle blinked. The satyr had been at a table drinking and playing cards with a bunch of dwarves.
The satyr reached them and extended his hand. “I am Zed, Combat Carpet Pilot on the Nimbus.” He tried to bow as he extended his hand, but started to lose his balance and had to scramble back up on his hooves. The thought flitted briefly through Vaselle’s drunken head that he seemed to know a lot of people with hooves these days.
“Vaselle,” he said, shaking the satyr’s hand.
“Teragdor.” The priest also shook the satyr’s hand.
“So you are on the Nimbus with Gastropé,” Teragdor said, nodding his head. “That makes sense.”
The satyr peered drunkenly at Teragdor, finally noticing his robe and holy symbol. “Ah-ha!” he said. “You were with the animages from Freehold! And that Stevoh guy.”
“Stevos. Yes, I am.” Teragdor said.
“So how do you know Gastropé?” Zed asked.
Vaselle had to think really hard and try not to make a mess of things. “Uhm, we are both from Freehold, and he’s a really good friend of my, uhm… boss! Yes, my boss!” Vaselle had stumbled there. He really, truly did not want to use the word “master.”
“Who’s your boss?” Zed asked.
Another difficult question. Vaselle could not say “The Lord of Doom”; that would likely cause problems. “His name is Edwyrd. Lord Edwyrd.” That would work — that was Tom’s human disguise name.
“And what does this Edwyrd do?” Teragdor asked, taking another swig of beer.
“He’s an animage. Mostly pyromancy — sorry, pyromastery, I’m a wizard and not used to animage terms,” Vaselle answered, trying to remember what his master had told him of his Edwyrd identity.
“Another animage?” Zed exclaimed.
Teragdor just shook his head drunkenly in amazement.
“What’s with all the damn animages suddenly popping out of the woodwork… Crap!” The satyr covered his mouth in drunken shock. “I’m starting to sound like Jenn!”
“What do you mean?” Teragdor asked.
“Well, you know there really aren’t that many of them since the Anilords. Except in the Grove of course; we got most of the remaining ones, or so we thought… but anyway, as soon as all this crazy shit started happening, they’ve been popping up all over the place.” Zed shook his head and then tried to steady it with his free hand as his balance started to desert him.
“Really?” Teragdor asked.
“Yeah. There is Maelen the Seer, your buddy Gamos — he is like some long lost or forgotten sort of animage — and then there is Hilda, and Stevos is also an animage, and now this Edwyrd guy.”
“Actually, animages are not common, but certainly not unheard of on Eton,” Vaselle interrupted. “There is this whole Society of Learned Fellows organization in Etonia, between New Etonia and Eastern Free Eton. They’ve got schools and everything.”
“Really?” Zed asked, surprised.
“I really want to go to New Etonia, so bad!” Teragdor wailed. “I want to see for myself the Cathedral of Justice!”
“It’s amazing!” Vaselle agreed.
“So do you think Gastropé has gone to the Abyss and come back?” Teragdor asked Zed.
Zed blinked. “That would be very impressive.” The satyr shook his head in amazement, but had to stop as he had started swaying.
“So you don’t think he did it?” Teragdor asked.
Zed shrugged. “It wouldn’t surprise me. He’s like an epic conjuror! We were zooming around in the stratosphere battling liches on ice dragons and getting our arses kicked…”
Vaselle’s and Teragdor’s eyes went wide at this impressive thought.
“…and Gastropé just lit a small fire on the end of his Wand of Fire and somehow summoned three fiends! You know, type II demons! No pentacles nor brazier, no protections at all, and on a wildly moving carpet. We were all strapped down. But he does it, and rather than kill us, the demons do his bidding and take to slaughtering ice dragons and liches.”
“Holy potatoes!” Teragdor gasped. “Afterwards? Did they try to kill you guys on the carpet?” He took another drink of beer.
Zed shook his head from side to side drunkenly. “Amazingly, no. I figured we’d be dead, but they just came back, quite a bit worse for the wear and thanked Gastropé for inviting them to the party!”