Kella is clear disagreement. She's growing stronger by the moment, and now seems to have regained her full vitality. Pressing close to Mexus, she grabs fistfuls of his clothing.
"No leave Kella in this tent! Kella follow..." She trails off, face scrunching up as she tries to figure out what to call Mexus. "Dark elf? Dark shaman? Great shaman!"
Corpselicker presses forward too, shoving Ankleknocker and Dunghurler back. "Me also want learn! Me have great natural talent! Teach me, great shaman! Teach me dark sekrits, and I become the world's greatiest and bestiest shaman ever!"
Corpselicker throws his head and hands back, overcome with visions of his rapidly impending grandeur.
Kella screams in rage, and lets go of Mexus to round on Corpselicker. "Shut it! Kella kill you if you talk to Great Shaman! He belong to Kella! Dark sekrits belong to Kella ONLY. Go away!"
Dunghurler starts to keen in a high pitched, worried manner.
"You leader, but ME magic one, me the one that licks the corpses and learns their sekrits! Me!" Corpselicker is almost shaking with fear and determination. He turns to Mexus.
"Pick me, great shaman! Me bestest learner ever, me do anything!"
Kella shrieks in fury. "Toad! Mousey with head up its bottom! Kella teach you's a lesson! Never challenge Kella, never, NEVER!"
So saying, she reaches under her clothing, and pulls out a vial of pitchy dark red liquid, almost exactly similar to the vial of alchemist's fire the group had found on the shaman's sleeping body back at the tower.
Dunghurler goes suddenly and violently silent, followed immediately by the wet squelching sound of his defecating into his pants.
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Mexus's eyes go wide for the briefest of seconds while Dunghurler readies his ammunition, but he ultimately decides its best to simply ignore the situation and try to make his exit before the stench reaches him. Mexus turn to Kella and replies slowly, in a consoling tone, like he would to a child, or a slow-minded zealot ... a very corpulent, slow-minded zealot, "Kella, give me the vial, and I will let you be my apprentice."
Kella almost jumps into the air with delight and turns to Mexus.
"You swear?" Her eyes gleam with avarice. It's clear she believes him, but is desperate to ensure he doesn't change his mind later. "Swear it by Asmodeus' name!"
Kella's eyes narrow as she slowly processes his words. She even mouths some of them to herself as she deciphers his meaning, her brow furrowed.
Then she latches onto a key element, and straightens in surprise. "You no serve Asmodeus? You stole power? Who you serve, then?"
Kella's eyes go wide. "You serve... yourself?"
She turns to the other three goblins, and they all go, "Ooohh..." in appreciative tandem.
Kella turns back to Mexus and grins. "Then swear by your own name to teach me magics and me give you bottle."
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How bad could a goblin with Prestidigitation really be? Besides, she's probably not smart enough to be able to comprehend how it works anyway. Still, if I'm swearing by my name, I'm actually going to have to make an effort to honor this one ...
Mexus hesitates for a second and then agrees, "I swear by my name, Mexus Navarion, to do my best to teach you magic if you give me the bottle in your hand, and any other weapons that you have."
Kella lets out a savage bark of triumphant laughter, and tosses the bottle of alchemist's fire to Mexus while turning to the goblins, "See! Me! He pick me! Me become Grand Shaman! Me!"
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Mexus's prehensile tail darts out like a whip to easily catch the vial and wrap itself twice around the girth of the pyrogenic weapon. He looks to Kella with a disapproving shake of his head. By the time he speaks, his tail has tucked the vial safely in a belt pouch. "I'm half demon, Kella. Fire doesn't burn me. You would have only lit your tent on fire and roasted yourself and the other gobos. Do you have any other weapons?"
Kella turns back to Mexus, confused. "What? No other weapons. And me no try to set you on fire. Me just give you back vial. Me knows you catch it."
Scrutinizing her as he is, Mexus can tell that's she's being honest. And that she's very much a goblin, and might actually not think twice of lobbing a vial of alchemist fire to someone in a friendly manner.
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"Fair enough. Stay here and keep the other Gobos in line. And make sure that one," here Mexus points to Dunghurler, "washes his bum before we set out when the storm ends. I have to go convince the fat man that saving you was good. I guess he wanted you to freeze. When I get done talking to him in the other tent, I will come back and we will begin your training." With that Mexus turns to leave.
Kella rounds on the other three goblins, puffing herself up. Mexus can hear her command, "Dunghurler! Stick your bottom out into snow storm till it sparkly clean. Now!"
What response is made is lost as he enters his own tent and their voices are drowned in the vicious blizzard howl.
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As Mexus enters the party's tent, he pulls a vial of alchemist's fire from a pouch and proffers it to Fahim. "I apologize for the brief delay, but I had to negotiate with Kella to keep her from hurling this at the other goblins. I assumed that she took it from your stores." Here his mood reverts to his previous dour and pessimistic demeanor. Mexus looks to 'Hel, obviously trying to sleep, but being awakened by the dispute, "I'm sorry that you were awakened, but you should probably be part of this discussion as well. To acquaint you with the details of the dispute, when I went to check on the goblins, Kella was suffering extremely from the falling temperatures. So, I cast a spell to alleviate her condition. As you all know, I am not a priest of any sort. My powers are limited to moving energies and creatures between locations and planes. After the tragic loss of Alahazra on our last mission, when I returned to Absalom, I did some research into what I potentially could have done in order to save her. And during that research, I stumbled across a spell that allowed the caster to temporarily steal a demon's natural healing capability, and bestow it on a wounded individual. Contrary to Fahim's previous claim, such magic is not illegal, especially not outside of any civilized settlement, in the middle of the wilderness ... in a snowstorm. However, Fahim is quite right in espousing that the spell is infernal, as it temporarily steals a demon's power, and it is most definitely evil. Contrary to Honus's claim, it does not in any way affect the soul of the individual on which it is cast. It, in no way changes the individual, aside from temporarily granting them a demons regenerative capabilities, and temporarily filling the target with a sense of palpable evil."
Here Mexus pauses to take a deep inhalation and replenish his spent breath before continuing. "Now, I assume that everyone is in agreement that my general inclination to prevent Kella from meeting Pharasma was acceptable, and that the objections lodged against my actions are in reference to my methods, rather than my motives. In defense of my actions, I offer two brief arguments. The first, based on the outcome of my actions, is that Kella is healed, and still very much alive, otherwise unchanged in her condition. She was evil before I healed her, she is still evil after being healed, and she is generally pleased with the outcome of the situation. So, I cast a spell that agreeably aided an individual in our care that is important to completing our mission. Given Kella's reaction, I see no way in which anyone can reasonably claim that I harmed her in the least."
"The second, and more nuanced, argument that I offer, deals with the morality of my actions. I postulate that the morality of a given action is determined by a combination of its intent and its result. We have all taken actions that, without context, could be classified as wrong. For example, we have burned archers to death, slashed mercenaries to death, exposed opposing lords to lower-planar environmental conditions, and scared goblins by firing arrows in their general direction. We have, in our own various ways, terrorized our enemies and cut down our opposition. But we justify all of these actions to ourselves by claiming that we are fighting for a nobler cause. We are working to build a better society, and a better world, where individuals get to make the choices that they want, rather than the choices with which the powerful leave them. Honestly, I think we are right to make that careful distinction. On this mission, we are trekking through the wildness with an equal number of evil beings at our side, and we are sheltering them through numerous dangerous trials, because we believe the end result of their intelligence will help our side win a complex military and political victory, which we hope will translate into a better world. During this trip, in which we are illegally ferrying evil beings between warring nations, I cast a spell utilizing demonic energies to keep one of these evil beings from death, and that's crossing a line?"
"Saving another being from death is what's morally objectionable?"
"If you want to worry about the moral toll that casting such a spell is taking on my soul, I am truly touched by your concern, and I am grateful to call you friends. But before you condemn me for using the power at my disposal to save Kella's life, ask yourselves what the cost would be if I just let her die. I've already watched one of our friends be eaten before me. I'm not going to sit back and let anyone in my care die as long as there is one damned thing I can do to stop it. So, you might think me a monster for borrowing dark powers to save Kella's life, but I think I would be a much more vile monster if I let her die instead. What I did was done with good intentions, and had a positive outcome. So, as far as I'm concerned, I used a nefarious tool to bring about a better world. No different than cutting down a tyrannical lord with a poisoned blade."
With that, Mexus raises his hands before him, palms upturned in a questioning gesture.
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Fahim lets Mexus go on his rant, but he is clearly not impressed by his verbose response. A master of negotiation and verbosity in his own right, he can see a snow job when its coming. When he finishes, Fahim's response is terse and short, in stark contract to Mexus' long speech.
"Do not lecture me on means and ends. I know what I have done and why. I have never invoked the powers of a dark god. I have never channeled evil energies for my own gain. I understand why such arts are forbidden."
Fahim stares intently at Mexus. It is clear he is trying to look past the devil he sees, and is looking for what lurks beneath.
"What I want to know is whether you understand why they are forbidden. If infernal means are acceptable to you, then I need to know that. If you are going to continue to use them in my presence, then I need to know that."
Fahim then loses composure as his face flushes with blood and he yells, "BECAUSE WHEN YOU START PERFORMING HUMAN SACRIFICE FOR THE "GREATER GOOD" I DAMN WELL DON'T WANT TO BE ANYWHERE NEAR YOU!"
Fahim begins breathing heavy in a desperate attempt to calm himself again.
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Mexus obviously bristles at Fahim's retort, and his volume increases, "I am no faith-fool that ties his power to some self-proclaimed god-being! And I give nothing to any power, dark or otherwise, when I cast my magic!" Mexus grits his jaw and grapples with his temper. As he attempts to bring himself under control, his face flushes a deep red, and steam readily pours from his mouth and nose as he breathes in the cold air. But when he speaks again, his tone is more even and measured. "Fahim, please stop trying to impose your cultural norms on me. I am very clearly not Qadiran. And infernal magic is forbidden in many prime cultures, because dabblers who don't know what they're doing can end up enslaved to the very demons, and their ilk, that they are trying to summon and control. The danger is very real, as demons are powerful and substantially smarter than most humans. I am probably more cognizant of that fact than you are. But I haven't made any deals with extra-planar beings, nor do I have the intention to do so. I am not bargaining away my free will for my power. And so long as I'm not doing so, implying that there is a greater moral penalty for casting infernal magic than any other magic is nothing more than ignorant blathering born of fear and misunderstanding. Magic, any magic, is no more good or evil than a sword or a shield. It's what you do with them that matters. If you throw one of your explosives and it burns some horrendous monstrosity, it's morally no different than if I gated in fire from an elemental plane, or if I summoned a demon that scorched it with hell fire, or if I gated in a div that engulfed it in soul fire. The results are all the same. The lines aren't drawn as black and white as you want them to be. I have seen a devil and an angel at the same table amicably negotiating over drinks. We are working with evil goblins right now. We live in a complex multi-verse, where sometimes doing the right thing means using unsavory methods, and you are getting unnecessarily irate because I crossed one of your arbitrary lines, which is based on what you were taught as a child. I have trained at my craft, including how to deal with lower-planars and not get tricked into corrupting myself, longer than you have been alive. If I was going to trade my freewill for power, don't you think I would be a little more accomplished than I am after nearly a century of having the opportunity to do so? You know from your own experience with me that I am not one to use any destructive power lightly. If I was summoning fiendish creatures regularly, you would have seen me do it by now. But at the same time, if calling forth a demonic entity under my control was the difference between any of our lives and our deaths, then I would do it without hesitation. And the cost of doing so is no more than any other spell. At no point would I ever sacrifice a sentient being, human or otherwise, to a dark god in exchange for power. And that seems to be what you're most concerned about.
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"No, I am most concerned about spending my time with someone who uses infernal magic! I don't care that you don't think its evil, just like I don't care if you don't think fire is hot. The spell was unholy, and that is a fact. Your arrogance in thinking it's not evil because you are the one casting it just makes it all the more dangerous!"
After that exclamation, Fahim seems to have exhausted his anger. Whether it's because he has let off enough steam, or because he sees arguing with Mexus is pointless, is hard to tell.
"It's clear I'm not going to change your mind. Maybe one day you'll realize where this path is leading you. For now, I'll do what I need to do to protect myself from your inevitable corruption. That includes me telling you that you had better let me die before you cast that spell, or any other infernal magic, on me. When it is my time, I will go into the next left with a clean soul, untouched by your foul magics."
With that, Fahim seems done and begins remaking his bed so he can get some sleep before it is his turn to take watch.
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Zaiharahel groans and pulls the furs from off of his head, "...Too much talk. Not enough sleep. Fahim, we don't get paid if the goblins don't make it where we're taking them. And gods are gods, good, evil, whatever power does whatever, everyone's beholden to someone, and they hate everyone that isn't. Does your god believe that goblins have souls and should be saved? I'm f!*$ing miserable right now, my insides are frozen, and if I don't get paid, I'm going to be very irate. Go to sleep, and keep spooning Honus, and try and keep the sweet nothings that you whisper a little quieter, as I lay here in misery, I don't want to have any more reason to want to die than the freezing cold."
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Throughout debate, Honus twitches and looks uncomfortable and makes no effort to speak. He shows obvious disdain for the practices of evil magic, even as Mexus states his cautionary methods. This is not alleviated by the claim that bestowing a demon's power has no lasting effect on the recipient. Eventually, confusion sets in when the idea is raised regarding evil creatures being allowed to benefit from evil magic and still remain their evil selves once all is said and done. There is no confusion, however, when the morality of their own actions is called out as questionable by any standards. Honus reddens with anger at the comparison and raises a finger to begin to argue, but Fahim combats the concepts of means and ends for them both.
He settles back and considers how magic should not be viewed as good or evil, and instead the utilization by the caster is what determines the nature of the magic, but he quickly disregards the notion by considering the foul creations of necromancy.
The creation of undead through magic is evil, through and through. Magic, most certainly, can be classified as such, regardless of the casters intent.
They are both arrogant and stubborn, but Mexus is the one who is misguided. Perhaps his nature inclines him toward an acceptance of evil, but in his argument it seems clear that he himself is not. Misguided, yes, but not evil. Perhaps over time, we can educate him. That would be the right thing to do. He must learn to understand that evil is never acceptable under any circumstance.
Resolute, he nods to himself and makes his stance known.
"I would rather die than suffer the corruption of any evil magic. If you or the goblins want different, that is your choice."But one day, hopefully soon, you will come to understand why it is wrong.
During Mexus first foray outside, when he had first explored the edges of the camp for any signs of trouble or escape attempts on the part of the goblins, he discovered a rare flower that appeared to resemble a pale blue daffodil. Upon picking it, it immediately transformed to delicate, non-magical crystal, and he realized that it would be of some value to the right collector. [170gp in value].
When dawn breaks, the blizzard has finally subsided, and all is almost supernaturally still and quiet. Gone is the raging storm that caused the tent sides to heave like a bellows, the scream of the winds and terrible temperatures. As the group sets about emerging from the sleeping bags, you all freeze for a moment at the sound of low, vicious snarls coming from just outside.
The goblins in the next tent immediately begin calling out exuberantly in goblin, clearly excited, and you all hear them spilling out of their tent and emerging into the camp.
The snarls turn savage, and the goblins begin screaming and cheering and wailing all at the same time as one of them seems to be hurt.
Fahim emerges into the narrow space between the two tents, and sees that a pack of young, starving wolves have Ankleknocker surrounded and are biting into his squirming, kicking body even as the other goblins try to leap onto the wolves' backs in an attempt to ride them.
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Zaiharahel narrows his eyes as he snatches his shortsword from the ground next to his bag, and slips past Honus through the flap of the tent, unsheathing his shortsword and tossing the scabbard aside as he steps up behind one of the wolves, hoping that it's attention will remain off of him until after he drives his blade through its spine. Which will have to happen next round, as now he's out of actions. I'll have to invent a blade that automatically removes itself from the sheath one of these days, he thinks to himself.
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Mexus tears himself out of the tent and circles around the back of the goblin's tent, away from the loudest sounds of goblin jubilation and canine growling and snarls. As he rounds the back of the goblin tent in the cold morning air, he begins calling the necessary will and concentration needed to bridge the boundary between planes. Seeing the three wolves and the potential danger to the goblins that they represent, Mexus focuses on the memory of the baths in the City of Doors from the last time that his former master sent him there to deliver a message. Remembering a whole wing of the building devoted to unusual solutions in which outerplanars could bathe, Mexus concentrates on one large porcelain tub that he could probably have fully submerged himself in, and in which all of the gobos could be easily drowned. He remembers the noxious vapors coming out of the tub, and the twelve-foot-tall yellow scaled draconal Agathion leisurely lounging in the warm liquid. With the memory firmly envisioned in his mind, Mexus releases the energy that he's called up and forms it to make a link between that tub and this frozen waste. After a second of concentration, an indigo portal, about the size of a gold coin opens above the eastern-most wolf, and a stream of acid drips down toward the feral lupine ...
... but the portal placement is off, and the snow next to the wolf begins to smoke and sizzle as extra-dimentional aqua regia is splashed across it.
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Honus snaps to attention, dropping his bedroll, leaving it to unfurl across the floor. Grabbing his sword, he throws back the flap of the tent and stomps through the fresh piles of snow toward the circle of wolves.
He takes a wide swing at the closest of them, making a show of his threat to their pack. If they want a meal of the goblins, they will have to kill him first.
Concentrating more on his display of power, his swing is wild and falls short of making a connection.
Current HP: 10/11
Current AC: 18
Current CMD: 16
Active Conditions: none
The party scrambles outside into the blinding snowfield, the early morning sun causing the crystalized and perfectly smooth white surface to appear more akin to baker's sugar than anything else. Shielding their eyes against the glare, their first attacks miss, though their sudden presence causes the three wolves to snarl and wheel.
Honus is clearly the greatest threat. His blade catches the sun and shimmers like liquid fire, and the three wolves respond by dropping the squealing goblin, crouching, and then charging at him. One runs out in a wide circle, its paws throwing up puffs of snow, running all the way round to dart in close between Honus and Fahim and in doing so encircle the warrior.
One of the flanking wolves, too eager to close, leaps up and into Honus' slashing blade, causing it to dance back and then fall with a snarl and a whine into the snow.
The goblins shriek and wave their arms at the party. "No kill wolvies!" they scream, pleading and throwing themselves at the attacking beasts in attempts to mount them.
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As the goblins begin to wail and gnash their teeth, Mexus rolls his eyes curses under his breath, "Barmy biters..."
It's not enough that we have to escort them through the cold, but now they're going to try to crawl right into a wolf's maw ...
Mexus concentrates to redirect the portal, sending the coin-sized trans-dimensional rift zooming through the air after the romping wolf pack, dribbling heavenly acid in its wake. As one wolf pounces out of view behind the tent, and another falls into the snow, Mexus sidesteps in the snow, and focuses his aim on the wolf now surrounded by short tasty wolf-treats (i.e. goblins).
A fanged grimace of pleasure crosses Mexus's face as he watches the caustic celestial solution burn into the wolf's flesh ...
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Honus squeezes out from between the wolves, but only by a few feet, eager to draw them away from the goblins.
How can they not understand the danger of trying to ride wild animals?! These are wolves, not trained dogs!
He pivots and swings before the one beside him can round to his flank.
Current HP: 10/11
Current AC: 18
Current CMD: 16
Active Conditions: none
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As the wolf slips past Zaiharahel, he slides backwards with it (5 foot step), staying in its blind spot as it gnashes its maw at Honus, flanking it. He uses his momentum as he pivots on the ball of his foot, sliding his shortsword blade neatly up the wolf's flank, piercing up under its ribs.
Zaiharahel shoots a sideways glance to the other wolves, then to Honus. "...Maybe just kill some of the wolves?"
Fahim's blade flickers through the air and plunges point first into the closest wolf's hide, burying itself to the hilt in its rear leg. The wolf lets out a sharp yelp, whirls around snapping its jaws, but being caught between Honus and Zaiharahel returns its attention to its closest adversaries.
Mexus' spell opens a portal that for a moment he thinks is right on target - but then the nimble wolf sidesteps out of the way, its hackles rising as the caustic agent drenches a small patch of snow where it had been standing.
Even as Honus' blade whirs over the wolf's head, missing by an inch, Zaiharahel's blade sinks in under its ribs, and the tip of his sword punctures the wolf's heart neatly, causing a great flood of blood to spill out onto the snow as it suddenly drops bonelessly to the groud with nary a whimper.
One of the wolves leaps forward, sending up a spray of snow as it charges Zaiharahel.
The second wolf gains its feet, scrabbling for purchase, and moves forward to engage the elf in the next round.
The goblins press in right after the wolves, wailing and beseeching and causing an awful din.