Elgan nods politely to the (former) HArmonium(s).
"Psst. Hey, Pip. WHat's a 'Harmonium'?"
And orders whatevers on tap. He makes a face in pleasant surprise at the fact that he apparently likes mead, and gazes around the room at the other occupants, nodding absentmindedly at Altai's comments. He starts as he realizes that Altai is headed for the surly giant in the corner.
"Um, Hey! Altee! I don' t'ink,..." He starts to say,
"Dat's sech a guud idea,... Aw nuts." He finishes lamely as the wiz strikes up a conversation. He sighs rather theatrically for the usually composed forest elf.
"Aw well, dis 'll eedur be informative, er fun!" He says to the nearby Tenser, draining his mug in one gulp and signaling for another.
Darmor explains the Harmonium.
"We were a faction in Sigil. It is.....well, it is a city, at the center of all existence. All of existence, all that is, revolves around cities.It was divided into Factions, people who philosophically believed similar things, and whose prevarications led them naturally to certain tasks.
We of the Harmonium, helped with maintaining law and order.
Others, such as the Sensates,....uh.....would operate entertainment establishments.
Some factions had no discernable justification for their existence, past perhaps existing; whether or not that is enough of a justification is for whatever deity to decide.
Then there was the faction war. The great Lady of Pain, she who ultimately rules Sigil, disbanded and outlawed all of the factions.
Being a law abiding folk, we of the Harmonium (formerly) officially did so at her behest.
So we have taken to the Upper Planes, to attempt, in the name of Harmony, to unite them all against the Prophesized Final War."
"Hmmmm..." Altai orders two more brews before leaning back in his chair, stuffing his pipe. "I can see the power attached to the symbolic sacrifice of the ur-giant and the gods fashioning his body into the world. Still, the violent dispositions it produces seem to stretch across the religious and racial borders - just a few hours ago, we witnessed a pitched battle between giants and bugbears, two races that certainly hold Odin in low regard, that seemed to serve no purpose beyond some primal need to shed blood. It seems to me that your philosophical position marks you as a bit of a free-thinking subversive in Asgard's environment. Does that make you a leader or an outcast among your kind?"
"The former now, the latter soon, with perseverence. Though it's not too much of a blasphemy among the great folk. Merely more intellectually elucidated than is wont for my kind.
Bugbears, eh? Well, if they can't eat it or couple with it, they'll kill it...they and their ilk are generally more trouble than they're worth.
The hobgoblins, however,.....if you can get them to work for you you've got something. They're consummate professionals, and they are good to their word.
Small goblinfolk are known for devious artifice. Weapons of magic and power, though not matching dwarves' cunning, still.....dwarves won't deal with just anybody, and almost never with goblinkind.
Good to their word. That's one thing, I have to admit, that the Aesir are. They hold dishonesty to be a greater sin than lechery, which is refreshing.
I wish my folk were more honest. Well,....at least amongst my folk."
"All save Loki. They have to have a liar around. For when lieing is a necessity.
I don't even think he's a true Aesir. Not Vanir either, but definitely not an Aesir.
The Mjolnirmurderer,....did you know his mother's a giant?"
"Could I ask you what your goal might be? I assume that Asgard, like other planes of existence inhabited by gods, is divinely morphic and that the current state of affairs is a result of a long struggle between a number of different deities. How can the non-deific change anything under such circumstances?" Altai nurses his ale. "I would think fatalism is the price one pays for living so close to the gods."
"I didn't know Loki had giantish parentage. But he has..., um, offspring with giants, right?"
"Could I ask you what your goal might be? I assume that Asgard, like other planes of existence inhabited by gods, is divinely morphic and that the current state of affairs is a result of a long struggle between a number of different deities. How can the non-deific change anything under such circumstances?" Altai nurses his ale. "I would think fatalism is the price one pays for living so close to the gods."
"I didn't know Loki had giantish parentage. But he has..., um, offspring with giants, right?"
"heh heh..." he laughs.
"godhood is a gift, not a privilege. It can be attained....through certain secret esoterica.Nothing is static.
Ragnarok.....it's a poison myth. Fate is a trap to the believer, get it? Keep the einhejrar in line. They're immortal; keep them drunk. Give them whores. Keep the whole sick wheel spinning.
And Ragnarok, the promise of the end of anything, to convince everybody else that the Aesir will actually rule everything until time actually ends; it's fated.
Pauggh!"
He grips the maul in a grizzled, arthritis-gnarled fist; "fate is what I make with THIIIIIIIIS!
Free will, man! I believe in freedom!
The Aesir,....yeah. They pretty much call the shots across there, East of Iving.
But Utgard Loki, he foold Hammerboy but good. None of his thoughts can bend anything in Jotunheim.
West of Iving, and West of the Mittelmarch, in the mountains of Jotunheim, none but Greatfolk rule, my friend.
If you're going there, well, you'll be safe to remember your place in life."
Wikipedia says Loki's father is a giant, but it is unknown what manner of being his mother is.
Wikipedia says Loki's father is a giant, but it is unknown what manner of being his mother is.
"We are headed into the Jotunheim. But we'll take care not to offend anyone while there. We know well that rules are set by the hosts and that we will be but temporary visitors."
"So," he drinks,..."what do you seek in the Greatest Land?"
"Knowledge, mostly. Giant loremasters come highly recommended."
huzzah!
"I'm still intrigued by the scope of your ambition. The opposition of the Æsir is a given, but this changes nothing as they oppose all things connected to giants anyway. But how do you plan to work around the giantish gods? Surely they have a stake in maintaining the status quo as well?"
he chuckles.....it is surprising in its resemblance to an annoyed goat's brayings.
"Uuuuuuh,.....all things in good time, my familiar.....all things in good time.
As the birchmen say: the mighty ancient oak falls so the smaller trees can reach for the sun....
I'd wonder now, do you feel any twangs of ambition? Surely, for I sense that you grow and thrive in that fertile mud of the prime.
As an aside, I invoke Demogorgon's recent fall from power.
It was nothing so spectacular as a random band of sproutlings from some mudball or another that smote him down.
Set the entire Great Wheel of Everything spinning to a mad mad jouncing ride, that little bit of stabwerk did....
These are interesting times, my familiar. Aye, interesting times.
The standard order of things everywhere, everywhen, is upended. It is a time of striving, of anything is possible. When order erodes, then can a new order be beaten into existence by men of iron.
If they've enough power."
Pip listens avidly to the Harmonium twins
"I have heard rumors of this city, and I have longed to see it for myself. Tell me, is it true that all manner of creatures, heavenly and diabolical walk Sigil's streets?"
Pip looks about as he is chatting, wondering if there is a stage where a minstrel could play
The more talkative twin chimes in.
"Aye. It is, for all intents and purposes, the very center of the universe."
the less talky guy seems to be intent on something.
know: arcana d.c. 20
Darmor, the talker;
"So, as such, anybody or anything from nearly anywhere can and often does show up in Sigil.
Powers, though, what the primer would call "deity" are precluded though.
The Lady of Pain does not allow them there, and apparently can back that up.
How she does that is a mystery."
Gleeanna asks the twins:
"what do you mean a snag? You said there's a snag?"
Darmor shoots a look at her, then asks Pip/the group/whatever
"so, what brings you to Asgard? or.....soon to the Mittelmarch as it were?" he smiles, winningly.
"Hmmmm...." Altai blows some smoke rings; absentmindedly twirling his fingers as he then knits them together into a complex mid-air braid with a cantrip. "I don't buy the birchman analogy in this case. If deification is a dynamic process, no god will 'crash and fall', making way for new upstarts. Instead, they will wither away as their base of faithful erodes; the trajectory will become exponentially sharper as more and more believers succumb to doubt and despair, until the old god disappears and is absorbed by is more successful competitor. But for such erosion to successfully take place, the new rising power must offer something attractive to the old god's followers, something that will want them to switch sides. That mechanic alone will serve as a natural brake on any novel ambitions a new godling may have - the best he can hope for is a relatively minor adjustment to the portfolio of the old god. Unless, of course, you have access to an entirely new set of believers..."
He initally parries a bit, possibly to jockey for time;
"aaah. Withering away. The tree falls, rots, lies in the ground, and feeds the new trees. This is the case with Odin, I'd sooth, with Wootan the Strangler. Wootan rots, decays, in the Mittelmarch, and his energies are sapped by Odin.
Not quite dead yet, but.....on his way there. And deader, at least, than the symbolic death undergone by Odin on Yggdrasil to..." he smirks "...to, create the Secret of Runes of Power...."
and,
"creating new believers just requires behavior modification in current wrong believers. Whether subtle or not.
I hearken to St. Cuthbert of the cudgel. He.....well,....he does have a cudgel;" and he chortles a bit at this pronouncement.
Kjallr is silent a while.
Then,...
"I.....guess it boils down to how sincere a thing it is that the new god offers.
One doesn't have to necessarily create new worshippers out of the maggots in Ymir's flesh for instance,....one can win them with promises of eternal death and rebirth, such as the Einhejrar of Valhalla.
And, as Wootan rots and festers, and gives power to Odin, he slowly but surely builds a following until he can be weaned from Wootan. By then Wootan is too too crippled to do much...though not dead, well...he's floating in a miasma of impotence....
It is a dynamic process, inscrutible to one such as yourself who will probably live.....what,......300 years? You don't get to see the big picture, because it's happening over a period of millenia."
bookmarked.....Kjallr/Altai's philosophical discussion....for future reference.....
"My limited time frame obviously affects my perspective. Still, I cannot see how you would chip away at the power of the gods of Asgard without radically rethinking the whole idea of divine portfolio. If your theory that the local gods draw their power from the violent acts of Asgard's inhabitants is true, then everyone here, whether they admit it or not, are for all intents and purposes worshipers of the Æsir. Hell, even the giant gods contribute to the Æsirs' power through their confrontational stance. The only way out would be to reject violence altogether, right?"
Darmor shoots a look at her, then asks Pip/the group/whatever
"so, what brings you to Asgard? or.....soon to the Mittelmarch as it were?" he smiles, winningly.
Pip ponders
"Well, we have a question that we need to ask a giantish practicioner of the wizardly arts. We were directed hither to find a wise one to consult."
Pip looks about
"I think I will liven up the area with a bit of song. If you folks will excuse me .."
Pip climbs onto the big table and starts doing some suitable poetic eddas with a accompaniment from Lucille.
"Cattle die,
kinsmen die
the self must also die;
I know one thing
which never dies:
the reputation of each dead man."
He sputters in his drink. Nonviolence?......pshaw....
"You pose an interesting thought problem there. Nonviolence."
"Well, let's say....violence that fuels this place is like unto a wagon at the top of the hill, running full speed to the bottom of the hill.
The gods are....at the reins of the wagon.
To STOP the wagon entirely, like you would suggest through nonviolence.....no. That would entirely upend the wagon. Kill the rider. Kill the horses. End the powersource.
Net lose.
If, though, you could say....drop down next to the rider, you could slit his throat, tumble him in a ditch, take over the reins, and, with enough skill, guide the wagon to the bottom, then......THAT would represent just what I'm talking about.
The fuel source merely becomes harnessed to your need.
I admit it's a stretch, it's a complex feat or flight of fancy perhaps.
But, nothing is impossible here.
If you keep your wits about you."
Darmor shoots a look at her, then asks Pip/the group/whatever
"so, what brings you to Asgard? or.....soon to the Mittelmarch as it were?" he smiles, winningly.Pip ponders
"Well, we have a question that we need to ask a giantish practicioner of the wizardly arts. We were directed hither to find a wise one to consult."
Pip looks about
"I think I will liven up the area with a bit of song. If you folks will excuse me .."
Pip climbs onto the big table and starts doing some suitable poetic eddas with a accompaniment from Lucille.
1d20+27
"Cattle die,
kinsmen die
the self must also die;
I know one thing
which never dies:
the reputation of each dead man."
Everybody in the room applauds.
For the lass' singing part, an elfin maid joins in, her crystal clear voice making it all the more melancholy, as does her sunny smile.Everyone applauds, man and giant alike.
All save a bugbear, unconscious from too much libation.
Beldan pays his 5o gold pieces with a show of reluctance (though he can well afford the price), muttering about daylight robbery and ‘what upkeep costs are there for an iceberg anyway?’
He cheers up when he realises there is a tavern on this ferry. “Wow, what a good idea! I wonder if it will catch on?”
"Like the birchmen, the wagon analogy is powerful, but ultimately inapplicable. First of all, we agree that violence fuels the wagon and makes it move. However, you are not on the wagon. Only the already-established gods are, and they reap the benefits of being onboard. You will not be able to cut any throats, simply because you will not be given the opportunity until you yourself attain a modicum of godhood. Secondly, the wagon isn't moving because it is rolling down a hill. If it did, the divine power base would not be dynamic. Instead, it is powered by the actions of believers, who are pushing the metaphorical cart. By refusing to commit violent acts, they stop pushing and thus slow the cart down. Finally, once it stops, anyone can get onboard and start slashing at each other. Then, of course, the outcome can go either way."
Darmor explains the Harmonium.
"We were a faction in Sigil. It is.....well, it is a city, at the center of all existence. All of existence, all that is, revolves around cities.
It was divided into Factions, people who philosophically believed similar things, and whose prevarications led them naturally to certain tasks.
We of the Harmonium, helped with maintaining law and order.
Others, such as the Sensates,....uh.....would operate entertainment establishments.
Some factions had no discernable justification for their existence, past perhaps existing; whether or not that is enough of a justification is for whatever deity to decide.
Then there was the faction war. The great Lady of Pain, she who ultimately rules Sigil, disbanded and outlawed all of the factions.
Being a law abiding folk, we of the Harmonium (formerly) officially did so at her behest.
So we have taken to the Upper Planes, to attempt, in the name of Harmony, to unite them all against the Prophesized Final War."
"Oh, so you're coppers then?" asks Beldan guardedly.
Pip takes over the talking, and sings a wondrous tune. Beldan has a drink and lets the music wash over him. Then (guardedly still) to Darmor, "so what's this Final War all about then? I don't reckon any war would really be final as such - too much profit in war. Unless you kill everyone I suppose ..."
Beldan pays his 5o gold pieces with a show of reluctance (though he can well afford the price), muttering about daylight robbery and ‘what upkeep costs are there for an iceberg anyway?’
He cheers up when he realises there is a tavern on this ferry. “Wow, what a good idea! I wonder if it will catch on?”
Response of the gnome:
grunting, hacking laughter....then"o lad of mine,....do you know what it takes to feed those ferrymen? No? Well I imagine they could holt three owlbears in each of their stomachs!"
"Like the birchmen, the wagon analogy is powerful, but ultimately inapplicable. First of all, we agree that violence fuels the wagon and makes it move. However, you are not on the wagon. Only the already-established gods are, and they reap the benefits of being onboard. You will not be able to cut any throats, simply because you will not be given the opportunity until you yourself attain a modicum of godhood. Secondly, the wagon isn't moving because it is rolling down a hill. If it did, the divine power base would not be dynamic. Instead, it is powered by the actions of believers, who are pushing the metaphorical cart. By refusing to commit violent acts, they stop pushing and thus slow the cart down. Finally, once it stops, anyone can get onboard and start slashing at each other. Then, of course, the outcome can go either way."
He's thoughtful again.
"So I guess the trick, then, is to find this nebulous spark of godhood, then start the revolution. Well, maybe I've put the believers before the cart myself then! HA HA! YES!This is like the moment of clarity when lightning strikes on a black night."
Then,
"I think having everybody here, anyway, REFUSE to perpetrate violent acts is a bit of a....phantasmagore.
I would sooner believe that all of the cats in Asgard would agree to be leash trained as are the dogs of Asgard....no? I think it assumes the impossible.
Although,....no, perhaps this is yet another of those things that Brisingamen was made of.....things that are not. Such as the breath of a fish, and such as the footfall of a cat......and such as the olive branch of an Asgardian pacifist..."
"Oh, so you're coppers then?" asks Beldan guardedly.
Pip takes over the talking, and sings a wondrous tune. Beldan has a drink and lets the music wash over him. Then (guardedly still) to Darmor, "so what's this Final War all about then? I don't reckon any war would really be final as such - too much profit in war. Unless you kill everyone I suppose ..."
"Well, we were coppers.
And the Lady of Pain was the Burgomeister I guess, to continue the metaphor.AND she took away our license in the city.
So, I don't know what we are now, aside from agents of a just and righteous cause.
The final war......
I'm hoping that it is truly just a disaster fantasy.
But, with the fall of Demogorgon, and the lack of a True Prince of Demons,....
well the Bloodwar has died down. And it is rumored that the forces of Hell and Abyss attempt to solidify some form of detente.
It is further rumored that NOW, they hope to turn their aspirations toward the Planes of Light, in an all out war between Heaven and Hell, or Gladsheim and the Abyss.........among other places.
As this has never happened, well, I don't think anybody could truly predict the finality of it. All I can say is this: I don't think it would be too peachy of a deal if the evil ones won.
Hypothetically speaking, of course."
is this the Lipset/Rokkan theory you're speaking of?
(LOL)
I keep reading that thread title in the last 10 that says "What does the DM do when the pc's are just dumb....."then I think, "well, I reckin it can't be any more challenging than when they're reeeeeeeeely smart...."
"I think having everybody here, anyway, REFUSE to perpetrate violent acts is a bit of a....phantasmagore.
I would sooner believe that all of the cats in Asgard would agree to be leash trained as are the dogs of Asgard....no? I think it assumes the impossible.
Although,....no, perhaps this is yet another of those things that Brisingamen was made of.....things that are not. Such as the breath of a fish, and such as the footfall of a cat......and such as the olive branch of an Asgardian pacifist..."
"Oh, I agree. What I was thinking was that if you are bent on the path to godhood, that path must be carefully chosen. However, you were saying that your, um, unorthodox views of Ragnarok and the nature of the gods is not uncommon amongst the frost giants. So why don't you try to become the personification of this view? Become the frost giant champion of free will and liberation? That's divine territory not taken by anyone else, I would think."
Beldan takes a big swig. “So let me get this straight. Demons and devils hate each other and have had this big war going for a really long time – I think I heard Altai or someone mention something about that once ... so anyway, someone kills the demon’s biggest bad and now you think they’re suddenly going to stop their big war and fight the good guys? I don’t know ... I’m not big into the strategy of war, but wouldn’t it make more sense now for the devils to really press the attack against the demons while they’re all disorganised and squabbling to see who gets to be the new biggest bad and all that? Yeah ... hypo-thingy.”
"Oh, I agree. What I was thinking was that if you are bent on the path to godhood, that path must be carefully chosen. However, you were saying that your, um, unorthodox views of Ragnarok and the nature of the gods is not uncommon amongst the frost giants. So why don't you try to become the personification of this view? Become the frost giant champion of free will and liberation? That's divine territory not taken by anyone else, I would think."
"Well....I'm actually a little more interested in my own PERSONAL freedom than anyone elses, but....it's a thought. I'm more interested in liberation through self improvement, for instance.
I'm not exactly sure about my own pretensions to "divinity" either, well, not right away anyway....but;....So, my familiar; what do you seek there in Jotunheim?"
Beldan takes a big swig. “So let me get this straight. Demons and devils hate each other and have had this big war going for a really long time – I think I heard Altai or someone mention something about that once ... so anyway, someone kills the demon’s biggest bad and now you think they’re suddenly going to stop their big war and fight the good guys? I don’t know ... I’m not big into the strategy of war, but wouldn’t it make more sense now for the devils to really press the attack against the demons while they’re all disorganised and squabbling to see who gets to be the new biggest bad and all that? Yeah ... hypo-thingy.”
"I agree. It sounds far fetched.
Except for the cunning of Graz'zt. He is probably the most "devil" like demon lord of the lot, in cunning and calculation, if not in....well, in looks.It is whispered that he brokers detente with Asmodeus.
Sure, others fight Bloodwar, but....with the massive army of Graz'zt quit of the field, well.....some of them as well, enemies of Grazz't, for instance, like Orcus; especially Orcus who ALSO pretends to the Crown of Prince of Demons...
they must quit the field as well or face annhilation at home BY Grazz't's forces.
It is said that this is why the Bloodwar coagulates and scabs over. Though the scab breaks loose at times, well.....the scar is healing.
Unfortunately, for the rest of the multiverse."
So, my familiar; what do you seek there in Jotunheim?"
(nevermind; he allready asked that.)
What do you seek with a giant loremaster?
“Hmmm, I guess,” shrugs Beldan, taking another drink. He doesn’t know much about Abyssal politics, but that situation sounds credible amongst scoundrels.
“But why are you (former) Harmonium lot so concerned with it? Don’t the heavens have angels and heavenly hosts and folk like your fire-haired friends to deal with fiends? That’d be right up their alley wouldn’t it?”
“Hmmm, I guess,” shrugs Beldan, taking another drink. He doesn’t know much about Abyssal politics, but that situation sounds credible amongst scoundrels.
“But why are you (former) Harmonium lot so concerned with it? Don’t the heavens have angels and heavenly hosts and folk like your fire-haired friends to deal with fiends? That’d be right up their alley wouldn’t it?”
"Well,......that is true, but there is strength in numbers. We're just doing our part. And if there's a way to unite the upper planes into one cohesive allegiance, we'll find it.
Also, Asgard for instance.IF......Odin's people were crawling all over Jotunheim,....say, looking for demonism to put a stop to, the Jotunheimers would get itchy. It could set off a conflagration that could go on for years and serve no purpose but to turn all of Gladsheim upside down.
THAT would just play into the hands of the demoniac.
*sighs* which....brings us back to our problem.
We, our small force here, with Gleeanna and her eladrin compatriots, have extremely important business, to the west, in Jotunheim a ways.
Only, well, there's a Shieldmaiden, who needs our help.
Finding her father. Well, she won't admit to needing help, but Jotunheim's no place for a Shieldmaiden to be bopping around all alone unescorted.
And to help her, well,......we WILL help her, we are VOWED to help her, but then,....WE couldn't exactly take care of the business that we need to take care of.
HOWEVER,....."
and he looks over at Pip, troubador of stars, up there on his makeshift stage...
"Perhaps, you and yours could help this Shieldmaiden? And thus allow us and ours to go on with our mission?"
Beldan raises an eyebrow. “Shieldmaiden eh? Damsel in potential distress, that sounds like the sort of thing we’re good at dealing with ... tell us more, maybe we can help.”
He looks around, to the other tables.
Bids you closer.
Whispers;
"I don't want to say too much more in so public a place, but....in a while I'll escort you and your compatriots.
She's hidden, in a room upstairs.
She's headstrong but she at least agreed to that much; it's not in any of our interests that...."
he eyeballs a clot of fire giants over to the other side of the room. Their numbers play some sort of backgammon, axe throwing, and knivesies with a surly brace of Viking type men.....
"well, it's not in any of our interests that the wrong types get wind of her presence.
So we can pursue the matter more, upstairs, in private."