Folly of the Dreamers
2
SEP/20
Mar’iya could feel Vashir stirring within him: his vision sharpened; his posture straightened; he relished in the looks of fear and uncertainty that danced upon the faces of those who beheld him; and he took simple delight in the hasty retreat of the common folk that scurried from his path, lest they delay him for even a moment. He was power incarnate: vain and haughty, and deservedly so. This was who he truly was; who he had been for so much of his forgotten life. So why then, did it all feel so wrong?
That question gnawed away at him during the entirety of his stay in the Gardiward household, where most of the time he had to adopt the guise of this Lord Vashir; only feeling that he was truly himself when he and Oni were alone back in their quarters. In these moments, the façade of Vashir slid off of him, evaporating like a freshly-forgotten dream, and Mar’iya embraced the feeling of naked vulnerability that followed. Mar’iya was the only him he had any memory of and, in spite of all of his weaknesses and faults in this guise, he felt like a better person when Vashir was safely stashed away. Maybe Oni’s new positive outlook on life was rubbing off on him?
Mar’iya looked over to Oni where he sat, ignoring his nearly empty bowl of fruit on the table in front of him, staring wistfully at the door to the quarters; the very door through which the young serving girl Arnia had just used to leave their room moments before. Mar’iya did not have to use his psionic abilities to read the mind of the young monk – not that he would ever consider using this power on one he considered a friend – to see what his comrade was thinking. Besides, he wouldn’t have found anything there, as Oni’s thoughts were clearly written upon his heart instead. The young monk was in love.
At first Mar’iya felt a sense of tender pride at the realization, but the feeling was very quickly replaced by a dull sadness. This was a world where love was dangerous. It was a commodity to be traded; a weapon to be wielded. To embrace it was reckless at best, and doom at worst. He thought of poor Hurum, being tortured at this very moment for daring to question the decisions of his wife, Meshah. Not that theirs was actual love, but it was what passed for love in this twisted world. Mar’iya flashed a brief, sad smile at Oni – who returned the gesture with the guilty expression of one caught dreaming of the impossible – and the two men ate the rest of their breakfast in silence.
As they ate, Mar’iya reflected on their options. He had two choices, as he saw it: stay here as Lord Vashir and try to get more information about what had happened to him, or reassume the mantle of Mar’iya and resume their ill-fated quest to retrieve the relics of Aman’Re. Both options were equally terrible. Life in the city was one of politics and intrigue and, lacking any real comprehension about the details of his life prior to being deposited in the desert, attempting to maintain the charade would leave him at a very serious disadvantage in an environment such as this – it would be akin to entering a duel without a weapon and wearing a blindfold. That option would undoubtedly end with his inevitable death; the only real questions were “how soon?” and “how painful?”
The other option was equally bad. When they had last squared off against the guardians of the pyramid, they had the – albeit slightly diminished but still formidable – might of the Yavapai tribe with them. Now, it was just he and Oni, and perhaps the elven slave Naga, who had been recently gifted to Mar’iya by Lady Meshah. The young elf had proven himself more than capable against the Stonefaces the night before, wielding deadly eldritch magic alongside radiant healing energy – a combination of abilities that seemed at odds with one another, but working in concordance like that made Naga a very valuable ally indeed. Unsurprisingly however, the elf seemed to crave his freedom more than anything, and Mar’iya did not doubt for a second that he would find himself on the receiving end of a knife in the dark should he deny Naga his liberty. And if granted, there was no guarantee that the elf would stick by their side afterward. There was only one way to find out, he supposed…
The other two warriors that had accompanied them on their raid of the Stoneface encampment, the silver-scaled dragonborn Sora Dusun and the house wizard known simply as David, had also proven themselves to be very invaluable. Sora was a veteran of the gladiatorial pits, and served as the highguard in the Gardiward household. She wielded a giant bone scythe with savage fury, and in watching the way she fought, Mar’iya could not help be reminded of Nessy and Ayassa; both of whom had heroically given their lives to protect the tribe. Mar’iya could not conceive of a world where Lady Meshah would willingly give over to them her formidable guard, but if they were to have a chance of finding the Star Gems, they were going to need to try to convince her.
David was another matter, entirely. The house mage – who seemed so have Psionic prowess rather than arcane – was clearly a spy for the Gardiward household. In fact, Mar’iya recognized a number of the Psionic abilities that the young mage possessed as ones in his own arsenal of powers, and that made this David very dangerous indeed. But the man also seemed to have an almost breathtaking disregard for deception, displaying a tendency to say exactly what he was thinking; a refreshingly disarming lack of subterfuge that one would not expect in a spy of any quality. If Lady Meshah allowed her house mage to come with them, it would almost certainly be to keep an eye on them. The noblewoman had proven herself to be a reasonably upfront ally in spite of the predicament of his banishment and the danger she faced in providing him shelter. Given that fact, Mar’iya was not certain that her spying on them was necessarily a bad thing, and could perhaps even be used to their advantage given the fact that he was aware that she was doing it.
If Mar’iya could convince Meshah to loan him David and Sora, and if Naga didn’t run off as soon as he was freed, there were still no guarantees of success. The five of them would not have great odds against the guardians of the pyramid, but a much better chance than he and Oni would on their own, and there was a real shortage of other options. Now they just needed to find a way to get back to the pyramid. The Yavapai had gotten lost countless times during their trek across the barren sandscape, even with Pakku, Joe, and Mama Paulu leading the way. Without trackers like them, Mar’iya could not fathom a way to get back to the pyramids without hiring a guide, and he shuddered to think what it might cost to hire a professional tracker for a journey that difficult and for the length of time that would be required.
As he thought, Mar’iya idly toyed with the striated red belt buckle that had been found upon his person when he was left for dead in the desert. It was a clue to his past, and the only piece of Vashir that had survived the ordeal. He did not know where it came from or what it represented, only that it provided a tiny kernel of hope that he would one day get his memories back. Getting rid of it seemed to ensure that Lord Vashir would remain forgotten to him, and that he was destined to remain Mar’iya the Stranger for all time. And in the moment, that did not seem to be such a bad thing to him.
Mar’iya still needed to be Vashir for a short while yet, in order to do what needed to be done during the remainder of their time here in Raam, he realized. He stood from the table and allowed the mantle of Lord Vashir to drape itself back over him, becoming a viper clothed in silk. The act startled Oni from his daydreams, and he looked up at Vashir, and transformed in an instant from his comrade-in-arms and back into his valet and manservant. The small piece of Mar’iya that still remained after relinquishing control back to Vashir, grieved at witnessing the proud monk’s servile metamorphosis. As Lord Vashir began to lay out his plan to sell the metal buckle and hire a guide, Mar’iya silently promised, “I am sorry my friend, not too much longer.” As Vashir spoke, Mar’iya found himself dreaming of a world where Oni and his serving girl could live and love in peace; knowing full well that such dreams were the idle hopes of the foolish, and that loneliness and despair ruled their waking world. For now, at least.
GM + arcanjl + wrinkk01 + Schroedergs + jordin_frey + AJCole + zacharytheshouse + ggh1981
Mar’iya’s alignment has shifted from Neutral Evil to True Neutral at this point