Fellowship of the Golden Night
The Ambassadors
Volumn VIII "The Avatar and the Augur" Chapter 2
(This volumn is a part of The Name Project)
*All around him he looked, but Varro didn't see the grey haired man smiling back at him this time. He could hear him however...*
<I don't have need to appear to you. My physical appearence is unnecessary, and just a courtesy really. But if it's unnerving you so much...>
*The form of the avatar, in much the same appearence as the dream, materialized sitting in the window sill by the bed.* <Better now, Augur?>
Varro: <Not really. Actually, worse infact.> *as he tried to keep Uxor covered up. It then dawned on him that it was a silly thing to worry over, for without question the avatar had probably been observing him long before it made its presence known.* <Why did you call me that? Augur?>
<Because that is who you are now, when you accepted the scepter. Remember?>
*Varro thought back, trying to recount the dream. More came to his mind suddenly than simply his taking hold of it. Dimly he became aware that there was more to recall of his dream. Through a haze, he remembered being in the Hammersmith, playing a war game with a score of citizens and guildmates. He remembered that the avatar had been there as well, though Varro was the only one aware of it for the most part. That was until another burst of the dancing sphere caught their attention. As he sifted through the visions, he found they led him to his evening with Uxor when he had stumbled into bed. The memory of this aspect of the 'dream' told him that this had been no dream at all. This had been last night.*
Varro: <What in the name of all gods happened to me? Why is it such a blur? Is it because of...> *Varro nodded to the scepter in his hand.* <this?>
*The robed avatar seemed amused.* <No actually. You were just extremely drunk. I took the liberty of fending off your hang over for you this morning. Figured you'd need a clear head today.>
Varro: <Ah. Right.> *he rolled his new title around in his mind... Augur. At least it sounded better than 'priest.' Then he looked at the sleeping Uxor a moment, then back to the grey haird form seated in his window.*
Varro: <You haven't come to tell me I must undergo some kind of vow of celebacy or something have you?>
<There are many kinds of celebration Augur. Fortunately for you, that is counted among them.>
Varro: <Ah. Right... drinking?>
<Perfectly acceptable.>
Varro: <You know... this hardly seems a very holy position thus far.> *The bard's eyes narrowed a little in suspicion. There had to be a catch to being the oracle of a god now. No position like that came without some catch.*
<Oh it will seem that way soon enough. In fact, I have a little task for you.>
*Varro furrowed his brows a moment, but was distracted by something else about his encounter.*
Varro: <You don't sound nearly so formal as last night. I rather got the impression you were, well, a demi-god.>
<Oh I am. There is a time and plac e for formality, you know this. But now that you're past all that induction and free will stuff, I can be more level with you. All the showmanship of it is to impress upon you the importance of what you've undertaken. I mean, how fair would it be of me to come to you and say 'hey son, want in on the favor of a god? You can drink and do everything you want.' You have to have accepted it under the impression of gravity or you would not have been wanted in the first place. Just added precaution. Can't say we didn't warn you.>
Varro: <A task. What task? Build a temple?>
<Don't be stupid. If I wanted a temple, I would build one myself. No my new Augur, what is wanted of you is something much more... along your line of work.>
*Varro glowered at the avatar. He glowered because the tone in his head was the same tone he gave to others when he was up to something.* <I still don't understand why you need me though.>
<I don't.>
Varro: <Then why appear to me at all?> *he crossed his arms, glancing down at Uxor to ensure that she hadn't come awake amid his mental conversation with the avatar.*
<You certainly ask a lot of questions, Augur. I'll humor you though. We don't 'need' you - we simply enjoy rewarding those who show affinity for our domain. Which is why you were selected. Not to mention, the people of this realm are fast forgetting respect for the Gods. Having one of their own to look to, and realize the wonder and joy of celebration, is most beneficial. You realize, however, that having accepted the gift, you are no longer simply an ambassador to your guild, yes? You are an ambassador of the domain of celebration. Hence your title... augur... a tool of the Gods.>
Varro: <Lovely> *He glowered more so. Then again, he knew this decision would have a price.* <So, what is my first task as Augur?>
<Well, you already agreed to it last night, but a reminder can't hurt. Check your bags, and you'll understand. Now, my second purpose is to help you with your sparring problem. I am not privy to all of your past Augur, only to that which concerns our portfolio. So why don't you tell me about this bar fighting of yours. If you're going to be our herald, it's not going to bode well to have folks constantly hitting you.>
Varro: <There was an incident> *He glanced at Uxor again, and the memories of recent events surfaced.* <She, this one here beside me, had a tiff with me over some trust issues. She was under the impression that my mother was some kind of threat to me. It was just misinformation on her part. My mother had a confrontation with her and added fuel to the fire, so to speak, while I was out of town. Apparently she convinced my sleeping friend here that I was dead, and by my mother's hands. It's not a problem that the parent of your new Augur is insane, is it?>
*The avatar shrugged.* <Never said you were chosen for your breeding, Augur.>
Varro: <Fair enough. Anyway, when all was said and done, Uxor had organized a search party, and folks were combing the city for any trace of me... or my remains. Now I've diffused the matter with the original seekers, but word of mouth has spread to the far corners of the city. Specifically, the account of my mother Mekari being able to assume different forms. She accomplishes this by means of a mask of disguise. People are now aware of the technique, so what I'm left with is people constantly requesting to paw on my face to validate if I am myself, or the 'shape-changer,' as they've come to call her. I've tried passing word through my ambassador channels... through the guild... but nothing flies as fast as rumor. Half the city thinks I'm dead or still missing.>
<So what is your plan then, my little oracle?>
Varro: <I was considering throwing a party. A LARGE party, to let word of that start passing among them.>
<That is what I like to hear. Since your birthday is fast approaching, I'll give you a few extra trinkets to help fix your event in their minds. It should help stir up conversation.>
Varro: <How did you know of my birthday?>
<Demi-god, remember?> *he lightly patted Varro atop the head like an obedient pet.* <the anniversary of one's mortal coming into being is among the greater causes to be festive. You'll catch on faster with some practice. I am curious... regarding your mother. Why not tell the people that she is no threat? Seems to me it would unravel your face petting problem.>
Varro: <It would - but it would create new problems. Mekari has a way of meddling in my affairs. The fact that the whole city wants to skin her alive keeps her at bay from unannounced visits to me. More over, she IS a threat to others, but not in a traditional sense. But the more leery people are of her, the better for them. So allowing the continued hostility buys me some discord now and again, but ultimately freedom from Mekari. It's somewhat satisfying to beat her at her own games for a change.>
<Playing people like an instrument?>
Varro: <I prefer the term 'strategic socializing.'>
<How interesting you manage to bring people together even while gone.>
Varro: <That's one way of looking at it. These gifts you mentioned...>
<Already arranged. All you need do is decide how to distribute them. You'll think of something. That is part of your task - to come up with an appropriate way to distribute the gifts of the Gods. Go take a look.> *the Avatar nodded to his bags, which were sitting across the way on the floor. *
*Varro carefully slid off the bed, and rooted through his bags. He found several odd looking wands, which he pulled out and inspected. They felt magical to say the least... filled with positive energy no less. Something else caught his eye as he started to gather up the wands. There was a cold metallic gleam in the bag. It looked to be some sort of sickle, not all unlike one of the sickles he often carried with him adventuring in the city. He started to pull it out, and immediately when he grasped it, he felt something from it. Malice. He felt as though he could cleave the life force out of anything that stood against him. Raw power and vicious longing for blood started to overcome him. It was not rage... he'd felt that before. This was something altogether unusual - and enjoyable...
and terrifying all the same. He could feel ever so clearly that this indeed was something crafted by the Gods.
He turned to look to the avatar, but the icy gaze of Uxor stared back at him. She was sitting up in the bed, angling her head curiously at him. The avatar was nowhere to be seen. Varro recognized Uxor's expression, and he gathered that she'd probably been awake for longer than he noticed. She wanted to know what he was doing. Now he needed to decide:
Would he tell her the truth? Deceit and secrets had already created much drama between them. On the other hand, would she believe him if he did tell her the truth? He was going to have to come up with something, for she was already searching out paper and something to write with, and inching closer to him and the sickle.*