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masterghandalfMG: Well, everyone, it’s time to keep on plugging towards the end of Ed Greenwood’s Spellfire! Last time, Shandril and Narm finally got out of Shadowdale and were attacked on the road by
Chapter Nineteen: The Crushing of the Soul
Caelum: Well, that’s not ominous or anything!
Errezha: *rolling her eyes* By now, you should’ve learned not to expect too much. You’ll only be disappointed. Well, today’s quote, from Korin of Neverwinter in Tales Told by the Warm Fireside is as follows: I have known the crushing of the soul that defeat brings, and the crushing, sickening pain of deep wounds – and would not have it otherwise. Such dark things make the bright spots burn the brighter. *snorts disdainfully* Speak for yourself. And I’ll note that Greenwood has already worked the chapter’s title in before the chapter itself even starts.
MG: Also, the only Korin I’m familiar with is a martial-arts master talking cat who grows magical healing beans and has nothing whatsoever to do with Faerun in general or Neverwinter in particular, for the record.
Errezha: …I’m not even going to ask. We open the chapter proper right where we left off, with our heroes being menaced. “Make no sound!” the man in robes warned. “Speak not. Cast no spells. Use no spellfire, Shandril Shessair – or I’ll let the rock fall on your husband’s head!” Malark then goes on to say that he’s no fool – really, his previous track record says otherwise – and Shandril is left paralyzed by fear for Narm while wondering just who this attacker is. Which, fortuitously, he solves for her by introducing himself. I am Malark… of the Cult of the Dragon. I come for revenge and I will have it! He then commands Shandril to dismount and lie down on the ground, which she does, albeit preparing to unleash spellfire the moment she has an opening (say, Malark’s only leverage is his threat to Narm, embodied by the large boulder he’s levitating – have you considered hitting the boulder first, then Malark? Or are you worried about hitting Narm too?). Malark, meanwhile, can’t resist monologuing some more. You’ve cost us much, Shandril Shessair. The Shadowsil, the sacred wyrm Rauglothgor, his lair, the fortified tower above it, all his treasure, the sacred wyrm Aghasztamn – that one, you’ll find, was Elminster (as was the Shaodwsil, for that matter) so do get your facts straight, o Wearer of Purple – many devout Followers… the price you will pay is your spellfire – and your life in service. Yours and your husband’s. You will serve or die! He then begins to cast some manner of spell, while Shandril panics. There are no Knights here to rescue us, now… Dear girl, I’m reasonably certain you are more powerful than the entire company of Knights together; perhaps now is time to show it? But suddenly Malark’s cold chant ended in a sudden squeal and gurgle. Shandril rolls aside, fearing for Narm’s safety should Malark drop the boulder, but she then sees he’s fine – Rathan already got him! Torm is there too – ugh, Prince have mercy (alas, he does not) – and in the thief’s hands were the ends of the waxed cord that had choked off Malark’s spell in midword. The wizard hung from the cord now, his face terrible, fingers clawing at his skull… Malark’s eyes rolled up into his skull, and he sagged. And thus, another Greenwood villain fails spectacularly (and once again my mother would be so disappointed to see an allegedly skilled wizard felled without even a contingency to protect him from this sort of attack) this time without our heroine having to lift a finger in her own defense. Also, despite Shandril’s earlier observation, there were indeed Knights here to rescue her. I see what you’re doing, Greenwood. And you’re not as clever as you think you are.
Caelum: Well, Torm just cheerily calls out Well met! In the middle of strangling a man and calls for Rathan to grab Malark’s purse for him while he’s distracted and before he dies. These damned mages all have spells to trigger mischief at their deaths.
Errezha: …and while they’re still alive, if they’re at all competent…
Caelum: Rathan first assures Shandril that Narm’s all right – at least somebody has his priorities straight – and then indeed grabs the purse, though it turns out to just contain a few coins and a rag. Shandril then asks if Malark is dead yet, and Torm replies nearly. I'll cut his throat in a moment. Couldn’t you do that now and ease his passing a bit? Evil cultist or not, garroting’s a bad way to go. He does ask Shandril to destroy the body after he does, so nobody raises Malark as an undead creature to come after them. Well, I guess she’s going to get to do something this scene. Rathan, meanwhile, has pulled off Malark’s boots and only found a few more coins, which disappoints Torm. No magic? Scarce worth all the trouble. Have off his robe, Rathan, and we’ll cut his throat and be done with it. *looking faintly ill* Okay, robbing the dead is bad enough, but understandable sometimes – but Malark’s still alive and probably thrashing around a bit from being choked to death and you’re already stripping off his clothes to look for valuables while you’re still in the process of killing him. *beat* For Iomedae’s sake, what in the Nine Hells is wrong with you? Well, Torm explains that Malark probably keeps his spell components and maybe other private things in his robes, so Rathan dutifully strips them off – ugh; Malark seemed like a louse, but I don’t think he deserved this – as Torm draws his dagger and explains to Shandril just who this guy is. Malark, one of the rulers of the Cult of the Dragon, and an archmage – not much of one, at least to my inexperienced opinion – there’s lots of other rats like this on in Sembia, and one in Deepingdale too. Shandril adds that she knows it’s Korvan and I’ve got to wonder – is Gorstag the only one who doesn’t know his cook’s an evil cultist? Maybe someone should tell him that? Rathan tells Shandril she’s doing fine so far, but she just watches Torm cut Malark’s throat and mutters Fine indeed sarcastically, which seems like a pretty understandable reaction to this mess, considering how dazed by the whole thing she’s got to be. But Rathan’s got more to say. Faerun can be a cruel place. Men like this have to be slain – or they’ll kill thee. Nor is there any shame in defeat at his hands – this one could’ve slain any of us Knights in an open fight. Based on what we actually saw from Malark – not much impressive, if you ask me – I’m not buying it. Also, my best friend’s a priest of Desna, who is kind of like Tymora seems from the sound of her, and he’d be absolutely horrified by this little display. You didn’t kill Malark in self-defense – you choked him out slowly and painfully while literally ripping the clothes off his dying body to search for coin. There’s nothing heroic about any of that.
Errezha: And I’ll note that Malark apparently didn’t have any contingencies even for his death, despite Torm warning he probably would. Not much of an archmage, I would say. All the magic in the world is worth nothing if you don’t have the brains to use it. Well, Rathan wraps up by asking Shandril if she’s thirsty, and then Shandril’s shoulders shook helplessly, her tears overwhelmed by laughter. *bemused* Is she having a stress-induced meltdown? I’m not seeing anything remotely funny here. She then asks Torm to stand aside and lashed the body with flames, pouring out her anger. And thus, our heroine, who could have felled the villain with a look and a gesture, only gets to destroy his body after he’s already dead (when a quick death by spellfire would’ve been a mercy compared to what he actually endured). Wonderful. Meanwhile, Narm wakes up, dazed, asks what’s going on and am I not to kiss you? Oh, ha, ha. We then have a scene change, back to Shadowdale where Sharantyr has returned – she was gone? – and is furious with Elminster and her fellow Knights for kicking Shandril and Narm out. One struggles with half-trained Art, and the other bears spellfire every mage in the Realms would slay her to gain or destroy, and both are mad enough to seek adventure – only days married, too! Florin tells her they didn’t want to be caged, and Sharantyr has none of it. Caged? Does a mother turn out her infant because it’s reached twenty nights? Alone, you sent them? She then rounds on Elminster and castigates him for his role in this, and for once, I think I’ve found a character in this book I can agree with (even though I never got the impression before this she was particularly close to Shandril or Narm). *sigh* I wonder how long it will take Greenwood to ruin this.
MG: I’ll also note that during this conversation, Florin calls Sharantyr “Shar” several times. Which is obviously a shortening of her name, but also a really weird thing to call your friend. See, Shar is the goddess of darkness, grief, loss, despair, entropy and nihilism, and along with Bane, Cyric and Lolth is one of Faerun’s most powerful and iconic evil deities. So, not a name to be throwing around lightly, to put it mildly, or a good nickname in general (especially not in front of Elminster, since Shar is also the archenemy of Mystra, whose domain as the goddess of magic she covets).
Errezha: …sounds a bit like Zon-Kuthon, except female and less of a masochist. Elminster assures Sharantyr that they’re not alone, since he sent Torm and Rathan to look after them – oh yes, a lecherous thief who’s not nearly as charming as he thinks he is and a drunken priest, both of whom are disturbingly comfortable with drawn-out murder and robbery, what could possibly go wrong? Sharantyr doesn’t seem that impressed either but decides that they’re not unprotected, possibly not wanting to press the matter with the ill-tempered thousand-year-old wizard. Storm assures her that they’ll be fine, and Merith says that one of his people saw them (and passed news to him… somehow) and that the last time Illistyl scried on Torm and Rathan, they were fine too. She’s going to scry again tonight, and says that Sharantyr can watch, if you like. You too, Jhess, if you have no greater game afoot… we might need your spells if there’s danger or alarm. And did Torm and Rathan consent to being spied on by their so-called friends during their travels, I wonder? Elminster, meanwhile, muses about how messy life is and then adds she’s so young to wield spellfire. Funny; I didn’t know there was an age limit. But the scene, in any case, ends there.
MG: I’ll also say that, considering how the trilogy ends, Sharantyr is absolutely right to be worried here, and everyone else comes off as naively optimistic at best and callously apathetic at worst. But that’s more to discuss two books down the line…
Caelum: Well, we then cut back to Zhentil Keep, where a priest of Bane tells Sememmon that he lies within as he opens a massive door. This was the center of the Black Altar, the Chamber of Solitude where one was said to be closest to the god. Apparently, the High Imperceptor’s men never made it this far inside, but Sememmon can still see some signs of battle damage and wonders about the best way to take advantage of his rivals’ weakness. But no sooner has he stepped inside than a beholder drifts overhead and the priest slams the door shut behind him; Sememmon is trapped! With nothing else to do, he keeps going forward where he sees a black throne – a throne the High Imperceptor hadn’t sat at the foot of for many a long year. It was gigantic – a seat for a giant. The seat of a god. It was occupied. So, I guess this used to be the High Imperceptor’s temple and then Fzoul took it over and chased him out? No wonder they hate each other, then. But would it kill Greenwood to actually explain the politics here? I still have no idea what these people are doing or why, other than I guess that Sememmon is rivals with Fzoul, Manshoon is their boss, and the High Imperceptor hates all of them? And it has to do with Shandril… nothing at all that I can see? Well, Fzoul himself is lying on the big throne, which he’s apparently turned into a makeshift bed – I don’t think Bane’s going to be happy about that – and he’s currently asleep after being healed. From his fall a few chapters ago, I guess? Meanwhile, as Sememmon approaches, the beholder keeps pace with him and he realizes that at long last, the beholders were making their own bid for mastery over the Zhentarim. And I still don’t know why I should care. But the beholder has something to say. You’ve come to discover death, Sememmon the Proud - and you’ve found not Fzoul’s death, but your own! At this point Sememmon, understandably, turns and bolts, running over in his mind all the ways the beholder can kill him – and it sounds like there are a lot; glad we don’t have these things where I come from – and finally he hides behind the throne, away from the beholder’s magic-nullifying power, and starts desperately trying to cast a spell of his own, when suddenly… there was a flash and a roar, and the floor heaved, throwing Sememmon to his knees. And when he looks up, the beholder is gone and who should he see but Sahrthor and Manshoon. The High Lord of Zhentil Keep was robed in his usual black and dark blue, and he looked amused. Well, Manshoon tells Sememmon to get up and that he drove the beholder off and explains that he’s been watching Zhentarim while he was away – guess that’s who all those wizard eyes belonged to – including Sememmon’s dispute with Fzoul. Slay him not. He’s needed. Together, the three wizards leave the temple – which apparently still has dead bodies from the battle lying around; Errezha’s right, that’s just nasty – through the big doors which Manshoon seems to have blasted open and make their way to Sememmon’s home, where they stop. Manshoon takes a moment to tell Sememmon he’ll be able to fight Fzoul for rule of the Keep someday – I can’t live forever – and then he and Sahrthor both head off, leaving Sememmon disturbed, since he knows that if Manshoon sees him as a potential successor then he’s also a potential rival, and I guess potential rivals don’t live too long around here. Finally, he heads into his house, while unnoticed, the little eyeball that Manshoon had sent to spy floated in with him, too. And that’s where the scene ends.
MG: And on that anticlimactic note, the Zhentarim subplot for this book ends as well, (with this being Manshoon, Fzoul, Sememmon and Sahrthor’s final appearance in it) after having been almost entirely irrelevant to the story’s main plot. Wasn’t that fun and not at all a waste of time? Though the Zhentarim, Manshoon and Fzoul in particular, will continue on as the main antagonists of the next book, do keep in mind that Spellfire was originally a standalone and the sequels came later, so in the context of the book itself… yeah. Pretty pointless. Especially since Sememmon gets a grand total of one more mention in this whole trilogy; yes, really (I checked). And since Manshoon has obviously recovered admirably from his battle with Shandril, I don’t really get what he gained from the whole “pretending to maybe be dead for a few weeks” thing, except to amuse himself by spying on what his subordinates get up to in his absence (maybe it was to lure the beholders into overplaying their hand – though if so, it doesn’t change much, since Manshoon is still working with the beholders next book, as is Fzoul). And the whole bit with Sememmon at the end is weird, too, because while he’s nowhere near Elminster’s age, Manshoon has already lived longer than a normal human lifespan and shows no sign of slowing down any time soon, and Sememmon’s only slightly younger. For that matter, Sememmon is usually depicted as extremely loyal to Manshoon, his old teacher, continuing to be loyal to him even after Fzoul will eventually usurp overall control of the Zhentarim, so it’s a weird bit in general to see Manshoon casting aspersions on him like this.
Errezha: *distastefully* So it would seem. Well, we cut back to Shandril, Narm and the Knights, as Rathan tells them that they’re just happening to be going the same way (liar) and that Tymora is watching over them. Am I not an instrument of Tymora’s will? Narm chimes in to thank them for saving them – he would; he was unconscious for the worst of their actions earlier – and Torm declares that he can be their companion from here out, leaving Rathan behind. I’m witty, agile, clean, quick and experienced. I know lots of jokes, and I’m an excellent cook… I’m fully conversant in the laws of six kingdoms and many independent cities, and I’m an excellent gambler. Yes, well, humility clearly isn’t among your virtues, is it? Shandril asks Rathan if there’s anything he can do to shut Torm up, and my sympathies are entirely with her. Rathan just promises that when they sleep, he and Narm will stay on either side of her so ye won’t have to worry about him getting cold and wanting to, ahem, snuggle up. Oh, by the Prince, the more I learn about this person the less I like him; I suppose the simple expedient of telling him to stop has been tried and failed. Meanwhile, Rathan takes the opportunity to immediately bed down – where and when are we, exactly? Is this still the same place where Malark was killed? That would seem an uncomfortable place to sleep. Torm, meanwhile, tries to tickle Rathan, who tells him off with one eye still open, and then Narm fell asleep chuckling as our scene ends. We then cut to the next morning, as Rathan is praying to Tymora for guidance and reflecting on Shandril, how Malark might have killed her if he and Torm hadn’t arrived exactly when they did, and wondering how to nursemaid a lass who could blow apart mountaintops? Well, for one, you probably shouldn’t call it “nursemaiding” when the person in question has that kind of power. It just sounds condescending. Finally, he decides to leave Shandirl’s fate in Tymora’s hands – ugh, priests – and decides he and Torm will stay with them another day, then head back. If Elminster is half the archmage he claims to be, surely he can hold Shadowdale together that long. He then adds to himself another day, another dragon slain, which I assume is metaphorical but still doesn’t strike me as something to be that casual about. Then again, we’ve slain three dragons already this book, so maybe for these people it is…
Caelum: Next, we have a scene change back to Elminster’s tower, where Lhaeo is writing something and Elminster is annoyed by it. Will ye never be done scratching and scribbling?... Ye’re not writing an epic, ye know! Hey, you’re the one who employs him as a scribe; what’d you expect? Scribes tend to write things. It’s in the name. Well, Lhaeo just tells Elminster to go back to stirring his stew, which he does, grumbling, and then finally he admits he misses Shandril. ‘Tisn’t every day one sees spellfire destroy one’s spells as if they were smoke – or see the high-and-mighty Manshoon put to flight by a young girl!
MG: Just noting that not only is Elminster canonically much more powerful than Manshoon, but per the next book he’s literally already killed Manshoon himself more than twenty times (Manshoon’s particular form of immortality means he gets better, obviously). So, all I can figure Elminster is surprised by here is that somebody else is horning in on his gig.
Caelum: …why are we supposed to take this guy seriously as our main villain, again? Oh, right. Greenwood. Lhaeo, meanwhile, observes that before Shandril acquired spellfire she was just a thief, but Elminster dismisses this. She’s as much a thief as ye are. Uh, pretty sure in her debut chapter she stole a bunch of stuff from the Bright Spear, which technically does make her a thief. But this sends Elminster off on a tangent about someone named Alaundo, and a prophecy he made about spellfire, which Elminster takes to mean about Shandril. Lhaeo admits he looked it up last night and thinks that a previous prophecy about a war among wizards has indeed been fulfilled, which makes the one about spellfire up next, apparently. Then Lhaeo goes back to writing, and Elminster demands to know what he’s working on; Lhaeo admits it’s the limits of Shandril’s power, as observed by you and the Knights. The information may prove useful… if she must ever be stopped. Elminster is outraged by this – funny, he seems like the sort to keep tabs on all his “allies” just in case *he shoots Errezha a glance; she shrugs innocently* - since she’s all laughter and kindness and bright eyes but Lhaeo reminds him that Lansharra used to be like that, too. And that is… oh, right. The Shadowsil. Which would be a lot more meaningful if we were talking about someone other than a minor villain who died more than ten chapters ago, and if we had any idea how she went from Elminster’s apprentice to evil cultist wizard in the first place. But Elminster goes silent after hearing this, until Lhaeo pulls out the prophecy. Spellfire will rise, and a sword of power, to cleave shadow and evil and master Art! Well, that somehow managed to be both really straightforward and really vague at the same time. But I think it’s also been pretty much fulfilled? Though I’m not sure where the sword comes in…
Errezha: Metaphor? Well, Elminster is confused by this. ‘Master Art?’ What did Alaundo mean by that? She’s to become a mage? Well, it occurs to me that she has an ability that allows her to break down spells and magical energy, absorb it, and then unleash it back at people, which would seem to fulfil that aspect; one would think the thousand-year-old wizard could work that out. He then adds that she’s not the slightest aptitude for it, which doesn’t seem like something one could tell from the tests he performed on her. Yes, sorcerers – like myself, I should note – are born with magical gifts that typically show themselves even without training, but wizardry is a skill that anyone, potentially, can learn – though some, of course, have greater or lesser aptitude for it, all Elminster seems to have proven is that Shandril can’t read spells, which she’s not been trained for, so that’s to be expected.
MG: Well, this book does predate the “sorcerer/wizard/warlock” division of arcane spellcasters, which is a product of later editions, and as such mostly just uses “mage” as a catch-all term, and wizard and sorcerer as interchangeable synonyms (with either “magic-user” or “wizard” as the class name, depending on edition).
Errezha: That must’ve been confusing. Lhaeo jumps in to add that Alaundo’s prophecies always make sense after they’ve happened, but generally not before – congratulations, you’ve figured out how most prophecy works; you must be proud. Finally, Elminster storms outside to smoke, and then once he’s gone Storm suddenly comes downstairs, barefoot, and takes Lhaeo back up with her, and wait, is this implying what I think it’s implying? Are they together? I thought it was mentioned earlier that Storm had a lover who died recently she was still mourning? But now she’s with Lhaeo? Meanwhile, outside, Elminster is humming a tune Storm herself composed, because one didn’t survive so many winters without noticing a thing or two. Which would seem to confirm it. Mercifully, the scene ends there.
MG: I’ll also note this is yet another case of Greenwood’s fondness for age-gap romances, albeit with the genders flipped this time. Lhaeo, canonically, should be approximately twenty-one here. Storm is a bit over six hundred (she’s a Chosen of Mystra; they live a long time). Also, Elminster raised Storm. He also, canonically, raised Lhaeo. They didn’t grow up together, of course, considering the age gap, but still, that’s got to be a little weird (and it’s not the weirdest romantic relationship in this chapter, but that’s still to come). On a lighter note, Alaundo the Seer is a pretty prominent character in the Realms’ lore; he’s been dead a long time, of course, but his prophecies keep cropping up (and coming true) in the present. Most famously, from Baldur’s Gate: The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sewn from their passage. One of the most famous series of western CRPGs spawned (heh) from those two sentences.
Caelum: We then return to Shandril, Narm, Torm and Rathan, riding along on a road north of Sembia, wherever that is; Torm’s apparently pulled out some makeup and a fake mustache to change his appearance, and Narm thinks he must not be able to travel openly around here for some reason. Considering his track record, I can think of some reasons. Rathan, meanwhile, is telling Shandril all about Tymora, and for the sake of secrecy he addressed her as Lady Nelchrave, and occasionally compared things to “your hold, Roaringcrest.” Which isn’t suspicious or anything; pretty sure this noblewoman Shandril’s supposed to be would know what her own holding’s called. But Shandril apparently enjoys the company anyway. Finally, after passing various travelers and keeping an eye out for Zhents or Cult agents, they decide to make camp, with Torm setting up traps, and then there came the thud of someone tripping over the silk cords. Rathan and Torm immediately hop up, as does Narm, but Shandril’s still asleep (she can sleep through all this!?) and Rathan yells at Narm to defend thy lady, lad! Which at least makes more sense here since she’s, you know, asleep, though maybe waking up the human weapon of mass destruction and letting her handle things might make sense here? Well, armed attackers come charging out of the darkness; Narm shoots magic missiles at one of them and then draws his dagger and actually manages a couple of kills. Gods, it was so hideously easy. Well, at least someone in this book is appropriately horrified by that? But, still, these people – bandits? – have got to be pathetic if a scrawny apprentice wizard can take them down so easily with just his dagger. Meanwhile, somebody else isn’t having an appropriate reaction – no, not Torm, it’s Rathan. Don’t you realize what moral pain – nay, spiritual agony – striking thee down causes me? Hast no consideration for thy feelings? Oh, yeah, clearly the guy currently smashing heads with his mace – we’re explicitly told that his last victim fell twitching, jaw shattered - is the real victim here. You know, when my friend Harann – that’s the priest I mentioned earlier – talks about how much he hates needless violence, he doesn’t use it for cheap banter and, oh, right, he actually means it! *beat* Wow, guess that hit a sore spot. *looks around sheepishly*
Errezha: Finally, Shandril wakes up and demands to know why Rathan and Torm enjoy the violence so much; Torm insists he doesn’t enjoy it (could have fooled me…) but I prefer it to getting a knife to the ribs! As do I, but I can honestly say that, though I’ve done things I’m not proud of, I’ve never ordered someone to loot the still-living body of a man I’m in the process of garroting (I’ve never actually garroted someone at all, in fact), so I think I still have the advantage here. Well, amid more banter Rathan and Torm gather up the camp and prepare to head back, while Shandril fell into sleep as if it was a great black pit… and she never stopped falling. She wakes up to the smell of cooking boar to realize that Narm has just kissed her, and then Torm asks if he can try to, to Shandril’s annoyance (he’d get worse than that from me; my patience with his ilk ran out long ago). Torm himself admits that irritating I may be, but I’m never dull, prompting Rathan to call him a dullard. Shandril then asks where they are, and Rathan explains that they’re near somewhere called Featherdale and gives advice on how to get to Highmoon from here. Also, apparently elves live in Deepingdale, and its current lord is a half-elf, and somehow Shandril never knew this despite growing up there; I continue to be amazed and how absurdly sheltered she is. Honestly! And so, Rathan gives them both Tymora’s blessing, and Torm gives Narm a charm containing several golden balls he can throw to create fireballs. And then – finally, thankfully – the two of them turn and ride away. “We really are alone now, love,” Narm said softly. “We only have each other.” To which Shandril adds “Yes, and that will do!” And so away west they sped, leaving trampled grass and happy memories. And a pile of corpses somewhere behind them; am I the only one who remembers that? We then have a scene change back, alas, to Elminster, in his study, communicating with a lady in a tattered black gown – the Simbul, it seems – via a crystal ball. The two exchange pleasantries, and Elminster thanks her for following and watching over Shandril and Narm, and excuse me? We saw her following them, in falcon form, last chapter, but she did exactly nothing to protect them that I saw. And they’ve been attacked twice in as many chapters, anyway. He then asks why she aided them – again I say, what aid? – when Shandril is a threat to her, and the Simbul admits she knows Alaundo’s prophecy and doesn’t care. Besides, I like Shandril. She then asks if Shandril is the child of Garthond Shessair and the incantatrix Dammasae? Elminster admits he doesn’t know for sure, but that he thinks so. The Simbul then asks if Elminster raised her – one would think even a cursory observation of their interactions would show that wasn’t the case – and he says no, it was the warrior Gorstag, of Highmoon. And he did a damned poor job of it, too, from where I’m standing. The Simbul promises that Shandril is safe from her unless the passing years change her as they did Lansharra and I have to echo Caelum’s concerns about the usefulness of comparisons to the Shadowsil. Elminster promises that won’t happen, and he’ll leave protecting Shandril to the Harpers – from what I’ve heard, that’s not encouraging – and then the Simbul admits she’s always admired Elminster’s power, even though he hides it (not well enough, if you ask me). If I ever stand against it, I expect to fall.
MG: Which I can only assume is empty flattery; canonically, the Simbul is one of the few characters who probably could take Elminster in a straight-up wizard duel.
Errezha: Well, the Simbul then asks if Elminster will permit her to teleport to his chambers; when he asks why, she let fall her tattered gown. Beneath it was a webwork of thin black silk strands reaching from her throat to cuffs at her wrists and a broad cummerbund. It was a garment that covered little. *disgusted face* Ah, it seems we are about to witness Elminster’s famed amorous exploits. I think I’ll be ill. Without waiting for a ‘yes,’ the Simbul teleports in, despite Elminster’s protests that he’s too old for this (not if what half of what I’ve heard is true) and she spread her hands almost timidly, offering herself. *disgusted noise* She plops herself down in his lap and tries to share her true name, though he says there’ll be time for that later. Changed our tune quickly, didn’t we? The Simbul then declares that I’ve been so lonely and, mercifully, we cut away to Lhaeo, who’d been coming up to bring Elminster his tea and quickly turns around to head back down, thinking to himself what’s the weight of a secret? How many can a man carry? How many more can a woman or an elf? I wasn’t aware secrets were gendered… but I suspect elves can carry quite a few; they have longer to collect them.
MG: Before we have our next scene change, a few comments. First off, it’s a bit rich for Elminster to be complaining about his age considering how much action he tends to get even so (let’s just say the Simbul is not the only partner he’s had recently and leave it at that), especially since while he’s over a thousand, she’s over six hundred, and that’s still pretty damned old (both of them, of course, being powerful enough wizards that they can look pretty much any age they want to). For another… okay, Seven Sisters family history time. The Sisters, as I’ve noted previously, are all Chosen of Mystra because their mom, Elue, was an avatar of Mystra. After some rather messy family tragedies, Elminster ended up raising three of the Sisters – Storm, Dove, and Laeral. He did not raise the Simbul, though I’ve occasionally seen it claimed he did (and it’s telling about some of the stuff Greenwood’s actually written that people would believe that). One of Elminster’s other lovers is Mystra herself. So, considering that he raised some of her sisters and is also in a relationship with her sort-of mom, the Simbul coming on to Elminster feels uncomfortably like the equivalent a woman seducing her stepfather, and him reciprocating. Even though he didn’t raise her himself, that’s still pretty damn weird and also kind of gross on his end (especially since the Sisters are all supposed to look a lot alike – not, like, identical, but if you lined them up it’d be obvious they’re all related, with the possible exception of Qilue who’s weird – which means she strongly resembles people who actually are Elminster’s surrogate daughters). So, yeah. Greenwood! Why!?
Caelum: Okay, not touching that one. Well, we then have a scene change to a cottage, where an older woman is stirring a cauldron as two men enter. It’s Torm and Rathan – great, I’d hoped to see the last of them – and the woman greats them as my lords even though I’m pretty sure neither of them actually are. Apparently, the woman’s name is Lhaera and they’re here to see her daughter, Imraea who’s about six. The Knights call her my lady and say they’re here to discharge our duty to ye, which apparently involves Torm bringing her a cat. Which I don’t know where he got, and I’m not sure I want to, because I have a feeling it wasn’t legal. Apparently, the cat’s name is Snuggleguts – personally, I think pet names are cuter when they don’t have the word “guts” in them – and then Rathan gives Imraea a bunch of gold to help her look after him along with some advice; Lhaera tells the Knights they’re both kind, and Torm insists that they but do the right thing – for once – and Lhaera says that few enough people manage that much, as the chapter ends. Well, that was a random little scene. From the talk about “duty,” is Imraea supposed to be Torm’s bastard daughter? Or Rathan’s? Or just some kid they’re looking after for some reason? ‘Cause I don’t get it.
MG: Well, neither Lhaera, Imraea or the cat are mentioned again in the trilogy, so your guess is as good as mine. And so, that is indeed another chapter down – and as we get closer to the end, we start to see subplots being tied off, with Malark’s plotline dying with a whimper (much like the man himself…) and the Zhentarim intrigues amounting to exactly nothing, involving people we don’t spend enough time with to care about and ending exactly where they began, with Manshoon in charge, Fzoul and Sememmon as his lieutenants, and the beholders as uneasy allies. Yay. And that’s amid a chapter of creepy “romance” and Greenwood’s heroes acting even less heroic than usual. Not to mention that the chapter’s ominous title had essentially nothing to do with its content. But the good news is, we’ve only got two chapters to go! Next time – Shandril’s origins revealed! No pics today.
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Date: 2022-08-05 05:57 pm (UTC)*Tris and Eldore shudder in unison*
Well that's an excellent sign for the rest of the chapter, yeesh.
"Anyone who views a defeat as soul-crushing has a truly pathetic life. A defeat that does not kill you is a learning experience."
Or a badly-needed humiliation if you're the kind of twat who uses phrases like 'crushing of the soul', fucking oath.
Well, Torm is still a giant prick, but at least he knows how to quickly and quietly deal with a target. He's not forgiven for his prickery, mind, but I'm enjoying seeing some actual competence here.
That's true, Hellish Rebuke would be pretty fuckin' funny about now.
"I do not believe I know the spell..."
An innate skill of Tieflings and a spell available to some casters in 5th Edition. Smack someone with it in melee range and they retaliate with a nice big explosion of hellfire.
"Hrm, I should mention that to Callia. I believe she would enjoy working out how to replicate that effect."
"*gathering a ball of swirling death magic in his hands* We need wait no longer for the smiting delivered by his namesake. I am deeply unimpressed."
Holy shit that's fucked up, just kill the poor bastard already!
"As he ought to be! If there were any justice in this book, Rathan would be instantly cast from Tymora's service and probably cursed with a lifetime of truly terrible suffering from the bargain!"
If I tried that shit then all the GMs I've ever played with would ABSOLUTELY do that to me, because what the fuck.
I didn't know she'd left but I'm suddenly really glad she's back!
"I shall enjoy it while it lasts, because any kind of sanity is a true joy to behold."
Consent doesn't seem to exist in this book, and we're all suffering for it.
"Then mayhap you should not have forced her and her husband to leave with minimal training!!!
"Oh. Look who has returned. The supposedly Elminster-rivalling wizard who got his arse thoroughly kicked by a delirious teenager."
Joy.
FUCK'S SAKE! He was the one villain in this book who was actually nuanced and remotely interesting!
"I really do despise this book."
"You are provably none of these things."
Oh my god, that just says SO MUCH about Torm and I want to fucking kill him even more!
"I have that particular aspect under control, I assure you."
"YOU EMPLOYED HIM AS A SCRIBE!"
Yeah, but it's Elminster. He's literally a grumpy old arsehole. I'd call him a cunt, but he lacks the warmth and depth.
And even then it's provably wrong in Faerun! The entirety of the Throne of Bhaal is about people having interpreted one of Alaundo's prophecies correctly and taking it upon themselves to try and twist the end results! Then again, Throne of Bhaal was written by actual writers.
"*faintly* I think I am going to throw up."
"A dagger is a weapon of finesse; even the weakest and least trained can use one to terrible effect. Of course I, having suffered the life-long attentions of Grandfather, am more than passingly trained..."
Which is a polite way of saying 'the old fucker tried to turn you into a mini-him until the older sisters decided to try and kill him'.
"To this day I am amazed that he mostly leaves me be."
I find handsy overly affectionate little pricks extremely dull.
*pfffffffffffffffffft* AHAHAHAHAHHAHA oh come the fuck on! He doesn't hide SHIT! He can't even bathe long enough to hide his own stench!
"NO."
Nope nope nope nope!
"EXTREMELY VERY MUCH NO, I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ANY OF THIS."
We out!
no subject
Date: 2022-08-07 12:58 am (UTC)I'd have been more impressed if he'd actually managed to kill Malark quickly and cleanly instead of dragging it out for several paragraphs like he actually did.
"Oh. Look who has returned. The supposedly Elminster-rivalling wizard who got his arse thoroughly kicked by a delirious teenager."
Fair warning - it's not the last humiliating defeat Manshoon has coming his way in these books.
"A dagger is a weapon of finesse; even the weakest and least trained can use one to terrible effect. Of course I, having suffered the life-long attentions of Grandfather, am more than passingly trained..."
Which is a polite way of saying 'the old fucker tried to turn you into a mini-him until the older sisters decided to try and kill him'.
"To this day I am amazed that he mostly leaves me be."
All of that is true, but since we haven't seen Narm demonstrate any actual training or skill in knife fighting, I think my point stands.
*pfffffffffffffffffft* AHAHAHAHAHHAHA oh come the fuck on! He doesn't hide SHIT! He can't even bathe long enough to hide his own stench!
Considering that the Simbul has all the subtlety of the average cyclone, maybe "doesn't actively sit on a throne demanding tribute from all and sundry" counts as "hiding his power" in her book?
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Date: 2022-08-05 09:01 pm (UTC)Cause... this chapter was a bit chaotic, I think.
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Date: 2022-08-07 01:00 am (UTC)Spitefic: Cue the Theme of the Lord of Dark
Date: 2022-08-08 06:44 pm (UTC)-------
"Men like this have to be slain –"
Someone interrupted Rathan in an accent that nobody there could place. "Alas, poor Malark," they said, "You will be dearly missed."
The person walked out of the forest's shadows, revealing himself to be a young man in unusual clothing. He walked over to Malark's corpse and held the wizard's head up in one hand. "No one should have to face a death as painful and drawn out as the one you suffered," he said. He let Malark's head back down gently and stood up. "That said, however..." he continued, before turning to face the four other people who were there, "...I'm feeling a bit judgemental at his brutal murder at the hands of these supposed Knights."
"Who... who are you?!" Rathan asked.
"You may not have heard of the Demon that Comes when People Say their Name, and you may not have heard of the Demon of the Sea," the young man said, "but surely that old coot Elminster must have mentioned me, the King of Demons, at some point while he was going off on one of his unprovoked tirades..."
Other than his red eyes and the dark aura flowing around him, Shandril didn't see anything demonic about this man. He must be hiding something, she thought, but what?
Torm, for his part, was not having it. "The blasted mage tried to kill our fair Shandril! If you are with the Cult of the Dragon, then have at thee!"
"I have bad history with a particular cult," the King of Demons said, "which is why I've never joined them after becoming what I am now, and why I am even the King of Demons in the first place." He lifted a hand up to his head and the other out in front of him, as if preparing to attack with some unknown spell, and said, "Now, let me show you a small sampling of my power, which I had spread across over a dozen worlds! My power, which destabilized a large part of the space-time continuum in its heyday! My power... the power of Odio!"
"This man's crazy!" Narm said mere seconds before everyone felt a dark power emanating from Odio. Shandril quickly launched a massive burst of spellfire at the Demon King.
"PK Cyclone!" Odio shouted, summoning a massive gust of wind to spiral out from him. The wind quickly extinguished Shandril's spellfire, stunning Trom and Rathan into silence.
"Wha- How?!" Torm asked.
Odio simply raised up his hand that he was holding to his head, causing a massive number of flaming asteroids to strike Torm from above as Rathan looked on in horror.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Odio asked. "A recreation of the early millennia of the world." Turning to the priest, he said, "You know, I once thought all I needed to do to overwhelm those who stood against me was to fight like a train."
"Wha-"
"But I learned from my mistakes," Odio continued, interrupting Rathan. "Now I know that I need to fight like something even more unstoppable, even more immovable." He lowered his body, getting into a stance that suggested he was about to charge. "I need to fight... like an ocean!"
With that, Odio charged straight at Rathan at incredible speed, knocking him down with a blow that hit much harder than any spell Rathan had ever seen.
With Torm and Rathan dead, Odio turned to Narm and Shandril. "I suggest you two leave this world," he said. "It is too filled with foul diseases in human form for folks like you to be all that welcome here."