The Tell-Tale Heart

[Torc Ironwood]

Spring 13-15th, 511 AV Torc laid in bed dreaming of Cheva, he knew it was a dream, because if it had been real then Torc would have died. He knew that he loved her completely, that he wanted her all to himself, and yet in all his prayers and praises of her, he had never asked her to just love him. He knew that everything he did was in hope and prayer that Cheva would visit him once again, and yet he knew that he still did those things for her even if she didn’t notice them. It was torture in a way, having met the Goddess of Love and knowing that she love you so deeply and completely, yet having to share that with everyone it tore at Torc sometimes. Torc wondered if sometimes she hadn’t cursed him just as much blessed him. Cheva with her long soft brown hair, her sun kissed skin that smelled of roses, she had looked soft and delicate. Yet strength and gentleness had radiated from her like heat from a fire. He had been bold enough to touch her, and like an addiction he wanted more. He wanted her lips, her hands, her love… Torc awoke from his dream feeling the sense of anguish and ache still fresh. This was the pain of being in love, and Torc felt like he wanted to curse the very Goddess of Love. As he thought about his dream, he realized that he had always loved woman that were beyond his reach. Mola had toyed with him, she had given him secreted kisses and embraces, and yet she had married a miller’s son. Cheva was just another delusion, the Goddess of Love a being that loved everyone but couldn’t just love one person. Face it, you’re just her pawn. Just like Glav… Just like all marked people. She loves you only because that’s her job, she can’t not love you. Torc hit the wall with his left fist, he felt the solid stone of mountain under his hand press against him, and for a moment he realized in his rage that he was crying. It wasn’t healthy to keep wanting the Goddess, just as it wasn’t healthy to love Mola who never loved him. Torc needed to do something, he needed to craft something big and for a purpose. Torc felt it in his hands, the very need to make something new and good. His hands almost itched with the want, Torc went down to the craftsmen hall and began forging items for the common good of all. For days Torc filled his time working at the forge. He bent, drew, and tempered metal like a mad man. At times other smith wondered what had gotten into the usually calm smith. Yet for all the time at the forge, the itch in Torcs hands grew. He needed something grander then common tools. He needed something more purposeful then a few items on the list. He needed something like the key… Torc shivered at its mere name. Cheva had given him a lump of metal and he had made it into something else, something more… Torc shivered at the thought. Torc would find no rest in common things, and though he had some skill at magecrafting. He wanted to test his mind, body, and soul in the crafting. Torc could almost feel the crackle of energy in his hands, he was coming to the heart of the matter now. The energy in Torc’s hands had grown and now that Torc knew what would satisfy it he needed to focus it. Priestess Lara had often told Torc tales of Aressa Tallshade, the woman had become a grand magecrafter pursuing knowledge like a glutton at a feast. The woman had crafted some of the greatest and most dangerous artifacts known to man. Yet she had done so to test herself, just as Torc was ready to test himself. The lessons that Priestess Lara had told drove home, and Torc knew that though he needed to quest and craft it would not be without direction or care. Thoughts swirled around in Torc head, his will to craft something so great that he felt his very purpose in life fulfilled, his need to have Cheva notice him, his desire to be famous. Torc sat down at the evening meal, once again he was alone except for a young child that would come up and stick their tongues out at him. He would laugh and pat them on the head, taking a few moments in his day to play with children. His time spent here in winter had shown the children that he was a good man and who would play with them. He told them stories during bed time like he had heard from Priestess Lara. They were the one bright spot that normally would make him laugh and smile. However, today, all they did was bring friendship and distraction to his thoughts. Areesa Tallshade had crafted items like Zariath, the fable sword that could cut the immortals, and yet now she spent her existence tracking down such items. Like the Anvil of Souls, something that took one’s soul out of the reincarnation cycle. Torc had seen that once before with Glav and his attempt at reaching Godhood. The last person who had attempted to do such a thing was to have cut out the very heart of Aquiras… Torc stopped eating for a moment, the feeling in his hands had almost sparked lighting. The missing heart of Aquiras, Torc had been privy to a great many things when Glav attempted to ascend, could Torc create his own item for godhood, but inside of using it give it to Aquiras? That’s insane, Torc thought, it take years to accumulate enough power and Djed to even spark the initial phase. For the Gods and Goddess sake, Glav need to break a cage made out of divine Djed to spark his own ascension. Yet the thought circled around Torc’s head. Sylir had died, so there was a gods heart out there somewhere. Granted it was drained of power, but if Torc could find it and began to infuse it once again. Infuse it with what? Want to kill thousands of people just to suit your ego? Of course not! However, when he was in Zeltiva weren’t there rumors that in the Wildlands the very forest was infused with Djed? Could Torc not really need to create anything, but the tools to help the fallen god Aquiras exist in the world already? Torc took a bite from his bowl and began chewing, to start something like this… didn’t he need God’s and Goddess’ approvals? Didn’t he need to be blessed and pronounce the one that destiny was waiting for? Yet Areesa had just created without any of those things. Why couldn’t Torc, it didn’t make sense going after the man that stole Aquiras heart. He would be a God after all, but instead if Torc could restart Sylir’s old heart in Aquiras body, at least he would create peace between Priskil’s followers and that of Sagallius.

[Tarot]

Torc was being a very boring dinner guest tonight, that was for sure. Hardly any talking, just biting chewing gulping down. The one child sitting at his table, a bright-looking freckled Inarta boy, stared at the giant of a man through narrowed slits, studying him for some sign of grown-up disease. There would be no stories tonight, and that was just unfair. Grown-ups had obligations to fulfill. They had to be entertaining on command, but quick to retreat once they wore off their welcome - which happened often, and faster than one would think. But then again, perhaps a most interesting story was about to unfold. And unlike most stories, this one started with two strangers sitting at the table in front of Torc with their own bowls of soup. The child started upon seeing them and shuffled to the side as he failed to recognize either of them. They weren't Inarta, and in fact their faces were entirely novel to Torc, as well, though they had quickly made themselves comfortable as if they'd been in the safety of their own home. Their spoons dug into the food and they began eating, wordlessly. The girl, seemingly in her twenties, had short blonde hair, intelligent-looking eyes, a slim build and a pleasant face. She wore the blue tunic of a commoner without a care in the world. The young man, around the same age, tried to carry himself with a little more refinement and wore slightly more elegant clothing. He also ate with far less gusto than the girl, eyeing the food and occasionally stirring the soup as if testing it for ambushes from under the surface. After a little while, the girl cast a side glance at the child who kept staring at her. "What you looking at, kid?" she asked, to which the child promptly replied, "Haven't seen you before. You are weird." The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Haven't seen you before either. You are weird too." But the child would not be deterred so easily, even with the woman's sass starting to show through. "Where do you come from? Have you been to the Valintar? Where are you working? What's your caste?" The girl blinked. "Chaste? But of course, we're both chaste and pure here, my brother and I. Right, brother? You're not quite ready for that story about the flowers and bees, are you?" "I won't be dragged into this," said brother pointed out before returning to his meal. They did carry a resemblance suggesting that they were siblings, possibly twins. "We did come here for work, though, if the truth be told," the girl replied in a conspiratorial tone. "We help people no-one else will help. We just pushed a horribly mutilated zero-self-confidence fellow into the arms of his one true love. It was pretty awesome. Our job here is done, and we are leaving early tomorrow. Unless more work crops up." There was a short pause, after which the girl repeated, in a more dramatic and slightly exasperated tone. "Unless more work crops up." The child frowned and left the table, his curiosity overtaken by his boredom at these silly grown-up antics far beneath his consideration. The brother pointed his spoon at Torc. "Sir, that's your cue. In case you didn't notice. Which you probably did, but still."

[Torc Ironwood]

Perhaps it was just the seriousness of his thoughts, or the general policy of ignoring mortals when they needed help, but in either case it wasn't till Kel's tale of helping someone did Torc realize who was sitting across from him. Torc's right hand that held his spoon began to shake, and initially Torc's mouth merely hung open. The emotions that ran through Torc were… numerous. They finally showed, Torc thought. How many years have I been praying and thanking them for every day? How many years have I devoted myself in helping others? How many years have I felt like they stood beside me, only to look to see no one there? Torc's eyes began to get blurry, what do you say to the two most important figures of your childhood that never cared to say hello? What do you say to the two Gods that you thanked for every challenge and hard task sent your way?

Torc set down his spoon, and as he cleared his eyes of water, he realized just how important this moment was. He realized that all those years of devotion, had barely prepared him for this moment. As a child, he had cried out during the night worried that he could never make Kelwyn proud. As a young man he had worked everyday to improve their temple/orphanage, and he took pride in his work, yet there was no rewards or favors given. He tried to remember how many times he prayed before their image to make Mola love him, and yet even when he lost all hope moved to Zeltiva and craved a wooden statue in their image for the courage to do all that…

"I…" Torc stopped again, he felt emotions so deep in him wanting to get out. He had seen other Gods and Goddesses, Cheva had brought him to his knees. Sylir had brought out courage and hope for peace in him, but all Torc could realize was just how deeply in trouble he was if Kelwyn was here. "Thank you, for every chance to improve myself… Kelwyn." He said the phrase in an almost holy whisper, and yet cold chills still went down his back. "I wish to take on a task that might need your… help." Torc felt the color drain from his face. He had committed himself, asking them for help was suicidal, and yet Torc knew that this was important enough that if he died but Aquiras got a new heart, then he could look into Lhex eyes with pride and take whatever choice was made for him.

Still cold seat began to form about Torc's brow. For all his knowledge of the dealings of Kelwyn, he never thought he would choose a cause so… helpless. Torc felt either water from his eyes or from his brow find its way down his cheek. "I seek to make Aquiras a new heart, so that he can live and love again, and could use your help in doing so." Torc swallowed all the rest of his words, they didn't care about the bust of wood he had craved. They didn't care that he had devoted all his early years praying and thanking them. They cared from the cause that he picked, and though it made Torc feel slightly empty, that all his praise and thanks had gone no where, at least he had chosen something that they approved of.

[Tarot]

The young woman - Kel, as Torc had correctly surmised - almost pouted at his remark. The gods were good at picking up on the unspoken nuances of your speech, probably because they were not unspoken at all to them. The half-Isur could not help but send a wave of his personal frustration - the pure one of a child who had believed in them but had never found his young expectations fulfilled. "Well, about the temple," Kel managed after biting on her lip, "we really wanted to visit you at some point, but there was always something else to do first. That and you were doing quite well on your own, right?" "You didn't really need us before today, either," Wyn continued where his sister had trailed off. "Looks like you need us big time now. Don't get your hopes up just yet - but we're here to help. We're talking about taking our career to the next level if we succeed with you! Cause, frankly, I can't remember taking on a more lost cause in a couple millennia. Except that guy who wanted to drain a lake with a spoon, but that's neither here nor there." Kel elbowed him. "Professional ethics! Our cases are confidential stuff, you know." Then, to Torc. "We knew Aquiras well. He was like an uncle to us, and he always had a story to share. He got them from all the people who went through the Towers and ended up talking with him. The world feels a hundred times larger now that he's... the way he is now. I assure you, Torc Ironwood, your selflessness is placed on the right quest. No guarantees, but we may have something for you." There was an edge of nervousness to her voice, and she quickly added: "This is Wyn's idea, actually, so you know who to blame if it's totally outrageous. Well, here goes." The girl rummaged through her clothes and produced a small packet from its folds, depositing it in front of Torc on the table. As if by magic, the communal halls of Wind Reach seemed to have gone pretty much deserted, respecting the sudden seriousness of the moment. The package was small and elongated, a yellowish piece of paper tied with silver string. If Torc undid the loose knots, the paper would unfold and reveal a single feather inside. It was a blinding white on one side and jet black on the other, and he would realize it was actually a quill, wet with ink ready to drip from its tip. "That is one of Lhex's quills," Kel explained uneasily, "we once ran an errand for him involving that thing and he never asked it back. I don't think he ever forgot about it - probably knew it was going to play a role at some point or another. Anyways, the way these quills work, if you pen your name with one of them, you get to meet the man himself. Without dying, that is." "Without dying before you meet him," Wyn added, regretting the slight smartassery in the tone. "No guarantees on the after. He's... how to put it... Lhex. He's... different." Kel nodded slowly. "If there's one guy who knows how to restore Aquiras' heart, that would be him. He's older than dirt and knows what was and what could have been. You might just be entertaining enough for him to tell you, too - we sure aren't. He will tell you cruel things, most likely, vicious lies mixed with pristine truths that you'll have to figure out for yourself. And he'll tempt you into his "deals of making and unmaking"... but he knows, Torc. I just thought we'd give you this chance for your generous spirit, and for helping out at the temple for all those years. Taking it or not is up to you. It's just that we don't know how else to get started on this." "It wouldn't be much of a lost cause if we did," Wyn offered tentatively.

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc looked at Kel as she explained that they had always meant to visit him. In a way it was like a punch in the gut. He was important enough for them to realize that he had helped their temple, but not important enough for them to come visit and say good job. Torc knew in his mind that Kel and Wyn weren't his parents, and that yes they had a great deal of many important things that needed to be done besides telling an orphan boy that they were proud of him. Yet it hurt no less, the knowledge that they knew, and because he was doing alright that they didn't take an interest in him. Torc had grown and for a while now had known Priestess Lara and Priest Ano had been his parents more so then these two. Yet, when you prayed and gave thanks everyday to them, somehow you wanted more. Some how the orphan boy wanted all that love he had given them to be returned, and it was an unrealistic expectation. Still Torc realized that he had always had it, he had always thought that Kelwyn would be different. He had always believed that Kelwyn would embraced those that followed them, that thanked them, that loved them. Somehow, it felt hollow the little praise he received from them. They were doing this in part because Torc had helped them, but the real reason was as Wyn had said… to gain more standing and help a friend. They were using each other… and perhaps that was what Torc needed to realize that his reasons were wrong.

Aquiras had truly loved mankind. He and Priskil had created things for world, not because men asked them to, but because they loved us, and that was the right reason to seek this out. Aquiras deserved better then what befell him, and by the Gods and Goddesses Torc was going to make things right even if it killed him. As Torc unwrapped the quill he realized that once he had decided to focus on Aquiras and doing this for him… Lhex could tell him a number of horrible things, but in the end as long as he focused on Aquiras and not himself, it didn't matter. Aquiras needed a new heart, one that didn't have to come with chaos and strife. "Thank you Wyn, it might put me ass over tits in trouble, but it is a good idea." Torc picked up the Quill and realized this might be the first time his soul had ever touched such a thing while inhabiting a body. For a moment Torc stroked the black and white feather at its end, he felt each individual fiber and yet the complete smoothness of it all.

"Kel… Wyn." Torc looked at each of them before he continued. "Life isn't very fair. I don't know why I think it should be otherwise. People get hurt, and I am sure the lies, perhaps even the truth, that Lhex tells me will be an unbearable weight on my shoulders." Torc sighed, the world was a strange place. The immortals rarely interacted with mankind, and even though their prayers and cries for help rose up everyday, when the Gods and Goddesses decided to help, the cost to a mortal was often great. "I remember the stories of my youth, Priestess Lara often said that with your help the cause would win, but it could be something radically different than what the original asker envisioned. Whatever is brought to bare, I will bare it without comment, because Aquiras deserves it… and even if I have to ascend, so that Priskil can take my heart for him… then so be it. You have my word on that."

Torc spread the piece of yellow paper in front of him. He briefly thought that he should get supplies or even different clothes, but looking at his shaking hands, he knew that if he didn't do it within a hundred heartbeats he would never do it. "I… I wish I had the courage to ask you two if I made you proud… but I don't think I could survive the answer, whatever it is. However, may I instead asked that you forgive me for any disappointment I have caused." Torc waited for a moment for the Twins to respond. He wanted so much that they could never give, but he was willing to settle for forgiveness, it would be enough.

Torc with a shaking hand, and dreadful knot in his stomach leaned over and signed his name on the yellow paper with the silver cord. Lhex's quill was heavy in his hand as he began to form Lhex's name. For a brief moment, before he finished the thought that he should have gone to the privy went through his mind.

[Tarot]

Perhaps Torc - chosen one, savant and keeper of secrets - refused to see a simple truth that most common folk knew almost from birth: the gods were not people, no matter how closely they might look like them. This part of him that ached from the siblings' neglect was probably the same part that longed for Cheva's full love in the first place. Maybe he had, at last, drawn too close to the flame and he was now getting singed. Not burned - not yet - but there was still time. The duo regarded him quietly for some time. If they were aware of the feelings washing over Torc during their exchange, they did not show any sign of it. They did look tense, though, as if in the knowledge that this was shaky ground even by their standards. Who knew, they might even feel a little guilty for putting a man through such risks when he wasn't even the one who would profit from his success. Regardless, when he asked them for forgiveness, Kel was quick to whip up a reply. "Suffice to know there is no forgiveness as there is nothing to forgive. And you made us as proud as anyone can be, though you were never meant for us and we knew all along. If anything, we are meant for you now." And with that and a small smile, the girl fell silent. It was just the man and the quill now. The implement felt magnificent in his hand, the kind of tool you could seal someone's fate with. It was clear that this quill did not bother with opinions or questions: all it wrote was law, cold and hard and final. But, as Torc wrote Lhex's name on the envelope, the twins suddenly caught sight of what he was doing and their eyes widened as if they'd seen something wrong with it. Of course, by then it was far too late to ask. Too late for mostly everything. For, as the half-Isur blinked, he found himself somewhere else. There were no flashes, no strange sights or sounds signaling the shift. One second he was in the common halls of Wind Reach, dining in the company of gods, the next second he was sitting in a small, cozy room with no visible exits. The first thing he saw was the desk, a long but humble oak thing that looked more utilitarian than anything. Certainly there were scribes and men of importance in Syliras and elsewhere whose studies were far better furnished. The desktop was far from tidy, with piles of scrolls, papers and books littering its ten feet of length. In front of Torc, opposite the desk, was an empty chair that looked as severe as his own, an unappealing brown color and an uncomfortable, butt-flattening shape. A small red cushion, providing only minimal additional comfort, was the only distinguishing sign of that empty chair. Empty. Torc seemed to be alone in the room. A lively fire burned in the hearth to his left. An old yellow rug hid a good portion of the floor. Two entire walls were covered by six rows of shelves packed with more documents and papers. Two large closed cabinets stood at the far corners of the room. The air was crisp with the smell of old books. On the desk were a thin pamphlet called The meaning of life and a book by the title Cheating your way: secret loopholes in the fabric of reality. They were positioned temptingly within arm's reach. Torc also saw a pile of identical hand-written forms. They read, The undersigned Lhex hereby grants __________ a rebirth as a ___________, effective as of the time of death in the current lifetime. Standard terms and conditions apply. The form at the top of the small pile had been signed in advance, and the signature looked eerily identical to Torc's handwriting on the envelope (which was nowhere to be seen). Still, if he got the text right, someone filling out this form could effectively grant themselves or someone else a rebirth as anything of their choosing. Someone filling out this form with a special quill such as the one Torc was holding, for instance.

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc looked around at the study, it was simple and yet more powerful then any Zeltivian scholar den he had ever seen. Lhex's study was pure, the desk made from oak, Torc's hand briefly roamed over it. Small scratches and dents had marked its surface. How many souls had come to Lhex before Torc and spat, screamed, or cheered as he had given them rebirths. Torc briefly remembered the feel of the quill in his hand. It was like the universe was behind the words, as if what he wrote wasn't just a law but a reality. His eyes went back to the book Cheating your way: secret loopholes in the fabric of reality. Torc placed the quill down in front of the form that Lhex had left out. His hands touched the book, before he mind could even stop him. Torc for a moment wanted to possess the power that was within the book. Yet as his fingertips touched the leather binding, Torc was able to stop himself. Something about how Kel and Wyn looked after Torc had signed his name and then Lhex's. It was almost as if he had done something wrong?

Nooooo… Kel had said that he had needed to write his name and Lhex's. Right? What had she say, 'Anyway, how the quill works, if you pen your name with… 'Torc could have sworn that she had said with Lhex's, but now he wasn't so sure. I did it correctly, I am sure of it! Right? Paranoidia was starting to edge Torc's mind. It was suppose to be his name and Lhex's, and that’s what he had done… Well maybe not in that order. He was so excited he might have penned Lhex's name before his. What was wrong with that? I mean… if the quill was suppose to bring him to Lhex, and he had accidently penned his name first, did that mean Lhex was at Wind Reach? Did that mean that they had switched places? For a moment Torc looked around and thought that he should try and steal everything he could. After all, the answer to his question had to be somewhere in here. Torc quickly ran around the desk to the empty chair and pushed it back. Important books especially ones used often by their owners were locked up in their desk. That’s when his eyes looked across the form.

He had a quill and a form, couldn't Torc just put his name in it and then for the second blank write in, new heart for Aquiras presented to Priskil a bell after his death. I mean that would fix the whole thing, wouldn't it? All Torc had to do was die and he could be reborn as Aquiras new heart, but what did standard terms and conditions mean? Somehow, Torc didn't like the sound of it. What if in choosing his own fate he would be alive till his new vessel could be created? Or if he choose out of the standard options could Lhex dismiss the contract? Something wasn't right… hadn't the twins warned him against this type of thing. Lhex was known to be insane and extremely logical, would he risk a mortal getting his hands on one of these forms, just so that without a word he could con that mortal in rewriting who he was?

No that’s crazy! Lhex wouldn't just leave something so power, just on the chance that I would renegotiate my own life without him. That would be insane… and brilliant all at the same time. Torc took a deep breath as he looked around the office. Lhex is the God of Fate, by making a decision I seal my own fate. He doesn't care about good or evil… he only cares about decisions, as they can lead to others and so on. I can steal from him without fear of horrible venegence, because he doesn't care about the theft only the decision in what I steal. If I go for the form and seal my fate without his involvement, then I step out of his cycle for one life time. He doesn't care what I do with that time, I could be a great killer or a man that heals some type of disease, but I would come back to him, and then my decision would seal my fate. If I stole the book… I don't have a way out of here… Torc began looking around and realize that there was no way out of the office. The only way out was if Lhex sent him away, the quill! Torc picked up the quill once again. What if he just wrote his name this time? Would he reappear next to Lhex? Torc felt his pulse began to raise, perhaps he should steal something?

Torc looked around, and then he swallowed, he picked up the pamphlet: The meaning of life. Torc swallowed the water that seemed to be accumulating in his mouth. He should at least open it… shouldn't he? Shouldn't he know what was his purpose for being born? Shouldn't he want to crave the answer to why everyone was walking around, eating, mating, sleeping, and dying? Yet, somehow it felt wrong for Torc to open it. A part of life was the mystery, and somehow he felt like without life would be depressing. So Torc placed the pamphlet down on the desk, and clearly wrote just his name on it penning it with Lhex's quill. With every letter he prayed that this was the correct answer if there was one

[Tarot]

The pamphlet felt so light in Torc's hands. "The meaning of life" was apparently no huge codex of secrets, but an octavo-sized publication of no more than three dozen pages. Torc had a strange feeling that most of them had been intentionally left blank, too. Except maybe one. Regardless, he resisted the temptations laid out in front of him, and for a long moment there was only the lively clamor of old wood in the hearth. Then, an old man stepped out of the cabinet on the far side of the room. Old he may be, but still energetic enough to slam the cabinet's door and hop towards the desk. His thick beard was snow white but somewhat knotty and disheveled, covering a mouth that was too large for him, the pomes of his cheeks tinged with red and his eyes small and curious. His clothes were not the finery of nobles, but the attire of any average scribe, and he did look like a jolly old scrivener who might have had an ale or two while on the job. "Ah, you've come," said the old man with a titter. "I was expecting you." He paused for an instant. "Wasn't." He tilted his head the other way. "Was." Then the other way. "Wasn't." He let the matter rest and plumped down on his chair, setting his forearms on the edge of the table as he laced his old fingers together. "Sorry for the reception, or lack thereof. I was busy losing what was meant to be found. Like my mind, for instance. Can't live with it, can't live without. Forgetfulness kills thousands of people every year. People like you." He pointed that bony, slightly arthritic index finger at Torc and grinned. He continued his non-sequitur line of reasoning. "One would expect the average literate person to be able to sign their own name. In fact, an X would have sufficed. Ignorance is no crime, you see, but ignorance of the law does not excuse a crime. You screwed up, Torc, screwed up big time." Lhex reached into the sleeve of his scribe's tunic and produced a six-faced die. It was made of ivory, the pips a deep vermillion. "Let's settle this fairly. One two three, you die. Four five six, you live. Makes sense. That's why it's a called a 'die'. And yes, the name is just a little bit biased against you, but life is not fair and neither is fairness." Before Torc could say anything to that odd piece of logic, Lhex rolled the die on the oak desk. The pips glittered in the flames' light. The die hit "Cheating your way" and bounced back, spinning wildly over the form until it seemed to land next to the "Meaning of life". Two. Those two pips stared at Torc Ironwood accusingly, red eyes flashing with senseless anger. Even the flames in the hearth stood still for an instant, after which Lhex frowned. "Lucky, aren't we?" His finger drove Torc's gaze to what he meant by those words. The half-Isur saw that the die had not actually landed: it was standing ever so slightly against the thin spine of the "Meaning of life". The two red pips flashed their anger even more brightly now, for they had judged him and yet could not carry out the sentence. For now. "But you will look at us again," they seemed to say. "A non-result, eh? I was expecting this. Wasn't. Was. Wasn't." He did not move to touch the die. Instead, he made himself comfortable in his seat and smiled at Torc. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? I already know it, of course, but please pretend I don't and explain yourself. In no more than five hundred words, if you please. Brevity is the soul of wit, at least until it reincarnates." And so, Torc was finally able to speak. Lhex was looking at him, and so were the two diabolical pips on the die, perfectly regular and yet unsettling.

[Torc Ironwood]

Torc held the light pamphlet and felt the weight of its knowledge, the best laws of the world were often the easiest to understand. Life in its complex weaving of emotion, devotion, and experience was probably the simplest of meanings, and yet as Torc placed the quill to the pamphlet he felt the overwhelming urge to peak. That one niche that Torc tried to carve out of the world for himself, one peek would tell him where he belonged. Yet somehow the inner strength told him that only disappointment waited with that knowledge. Cheva had spoken of self love and though he craved the love of others, he had started on his own path. So in the quiet silence Torc promised himself to remember that he choose this path. As Torc finished he looked up to see an old man, one that looked like the very imagine of a grandfather. Yet, the attitude that came from the God was unexpected… or perhaps more of a let down of expectations. Lhex seemed even more insane then the stories spoke of, but then again why wouldn’t the greatest power be in the hands of a mad man. For a brief moment, Torc wanted to ask what Lhex had lost… it seemed important that someone should find it after he spent all that time losing it. But then the conversation took a very dark turn. As Lhex pointed his finger at Torc, his stomach dropped to the floor and the gnawing fear quickly replaced it as the god grinned. Torc had made an honest mistake… his lack of patience and wanting to leave the twins that had caused him pain from their disdain. His anger was still strong from the encounter with them, after all Torc had spent years praying to them assuming they had always been with him as he fought and worked hard. Then in one moment they said that they noticed and not cared, and as Lhex told him that he screwed up… for the first time in a long time Torc wanted to hit someone. Torc didn’t care if Lhex did look like an old man, he wanted to squarely punch the old fart in the nose. Sitting there judging him… sitting there reasonable when punishment needed to be handed out, but when anything else was needed the old man was crazy. Torc left fist tighten up in a ball and Torc could feel the very padding of his hand tighten so hard that blood stopped flowing. It was then that Lhex pulled out the die and the anger drained from Torc replaced with a dread. So this is how I die? Was the only thought as Lhex explained the game of chance, cold sweat broke out over Torc, he felt the blood drain from his face and a pale stupor came over him. His hands fell limp too his sides and as the die rolled, Torc felt like screaming at Lhex. He felt like pleading, asking for some sort of forgiveness. He wanted to ask the god the most simple question, Why? Yet, Torc knew there was no answer to this insane injustice that was about to go on. Life is not fair… he had said the same words to Glav, and now faced with it once again Torc kept his mouth such. Life wasn’t fair, it was messy, and the parts that happened in between made all the difference. The die bounced off of the books spine. Didn’t I start this quest because of the insane idea to make Cheva love me? Didn’t I give that up, because in the great scheme of things Aquiras needs to be alive… if this is the price I must pay for trying to carve good from this world so be it. Torc’s hands released as the die crossed the desk, tumbling towards an end and a beginning. He had followed his heart and as the die rolled to the pamphlet and he looked down at the die he knew that he wasn’t ready to die. He was just beginning to live. Two… Torc jumped from his seat and went over to the hearth. He felt like vomiting, he fought with the injustice. Torc lived by honor and fairness not because it was the way things were… but because it was what the world needed. Sometimes for everything you cared about you had to fight the hardest for it. His mother… Priestess Lara had always said that the gods had given him such big shoulders to take large burdens. Yet it wasn’t fair… Torc squeezed his hand into a fist and pounded the mantle. Slowly he took deep breaths in between bouts of anger at the injustice, yet he had always lived by those rules. Torc went back to the desk ready to die, but waiting to take the entire office with him. It was then that Lhex pronounced the result. Torc couldn’t take it anymore. It was just so insane! The God of fate and free will had rolled the only gray result! Torc just couldn’t help himself, it was a choice between breaking down and crying and laughing like a child. He just decided to be happy, and that was it, and for moment he let the wash of emotions roll over him. Joy and ecstasy at being alive, horror and bitterness at the judgment, like a babe the emotions came forth and purged themselves from his soul. Torc couldn’t sit down the rush of emotions and the vague sense of dread if Torc didn’t respond Lhex kept him from sticking out his tongue at the die and the god. Taking a cleansing breath some had been shed in joy others in fear. “Lhex, I have come here to try and find a few answers. How to create or find a replacement heart for Aquiras?” Torc seemed surprise by the last little bit, but he decided that it was truthful and that he would speak from his own heart. “I don’t know what I hope to gain from helping Aquiras to live again, the rewards seem… to be intangible. I think that the truth is, I hope to gain nothing besides helping Priskil find her love again. I can’t win back his heart from Sagallius, and I won’t take another for another god. If mine would do… I would give it to him this moment.” Torc stopped, how many words had he used? He was blanthering, and it was because of his near death experience. He had felt like he needed to accept the decision, when even Lhex seemed to fight it. “I don’t know what can I offer you in trade. I can’t even offer my devotion, for after today… Lhex, sorry, but I must struggle against fate and freewill. At times when I have no choices, I will have to create new ones, and at times when I have all the choices in the world. I must accept that I have none…” Torc was a fool to tell Lhex that he would do his damnest to make sure the god didn’t get his way. Yet he wouldn’t lie, and the truth was just insane, it was probably the last thing the god wanted to hear. Torc went over to the table and looked down at the die, with fear of being struck down for his insolence, he humbly picked it up. He looked at the faces of the die and changed the face to a six before setting it down. It was as much of a choice for Torc to accept the consequences of the roll as it was to choose a different result, and by damn he saw that freewill struggled inside the god, just as fate tried to control it. Torc knew that moment he was ready for consequence that would surely come, the judge that was inside of Lhex wouldn’t allow anything else, but perhaps the free spirit in him would accept the result.

[Tarot]

Lhex frowned, then sniffed loudly and frowned again. This was exactly why you couldn't have an intelligent conversation with anyone but Tanroa these days. They had always understood each other the best, but the rest of the world seemed to have gone utterly mad lately. And then they called him mad! "That was all very touching, I assure you," and he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robe, "but young man, you've got to stop apologizing at some point. You can't do jack without saying sorry before and after, you know. 'Sorry I let you down!' 'Sorry I'm letting you down!' 'Sorry I'll let you down!'" He was doing a rough but whiny imitation of Torc's voice. "Creation doesn't say sorry. Creation is shameless. You would call yourself a maker, so please start acting like one. Start hearing when you listen, and seeing when you look. Consider the events that just happened to you." Lhex spread his arm over the angry die and the pamphlet about the meaning of life. "Surely you must have noticed that you moved this ever so slightly when you were tempted to read from its pages. You placed it back, but not quite where it was before. And if it had stayed where you found it, this little avenger would have rolled all the way." The two red pips flashed for an instant, as if contemplating that turn of events. "'Two' is your nemesis, Torc Ironwood. If you hadn't faced and overcome your temptation, you would be dead by now. There are a lot of vacancies for dung beetles this time of year, and sure as Dira the world could function without you but would crumble without them. In the end your hand stopped the roll, both of the die and of your very own ball of shyke." The god took a piece of parchment and began writing on it with the quill Torc had brought over from his world. "Of course, if you should move the book again - that is, if you should stop being true to yourself, this 'two' will invariably catch up to you." Lhex's hand moved quickly over the page, jotting down sentences here and there. "There is no way around it: for you would make and therefore you must risk your own unmaking. Deal of making, deal of unmaking. When your life is threatened, it's 'two' coming for you. When your life ends, 'two' will claim it. 'Two' will reap your friends, wither your crops, stain your hands with blood both yours and foreign. All that in exchange for the tiniest chance of success. I think I like the sound of this." He put down the quill and presented the piece of parchment for Torc to see. Lhex's angular handwriting could nevertheless be read quite easily. "Recipe for a heart of gold (1 helping) 1) Melt a thousand mountains, the size of Mt. Skyinarta or greater, and put five pounds in a bowl, a little more if you're going for a very hearty meal 2) Add a strand of hair from Life entwined with one from Death (sm. prolly has to die for this), taken with scissors made from the bones of the valiant 3) Make into the shape of a heart and let harden - add a pinch of tomorrow and other seasonings if available 4) Cool down in a bucket and add the first drop of water that was ever made 5) (this is where it gets hard!) Talk into coming alive and some other stuff 6) Decorate and serve." "Here you go," Lhex grinned, "I have a feeling that those who love Priskil will do their best to help. I almost pity them. Anyways, I'm sure you'll figure it all out. Won't. Will. Won't. Will."