Throughout all these talks it's seemed to me that Quettle was heavily implying there was some lobo lore we could unlock somehow. All that talk about getting his monks to clean up the archives and so on. Haven't quite figured out how to get at that, or if I just misread the cues. Anyhoo, I do want to follow up on some of these threads someday. Particularly the one where Quettle turns out to be Dar's dad. ;;)
And before you say anything about monks being celibate, keep in mind that the Toshan order's whole purpose was to preserve the loboshigaru race. Procreation is probably like a central part of their doctrine, they're just too humble to publicize it. Where do they keep the ladymonks though?
I dunno, I always took cleaning up the archives to be code for not having anything to give us right then, but reserving the right to "discover" it in the future, possibly after a chat with Esty. That's how I use it for the library, at least. Damaged archives are a useful excuse for not knowing scholarly things, since it's not as firm a commitment as saying that something is entirely unknown. It leaves you with a very convenient escape route into suddenly knowing a thing, once you've decided what that thing should be.
Any sufficiently advanced pun is indistinguishable from comedy.
I think the Nekotai trace their roots from Grandmother Scorpion's adherents, or something like that. I'm not exactly sure, but from what I recall they lean more on Scorpion than illithoid.
I dunno, I always took cleaning up the archives to be code for not having anything to give us right then, but reserving the right to "discover" it in the future, possibly after a chat with Esty. That's how I use it for the library, at least. Damaged archives are a useful excuse for not knowing scholarly things, since it's not as firm a commitment as saying that something is entirely unknown. It leaves you with a very convenient escape route into suddenly knowing a thing, once you've decided what that thing should be.
Yeah, that's kind of what I meant. I guess it felt to me like we could encourage that "discovery" to happen sooner rather than later, so we went through the motions of having the restorative archivist idea approved. I suppose I should check in with Zitto to see if that initiative survived the change in leadership or if it's even worthwhile to continue playing out the scenario.
I was not on my A game for these, but for completion's sake I'll include them.
Snowbound Monks
(circa 445 CE, shortly after the monastery fires)
Daraius examines the gathered monks with an urgent gaze, relief settling over his features as he finds them largely unharmed.
Daraius bows respectfully to Master Quettle.
Master Quettle serenely clasps his hands and bows.
Daraius says, "I am glad to have found you, Master. I do hope you are all safe and sound."
In a low growl, Master Quettle says, "It was a long trek, but I believe we are all accounted for."
Looking around the area, Daraius asks, "You have no accommodations here. Will it be safe for you? Could the nearby villagers not offer lodging?"
His gaze falling on the stone sarcophagi, Daraius says, "You have even brought the ancestral masters."
Baring an odd, canine grin, Master Quettle says, "Young pup, we are monks, after all, and to some
extent, that means we are renunciants. It is not necessary for us to have accommodations or lodging,
though it is a nice comfort."
Daraius dips his muzzle humbly in assent. "Of course, Master," he says with some contrition. "I have no lack of faith in loboshigaru robustness."
Master Quettle passes a glance to the four sarcophagi present, acknowledging Daraius's statement with a nod. "Would it have been honourable to let our ancestors lie in a place that may have burnt to the ground?" he questions.
His tail slipping between his legs, Daraius says, "Forgive me. It seems my concern is driving me to tactlessness."
Master Quettle waves a paw dismissively. "Your concern is appreciated, young pup. It would be a greater concern if you lacked it rather than had too much," he remarks.
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "If I can be of any service, pray let me know. I am ashamed that I could not come to the defense of the monastery myself, and that my city played a part in causing the destruction."
His ears falling back against his head, Daraius says, "Our aeromancers have erected a barrier to prevent the refraction of destructive rays through the city's spires, at least."
A soft growl rises in Master Quettle's chest as he nods his head slowly. "I am ashamed too, young pup," the old Master admits. "I responded hastily and perhaps too angrily at your Emperor and his companion, and I would like to ask for you to submit my apologies to him. It is difficult, sometimes, leading others, and my words and feelings got the better of me."
Nodding, Master Quettle says, "So I have noticed. It was quite the show, even from here."
Daraius regards Master Quettle for a moment with an expression of mixed admiration and surprise.
Daraius says, "I cannot imagine a lapse in your serenity, but I will pass along your apology to my great-great-grandpup."
"It would not have been the first time," Master Quettle says as he barks a low-sounding chuckle. "Nor will it be the last. But thank you, young pup."
Daraius offers a hesitant nod, his ears still lying back against his head.
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "I'm afraid I must return to my city, but please, if Hallifax can be of any service, either in providing temporary shelter, or assisting with your return to the monastery, or with its reconstruction.. do send word to me. I have some sway with the Board of Directors, and I'm certain I could mobilize a relief effort."
Master Quettle lowers his muzzle into a nod. "We will have to see how the coming months will turn out, whether your cloud shield can maintain itself for our relative safety. But thank you, pup, it is appreciated. And of course, if you wish to speak with us, you know where to find us."
A low, contented growl arises within Daraius's chest.
Clasping his paws and offering a serene bow before addressing the gathered monks, Daraius says, "May you all be well, and your efforts fruitful."
Master Quettle returns the bow with one of his own.
Daraius dips his muzzle once more in farewell before turning to depart.
The following month...
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "Good afternoon, Master. I hope you and the monks are holding up here."
Opening one eye to inspect who is speaking to him, Master Quettle soon opens both and nods his head at Daraius. "Aye, young pup - it would seem the these fiery beings did not wish to come near the Snow Valley. Perhaps it is the circumstance of the location, perhaps it is just lucky. But in either case, we are well and fine," he says in a low growl.
A low, contented growl arises within Daraius's chest.
His tail swaying placidly, Daraius says to Master Quettle, "I am glad to hear it. I am not sure if you have sent an envoy to the monastery, but at last check it is still standing. The druids have offered a solution.." He pauses, reconsidering his words, "Well, they have constructed edifices which appear to be strategically redirecting the more harmful rays."
Daraius says, "There is some uncertainty regarding their motives, but as it is we seem to have little alternative."
As Daraius explains, one by one, the other monks open their eyes - they too were meditating, and they listen in with some interest. Quettle ignores their intrusion, nodding as Daraius speaks. "There is always some uncertainty regarding somebody's motive," he responds, "But if this is structure keeps the monastery safe, then that is all I can ask for."
Daraius dips his muzzle in assent, unable to keep an unsettled growl from rising in his chest. Suddenly, his ears pop up alertly and he begins to look through his supplies. "I have brought something for you," he says.
Daraius says, "Here we are."
Master Quettle cranes his head to one side like a curious puppy.
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "Your monastery has been for me the only place I could call a home, apart from Hallifax. So I have brought a little bit of my home to you." He retrieves four porcelain tea bottles from the package and sets them out before him, continuing, "Green tea, to make the muscles fluid for the study of Form. White tea, for Clarity of mind. Oolong to incite passion and awaken the Heart. And black to stir the blood and rouse the Spirit."
Daraius's eyes sparkle with amusement.
Daraius pours white orange-blossom and pomegranate tea from an immaculate porcelain tea bottle into an immaculate porcelain tea cup.
Daraius pours starry zephyr oolong tea from an immaculate porcelain tea bottle into an immaculate porcelain tea cup.
Daraius pours blackberry rhapsody black tea from an immaculate porcelain tea bottle into an immaculate porcelain tea cup.
Daraius pours seven-spice sonata green tea from an immaculate porcelain tea bottle into an immaculate porcelain tea cup.
Giving Daraius an odd, canine grin, Master Quettle says, "How thoughtful, young pup."
Daraius gently places the teas and packages on a clear patch of snow in front of Master Quettle.
Daraius drops 4 immaculate porcelain tea cups.
Daraius drops 4 immaculate porcelain tea bottles.
Daraius drops 2 perfect picnic packages.
Daraius says, "There are enough cups for everyone, I think, so do feel free to share."
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "You served tea to me once at the monastery, I felt it only hospitable to return the offer."
Smiling at Daraius, Master Quettle turns to the brothers that still are waiting and watching this go on. With a gesture, he silently entreats them to stand and come forward; in a line, one by one, the monks come up, pour some tea into cups and settle themselves back down in the snow. It is only after all of them finish does Master Quettle retrieve some for himself. There is only a few wisps of steam arising from it - suggesting that perhaps it had gotten cold in this clime; however, the old loboshigaru does not seem to mind, as he takes a sip.
It is only then does everyone else sip also.
Master Quettle says to Daraius, "Thank you, young pup. And I am certain all the brothers and sisters are thankful too."
Cheerful golden motes wink about Daraius's aura as he witnesses the ritual. At Master Quettle's words, he humbly dips his muzzle. "It is my pleasure, Master," he says, then offers some imitation of a smile to the other monks within sight.
None of them look up, their muzzles taking long, deep drinks of the proffered drink.
With some delicacy, Daraius says to Master Quettle, "There is something I wished to ask you, if you are at liberty to speak. But if you must return to your meditations, I will leave you to it."
Daraius says, "Perhaps now is not the time, and I should wait until the monastery is restored."
Dipping his head to one side to listen more closely, Master Quettle says, "Young pup, who is to restore the Monastery then, if we are not there?"
Daraius acknowledges the point with an upturned paw, his tail falling still.
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "You noted that your shortness with my great-great-grandpup was not the first time you had, ah.. lost your temper." His ears fall back against his head as he continues, "What is it that could cause one as well trained as you to lapse?"
Daraius swivels his ears attentively towards Master Quettle, concern evident across his canine features.
With a furrow of his brow and a crease of his ears, Master Quettle shifts in his spot, placing the teacup just beside him. "It is always the practice of the Heart that leads one to temper, to aggressive, to compassion, young pup. My life is for our shared brothers and sisters here." The Master gestures around Daraius - and he notices that all of the monks have finished drinking their tea and settled back into meditation. "So when I have fear that harm may come to pass, it is my compassion that leads me astray. Which in itself may not be so much a bad thing."
Daraius asks Master Quettle, "Can even compassion lead to, ah.. The affliction we work so diligently to prevent?"
Glancing at the meditating monks, Daraius says, "I dare not speak its name."
With a nod of his head, Master Quettle says, "Aye, which is why hope to achieve a passionless compassion, a being in the world that is natural as our breath - that does not stir ourselves to far worse things."
A vaguely troubled growl rises in Daraius's chest as he considers the Master's words, his gaze downcast in contemplation.
Master Quettle says, "Does something trouble you about my response, young pup?"
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "Not precisely. Only that you cause me to reevaluate the doctrines. A disciple's journey never ends, I suppose."
Master Quettle nods. "That is good. Sometimes we all need to reevaluate our doctrines," he remarks.
Daraius issues a soft growl of acknowledgement, his gaze somewhat distant.
Daraius says to Master Quettle, "Thank you for speaking with me, Master. I'm afraid I must take my leave, but you have given me something to meditate on."
Master Quettle nods his head at Daraius.
Vapor escaping his maw, Master Quettle says, "Take care, young pup."
With a gesture towards the bottles and packages, Daraius says, "If there is any tea left, you are all welcome to it." He clasps his paws and offers a polite bow, concluding, "May you all be well, and your efforts fruitful."
Daraius turns to depart, casting a wary glance over his shoulder before receding over the hillside.
Comments
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."
Estarra the Eternal says, "Give Shevat the floor please."