1236 AD: Cleansing of the Temple

 1236 Adventure Oracle

Cabal Legacy—10% (40, no adventure)

Seeker—10% (52, no adventure)

Regional Produce—10% (54, no adventure)

Multiple Sites—10% (32, no adventure)

Road—10% (36, no adventure)

Rival—30% (88, no adventure)

Unsafe—10% (2, adventure!)

Regio—30% (8, adventure!)

Hermetic Politics—10% (21, no adventure)

Edit: I realized I mislabeled Rival as Hermetic Politics and Hermetic Politics as favors, I've fixed it now.

 

After last year’s encounter with the afarta, I’m glad we rolled Regio again. I think it’s time to deal with the infernal influence here once and for all.

Unsafe is 1, Regio is 2.

Difficulty—Double 6s, both hard, EF 15. 

Origin—93, Hermetic 3, which at this EF recommends “Lab burgled”. Oddly apropos (1). 61, Natural, which recommends a wild animal at this EF. I may go for the EF 12 recommendation, which is a storm. (2)

Timing—10 and 9, both the same result, my choice. I think both will happen in autumn. 

Complexity—9 and 8, which is the same result for a third time (holy statistical improbability, Batman!). Very complex, three challenges each. 

Types—69 (nice), 74, and 87, meaning Legal/Diplomatic, then two Thriller/Wilderness challenges (1). 55, 4, and 98, meaning Magic, Social, and my choice. Three factors are to be considered here. Firstly, it is saga canon that the temple fires at the three temples of Ammon, when lit, repel the infernal corruption and return the regio’s natural magic aura. Secondly, two out of three fires are currently lit, Jabril using magic each time to do so. Thirdly and finally, I would like to finish off the arc of Jabril dealing with the infernal inhabitants of the regio. It doesn’t inspire me much anymore as a story device, frankly. I’m not sure if I’ll buy off the hook and turn it into a mystical portal boon (gaining a new major hook), or if I’ll keep it and see if a magic regio is inspiring. So, I’m going Magic.

We’re opting in. 

Omens—7 (1) and 1 (2). 

Spring 1236

Jabril spent time this season reading the other part of the curse scroll, learning a touch of Demotic. He planned to trade the scroll later that year for a tractatus on Muto. 

As May came around, he took the trip to Alexandria for Mercuralia, where he spent a fairly intimate celebration with the small Nilotic Cult of Mercury. The secession had changed the timbre of the Alexandrian Mercuralia: where it had once been an affair more akin to a great ball, it was now much more of a dinner between friends. He found himself growing quite close with Chisomo and Balthazar, and Heliobus seemed satisfied to preside over such a relaxed congregation. 

As the celebration came to an end, Jabril and Heliobus secluded themselves in the main ritual chamber, where one side of the cave opened to reveal a view of the port, dominated by the Great Lighthouse. While Heliobus mixed a tincture from various herbs and extracts bought by Jabril for the occasion, Jabril was to meditate upon the lighthouse, its power and influence, and what it meant for the people of Alexandria. Then, Heliobus administered to him the potion he had made. 

 

As his senses dulled, he began to hallucinate the tower rising from the sea on stony legs, and physically guiding ships to the shower. Lines of light arced out across their routes, painting the swathe of the Mediterranean he could see before him in a patchwork tapestry, illuminating the vast network of trade that kept human civilization alive. He became aware that each act invoked a specific spirit, each thought the whispered inspiration of some daimon. 

 

The night came and went, and as the sun rose, the effects faded. Jabril stood, sore from sitting so long, and found he had gained the basic knowledge of theurgy. Here, Heliobus took his nativity horoscope, and kept it in the records of the cult, as part of the cost of his initiation. 

Thanking Heliobus, he returned to Siwa, thinking strange thoughts. 

Initiation Script for Hermetic Theurgy: Initiate must travel to a Mercurian temple during Mercuralia (+3 for special place and time) and meditate on the nearest great landmark of civilized life. The Mystagogue mixes a tincture from ingredients bought by the initiate (+1 for sacrifice of wealth) and administers it to them, allowing them to perceive briefly the hidden world of spirits and civilization (+3 with taking of nativity horoscope, functions as minor ordeal). As the effects faded, the initiate finds they now have an intuitive understanding of Hermetic Theurgy. This script has a sympathetic bonus of +2, giving a total of 16 with Heliobus’s Pre+Cult Lore, 1 above what is needed to initiate a minor virtue. 

Book xp: 10 to Demotic, bringing it to 1

Summer 1236

Jabril had neglected his Intellego, but planned to study it this winter. Instead, he studied his tractatus on Infernal Lore, planning to trade it for a tractatus on Intellego. 

Book xp: 9 to Infernal Lore, bringing it it to 1

Autumn 1236

The Treasure of the Magus

Bunglingly Burgled

It is always a shock to the system to find oneself robbed: one’s most sacred, solitary places intruded upon by alien feet who know nothing of the meaning etched on the objects they take. Doubly so, one must imagine, for magi, for whom sancta are places inviolable, temples against the outside world. Thus it was no surprise that Jabril fell into one of his most terrible fits of wrath yet one brisk autumn morning—if the hot air of the oasis could ever be called brisk—upon finding his lab broken into. It was lucky for Ahmad that his spontaneous magic was so crippled by his Mercurian training, or the turb captain would have surely been reduced to ash as Jabril accosted him in the central courtyard, such was the hot fury that blazed through his blood. 

Ahmad stuttered and stammered as he explained the turb knew very well they had been burgled, for a few supplies and weapons, as well as a camel, had vanished from the storerooms. He was on his way, he ventured timidly, to join the squadron just now and ride off in search of the offender. Here, a brief and unusual calm settled over Jabril as he realized, for the first time since he had employed Ahmad, that his captain was keeping something from him. The hot rage came up again, and he demanded the whole truth. With reluctance, Ahmad explained that he knew who the thief was thanks to some of the men of the turb, and that he had hoped to solve this without involving Jabril, as it was both a delicate matter and beneath the magus’s dignity. It came out that the thief was a young man by the name of Yafren, from Siwa town itself, and moreover that he was the son of Izim, one of the most respected town elders. It was about as close as Jabril could get to being robbed by a prince.

 All at once, Jabril understood, and began to calm and think. While it would be easy enough to force his way into Siwa and take what was owed to him by force, the peace in the valley was his responsibility, a delicate structure welded from his agreements with Siwa’s elders, his employment of much of the zaggaleh, and the he reputation he had built up repeatedly pacifying the Zenata. Losing the trust of the local Amazigh would change the nature of his covenant irrevocably. He remembered having heard stories of the young Yafren, a chaotic sort who had grown to be quite the young scofflaw, protected by his father’s position. This would have to be approached carefully and diplomatically. Much calmer, he told Ahmad to forget about looking for Yafren for now, and to prepare a camel for him. Half an hour later, he made his way to Siwa town, to speak with the elders. 

The grand edifice of Siwa rose over him as he entered the town. The walls had never been solely for defense: they were also part of the town proper, creating a bizarre, complex, multi-level village that felt at times as much like an anthill as a place of men. As usual, he was met at the gate by a band of the zaggaleh, and made the usual greetings. But a bolt of cunning energized him as he began to speak to the young men, and he made many worried noises and dark asides, referencing a terribly cursed object taken from his study, and detailing the horrid fate that might befall whoever took it. It seemed word of Yafren’s boldness had spread among the zaggaleh, as he had surmised, and they exchanged concerned glances before bringing him to the top level of the town, to a humble but well-appointed home he recognized as Izim’s.

There, he was met by the old man, much reduced in stature by his age but not in cunning, and in the privacy of his home, dropped the act. As eloquently as he could muster, Jabril extolled the necessity of his possessions’ return, and his knowledge that Yafren had taken them. The old man seemed unaffected by his rhetoric, though, and it was only upon being convinced by the zaggaleh that he relented, and told Jabril of a hollow in the southern marshlands where Yafren at times made something of a camp. 

And so off he set again, now on the trail of this thief. 

First challenge: Int+Folk Ken (rolled 6+2+4=12, used Bracelet of Trust to add mag 3 and remove Gift penalty), Pre+Guile (specialty, rolled 7+0+4-3=8, cast Woolen Steed of Araby to add mag 3 and spent 2 confidence to succeed), Com+Artes Liberales (rolled 7+1+2-3=7, failure). 2 successes, 1 failure. 

On the Trail

What followed was something Jabril had become quite accustomed to: walking alone through the oppressive heat of midday and the crushing humidity of the marshlands. His PeIg was more than up to the challenge, though, and he found himself barely breaking a sweat as he jogged towards Yafren’s camp. Unfortunately, he was less accustomed to the secret pathways that lay tangled through the mire, and likely would have gotten lost had he not summoned a seething asp to help him find his way through the area. 

At last, after two days of exploration, he found a small hollow, with smoke from a cookfire drifting out of it, and a small, muddy tent, smeared with dirt by hand to conceal it. Here, Jabril’s serpentine cunning rose up once more, and he crouched low to the earth, moving from shadow to shadow quietly to avoid the prying eyes of his prey. In a few moments, he was halfway atop a tree, peering down at the unsuspecting Yafren, who was cooking some unidentifiable chunk of meat. 

Second challenge: Sta+Athletics (rolled 3+2+2=7, cast Let The Sun Not Bother Me This Day to add mag 2 and spent 2 confidence to succeed), Per+Survival (specialty, rolled 1, reroll 2 for a total of 6, cast Summoning the Creeping Death to add mag 5 and spent 2 confidence to succeed), Dex+Stealth (specialty, rolled 9+0+4=13, spent 1 confidence to succeed). 3 successes. 

Scuffle in the Swamp

 

He was about to leap down on the unsuspecting young man to wrestle him to the ground when he heard the sound of snuffling and the whining of dogs nearby. Looking between a handful of palm fronds, he saw what he had not seen upon approaching the camp: two dogs, clearly sleek hunting beasts, most likely Yafren's. Dogs were rare in Islamic lands thanks to cultural bias against them, but many of the Amazigh retained hunting dogs or guard dogs, so he had encountered them before. Still, acculturated deep within him by a long time spent among Arabs was that same prejudice and fear, and so he resolved to take care of them before Yafren. 

 

Creeping behind the dog pen, he muttered an incantation and cast his Starry Harness upon the two beasts, then, presenting himself as large and strong before them, commanded them to leap on their master. All at once, chaos engulfed the little camp, as the two dogs leapt atop Yafren and drove him to the ground, while he, struggling for the knife at his side, attempted to fight them off. Jabril brought order by summoning another seething horde of snakes and having them menace the young man, then commanding the two dogs to back off. Yafren held up his hands in the universal sign of surrender and, recognizing Jabril, awkwardly apologized and pointed to a half-dug hole near his camp, where he had left the goods he had taken. 

 

Jabril, keeping his anger admirably in check, hauled Yafren off by the ear after binding his hands, and dragged him before his father, where he demanded that he be punished. Reluctantly, the old man agreed to have him imprisoned for some time, until the elders decided he had learned his lesson. Satisfied, Jabril returned to Siwa, his honor and lab equipment intact. 

Third challenge: Qik+Awareness (specialty, rolled 6+0+4=10, spent 2 confidence to succeed), Str+Animal Handling (rolled 3+0+3=6, cast Starry Harness of Khonsu to add mag 7 and spent 1 confidence to succeed), Com+Summon Animals (specialty, rolled 7+1+6=14, cast Sense the Nature of Vis to add mag 1 and succeed). Three successes. 

Result: Almost total success! Jabril is able to recover his stolen vis and glassware with minimal damage and ensures the thief is punished by Siwa’s elders. He walks away with 3 rewards+4 xp for his successes, as well as 10 xp (total of 17) and 10 confidence for the challenges. 5 goes to Athletics, bringing it to 3, 5 goes to Artes Liberales, 5 goes to Summon Animals, and 2 goes to Guile. Overall, the adventure takes 19 days. 

 

The rewards are banked for the moment: Jabril is potentially going to try to pacify the valley permanently the next time the Unsafe hook comes up. 

 

Showdown with the Shadow

An Incursion at Aghurmi

He had little chance to rest after reconstituting his laboratory, though. Strange happenings began to crop up at Aghurmi. He and the grogs would hear voices late at night, chanting almost, that seemed distant but present. The old town would seem full of activity out of the corner of one’s eye, and yet empty as usual when turned to. These came to a head the night of the great simoom. 

A terrible sandstorm kicked up in the west, in the sand sea, and came raging across the oasis. These were rare in Siwa, but devastating when they came, dumping mountains of sand across the whole valley. One of the lookouts had seen it from Bilad al-Rum and rode hard to Aghurmi to warn his master, and so the covenfolk had battened down the hatches and taken refuge as the great cloud of sand occluded the sun, casting the valley into shadow. For his part, though, Jabril loved these mighty forces of nature, and had resolved to stay at the Stele as long as he could to experience it before taking to his own rooms. As the sand began to fall, though, he became aware of a presence within the Aegis, out in the unnatural darkness with him. 

The bitter force of desolation emanating from the Sahara, the Red, was out in force in the storm, and its powerful negativity empowered the Infernal: enough that it had bled over from the other side. His hand began to heat as he saw a dark shadow moving in the sands, and peering out, from its general shape, he realized it looked to be another of the terrible afartas. A moment later, its jaws snapped out of the darkness and onto his shoulder: but he was fast enough to wriggle away quickly and his Parma was strong enough to resist. With his heightened state of awareness, Jabril noticed two more creatures in the sand: ghuls with loping shoulders and wicked claws, bearing down on him. 

A great battle ensued, unbeknownst to the covenfolk, safe inside. Jabril hurled spells and dodged great, bone-shattering blows while doing his best to draw them away from the fort itself and into the ruins. As the wind began to die down and the sand at last began to fade, he drove pure magical force, sharpened into a blade of anti-demonic power by his studies, into the back of the afarta’s skull. It dropped, causing the ghuls to flee. Breathing hard, Jabril caught his breath, then began investigating the temple for how they might have entered, although he could tell the aegis had not been broken. Casting spontaneous InVi to help his investigation, he found a door and length of wall that had not been there previously, and surmised that, like a boil bubbling over, the regio had again pushed an entrance into the true world. Steeling himself, he stepped through the door and to the other side.

First challenge: Qik+Parma Magica (rolled 8+0+4+1=12, spent 1 confidence to succeed (+1 from Lesser Benediction)), Int+Awareness (rolled 7+2+3=12, spent 1 confidence to succeed), Per+Magic Theory (rolled 0, botch threatened! Botch die 6, no botch. Spent 2 confidence and ceremonially fatiguing spont InVi (rolled 1, reroll 6 for a total of (13+5+12+2+3+2)/2=17) to add mag 3, barely succeeding). Three successes. 

 

Oracle Bones

 

On the other side, Jabril saw the usual darkened temple occluded by Infernal shadow. Strangely, this time, the temple was not occupied by twisted, obvious demons, but by a figure that seemed to be only a woman. Tall and imperious, she wore gauzy robes and a veil, and was crowned by a headdress of two ram's horns. Her clothes, body, everything was overtaken by an unnatural blackness, which Jabril had heard was common to pre-Christian spirits. She seemed to fade in and out of materiality as Jabril observed her, seemingly barely connected still to this place. As she was obviously inhuman, but potentially not demonic, he called out, and asked that she explain herself, and her presence here. The only response he received, after a moment of pregnant silence, was a question. Was she to believe that he was Alexander's heir here?

 

He did not know what she meant, but the mention of the great conqueror, and a chance at potentially finding out more about Ammon, intrigued him, and so he slipped into his usual honeyed lies, painting the picture of a far different Jabril. A warrior-servant of the Ayyubids who now sought his own fortune, and had come to the temple of Ammon--after many great victories--to seek his blessing. To his surprise, the woman seemed to immediately see through him, and dismissed his lies with a flap of the hand--but strangely, she seemed charmed by his attempts, and explained that she had been watching his sporadic efforts within the regio, though she until now had not been able to summon the power to appear properly. This triggered his curiosity even further, and remembering a teaching of Heliobus, made obeisance and intoned words of respect and greeting in the Mercurian way. 

 

This approach seemed to please her even further, and she explained that she had in life served as the Oracle of Ammon--the selfsame Oracle who had blessed Alexander with the ram's horn crown, marking him as son of the god, and true pharaoh of Egypt. After his death, and the dwindling of his line into nothing but bone dust and ash, the temple had dwindled too, disliked by the Ptolemies for their position as the arbiters of true kingship rather than the false kingship taken by the Macedonian general. She had died, and found herself bound in the temple, to serve the god's will forevermore. But as the temple fires died out, darkness spread across the regio, and with it terrible creatures that occasionally went forth to molest the valley. An active caretaker was needed to keep the sacred regio healthy and powerful. 

 

She believed he might be that caretaker, she went on to say, but he would need to prove himself. At this, a great spirit emerged from the wall near them: a huge, ram-headed man, ghostly and all-black like her, but clearly in life a creature of pure muscle and strength. All at once, the ram-headed creature seemed to acquire some materiality and fell upon Jabril, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Though taken off-guard, Jabril had spent a lot of time in battle over the last decade and change, and was able to hold his own long enough to note that the creature seemed to shy away from the lit torch he had brought in with him. Thinking quickly, he cast Pilum of Fire, not so close as to hurt the creature, merely shooting it past his head, and the ram-headed man staggered back in terror. Jabril took his opportunity and went for the knees, bowling the man to the ground, whereupon, to his surprise, he vanished into the earth.

 

The Oracle smiled and acknowledged his cunning. He would be an able caretaker if only he could calm his wrathful urges and occasional recklessness. He rankled at this, of course, but acknowledge its truth. She went on to say that the temple was open to him: all he had to do was light the last flame, here in shadow Aghurmi, and the regio would be cleansed for the time being, although it would need his active work to stay that way. But there were still demons and danger ahead, so he would best do well to tread carefully. 

 

He began to move towards the heart of the temple at these words, preparing himself for the final confrontation with Siwa's dark shadow. 

  

Second challenge: Com+Guile (specialty, rolled 8+1+4-3=10, spent 2 confidence to succeed), Pre+Neo-Mercurian Magic (rolled 5+0+3-3=5, spent 2 confidence and activated Bracelet of Trust to remove Gift penalty and add mag 3 for a success), Str+Folk Ken (rolled 5+0+4-3=6, spent 2 confidence and cast Pilum of Fire to add mag 4 and succeed). Three successes.

 

A Heart Aflame

 

Jabril stepped from the entrance hall of the temple into its central chamber after his conversation with the Oracle, and heard the great doors slam shut behind him as he did. All around him was darkness, with only a faint ring of light around him from his torch, which here seemed dim and close to fading out. He was in the heart of the Infernal power here now, and he felt his stigmata aching. Worse, he felt his black hand began to heat once more as he began to sense forms around him in the darkness.

 

With speed and dexterity, needing both of his hands for the casting, he tossed his torch into the air, briefly illuminating a gaggle of these serpentine afartas around him, beginning to swarm as one towards him. But he was too quick and his magic too powerful for them, as he hurled out four Demon's Eternal Oblivion with a speed and intensity they could not match, forcing them to recoil from him. Again he hurled out his spells, and, catching his torch just before it would've landed on the stone floor and perhaps gone out, he was gratified to see the afartas evaporate before the wave of his power. 

 

As they did so, he became aware of a quiet rumbling within the darkness--almost within the shadow itself, as though it were being shaped and moved by unseen hands. His eyes began to make out a line that indicated a darker shadow within the shadow, a thing so dark that not even magical light would have penetrated. Cruel orange-yellow eyes, like that of a cat, peered down at him from a great height within this shadow. He stepped back a moment, shocked to see such a form rising before him, and searched his mind for any clues as to what this could be. To his surprise, he realized it was one of the shedim, or personal tempter demons, from a few apocryphal descriptions he had read. To his rising disgust, as it began to speak, he realized it was his shedeh, the personal tempter assigned him at birth, that in the strength of this aura found the power to rise and physically torment him. 

 

The voice that sounded like his own whispered to him of power in darkness, and the endlessly circling coils he had witnessed in Twilight, and of how that power could be his if he would just seize it. The weak and the cowardly were all around him, the foolishly zealous and vapidly vain: he could dispense with all of them if he would just open himself to the possibilities here, in this place, corrupted as it was. Power was only as evil as its commander, and he could be shining and good, the perfect Beast Master Rolf had always wanted him to be. 

 

He might have been tempted, but the mention of his parens only disgusted him. If any spirit truly went to Hell, it was Rolf's. And so, ignoring his own voice in his ear, he pushed forward past the shadow to the altar itself, and began to work his spontaneous CrIg, attempting to create a new temple flame. The shadow itself pushed back against his magic, and desperately tried new tacks to convince him, promising wealth and power and satisfaction and comfort and all of the little nonsense things--he thought to himself--that mundanes used to staunch their lack of true power. He ignored it all, and girding himself, pushed through the growing pressure around him and the searing pain in his head, feeling almost as though the shadow had become mouths that bit at him and screamed at him and begged him to stop. 

 

And then--a spark. The flame was small at first, then burst into life and splendor and threw a rainbow of beautiful light across the central altar room, which he now beheld to be a beautiful, palatial space filled with the stoic statues of Ammon and his priests. The shadow was thrown bodily to the corner, where it screamed as it was burned bit by bit by the light, until at last no part of the room was in shadow, and light seemed to stream in both from outside and from some intrinsic quality of the stone. 

 

With a shudder, Jabril sat heavily next to the altar, feeling exhausted, but gladdened by his work at purifying this place. The Oracle's spirit appeared next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and promising that she would summon him when next his services were required. He did not find this strange, oddly, and simply nodded, as his eyelids grew heavy and slipped closed.

 

An hour later, he found himself on the steps of the real temple in Aghurmi, being tended to by his men. He could not explain to them where he had come from or why, but looking across the valley, he could feel that a great darkness had been lifted. 

 

Third challenge: Dex+Penetration (rolled 3+0+1=4, multicast Demon's Eternal Oblivion to add mag 2x4=8 and spent a confidence to succeed), Int+Infernal Lore (specialty, rolled 8+2+2=12, spent 1 confidence to succeed), Sta+Finesse (specialty, rolled 3+2+5=10, spent 2 confidence to succeed). Three successes.

 

Result: Total success. The shadow is no more: the regio returns to the otherworldly temple-space it once was, dominated by the Oracle of Ammon, as much a magical creature as a priestess. At long last, Jabril has dealt with one of the long-running thorns in his side here at Siwa, and can now learn more about Ammon and what truly transpired with Alexander. He walks away with 3 rewards+6 xp, plus 10 xp (becoming 19 overall) and 10 confidence from the challenges. 5 xp goes to Intellego, 5 xp goes to Parma, 5 xp goes to Infernal Lore, and 4 xp goes to Magic Theory.

 

Now, let's talk about how our rewards are spent. I realize I've already spent a lot on changing our Tribunal Border hook this decade, but I also want to modify the regio situation a little bit mechanically. Firstly, our 6 rewards from this season (totaling 36 Improvement BP), in addition to 78 Mythic Pounds (in canon, money spent replacing broken lab equipment improving the altar chambers at the two controlled temples) are spent to reduce our major Regio hook to a minor Protector hook. As caretaker of the regio-Temple of Ammon, Jabril is beholden to the oracle, and must come when she calls. 

 

Secondly, an additional 90 Mythic Pounds are spent to buy a new minor boon and major hook (I could spend 120 to get a major boon and major hook, but that would leave the covenant unbalanced and I don't like that). The Mystical Portal boon, representing that the regio is now open to us and friendly, and a hook that I will leave unknown to you (and to Jabril!) for the moment, though suffice it to say it flows naturally from what's already happened. 

 

Winter 1236

 

Jabril was restless to return to the temple and delve into the mysteries of Ammon, but realized it would be impolitic to do so until called. And so, he contented himself with study. Having gained some expertise in Intellego from his work last autumn, he instead spent time studying his weakest technique, Muto, surrounded by cocoons gathered by his men. 

 

Study xp:  10+2=12 xp to Muto, bringing it to 6. With CrInMuPeRe at 7, 5, 6, 7, and 16 respectively, Jabril now has enough in his techniques to not give an apprentice a flaw in any of them, which is nice. Now we can start in on the forms. 

 

Aging roll: rolled 6-1=5. Jabril's apparent age increases by one year.