# A Tale of Two Persons, Parts 1 and 2 / Ah, it's a wizard's life!



## Edena_of_Neith (Jul 23, 2003)

Chapter 1

  Once upon a time, a non-descript and unimportant person from this Real World of ours was magically transported into the world of Faerun, and there he was forcibly introduced to someone known as Edena.
  This Real Life person had read some of the fantasy series Guardians of the Flame, but had hardly imagined that he would himself be subjected to such a fate.
  As for Edena, he was magically Geased at the same time.  He had to take this Person on his adventure, but could not help him unless in extremis, and had to require him to undergo the rigors of the adventure just as Edena himself would undergo them.
  Edena bought the Person mail, a finely wrought breast/backplate, paudrons, gauntlets, and all the rest that is Plate Armor.  He bought him a fine helm, a beautiful long sword, a wickedly sharp short sword, the finest tooled boots, a goodly backpack filled with food light to carry and long to last, and a waterskin to wash it all down with.
  On a chill summer morning the two of them set off for the dungeon, which lay 40 miles away.  There was gold aplenty there, Edena knew, and the monsters guarding it were mere orcs.  The wilderness was friendly, a good road ran most of the way through the trees, and there were even other villages to stop in, between here and there, with an inn or two, and beer of a most excellent nature.
  There were, however, no horses or other beasts of burden.  Edena considered magically summoning such, but the Geas restrained him from doing so, for some reason, so he contented himself to a long day's walk.  A walk he would throughly enjoy.
  The Person, however, had other ideas.  The Person, thought Edena was crazy.  The Person pointed out that the mail alone weighed 30 pounds, the plate armor another 30, the helm 10, the shield 5, the sword 3, and the backpack another 10 pounds.  90 pounds.  The Person declared he simply could not walk along in such weight.
  Edena, compelled by the curse, sadly and firmly informed the Person that if he did not try his best to walk that walk, he would be punished until he changed his mind.  Edena did not wish to punish anyone, hated suffering and pain, but had to obey the Geas.  Nor could he magically strengthen the Person, for the Geas disallowed it.
  Edena wondered, long and at length, what cruel person would lay such a Geas, then sighed and went about his task of preparing for the adventure.
  The Person could not even put on his own armor.  Edena helped him, easily lifting the pieces into place with one hand, buckling and tying everything into place.

  Chapter 2

  Off they went.  At Edena's pace, which would cover the distance in two days, assuming many stops at inns and many rests along the way.  Edena was going at the most casual pace the Geas would allow for, in sympathy to the Person:  Edena could have made the 40 mile trip in a single day, even in adamantine armor and without the help of any magic.
  The Person, barely able to move at all carrying that much weight, nevertheless set off gamely for the adventure.
  The Person, managed to walk one-quarter the speed of Edena's languid pace, trying as hard as he possibly could.  Edena, fortunately, found the Geas relaxed, and he could slow down to match the Person's stumbling gait.
  The Person quickly went from fresh to tired, then from tired to utter exhaustion.  He stopped, fumbled for his waterskin, desperately thirsty, and could not even raise his armored arms to drink.  Once he finally did get the strength, he could not open the visor of his helm.  By the time he figured out how to do that, his arms were literally numb from the effort, and he gasped at the water, drinking it in with desperation.
  This was all of 10 minutes into the journey.  The morning sun shone, beaming warm and friendly rays down upon the chilled land.  To the Person, the morning sun was an icon of pain, for he was already badly overheated, drenched with sweat, and the tepid water from the waterskin did not help.  It briefly quenched the thirst pain in his mouth, but no more.
  Edena looked with sympathy upon this Person, but there was nothing he could do, for the Geas prevented it.  Shaking his head, he turned onward.
  To the Person, the situation quickly turned into a nightmare.  His muscles screamed with pain, his gamisson was as wet as if he had fallen in a lake (if only he could!), he mouth burned with thirst, and he had soiled himself.  He would have thought he would have died from embarrassment from that:  it had been an early fear of his, knowing he could not remove his armor to do the deed.  Yet now he was in such pain that he didn't even notice the fact.
  The Person had endured a traffic accident in which he had almost died, and had spent 10 days in the hospital.  The Person had undergone broken bones, organ removal surgery, headaches that almost caused him to faint, and the usual harsh workday of the Real World, but this torture was wholly new and wholly worse.  He begged Edena to stop, he pleaded with him to leave the heavy armor and backpack behind, he gasped for mercy, but Edena merely informed him that failure to continue would lead to torture with impliments of the most Hellish nature.  (Not that Edena wanted this, but the Geas was a Geas.)

  Chapter 3

  The Person started crying from the pain, and he was not embarrassed, even though he was male.  It hurt worse than any pain he had ever known.  His gasping breaths could not replace the air in his lungs.  His rivers of sweat could not cool his body.  His waterskin was long emptied, and refilled repeatedly by Edena's magic, but no amount of water sufficed:  the Person was losing water far faster than he could take it in.
  It was now 30 minutes into the trip.  They had walked all of 1 mile.  The morning sun, an icon of fire in the sky, turned the Person's armor into an inferno from which there was no escape.
  The Person somehow got a second wind, and continued on.  The road Edena proclaimed as so easy to walk along was actually a terror, rolling up and down, filled with holes and cracks into which the Person stumbled and fell repeatedly, almost crying out as he had to get back to his feet carrying that 90 pounds.  Edena himself looked at the Person surprised, since the road was a casual stroll compared to even walking in the nearby meadows, and naught compared to walking in a forest or in rocky terrain.  Much less walking or running in a battle, or in water, or up and down hills and mountains.  Edena wondered how the Person could possibly handle those things?
  45 minutes into the march, one of the Person's major back muscles partially snapped, and with a shriek of pain he collapsed.  Edena, would have given anything to stop, but the Geas prevented it.  He magically healed the injured Person, then remorsefully commanded him to his feet.  Weeping and almost screaming, the Person complied.
  Five minutes later, another muscle gave out.  Edena repeated the procedure.  Then five minutes later, yet another muscle gave out.  Edena again repeated the procedure.
  The Person stopped, deciding magical torture was not worse than the this torture.  Edena remorsefully applied the Ghostwhip, which ignored armor and clothing, and did it's work right away, and made it's point swiftly.  The Person decided to continue on.
  It was now an hour into the trip.  The strong morning sun beamed down, slowly dissipating the night's chill.  The Person gradually turned red, and became incoherent as Heat Exhaustion took hold.
  When it turned into Heat Stroke, Edena once more used his healing magic to avert disaster, restoring the person to hydration, if not to happiness.
  They had gone 3 miles up the road.
  Then, the Person's eyes simply rolled up, and he collapsed.  He had literally run completely out of energy, even as a Marathon Runner can do (and subsequently die despite urgent medical treatment.)  Now he lay unconscious on the road, and even Edena's magic could not revive him.  It could save his life, but it could not revive him or make him walk further.
  Edena shook his fist angrilly at whatever sadistic Power had done this thing, and picked up the Person (armor and all) in his arms and continued on.  Carrying the Person's total of 300 pounds was insignificant to Edena:  Edena could carry many hundreds of pounds of weight as easily as the a Person in our Real World could walk to his neighbor's door on a friendly saunter to give greetings to a friend.
  And so, the remaining 37 miles were covered, Edena jauntily carrying along the person, ignored by the villagers and peasants he passed.  As he passed into the true wilderness, he Stoneskinned the Person, so that enemy arrows would not harm him.  Certainly, there could be enemies in the wilderness, and Edena was taking no chances.
  The Person did not regain consciousness that day, or that night, except for momentary lapses of semi-lucidity in which he drank every last drop of water given him, babbled incoherently (occasionally to state how he would kill Edena and everyone else involved in this madness), and to defecate, soiling himself uncontrollably.
  Edena fought the Geas, and finally overcame it enough to pour healing (and cleaning) magic into the Person, so that by the next morning, the Person was very much awake and his strength had returned.

  Chapter 4

  The Person tried to kill Edena the next morning, but that failed when Edena simply froze him where he stood with his magic.  When the Person attempted to run away, Edena simply laid a hand on his shoulder, and stopped him cold in his tracks.  Edena forebear to use the Ghostwhip, feeling it cruel and heartless in spite of the command of the Geas, paying a great cost in red-hot pain himself to defy it in this way, giving all the mercy and compassion to the Person he could.  
  Into the Dungeon they went.  Down the first hallway, Edena using a Continual Light Stone to show the way.
  Out leaped a dozen orcs, bearing swords, bucklers, and wearing gleaming mail of their own.  With howls of eager, bloodthirsty delight, the monsters charged forward.
  Edena swept out his maces, massive killing heads on the end of great, four foot shafts of solid iron.  In an instant, Edena was upon the these foes, and shattering armor, bodies, and equipment all in great single sweeps of his weapons, while his opponent's blades hacked futilely at his magically impregnated body.
  The Person also pulled out his long sword, breaking free of his horrified stare at the charging monsters.  He found he could not wield the long sword one-handed, for his wrist was not strong enough.  He dropped his shield with a clang, and wrapped both hands around the hilt of the sword, drawing the weapon back for the mightiest swing he could give.
  By which time the one orc that had gotten through Edena's guard had hacked and stabbed at the Person multiple times, but the Stoneskin had blocked all the attacks.
  The Person round-housed the orc with everything he had, adrenal strength going into that swing.  It caught the orc squarely on the side of his body.
  The orc urked, as the blow cracked several ribs under his protective mail, and the blow sent him careening into the wall.  The orc flung up his arm in time to avoid being brained against the hard stone, and his arm was all but broken in the crushing slam against the unyielding wall.
  Furious, the orc leaped back, before the Person could recover or draw his sword back for a second strike.  Driven by fury and it's own adrenal strength, the orc roundhoused his sword at the Person, catching him right across the middle ribs.
  The Person's heavy armor withstood the blow, but the force of it knocked the Person into the wall.  He cracked his helmed head on the stone, lost his orientation, and fell down with a bang.
  The orc, in fury and glee, stabbed the Person right in the gut, where the plate armor did not protect, and only mail warded the flesh.  The blow did not penetrate the mail, but it crushed stomach and intestines alike.
  The Person felt a great numbness wash over him as shock set in.  Suddenly, he found he could not move, and watched dreamily as the orc swung again.
  The orc's third blow, aimed precisely and with adrenal fury behind it, slammed into the Person's armor, again over his ribs.  The armor withstood the blow, but three ribs under it broke, and went into the lungs.
  Edena, having killed all his orcish foes, turned and leaped upon the last orc.  A sweep of his mace, and the orc went flying seven feet back, his chest crushed and spraying blood.  The battle was finished.
  The Person was dying.  Blood was filling his lungs.  His intestines had ruptured, poisoning his blood stream.  Uncontrolled vomiting, caused by the damage to his stomach, had already half suffocated him, and he was already turned purple.
  Edena sighed, produced his powerful healing magic, and in a flash of blue fire that illuminated the Person's skeleton from skull to slender toe bones, restored him to perfect health.
  Then Edena sighed again, and proffered his hand, and he spoke:
  'Up, my friend.  Up.  The Geas will not allow you to quit.  It will not allow me to allow you to quit.  Up.  Now.  Or shall I use the Ghostwhip yet again?'
  The Person groaned and said;  'Just kill me and have done.'
  Edena shook his head, sympathetic, but also purposefully;  'Ah no, my friend.  If you die, then I am obliged by the Geas to resurrect you.'

  Epilogue

  For you see, my Dear Reader, that is the difference between Reality and Fantasy.
  The Person is, of course, Yours Truly.  Edena, is the character of Yours Truly.
  Never the twain shall meet.  
  Hopefully.

  The End


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## Edena_of_Neith (Jul 23, 2003)

*A Tale of Two Persons, part two*

Chapter One

  Once upon a time, Yours Truly was enjoying a walk in the local park, when lo and behold, he came upon a warrior.
  Now, this was not some actor or SCA person trying out for the Pennzic War, but a real honest to goodness warrior from the world of Faerun, magically transported to our world and plopped right down in the neighborhood of Yours Truly as he walked in the park.
  The warrior was dressed in the finest ornate plate armor, and by means of it's marvellous magical properties it was completely weightless.  The same was true of the warrior's helm and his shield, and he could walk across the roughest terrain at the highest speed as easily as you and I could saunter down the sidewalk.
  The warrior ran up to Yours Truly before he could do much more than gape, and grabbed him by the shoulder.
  'Hey, what are you doing?' said Yours Truly, rather afraid of this stranger.
  'I am a Purple Dragon Knight of Cormyr' replied the warrior, and indeed his surcoat of the Purple Dragons proclaimed it rightly so.  'Where am I, and how do I get home?'
  For some reason, Yours Truly was inclined to believe the warrior, having heard of such phoenomenon in scientific books recently published, so Yours Truly relaxed.  He was a bit awed and honored to be in the presence of such an august defender of the Steel Regent of Cormyr, and before her, the valiant King Azoun IV.
  'Why, if you will just follow me' said Yours Truly, 'I will take you home, and we shall discuss this.  For you are in a strange world, and I must explain all of it's customs to you, if you are to avoid real trouble prior to our discovering the magic necessary to return you to your native land!'
  This was true enough.

  Chapter 2

  'Well, which way to your home?' asked the Purple Dragon of Cormyr to Yours Truly.
  Yours Truly considered this;  'Well, those railroad tracks are the most direct way, but since it is illegal to walk along them, we shall walk down the road, in the park, until we reach my house.'
  However, the Purple Dragon Knight was, apparently, rather arrogant, for he said:  'I think we should take the most direct route.  And since walking through yonder trees seems difficult, and those railroad tracks look like easy walking, we shall take those.'
  Yours Truly protested.  'But it is a felony to tresspass on the railroad tracks.  You must understand that.  You should obey the laws of our land, since you are here.'
  But the Purple Dragon replied:  'I honor the laws of my native Cormyr, and I think such a law, as the one you describe, is totally unreasonable; the law you proclaim concerning those railroad tracks.  In Cormyr, we would not deny you use of the King's Roads.  So, why should I be denied the use of yonder Railroad Tracks?'
  Yours Truly protested again, but it was no use.  The Purple Dragon would not have it, that they take the road (and the paved biketrail that ran alongside it) but would only have the railroad tracks, so up they scrambled and climbed until they reached the high way with it's twin steel rails.
  Yours Truly then saw the signal lights were green, and commented:  'A train is coming soon.  When it does, we must stand aside.'
  'What is a train?'  asked the Purple Dragon.
  'It is a machine of our land designed to carry bulk freight' commented Yours Truly.  'They are enormous and impressive things, and their horns are very loud, but it is pleasant to hear them going by in the distance, on a summer night when your windows are open.'
  The Purple Dragon considered this, then commented  'We must wait and see one of these trains.'
  Yours Truly protested.  'If the police see us here, we will be arrested!  The sooner we are through with our journey and off these railroad tracks, the happier I will be!'
  But the Purple Dragon was having none of it.  He decided to wait for the train.  He decided to wait for the train, standing right on the tracks themselves.
  Soon the train, a real monster of a coal train, fully loaded, and travelling at 40 miles per hour, came roaring up (you know, the kind that you are glad is going fast, as you sit annoyed in your automobile, and even then it takes 20 minutes for the durn thing to pass by?)
  The Purple Dragon Knight did not move aside, did not step off the tracks as the train approached, so the engineer of the train gave a thunderous pull on the air horn.  Yours Truly, seeing the Purple Dragon - standing their slack jawed in amazement - was about to be squashed, heroically leaped on him, and bore them both rolling down the embankment, as the four engines of the train roared by, and the very earth shook with the rumble of the great coal cars, and the air was filled with the metallic noise.
  The Purple Dragon Knight just stared and stared, his eyes standing out, the veins on his forehead visible, and he was trembling violently.  He was at an utter loss for words, and Yours Truly could do nothing but wait while the warrior crouched in abject terror in the underbrush, watching the train go by.
  Yours Truly was shaking too, but not from the train passing by.  He was shaking from nearly having been killed by the train, because he had had to save the Purple Dragon from being killed, because he had not moved out of the train's way.  3 seconds more, and that would have been that.

  Chapter 3

  Yours Truly decided then and there to get the warrior home and keep him there, less the terrors of this world prove to be too much for the Purple Dragon, and he got himself killed in some foolish way.  Yours Truly looked at the overhead high tension lines, in which 13,000 volts of electricity were carried, and decided then and there that a long lecture was going to be needed to this knightly fellow, worthy though he was, about survival in this strange, strange world.
  However, Yours Truly was not to have that chance.
  The engineer of the train had radioed the news of the near collision to the railroad authorities, and they had radioed the police, who now showed up in two squad cars.
  Four police came out, carrying their flashlights, and spotting Yours Truly and the Purple Dragon Knight, they called out:  'You there.  Come down here at once.'
  The tone was not friendly or unfriendly.  It was absolute, as is typical when the police are doing their job.
  Yours Truly immediately moved to comply, with a 'yes, sir.' added.  However, the Purple Dragon instantly bolted into the woods, thinking himself able to elude the Watch of this apparently hostile land.
  Yours Truly turned around in protest, even as shouts of 'halt!' and 'freeze!' were heard from below.
  Yours Truly put up his hands and did not move.  One of the police came up, swiftly clapped a hand over his shoulder, and walked him down to the squad cars.  Not roughly, nor gently either, but swiftly and with the precision of long training.
  One of the officers of the police called for backup, while the other two gave chase to the Purple Dragon Knight.
  The Purple Dragon found his way encumbered by brush, thorny vines, and fences, and he did not know the way.  The police knew all the ways, and were not encumbered by heavy armor, bulky weapons, shields, and helms that allowed limited sight vision.  The outcome was inevitable.
  'Freeze right there!' shouted the two officers, having pulled night sticks out, and advancing on the Purple Dragon, who had pulled out his sword.
  The Purple Dragon protested 'I am a stranger in your land.  What kind of treatment is this?  Does your Watch always treat strangers so?  I throw down my weapon, see ...'  And the honorable and good man threw down his sword.
  The officers regarded him with the stony faces they employ when dealing with suspects, and they called out  'Lay down on the ground.  Hands out.  Do it now!'
  The Purple Dragon would not comply.  He shook a fist at the police.  'I have done nothing to you or yours.  I will not cooperate.  I will not tolerate this kind of treatment!'
  Yours Truly, sitting in the squad car, overheard this, and groaned, but there was nothing he could do.

  Chapter 4

  The officers waited for their backup, and soon four more police cars came up, and eight officers of the law leapt out, and ran up to surround the warrior from Faerun.
  With such odds, the outcome was a given.  The officers took the warrior down.  The Purple Dragon Knight struggled, injuring several officers.  The officers piled on the man and held him until he could be cuffed, then manhandled him down the slope and into the rear of a police car.
  The Purple Dragon Knight was looking someone bruised and battered for wear, but Yours Truly thought he was rather lucky.  The police had exercised incredible restraint, considering the circumstances.  The warrior should have been dead, and might have been dead had he tried those stunts in most other police precincts.
  Now the officer continued questioning Yours Truly, who commented that he did not know the fellow, and he had not intended to break the law, and that the stranger had been entirely unreasonable, and that he had saved the stranger's life.
  Yours Truly was not a bad person, but he did not want to go to prison because a stranger from another world had shown up, behaved stupidly, and turned the kindness of Yours Truly into a trap that caused him to get into trouble with the authorities.
  Yours Truly even agreed to a polygraph lie detector test, in order to verify his story.
  In the end, Yours Truly was let off with a Warning.  It was considered he was an innocent dragged into the situation, by the Judge.
  The unfortunate Purple Dragon of Cormyr, was determined to be unfit for trial, declared legally insane, and sent to a psychiatric hospital for treatment.  He would, eventually, find the magic to return home, and he would complain bitterly of his treatment on our world to the Steel Regent.
  But the Steel Regent of Cormyr would pronounce him a clown and a fool, and have him put in the stocks for public ridicule.
  She would also inform him that she was being merciful, and that if he again embarrassed Cormyr by flaunting the laws and authorities of a foreign land, and behaving stupidly, she would have him beheaded.

  Epilogue

  Once again, we see a hypothetical meeting of Reality and Fantasy, when truly the twain should not (and, actually, do not) ever meet.
  However, this time Yours Truly was the one who could cope, and the valiant warrior of the fantasy world, could not cope at all.
  Thus, these are events that are the absolute reverse of the events that occurred in the first story, given in the first post of this thread.


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## Edena_of_Neith (Jul 23, 2003)

*Ah, it's a wizard's life!*

Edena, that archwizard from the world of Neith, was in a bad mood.
  Well, thought he, he had good justification.  He had had this Date set up with this very intelligent, very deeply philosophical, and very beautiful girl, and he had slept through the time of the Date.
  Slept through it!  He, Edena, had slept through the appointed Date.  With one of the most fabulous women he had ever met in his long life!
  The young lady was understanding, and had reset the Date for tomorrow, but Edena was sulking.  He wondered if he were getting old after all, if his longevity magic wasn't failing him at last?  After all, 480 years was a long time for a human to live.
  Or perhaps, Edena mused darkly, he had buried his head in too many tomes that day, spent too much energy on that neverending pursuit - the pursuit, the pursuit of knowledge, the pursuit of understanding of magic, and in so doing he had missed out on something else dear to him.
  Something else, perhaps, that was more important than any understanding of magic.
  A something else, perhaps, that was truly the important thing, whereas all that pouring through the books was the lesser in importance.  His mentor would have scoffed at such a notion, but Edena now believed love was something he should have pursued as a young man, and he lamented the fact he had missed out on such a good thing when it had offered itself.  He had resolved not to miss out now, if love presented itself again.
  His mentor, again, would have scoffed and rebuked him, but Edena had made his mind up on this issue.  And he would be making that Date tomorrow.  He had sworn it by Mystra herself.
  In honor of his incredible blunder, Edena had memorized a sour spell he had jokingly called Edena's Halloween Special, in honor of the alleged spooks, goblins, and ghosts of the Terran Holiday.
  It wasn't a particularly powerful spell, and it wasn't particularly effective in combat, but it did work in conjunction with the powerful Lifeproof spell, and being in a bad mood (and having Lifeproof up on himself anyways) Edena had memorized it.
  Now, Edena found himself confronted by a group of brigands, for he had been walking in the forest, and they had jumped him, and he was actually of a mind to cast the spell.
  He was definitely in a darkly humorous mood.  He didn't particularly feel like killing anyone, but ruining someone's day was perfectly fine, if he could accomplish it.

  Chapter 2

  The brigands thought differently.
  The brigands, were quite willing to kill, having killed many times before and become immensely wealthy off doing this.
  The King's Men could not stop them.  They left the King's Men hanging from the trees in mockery to the Crown.
  The Royal Clerics had tried to scry out the brigands, but the brigands had special amulets that blocked scrying efforts, foiled the crystal balls, and left the frustrated clerics stammering explanations to their unhappy employers.
  The King had a number of wizards, but the wizards were all engaged in dealing with an enemy warlord and his renegade sorcerers.  None could be spared to deal with these brigands at this time.
  And so, Edena, who only wanted to sulk and feel sorry for himself in private, walking alone along a peaceful country road, now had these brigands facing him down.
  'We know you have great wealth, wizard.  Now, we will take all you have.'  said the brigand leader.
  'Do not even think of casting a spell.  My Hellball is ready to fire' sneered the brigand mageling.
  'If you try to fight, I will summon demons to kill you' announced the brigand cleric darkly, hefting his unholy symbol.  
  'If you dare to lift a hand, I shall cut it off, and then your head, for this is a vorpal blade!'  announced one of the brigand fighters.
  There was more.  Much more talk of this sort.  There must have been 50 brigands.  Some had bows, some had slings.  Some had swords, others hefted maces and morning stars of ghastly size.  Many had spells at the ready.  Most had swords and/or knives, usually poisoned (such is the way of brigands, I suppose), and all had visages as hard and nasty as the intent in their hearts.
  Edena smiled grimly, and stated:  'Very well.  You speak of cutting off a hand.  Then, by all means ...'  he paused 'you shall have your wish!'
  And Edena, drew his sword.  This alone did not cause the brigands to fire;  their leader signalled them to wait for his signal.  But Edena did not attack.
  Edena, proceeded to chop off his own hand.

  Chapter 3

  The hand fell to the ground with a thud.  And the blood came forth.  The brigands held their attack, for they were very surprised, and could not for the life of themselves figure out what Edena was about.
  Now, usually, when a man loses a hand like that, the shock alone is enough to kill him.  And if shock does not do so, he must quickly tie a torniquet around his arm, and wind it tightly, or he will bleed to death.  Perhaps, even with a torniquet, he will bleed to death.
  It is a serious matter, the loss of a hand.
  Yet Edena did not seem to think so.  And he was in the right, because for him it was ... not ... a serious matter.
  Edena had up Lifeproof.  No amount of physical damage could disable him, or even cause him pain.  He simply could not be destroyed by physical damage, unless perhaps it vaporized him altogether, or if he were torn into small pieces, but one must wonder if even then the magic of the Lifeproof could be overcome.
  Now, Lifeproof is not a protection against disfigurement, and certainly if one is burned, stabbed, hacked, and otherwise beat on, one isn't going to look so good.  But that is irrelevant, to the Lifeproofed person, unless his or her ego is very, very fragile indeed.
  Normally, a person who had lost a hand would bleed to death pretty quickly.  There is only so much blood in the human body.  This is a matter of known science, and there is hardly any need to go into the grisly details, and I shall not do so here.  It is enough to know that normally Edena would have bled white as a vampire within a couple of minutes at the most.
  But Edena now threw Edena's Halloween Special.
  The blood that came forth, was replenished endlessly.  An endless supply of blood, from a Netherworld of Grim Humor, came flowing into him, to replace what was lost.
  Edena's blood pressure, which in a normal human runs about 120 over 70, suddenly escalated to titanic levels, to storm giant proportions.  
  The blood that came out the end of his wrist, erupted with the force of a fire hose.

  Chapter 4

  Back and forth Edena moved his arm.
  The torrent of red blasted forth.
  It caught the fighter with the vorpal blood, and he slipped in the blood, and went down, and try as he might he could not get up on such a slippery surface.
  The brigand wizard took the blast full in the face, and his spell misfired as he was blinded, deafened, and almost suffocated.
  The enemy cleric thought to conjure his demons - they liked blood, after all - but then the torrent caught him up, and sent him tumbling head over heels into the bushes (which liked being soaked, but not with blood.)
  Enemy warriors filled Edena with arrows, pincushioned him, but Edena paid them no mind.  After all, what is an arrow wound when you can laugh at losing a hand?  Edena was more annoyed when he was struck in the eye and the arrow went through to his brain, but he reached up with his good hand and plucked it out, then sent the audacious enemy archer tumbling head over heels with a well aimed blast from his firing arm.
  As for the eye wound, I won't recount the details, but one should know that Edena was not blinded, and in a few moments his eye reappeared right where it was before the arrow struck it.
  Soon, all the enemy were knocked down, or sent flying head over heels, or were all but drowned, overwhelmed by the colossal blasts from Edena's firing arm, as he swept it back and forth without mercy upon them.
  Then Edena called out:  
  'I will have mercy upon you, and allow you to leave.'  
  Edena smiled.  
  'You have provided me with quite a lot of amusement, and in return I will spare your lives.  Is that a fair agreement?'
  The leader of the brigands nodded hastily, and ran off as fast as he could go.  Some of the others rose up defiantly to continue the fight, but Edena merely blasted them down again with the blood.
  Edena spoke up sharply  'I could set all this blood afire, and cook you alive.  But I'm in merry mood, and such an act would spoil my little jest.  And spoiling my jest would make me truly angry.  Do you wish to see me truly angry?'
  Most of the brigands did not wish that, and they turned and ran away as fast as they could/  Once they got out of the slippery mess the entire area had turned into, first, of course.
  The remainder, decided to heroically overcome this wizard who had fire-hosed them with his own blood.  They drew swords and bows, readied spells, and prepared to attack.
  Edena sighed, and commented:  'Nay, you will not ruin my jest.  My day was ruined already, and this has brought me new merriment.  In that I must be content, until I can find true joy in the arms of a certain beautiful and loving girl.  So, I shall spare you, and take my leave.'
  And with that, Edena reached down, picked up his hand, and stuck it to stump of his arm.  The hand instantly regrafted to the arm, as if it had never been severed.
  Then Edena raised his right arm, clenched his fist, threw his fist open wide with the fingers extended, and he at once faded into blue motes of light.
  The blue motes slowly dimmed, then faded out, and Edena was gone.

  Epilogue

  A wizard simply does not live by the rules that others live by.
  This is a point well understood by all wizards.
  But for some reason, non-wizards never seem to get it.


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## Serpenteye (Jul 23, 2003)

*Re: Ah, it's a wizard's life!*



			
				Edena_of_Neith said:
			
		

> *  A wizard simply does not live by the rules that others live by.
> This is a point well understood by all wizards.
> But for some reason, non-wizards never seem to get it. *




True, but in that lies the slippery slope to corruption. It begins with bending the laws of magic and physics, a growing sense of uniqueness, apartness and superiority. That easily evolves into a disregard of absolute truths and absolute morality. 
"If one rule can be defied, why not another? Do I not trancend such limitiations, as I trancend humanity itself? Why should I be bound by a code of morality created to guide the common man when I stand so far above them in understanding of the multiverse? What are such as they worth compared to me? Worms, crawling on the earth, never lifting their gaze above their own pitiful toil, their lives nothing but a passing quivering of base animal needs. What greater worth can they have than as material for my experiments and fuel for my power? Only by living, and dying, for me can their lives ever matter in the making of history. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.' By themselves they can never be greater than ashes and dust. I shall make a mark in that dust that can never fade in the winds of time eternal."

Or that is how an old character of mine would have put it. 

--

Great stories btw. Most fantasy worlds are really quite unpleasant places compared to most parts of Earth.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 23, 2003)

*Well now!*

This IS a pleasant piece of work, and I'm rather enjoying this piece of writing you're working in, Edena.  I'd love to see more of it!  I want to hear more of Yours Truly suffering horrendously under the Geas.  Sooner or later, he'll adapt.  Ought to be fairly interesting when he does.

Most folks overestimate their odds of surviving in the DnD world - It's quite amusing to see a shamelessly accurate self-portrayal.


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 23, 2003)

Although, it was rather silly of Edena to make someone without armor proficiency wear Full Plate...  Padded and leather exist for a reason!


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## Edena_of_Neith (Jul 23, 2003)

Hey there, Serpenteye, Anabstercorian!  : )
  Thanks for the feedback.  It can be daunting, to write a story and submit it for peer review.  And on ENWorld, one will get peer review for sure - heh, we ENWorlders are renown for giving our opinions, and then some! 

  Serpenteye, Edena is lawful good (or, perhaps, neutral good.)  But, as you can see, even he is not immune to the very corrupting effect you have (very eloquently) described.
  Indeed, that seems to be one of the main themes of wizards in books that I have read:  they grow to consider themselves above the law, and maybe even above reality, and that power goes to their head in various awful ways.
  Thus, the wizard becomes corrupted.  He is a wizard no longer, but instead is a monster.
  That is why it is important, that Edena is unhappy about missing the date with the girl, and that he looks forward to seeing her the next day.
  It indicates Edena still has some sense of reality, that what we would call real and important things (love is important, I would daresay!) are still important to him.  Keeping in touch with those things, like romance and love, help to keep the character in reality.  They help to prevent him from becoming totally disassociated with reality, lost in the strange realities of great magical might.
  Heh.  But your point was very eloquent, Serpenteye.  I thought it was.  I think your point applies to most of the great wizards of Faerun, to be honest.

  Anabstercorian, heh:  good point!  A flaw in my writing.
  Yours Truly does not even have Light Armor Proficiency (heck, Yours Truly finds walking around in winter boots to be burdensome.)
  All I can say is, Edena was trying in his own way to protect Yours Truly, knowing Yours Truly could not survive without the protection of armor.
  Edena is not a bad or sadistic fellow.  He hated what he had to do in that story.  But the Geas (which he fought back against like mad) compelled him, and he had to do what he thought best.
  You want me to write more stories about how I am required to suffer (and conquer) in a D&D world?!  Heh ... Yours Truly the Mighty?  Slashing and hacking his way across the Realms?  Building a Great Empire and wearing a Royal Crown upon a Troubled Brow?  Hehehehe ... I just might write that story ... : )

  To you both, Serpenteye and Anabstercorian:
  Your friend
  Edena_of_Neith

  P:S  Could you tell the others in the IR, and those you know, about these stories?  I do welcome other feedback (even if they think my stories stink.)  And I guess I'd just like for people to read what I wrote.
  Thanks much!


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## Serpenteye (Jul 23, 2003)

> Most folks overestimate their odds of surviving in the DnD world - It's quite amusing to see a shamelessly accurate self-portrayal.




I second that. I'm in reasonably ok shape but I have little doubt that I'd fall in a battle against 2 blind kobolds. It would be silly for a person with almost no experience of fighting to assume otherwise.

On the other hand, the Person in the first story would gain xps at an incredible rate. Pretty soon he could be killing those orcs almost as easily as Edena himself. 




> Heh. But your point was very eloquent, Serpenteye. I thought it was. I think your point applies to most of the great wizards of Faerun, to be honest.




Heh, most of them just don't realise it. The self-righteous pompous fools. ;D

--

Once again, good writing. One can always count on Edena to be original.


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## Edena_of_Neith (Jul 24, 2003)

What did you think of the behavior of the Steel Regent of Cormyr in the second story?
  Was she right in acting that way?  Did she do the proper thing?  Or did she mess up?

  (If you don't know anything about her, simply assume she is a intelligent and competent, if temperamental, ruler.  I hope that helps ...)


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## William Ronald (Jul 24, 2003)

Edena,

I enjoyed the stories.  A person from our world, without training in how to use medieval armor and weapons, would have trouble moving and fighting effectively.  Of course, I think Edena should have realized that buying a war horse was not out of the question.  (That and perhaps bracers of defense would have been more welcome than chainmail for someone not trained as a warrior.)

In the second story, I have seen the sort of behavior that the Steel Knight showed in too many games.  Often, I have seen players assume that their characters are laws  unto themselves.  Often their characters suffer for it, though seldom receive psychiatric treatment.



> Edena wrote:
> 
> A wizard simply does not live by the rules that others live by.
> This is a point well understood by all wizards.
> But for some reason, non-wizards never seem to get it.





Often, I have seen PCs who are not wizards go overboard.  Corruption does not need magical power.  All it needs to take root is a sense that one's self is the center of all things.  A concentration of personal or political power has caused many people in real life as well as myth, legend, and religious stories to fall into evil and madness.

Superior morality and self-discipline can prevent a fall into corruption.  Several wizards in my campaign world have avoided that fate, while sometimes mighty warriors fall to the evil of their own hearts.  I like to say that the worst enemy that we have to face is our own pride.  Some conquer it, but other fail.  (Sepulchrave II in his Wyre story hour shows how this can happen to a cleric.  In that instance, the vessel of power and holiness confused himself with the source of power and holiness.  The Priest-King in the Dragonlance novels also suffers from the same arrogance.)

For myself, I think remembering a simple truth that my rights end where yours begin is a good way for a character to fight off pride.  Also, a wise man knows that just because he can do something does not necessarily mean that he should do it.  (This is something a certain Knight of Cormyr failed to understand.  The Steel Regent seems to understand this simple wisdom.)  Sadly, many of the great wizards of Faerun seem to act as if they are laws unto themselves, and do not often consider the desires of others.  (Khelben Arunsun seems to come to mind.  Splitting off from the Harpers probably gave rise to a few celebrations in Thay and Zhentil Keep.  Pride goes before a fall.)

The Persian national epic the Shah-Nameh relates the Zoroastrian legend of the Emperor Jemshid who ruled in the Golden Age.  (I will now quote from a translation of part of this national epic that can be found in Joseph Campbell's "The Hero With a Thousand Faces.)  Consider this a literary expounding on the theme of corruption and pride.

_All looked upon the throne, and heard and saw/
Nothing but Jemshid, he alone was King,
Absorbing every thought; and in their praise /
And adoration of that mortal man,/
Forgot the worship of the great Creator./
Then proudly he to his nobles spoke,/
Intoxicated with their loud applause,/
"I am unequalled, for to me the earth/
Owes all its science, never did exist/
A sovereignity like mine, beneficient/
And glorious, driving from the populous land/
Disease and want.  Domestic joy and rest/
Proceed form me, all that is good and great/
Waits at my behest; the universal voice/
Declares the splendor of my government,/
Beyond whatever human heart conveived,/
And me the only monarch of the world."/
--Soon as these words had parted from his lips/
Words impious , and insulting to high heaven,/
His eartly grandeur faded -- then all tongues /
Grew clamorous and bold.  THe day of Jemshid/
Passed int gloom, his brightness all obscured./
What said the Moralist? "When thou wert a king/
Thy subjects were obedient, but whoever/
Proiudly neglects the worship of his God/
Brings desolation on his house and home."/
== And when he marked the insolence of his people,/
He knew the wrath of heaven has been provoked/
And terror overcame him."_

Or to paraphrase Campbell, the emperor has become the usurper whom the world is now to be saved by a hero.

(If anyone reading this has not read Campbell's "The Hero With A Thousand Faces," do so.  You will gain greater insight into the ideas behind myth and legend --- and a lot of ideas to steal for your own campaign.)


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## William Ronald (Jul 24, 2003)

> Serpenteye wrote:
> 
> Most fantasy worlds are really quite unpleasant places compared to most parts of Earth.




I agree, at least as far as the industrialized nations are concerned.  We have luxuries that the ancients could not imagine, such as the internet and EN World.  Communication satellites.

I do not envy the people of the Middle Ages in general.  (Okay, there are a few people I would love to have a dinner chat with, but in our time.)


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## Anabstercorian (Jul 24, 2003)

The thing about stories starring oneself in a fictional light is that they are inherently extremely self indulgent.

However, they're often a stitch to read, and rather enjoyable.  So go wild!  Yes, it's goofy, but I'd love to hear of the wild adventures you'd have.  Naturally, however, you'd have to post them all here so we could mercilessly criticize your rate of advancement, the realism of your combat, how true you are to the DnD spirit...


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## The Forsaken One (Jul 24, 2003)

This is... errr... weird.. 

Not my kind of writing sadly! Original but not appealing to me. I'll attempt another installming with interest so we'll see!

Good to see you on the boards Terry!


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## JohnBrown (Jul 25, 2003)

Edena,

Your stories were very interesting.  Good job!  While no literary great myself, I never have a problem critiquing the works of others.    

The first story seemed like you wanted it to be a ‘fish out of water’ story, but you as the ‘fish’ could have as easily been a 1st level commoner, and thus not a ‘fish’ at all.    Your second story read better because the otherwise extremely confident and capable knight was unable to function in his new environment.  In the first story, your ‘fish’ was unable to function as well but only due to physical limitations, not because the environment was new.  You communicated your theme well enough, but the Story would have read better if you had made yourself extremely confident and capable in the real world, and then thrown for a loop in the new environment.    

Your third story was good as well, but stories involving extremely powerful characters tend to bore me a tad.  A less powerful Edena that used Edena’s Halloween Special (great spell by the way) and luckily managed defeat the brigands in an interesting way, would have been more amusing to me than All-Powerful Edena simply choosing to use the Halloween Special to amuse himself.  I found myself saying “…. brigands that can cast Hellball?  Those are some brigands!“     That’s just me though.  Weak Edena facing five brigands is more engaging to me than Powerful Edena facing fifty.  Also, I am not sure that this story was the right vehicle for your theme (actually it seemed like there were a couple of themes jumbled in there, but the main one seemed to be about Edena re-evaluating what was important in his life).  Perhaps, a story where he was close to achieving something that was ‘professionally’ dear to him, but choosing to go on the date instead…  Just a thought.  

I hope this doesn’t come across as harsh, because I did really enjoy your work.


Looking forward to reading more,

John


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## Sollir Furryfoot (Jul 26, 2003)

A very fun read, Edena, interesting and unique-I'd expect nothing less from you   Anyways, I think I need to give it another look over before I comment, but I thought the first story was pretty much true, going from real world to DnD mechanics-if you decide to continue it let's just hope RL Edena doesn't get mixed up with those clerics of loviatar in your world


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