The Magician 6

The magician summoned out the phantom key and gave a twist. Two items appeared in Their hand, a ring and a fragile looking crystal ball.

They handed the crystal ball over to Arazmus and said, "I always thought it was a little strange that the miasma that gave me the potential to climb didn't give me two conduits when I was technically two different souls. It did. The conduit just happened to immediately go to someone else because I was only a soul in the back of someone else's spiritual seat.

"You might remember Gan vaguely. He was carrying it with him the whole time, being influenced by it, influencing me through it. Conduits are made to be used by others, not their maker. Well, my key's a little different of a story but... Anyway, put it up to your head and tell me what you think?"

The dragon blooded man put it up to his head and it disappeared. "I-I can see a map with all kinds of dots and symbols on it. What exactly am I seeing?"

Orison smiled. "What I could if Spirit Sight was my only ability. A conduit can't possess an ability beyond it's maker at the time of its making, usually. But because its a condensing of an idea, it can display capabilities beyond the maker. The reason for that's pretty obvious once you think about it."

A little puzzled, Arazmus asked why.

The magician said, "If you lose your sight, your other senses become keener. They didn't magically become stronger. You just suddenly have freed up sensory input processing power in your brain and that's how it gets used. How sensitive do you think your sense of touch could become if you lost hearing and sight?

"That's what a conduit is but it's still meant to be used by others. It's ability is a lure, a reason to want it. It's main job is to siphon whatever a climber needs from others to aid the maker's climb. As far as the map goes, it's utility is far above usefulness at its main duty to the maker. It spent far too long with its maker and holder believing it to be something that it wasn't."

Before Orison put the key away, They brought out the orb and placed the 'hound and horse' ring on it. Right before They sent the two items to their reincarnated owner, the magician noticed a wisp of spirit essence enter into the key from the hound side of the ring. For a brief moment They saw the mental picture of a man teaching them magic.

They muttered, "Whoever you are, you were Gan's son and your soul was once a spiritual existence called Nibbles. I wonder if that means Gan's first son had a soul made from the horse. The more a person knows, the less they understand."

Unlike with Jay Cotton's spiritual remnant, the spiritual remnant of Nibbles naturally submitted to the shadow pattern it had joined. Instinctively, it knew the pattern to be a superior and preferable existence to itself. Orison still didn't look inside the key. They didn't feel ready to face that yet.

Arazmus whispered, "Are we about done here? I can look as mean as I want but there's more and more red dots congregating around us. Eventually they're going to get brave enough to attack."

They chuckled and replied, "You're adapting to the map fast."

"My original class had a similar feature but it wasn't as clear or far reaching," he said.

"I remembered asking Osomo for a tank paladin, by the way. I wonder how I got you," the magician said ruefully as They ripped another scroll.

As they appeared in an elegant parlor, They took a seat at the table while Arazmus scanned the surrounding for threats.

He whispered, "Now that I know the truth of Osomo, I can tell you why. Faith based classes were Osomo's little darlings. She wasn't able to show favoritism outright but they were all her treasures. And for the things she cared about, she was a stingy b*tch."

They muttered back, "'She' wasn't much more than a magical supercomputer. Don't over personify her. Still, I see your point. I'd almost bet that there's a secret stash of spiritually inhabited eternium somewhere on that world that's going to give birth to a real goddess-like world will now that Osomo's been decommissioned. The First Family probably knows it and is going to be subtly extorting that world behind the scene for centuries to come."

The old gentleman who bore the soul of Granny Xia came walking into the room behind five armed guards. "When I invited you for tea, I remember giving you a specific time. It also would have been polite for you to use the door like any respectful visitor."

Orison sighed, "Haste makes for poor manners. Opportunity, however, rarely respects the conventions and etiquette of mortal men and women. At least, not the kind that I come bearing."

The old gentleman let out a sigh of his own and said as he sat at the table's head, "If the matter is so urgent, then allow me to be gracious enough to suspend pleasantries for practicality's sake. Tea?"

Orison smiled. "I wouldn't dare... There is a floating city of powerful cosmic pirates trying to lock onto the coordinates of this world. They will succeed in less than four hours from now. I have a beacon that you can place at the world's weakest entry spot. If you choose to do so before they find this world on their own, it will give you some consideration and reward."

The old gentleman smirked. "Setting aside the absolute absurdity your claim would seem to be on its surface, why would you pass on this opportunity to me and not take it for yourself?"

The magician said, "One person's treasure is another's trash. The opportunity is useful to you for two reasons. It holds no appeal to me at all.

"Their rewards could make you a person of real power. It would also allow you a chance to claim up to a hundred people as part of your revenue, keeping them from being listed as claimable resources of the planet. As for why I'm giving it to you, there's the simple surface reason I've already stated and a complicated one underneath. That one I'll explain on the way, if you're interested in not being cataloged along with other human 'resources'."

The old man said, "How long does it take to reach our destination?"

"Too long by foot or vehicle. Fortunately, I have a transport circle scroll that can take up to eight. I have a picture of the place and I'll let you control the release of magic. Tell me, have you been to the pyramids of the Great Desert?" They said.

Five minutes were wasted on logistics and other minor details the old man used as a fact check. Another five was wasted on an examination of the scroll.

The old man was finally ready. "You ARE coming along, are you not?"

"I wouldn't if I didn't have to but you won't go unless I do, right? That's a shame. Two more of your people could have benefited a bit more from all this if you were capable of extending just a little trust." Orison replied.

The old man didn't bother responding. As they all gathered around, the gentleman ripped the scroll. As a last minute twist, he latched onto another man behind him and wrested the magic off of Arazmus to cover the surprise sixth passenger. Looking bored, Orison used a touch of the key's power to bring Arazmus along for the ride anyway.

While everyone else was trying to catch their balance on the side of a wind whipped dune, Arazmus and the magician were standing on the exposed 'front porch' of the pyramid they had teleported to. While waiting for the old gentleman and his people to compose themselves, They used a magic item to uncover the deeply buried entrance.

Sourly, Orison said, "You just can't help yourself, can you? Always looking to grasp just a little more, compromise someone else just a little more. How many years do you think you have left in this life? Adjust your programming or you're going to end up a little b*tch demon in the next one. You're soul's already tipped the scale."

The old gentleman stared at Them emotionlessly and said, "If you're childish tirade is finished, mind leading onward?"

They looked towards Arazmus and said, "Before it became out of vogue for sociopathy to be labeled as its own separate disorder, rather than a subset of psychopathy, this would have been its poster boy... grandpa."

As the dragon blooded man studied the old gentleman, Xia's current incarnations said blandly, "Charming... I sincerely hope you didn't waste valuable magic and time only to drag me out to the desert in a pitiful and misguided attempt at self-righteousness."

Orison adopted a snooty posh accent and said, "If only... Right this way, gentleman... heartless prune."

The tattooed bald man, the old gentleman's son, let out a snort he was unable to repress. A disturbingly sharp rap of silver tipped cane cut it short, however. The rest of the walk to a hidden chamber, requiring some desecration of the ancient historical site to reach, passed in silence.

After explaining how to set up the beacon, Orison said, "Do you want to wait here for them or would you rather wait at your home. Things would be chaotic and it might take time for you to get your reward if you do but I don't think it would be a huge problem."

"Walk me through this again. Why aren't you planting this yourself after having gone through so much trouble?" the old man said, hesitating to activate it.

The magician shook his head. "I don't care if you do it or not at this point. Just tell me if you plan on waiting here or going home after the beacon is set, if you do. It doesn't have to be you. Anybody who places it will get the reward... You know what, now I don't care about that either. Let the First Family take you back home."

They started walking out. The old man calmly called out that he desired to return home. After designating two to stay and relay information to the 'cosmic pirates', the old man activated the beacon. The remaining five acompanied the magician and Their companion to the heart of plague ground within the broken off chunk of boundary territory.

"What foolishness is this?" the old man said.

Orison was puzzled for a moment and said, "Oh, that's right. You guys aren't resistant enough to survive. Here, these are disease fighting medicinal pellets. They'll keep you safe for four or five hours at least. Not that it'll matter for much longer but you'll build up a resistance to the diseases you're exposed to during that time.

"Good news for you two younger dudes over there. Don't know if you're sharing women or farm animals but syphilis is bad, mkay. Feel free to do your own thing now. Our business is concluded."

Signaling to Arazmus, Orison began walking deeper into the large city. The magician suddenly found Themselves rooted to the spot, unable to move. A dully glowing circle descended and surrounded them. A decently powerful whip crack of mysterious 'existence essence' slammed into heart point on Their chest.

The old man called on powers both divine and infernal to force the magician into 'revealing his intents and purpose'. "I'm going to the museum to get an ancient grimoire."

Although They hammed up the 'forced to speak against Their will' aspect, the wince of pain didn't have to be faked at all.

"I'm interested to hear more on that but I was referring to your intents and purposes for what we just accomplished. Tell me the real reasons why you had me do it," the old gentleman ordered.

Orison grimaced. "I don't need or want anything the First Family would offer for that 'service'. To the best of my knowledge, you will."

They thought to Themselves, "You just won't want the negative things or the reprimand that will be served separately..."

The magician added, "Let's skip a part of what's to come. You don't have the power to demand my service. You can't kill Arazmus but he can reliably kill everyone except you. And yes, I will lead you to the damn grimoire. I'll even let you have it as long as you'll let me talk to it for a few seconds first... Want me to swear against harming you when you release me or some such garbage?"

The conversation devolved into a contest of wills until the old man was worn down to half a tank of reserves and nearly out of communally gathered existence essence. The whole time, Arazmus stood by Orison's side and didn't attack the subordinates who took a few test shots to validate that claim as well.

With the dragon blooded man as an anchor, the magician could ghost and return to corporeal without the circle being able to stop it. Arazmus had a force deflecting field armor as well. Orison lamented that it wouldn't be lasting much longer. It was a nice item.

Eventually, the old man drew up a complicated document filled with legal jargon with something akin to transcribe magic that Orison burned as soon as it was in Their hands. "Last chance or I let off a magic nuke and be done with this annoyance. If I hadn't built up a tolerance for your default unbending back bullsh*t, you'd already be a few scraps of wrinkled skin and a greasy smear by now."

Arazmus gave Them a smoldering look and adjusted himself. Not letting the resting b*tch face falter for even a moment, Orison chuckled inwardly. They silently congratulated the dragon blooded man for paying the subconscious complement without ruining it by saying some cheesy and time inappropriate line. They were also reminded of some of the blessings and trainings that Ezra loaded into the dragon blooded man to ensure Orison suffered a little more while wasting a part of Arazmus' future potential.

What the crazy dryad couldn't have known was that she only gave the man more confidence in areas he personally felt lacking in and all the 'trainings' were next to garbage anyway. But there was potential hidden in the more mundane ones, even the ones she chose. Once the search for laws started, the 'life' experiences, even artificially added ones, were far more important than the rest she was attempting to keep him from having the memory stores for.

The magician mentally kicked Themselves for getting distracted. They were reminded again that Their ability to take the form of someone's ideal partner wasn't a toy to play with. It had serious repercussions due to slanting Them towards viewing and responding to everything about the other person in a slightly more positive light than They normally would. They mused that it was the logical balance out to the inherently manipulative nature of the ability.

After They had sworn a reasonable oath that both they and the callous old man could be mutually satisfied with, the magician muttered to Arazmus, "I love what that touch of Draconos temper does for my argument skills. What am I anyway?"

Arazmus said, "Hill Folk hybrid. There's a touch of elf and my own people in their ancestry. They defy dominant trait theory like no other group of humans do and are considered some of the most broadly appealing people in all of Osomo... Everyone except for the old man is appreciating that at this very moment."

There was a subtle growl in the last part that prompted Them to reply, "Let them. If one tries to touch me, feel free to turn that appendage into shredded pork."

The bald and tattooed man said, "What about if you were going to fall or something? Can't an honest man lend a helping hand?"

Orison sneered. "I'm pretty sure there's only one honest man here and I already have his help. If I'm in a situation he can't handle, then if you want to step up with pure intentions, why not? Thing is, if that moment were to come, I'm pretty sure you'd be running or p*ssing yourself in the smallest hiding hole you could fit in."

When the man in question was muttering guesses on the mileage of Their private parts and numerous potential 'smaller' hiding holes, They had to check Arazmus to keep the man from pummeling 'baldy' to death.

Personal anger not having a restraining hand, Orison popped off to Arazmus without thinking, "He's not entirely wrong. After having you as my first and the measure against all other men, I'm pretty much ruined for life on limp little weasel hung chumps like him."

It was a mistake and the bald man's impotent rage wasn't worth the concerning brightness in the dragon blooded man's eyes. They wished They could take it back. It was too much, made light of an unwholesome experience and more than a little misleading, considering Their current actual feelings about Arazmus.

"Sorry, Raz. That was really not anyone's business and I hate that I said it when I'd be furious if you did," Orison said, trying to do some damage control.

Short of cursing at him, They realized that nothing would be removing the self satisfied and goofy grin that sprouted on the dragon blooded man's face as he said, "No worries, uh... Riri."

"No. Just, no. If you want to call me a nickname, stick with Sonny," Orison said bitterly, realizing that the pet name that They had began calling Arazmus during Their 'following the branches' experience had only made matters worse.

The man rolled that around on his tongue a few times before nodding to himself, still cheesing away.

One of the younger men in the old gentleman's group muttered to his friend, "Is that like calling a fat person slim?"

Orison whipped around and stared through the young man, "That's Sonny like in 'sonny boy', not 'sunny day'."

Confused at the explanation, the young man gestured at Their chest. They could only swallow down Their indignation at the unintentional chastisement.

Lamely, They added, "I was the teenager you guys caught in your circle early yesterday."

The baldy popped off, "If you had looked like that yesterday-"

"Then you would have gotten yourself killed with your disrespect before I arrived. Indulging myself in a tryst with your mother was the single most egregious mistake I have ever made," the old gentleman said, ending all conversation.