Challenge #01534-D073: Wyrd Customs

"How normal is this occurrence that there's automated vocal procedures to talk about the demonic presence?" -- RecklessPrudence

This lot of magicians had graduated through technology and out the other side, never once stopping in at Global Pollution Station for a long debate about how dangerous pollution was, when you really got down to it. Shayde was impressed. Not many worlds actually noticed the long-term effects of certain technologies and decided to look at other ways to do things while the water was still potable and the outside air still healthy[1].

This particular example, a tower with an impressively crystalline doorway and no door, was some form of scanning and capturing device. Once through the door, the building would either offer stairs to the larger bulk of the city, or pull away a drop to an oubliette where the officials could deal with an offender at a later date. Shayde had no fear of it, not even when their team wizard insisted that one among the party was evil. This... was just another test in a long string of tests that kept revealing that she was no more demon than -say- a rock.

She was the fourth of the party to stride in and take the stairs. And it was only slightly alarming that this lot had invented escalators without first inventing conveyor belts. The stones of the tower had a limited sort of life to them, and moved under her feet, transporting her safely to the exit platform.

It was the fighter who got tipped down to the oubliette, and the wizard's apprentice after her. The horses went through a different entrance, where their packs were searched. The surprise of all three was the waif they were bringing home to her place of origin.

An automated voice said, "Demonic possession detected. Exorcising..." there was a bright light, and then the child was allowed to skip up the stairs.

They really were prepared for everything.

"I know th' fighter's got it in fer me," said Shayde as the party explained themselves to a Verataseer. "But yer apprentice, Salgonicex[2]? Tha's got tae hurt."

Salgonicex sighed. "It might be an alignment change issue. The young can have problems with their desires, being in too much of a hurry, and wanting all of the power at once without the wisdom to temper it... I've been through that battle. My young acolyte... hasn't." The wizard's piercing gaze looked right through Shayde's soul. "You had best go talk to him about resisting temptations. And the strength derived from it."

"Aye, 'cause he's no' listenin' tae you," Shayde remembered being that age. When the entire world was unfair and everything was moving along so very, very slowly, and restrained by seemingly arbitary rules. "But yer coolin' down our fighter, aye?"

"Aye," he chuckled.

Drokkat had worn himself out from screaming and trying to bash the walls down with his fists. He had used all his magnificent magical might to try and move the door... but these oubliettes had been made escape proof. No power but a ladder down to the ground was going to get him out of here.

"It's not fair," he wailed, not for the last time, and laid on the floor to catch his breath.

Eventually part of the wall cleared from the obfuscurous charm to reveal the demon. Shayde. Holding one funnel of the telecomnicon apparatus to her ear and the other to her mouth. "Yer done havin' yer tanty, aye?"

Drokkat glared at her. She couldn't know what it was like. She couldn't understand the resistance he struggled against.

"Make ye a deal," said Shayde. "I don't tell ye that yer blowin' this out of proportion and you don't tell me I cannae understand what yer goin' through."

What? But that was... come to think of it, that was how it always went. Drokkat sat up. Faced the impenetrable Siege Glass window, where Shayde sat on the other side. "I'm not evil. I'm just angry. Salgonicex won't teach me anything cool. Or useful."

"Darnin' yer own hose is pretty darn useful tae my mind," said Shayde. "Or knowin' where th' nearest fresh meat is."

"But I could do that already with regular stuff. He has me lighting candles and floating feathers around. Or reciting poems about princesses." Drokkat, age 12, had no interest in princesses and even less in poetry. "We have a Bard. She could do that..."

"It's no' about what yer doin', it's what yer practicin' fer," said Shayde. "Lightin' a fire's pretty damn important wherever ye go. A mage needs no matches, ye ken."

"Well... yeah. I get that one. But I hate that stupid candle! I can't make it do anything, and Master Salgonicex makes it look so easy... And why... every time there's the slightest breeze... does he make me hold a feather an inch above my finger?"

"Why do you think?"

Drokkat didn't need to. "Because he wants to make me suffer."

"Na. Think again. Come on. Be smart aboot it. What's he tryin' tae teach ye?"

It dawned on Drokkat that Master Salgonicex was not out to get him. It was a slow and lazy dawn that took its sweet time about getting above the horizon. "He's... teaching me control. In all kinds of situations."

"And the poems?"

"How to hold my stomach?" joked Drokkat. "No. No, it's... pronunciation and languages. If anyone had written poetry about anything else but princesses, maybe I could recite a few of those?"

"He's goin' tae hate me fer this," Shayde cleared her throat, "How doth the little crocodile/ Improve his shining tail..."

[1]: If you think this might be a dig at your civilisation, you may be right.

[2]: Any resemblance between this wizard and a certain 6'3" musician/mime in San Diego are not as co-incidental as you might think. Rearrange the syllables if you're lost.

[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / logoboom]

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