Xanthippe (Chapter 16)

Template:Xanthippe nav Hratli was growing concerned about the dome over the dockside, and wanted an old Skatsimi relic that could supposedly reinforce it. It was a dagger called the Gidbinn.

"Why would a dagger help with a Dome of Protection?"

"Why would a sword help a sorceress? You ask many meaningless questions."

"Hell yeah, I ask questions. I want answers. Good answers. Like, why the hell does everyone say there's some great warrior over there behind me?"

Hratli looked over Xanthippe's shoulder. "Perhaps it is an error in their judgment. The Gidbinn is a repository, and contains a great deal of magical energy. Though the enchantment on the dockside is not the best, more power should strengthen it."

"Or burn it out completely," Xanthippe snorted.

Grumbling and swearing under her breath, Xanthippe trudged back into the jungle. Kasim kept at least 5 yards ahead of her; that way, he didn't have to listen. Slowly, the land rose and became less swampy. There were fewer drowned corpses wandering around, but this didn't improve matters. The number of toothy little pygmies rose. They weren't much trouble, except for their shamans. Xanthippe would have liked to use her poleaxe, but the shamans breathed fire, and her fire resistance was quite poor without her shield. At least it gave her a chance to try her new sword. Xanthippe liked swords better than maces; the beautiful, graceful blades, and the smooth, sharp edges, are so much nicer than all those little spikes.

It wasn't long before they found the Gidbinn, with a little band of pygmies who lived next to an old dungeon. The blade was small, bronze, and primitive-looking, but screaming with power. How did this thing get to be a religious artifact and power repository? Then she remembered that religious energy often involves death... small knives would be very useful for collecting it, since they were often used to create it. Oh, well, she thought. Energy is energy. Religions gather their energy very inefficiently, but as long as it's there, it might as well be used.

Back on the docks, Ormus took the Gidbinn, and floated it over a little altar next to the pyramid. New power surged over the docks, though few noticed it, and the dome pushed the jungle back with renewed strength. Xanthippe's good deed for the day was done. Ormus gave her a lousy ring he didn't like, and composed a poem for her:

"They say of her (perhaps they should)

'It's doubtful that she'll come to good!'

For she, despite our good advice,

Simply isn't very nice.

Understand why she is partial

Not to magic, but combat martial:

When she was young, she fell from bed,

And landed solid on her head.

If she strays from her present games,

Imitates enviable names,

Puts use to magic, with calm thought --

But she thinks that is full of rot.

Though to good she'll never come,

Inseparable are her nose and thumb!"

As much as she would have liked to, Xanthippe didn't thank Ormus properly for his efforts on her behalf. Kasim was still convinced it was bad luck to beat up people like him. She took the ring over to Alkor's to sell. Alkor was lots of fun to annoy. When she found him, he was flat on the floor of his hut, and smelled like poo gas.

"Heya, Alkor. It smells like poo gas in here."

"Do not bother me, stupid girl. My mind encompasses the universe."

"Have you been hitting the sulfur compounds again?"

"The world is a speck of dust settled upon my left buttock!"

"I didn't need to know that. Looks like you're busy, I'll come back later."

Hratli bought the ring. Xanthippe asked him what was up with Alkor. "Alkor lives a life of ceaseless study and endless dissipation."

"Kind of contradictory goals," Xanthippe said.

"Alkor studies by filling his head full of knowledge, until it can hold no more. He then indulges in all the worst of his own concoctions at once, burning the feverish fires of delirium through his brain. What knowledge survives, he takes to be true, good, and worthy."

Xanthippe thought about that. "So, we're all dirt on Alkor's left butt cheek."

Hratli impassively replied, "It might explain certain things."

Meanwhile, back in the jungle, Xanthippe led Kasim down into the dungeons. They were full of ghosts, probably the remnants of some religious purge. The Rogue dungeons had a lot of ghosts too; maybe ghosts were a manifestation of the mental energy produced by pain and fear. This was also where the pygmies put their dead, and they were all very happy to see Xanthippe. Out of respect for their dead, they had been wired with explosives, set to go off when their bones came apart. The poleaxe helped a lot with them, if you were careful to keep them at range. At the lowest level, one of those evil little Shamans had set up shop. She needed the shield to deal with him. Toasty.

The dungeon had a golden treasure chest, just like the spider webs. Several traps protected it, but inside was a lovely suit of plate mail, a few useless things, and a brain. The brain looked like polished rose quartz, with reddish veins. Gingerly scooping it up with an old shield, Xanthippe took the brain back to Cain.

"Ah!" Cain picked up the brain, "Khalim's brain still bears the knowledge of Mephisto's weakness!"

"How do you know?"

"He just told me. Here, hold him and he'll speak with you."

"NO THANK YOU! You can tell me, please, I'll trust your judgment!"

"There's nothing to worry about. He says you're very brave, and he is glad to have seen you. Soon, you will have his heart."

Xanthippe went pale. "Please, can't we just be friends?"

"No, no!" Cain laughed. "His heart is entombed beneath the lower city. After Khalim's destruction, the high council of Zakarum could not destroy his remains, so they scattered them. If they were to be reunited, Khalim might be able to destroy Mephisto!"

"Hey, great! Anyone who can take on the big guy is cool by me. Why didn't the Zakarumites drop his bits in the ocean or something?"

"Khalim explains that he can return to Kurast, but not bring his parts together within the city while Mephisto's spirit is dominant. Nor can he reconstruct his body."

Xanthippe frowned. "I thought he said he could destroy Mephisto. What's he going to use, harsh language? I'm not looking for his tongue."

Cain held the brain, frowning with concentration. "Mephisto will not allow his body to exist. But there may be another way. While embodied, Khalim had a flail, a special one with three heads. If combined with it, he could make a holy weapon of himself."

"Another artifact. This city is just dripping with rare holy artifacts."

"This is a holy city, after all. What does it matter? Much good has come from religious faith, despite the darkness we find ourselves in now."

Xanthippe looked annoyed. "Religion is an excuse for people who don't want to think. Using your brain, not some saint's, is infinitely better. None of this would be happening if it weren't for religious nuts bringing angels and monsters into our world."

The emphatic assurance of Xanthippe's words seemed to trouble Cain. "Yes... I have heard others argue that as well. Perhaps there is something to it, though I suspect the angels and monsters would be in our world regardless. If we can truly say it is our world, and not theirs."

Xanthippe shrugged. "They have theirs. This is ours. They should get out and fight their own damn war in their own damn worlds, and leave us out of it."

Cain looked at the brain. If Khalim said anything, Cain didn't repeat it. "This is a very old debate, and I do not think it will be answered definitely in my lifetime or yours. But time is growing short. There is still much more that you must do."

Xanthippe snorted, had Cain drop Khalim's knowledgeable mind into her luggage, and returned to the jungle. It's typical of old people to change the subject, rather than admit they've lost the debate. Cold logic does that to prideful people. Going further into the jungle, they killed pygmies, more pygmies, and yet more pygmies. They found a swampy pit, which was full of pygmies, treasure, and still yet more pygmies. After a long stretch of jungle with even still yet more pygmies (Damn, they must breed like rats! Which ones were the girls, anyway?) they finally came to the outer walls of the great city of Kurast.

(Much thanks to Dorothy Parker for the poetry I mangled for my evil purposes.)