maskormenacelogs | FANPORT OVERFLOW LOG

[Rincewind coughs into his hand at the "kitten" Six has to suffer. He's polite enough to glance away, only looking back once their waiter has flounced off. Funny little man, that one. What must it be like to be that easily delighted?]

It doesn't have to, but yes. Horrible, isn't it?

[not enough people ever seem to agree with him about that, but it hasn't changed Rincewind's opinion.]

...You must really have to deal with some attention around here. [obviously, but hey. Conversation.] I'm not saying you wouldn't in Ankh-Morpork, but honestly after the initial surprise Morporkians would at least only care about whether you had money or not. Which is what they care about with anyone.

[ Six can't help but wonder: has anyone lost a hand?

Or worse?

He wants to know and yet at the same time, he doesn't. Speaking of it would be inviting it, because he suspects the thing knows more of what's going on in its surroundings than it lets on. Also: he's not paranoid. ]

It's...new, yes. Miqo'te are more than common enough in Eorzea, but so too are many races. I've never given thought to a world with just...one.

[ He assumes it's just one. ...but he has to ask, one ear tilting slightly: ]

Ankh-Morpork?

[hands. Fingers. Toes. Lives. All are equal to the Luggage.

But it's certainly best not to ask; Six has the right idea there. Which is a shame - for the Luggage. It always enjoys knowing that the creatures around it are rightly terrified.]

"Miqo'te" you said? [astonishingly, Rincewind doesn't mangle the name.] We certainly don't have that one. Trolls, gnomes, elves, dwarves... all other sorts, but nothing quite with ears like yours. Except, er, cats. Obviously.

Mm, that's the city I come from. Huge bloody city. Teeming. We do more business than anywhere else on the Disc. Is that "Eorza" a city or a nation? Is it where you're from?

I'm not a cat.

[ The response is automatic and quickly forgotten; every Miqo'te everywhere, in this world and the next, has had to say that at some point. It's their lot in life.

But moving on. Six feels a little relief to hear that Rincewind's world is a little closer to his own. Even if he doesn't recognize any of the races named, the fact that there's more is a comfort just the same. ] A country. Er, as in a land or a continent, rather than a whole nation. It's made up of several city-states, broken up by wilderness and Beast Tribes.

[ ...wait a second, though. ] You mentioned a disc before. As a, uh, child.

Were you being...sincere, then? About the turtle and so on?

No, no, yes, I know. [quickly.] I was only saying.

[and he looks puzzled a minute - it's always strange being told things you said that you don't remember - before nodding.]

Oh yes, absolutely real. Thinking about it, it does sound like the sort of thing a child would make up, but I assure you it's absolutely real. Cross my heart and hope to live. But you've got to admit it's no less strange than a traveling case with feet.

Would you tell me -

[he'll pause as their sparkly waiter returns with drinks.]

- Would you tell me what you mean by "Beast Races"?

[ A world that's a disc, carried on the back of a turtle larger than a world, around which spins the sun and the moon...

It's been a couple long years since Six could even consider himself an adventurer in the traditional sense, but something in him aches with yearning. ]

I'd like to see it. [ He says, just shy of wistful, but Rincewind brings his attention back from his daydreaming. He dutifully ignores the waiter's twittering about it being a few more minutes, and instead frowns, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. ]

I don't like to use the word primitive, because I've met plenty of tribe members as smart and sincere as you or me. But the tribes are separate peoples, other species, that have their own ways; "beast races" is a blanket, ugly term. They all have their own names.

But relations between the city-states and their neighboring tribes are often poor; it's either tenuous peace or outright warfare, complicated by the presence of Primals.

You aren't the only one to have said that. Perhaps I should find someone with artistic skills. [because uh, Rincewind's attempts would be... godawful. At best.

He really can't understand that sort of wistfulness, though, the yearning to travel to unknown lands. Rincewind has done that. It's terrible. Too hot or too cold and bugs and interesting people who find it interesting to try and kill you. Not his idea of a good time.]

I was going to ask. It doesn't sound like the sort of thing you name yourself.

Primals? [he furrows his brow, takes a sip of his drink.] ...Are those actual animals?

No, they're... [ He blows air in a pfft sound, wondering how to go about this. If anyone is going to understand without too much complication, it's likely Rincewind; he's a mage, of a sort, and his world is already far more fantastical even than Six's own. ]

My world is made up of aether. A kind of, uh, life energy. It's what allows people to use magic. It has a physical form and can congeal into crystals, which can be dug up and collected.

Collect enough and the concentrated aether...grants wishes. [ He shakes his head. ] No, I mean, it gives form to the desires of the holders. For the Beast Tribes, they call for their gods to protect them, and the aether forms into Primals.

These avatars aren't really gods, but they have desires and agendas, some more violent than others.

[some of what he's hearing makes sense - he sees parallels to his own world, which literally runs on magic. Octiron, that's a bit what this aether sounds like, at least in a "congealed" form. Sort of. ...Except for the wishes part.

That doesn't make sense at all.]

Like... like golems, sort of? Er. Less obedient, maybe, since you said they have their own agendas. But this only works for the Beast Tribes, does it? Or is it they're the only ones who have them?

[Rincewind leans back against the booth some as a thought occurs.]

...You don't have any with you, right?

[ He quickly holds up both hands. ]

No, no I don't. I'd need a ridiculous amount of crystals to try such a thing.

[ Which...answers Rincewind's other question. Six lowers his eyes. ]

Nor do I want to. What you're given is an illusion. No matter how many crystals you gather or how badly you wish for a thing, all you will ever receive is a...shadow. A ghost.

[ He shakes his head. ]

Maybe it's a comfort, but it often does more harm than good, especially if it's a Primal.

Oh, good then. [there's one less thing to worry about. Brings his list of things to be anxious about back down to a mere one thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine. Always nice to cross one off.]

...You know, I've always thought the same about magic in general. I know that might be an odd thing for a wizard to say, but... people trying to do things the quick way - well, it always leads to trouble. Things get out of balance. It's never quite what you worked for in the end, like you said.

[Rincewind folds his arms, frowning pensively.]

And the pursuit of it inevitably leads to death and fighting. People scrambling for power.

[ Six's smile is sarcastic and, if he's honest with himself, a little tired. ]

I wish...pfft, wishing is a waste, but you are right. I can't think of a single time where it's led to anything but harm, or sorrow.

[ He doesn't close his eyes, though he wants to; there'd be too many faces, too many names. He doesn't look down at his own hands, either, because that is a question he is all too happy to ignore.

So what Six does is take up his shake and take a nice big swig, shuddering from the excessive sweetness and grateful for it at the same time. ]

Though I started doing what I do for the gil--err, the money. I want to live well, not be the most powerful.

[ The unasked question: why is a wizard that doens't like magic still a wizard? ]

[probably best not to ask that, given the defensive existential crisis that sometimes causes Rincewind.

The wizard nods in friendly sympathy.]

Heroic sorts - well, the ones here - wouldn't agree, but I really do think that's the best of goals. Downright noble, wanting to live well. Or even just safely. I'd settle for safely.

But you are. Um. [here Rincewind pauses. How to put this properly?] You are something of a warrior sort. I assume. Since you've the -

[a vague gesture towards Six's everything.]

- muscles and all. Rather fit. Are you just more mercenary than anything else then? Pirate, even? You really won't find any judgement from me. Thief, assassin, roving barbarian hero, or fish monger - it's all the same to me as long as there isn't a sword at my throat. Some of the best people I've had drinks with had wanted posters a mile long.

Not, you understand, that I'm saying you necessarily do.

[ C...cough. ] Er.

No, no, it's fine. I know many pirates myself.

I'm...an adventurer, first and foremost. Somewhat like a sword for hire, but with sign-ups and accountability involved. There's an Adventurer's Guild in every major city-state. [ A pause, not for dramatic effect, but because even after all this time, it's difficult to just put it out there. It doesn't matter how true it is or how often he's heard it from friends, allies, and enemies, he still-- ]

I may also be the Warrior of Light, tasked to protect our world from ancient threats, dark creatures, and the like.

[ --cannot cope with how ridiculous it sounds when he says it. ]

I still earn funds, though. And receive free lodging in quite a few places.

Adventurer's Guild? That's a new one. We've lots of Guilds in Ankh-Morpork, but that's not one of them.

[and he would have been happy to launch into a conversation about them, ask about why someone would give up a nice warm house and regular meals to go traipsing around the countryside and cold wilderness nearly dying from terrible things just for a bit of money - there are easier ways to earn it - when Six drops that little tidbit.

That little factoid.

...That admittedly ridiculous title.]

Oh, gods. You're secretly just like her, aren't you? L'Arachel. Have you met her? [he shakes his head.] Really, like - some sort of champion for the world? Really?

Who? No, no, I haven't.

[ He suddenly feels a little...flustered. Embarrassed? Gods, he should have just said he was a pirate. This is why he doesn't speak of this to people; if they don't already know, it's a very easy secret to keep. ]

But - yes. Really. [ He starts to say I didn't choose to be, but that's kind of bunk nowadays, isn't it? ]

Believe me, I was the last sort of person I would've expected to get the call that I did.

Priestess Princess of the Light or something. To be honest I don't always pay attention; her titles seem to change. "Of the Light" though, I know that's part of it for sure. You should look her up.

[he just can't promise Six will be able to get rid her afterwards. Somehow even after moving out of the apartment he shared with her they still meet for semi-weekly tea drinking. Why or how he found himself conned into that is a mystery to him.]

Is this a sort of - regular thing? Like there's always going to be one on your world? Or is it that there's some great threat your world is facing? It tends to be one of the two with champions of the world, I've found. Not that the two are always exclusive, mind.

A priestess princess.

[ His deadpan look says it all. "Warrior of Light" is ridiculous enough; if they added more, like "Champion Hero Warrior of Light" he would quit immediately.

...

Well, he wouldn't, but he'd talk about it even less than he talks about it now. ]

It would be both. The threat has existed as long as the world has, but mortals only live so long. There has to be a Warrior of Light--or Warriors, as the case may be. Hydaelyn chooses individuals for her blessing and tasks them with preventing whatever Calamity is imminent.

Oh, don't even get me started on it. [when he catches that look.] She's a bloody nag as well. Won't leave me alone about my drinking, and if it's not drinking it's cursing, and if it's not cursing it's "Oh, Rincewind, how can you possibly be so pessimistic, life is full of light and righteousness" or "Oh, Rincewind, you can't possibly mean that mean thing you just said and also I'm going to make you do this thing you really don't want to do now".

[he shakes his head, sipping at his drink.]

But look at you, chosen for some terrible grand adventure by some equally terrible omnipotent god - I assume that this Hydaelyn is a goddess of yours, anyway. That has to be something of a confidence aid, being chosen.

[ Uuuuuuuugggggggghh. ] I think I'm perfectly alright with never meeting her. You can keep her.

[ In the process of him leaning back to do an uuuuuggh face, their food arrives at last, on a pair of substantial trays impressively carried by their slim waiter. He distributes plates with an energetic smile and a peppy "Anything else, boys?", which Six answers with: ]

Another shake, please.

[ Before going on. ]

I'll admit, it boosted my ego considerably. And my prospects. I took it up initially because the Scions paid better than the Guild and I got a free airship ticket out of it. They wanted me to help with the Beast Tribes, chase off a few Primals. How hard could it be?

[ He shakes his head. ]

The problem is, when you're told the world could end, you're obligated to save it. I live on the world, you know? Or I did.

[ooooh, nothing smells quite as good as this golden-brown basket of fried fish and poatoes. Rincewind's mouth splits into an anticipatory grin before he's even quite aware of it, eagerly going about unrolling silverware. Gods bless proper pub food.]

Airship? - Is that something like those planes they have here? [which still occupy a relatively high position in Rincewind's list of technology he plans to never try.]

That's a - mmm - fair point, though. [he licks a bit of seasoning off his fingers, his fish broken open to cool while he pops fries in his mouth. The extra basket of chips gets placed absentmindedly beneath the table; it won't last long.] Somewhat. I mean, you hope someone else can do the bloody job, but sometimes it does seem you're the only one left. Have you only had to save it the once?

I think so? I've yet to ride one. [ Oh boy, and when he does...

But Six's future claustrophobic breakdown aside: ] It's been a handful of times at this point, with more localized conflicts threaded in-between for flavor.

[ BIG SIGH. Also a big mouthful of burger, which he talks right through in a brilliant display of table manners. ] It's always something. Another summoned Primal, an upsurge in piracy, political machinations, other people's wars, wars that were just temporarily on hold, ancient evils dug up by idiots--

[ Ah, but there he stops, swallows, scowls, and then sighs. ]

Perhaps someone else could do it, but...I don't know that. I've yet to tell anyone no, though perhaps I should.

Gods, you'd think people would learn well enough to let sleeping ancient evils lie. No one's crankier when woken up than their lot. I can't say I envy you as far as having to get involved with other people's politics - just dealing with the ambitions of senior wizards is bad enough. You've my sympathy.

[somewhere across the multiverse, Fate looks into the wizard's future and smirks.

But here in this one, Rincewind only watches Six go about demolishing his lunch. For such a trim figure, the warrior sure can put away some food.]

Telling people 'no' is one of my favorite things to do. Granted, it doesn't always matter, but I feel there's something to be said just for the act of doing it. Give it a go sometime.

[ He chuckles, somewhere between the second shake and the second burger. ] I will. I'll report back when I do to let you know how my first "no" turns out.

If we're lucky, the realm won't go up in flames while I take a vacation. [ Which he means as a joke, even if it's always on his mind. ] But you'll have to tell me more about wizards, your type of wizards, if not today then sometime.

We have mages in my realm, but they're all very...er, not to offend, but they're different from you.

You seem much more, what's the phrase...down to Earth? The most practical magic-user I've met so far.

Probably you'll end up getting roped into it anyhow - that's usually how it works - but at least then you can say you tried.

[he stuffs another piece of fish in his mouth and makes some low, contented noise. Good gods that tastes perfect. But then pretty much everything with enough grease to it tastes amazing when one's drunk; wizards have long known that alcohol has a magic all its own.]

Oh, no, I'm used to being the odd man out in that sense. No offense taken. Most wizards love to stick their noses in things and then complain when something takes a bite at it. Call me strange, but I like my nose where it is.

But I'd be happy to do this with you again sometime. You seem like an all right sort.

[which is really rather glowing praise from the wizard.]

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