The Invisible Hand of Commerce and D&D
Jun. 15th, 2023 10:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lydamorehouseSo, our GM introduced us to a city that is run by a god that fosters "healthy" competition among merchants. Ave wants this god dead.
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June 15
The Foolish Bachelor Inn & Tavern
City of Cavri
Ceyan Empire
Dear Idyril and Sierra:
We finally met Simon’s Professor Daddy and he didn’t impress me. What passes as intellect here in Cavri is very different than what I’m used to among the sages and scholars of The Beech Wood.
I had gotten the sense from Simon and, as it happens, the concierge at The Foolish Bachelor that Dr. Dad was some kind of bigwig at the University--or at least someone to be reckoned with. The concierge didn’t know he’d moved here for the professorship, but he did mutter in a way that made it seem as though it was expected for a Great Man, like Simon’s dad.
I tell you, Dr. Dad must be hiding his light under a bushel because all I saw was a crabby old man in a cramped office in a dusty, dark corner of his college’s faculty building who, like literally all the men with whom I’ve attempted to discuss my alternate SpellyJelly ideas, completely dismissed me. At least my chatter helped distract the stupid little professor long enough for Rakke to “liberate” a couple of old books from the irritating man.
Not that Rakke takes me any more seriously than any of the rest of the human men. I doubt he even knew that I was intentionally helping him. I’m just a silly little thing, after all, chirping away. No one expects that I watch everything like a hawk on the wing.
It’s a woman’s natural defense, after all: being underestimated!
A wrench in it, however, is that the people here seem very well acquainted with our family name. More times than I can count since landing in the Ceyan Empire, I’ve watched people flinch away from the name Travorian. The Messy Magic professor, who is hiring us to go into the woods to investigate a creepy-ass sounding stone fungus village or some such, said that she recognized me even before I said our surname. You and I have the same look, apparently. The indigo eyes, I suspect, are the give away. Though, Mother does grow us pale and ghostly and so very Fey--the Bastard being the only exception, of course.
This woman, the professor, was apparently educated in The Beech Wood, probably by that little conclave of sages and scholars I tended to avoid like the plague, but whom I at least respect in terms of their learnedness. In that case, I suppose, it’s not so strange for someone like that, who lived in proximity of Mother’s great and terrible shadow, to know enough to take a visible step back at the sound of our accursed name.
The problem is that it’s difficult to pass myself off as ridiculous and harmless if people are going to take a second, more wary look once they know I’m a Travorian! Idyril! THIS IS YOUR FAULT. Your letters made it seem like I could go ahead and use the signet ring or present my scroll of pedigree and that very few people would do more than raise an eyebrow! Now, when it’s far too late and Mother’s assassins and spies are probably already on their way, I’m going to have to stop dropping our damn name and using the signet ring to get us the good rooms and service!
At least Cavri is big enough of a city for me to keep ahead of any assassins. Did I tell you they have both an entire district devoted to brewers, as well as a SEPARATE vintner’s district?? Hana and I also spotted a delightful little scone place in the market. I could live here forever!
Mmm, but there’s one thing about Cavri that I can’t decide if I like: their god.
I know it's probably useless, but I still sometimes whisper my prayers on the wind to our family goddess Lesh. Like you, I tend towards a kind of practical agnosticism. Like, obviously gods exist! But, which one is the best one is fully debatable, am I right?
At any rate, this town used to belong to a decent and respectable ancient virgin warrior goddess, but some upstart by the name of Gaem is worshiped here now. I think he makes the city vibrant in his own way, but he does it by fostering so-called “friendly” competition among vendors. I heard someone in the market call him “The Invisible Hand” of commerce and trade. I don’t like him, Idyril. I feel like I should? But I prefer a goddess of winds and secrets because her aegis covers us all, equally. We are all children of the wind. Every heart--high and low, young and old, healthy and infrim--holds secrets. A god who would have us fight each other for dominance, even under the guise of ‘being good for the community’ strikes me as far more evil than even the darkest of the Old Ones. Direct and occasional human sacrifice is, at least, an obvious evil. This? There is a subtle menace here that I find… frightening. After all, I can only presume that it’s the influence of this Gaem's spirit of "friendly competition" that makes an old man think it’s necessary to sell acid arrow, scorching ray, and inflict wounds spells to children.
Some of the young people here have only just started to shave, Idyril. And, I have delivered to them with my own hands hundreds of fun and easy to consume weapons.
If I don’t try to steal them one more time before we leave this city, Idyril, I’m as culpable for the pain and death these children will suffer as Dr. "Great Man" Dad and his grisly profiteering. There is simply no peaceful application of a necromancy spell that, at a touch, turns living flesh to ruin and rot. And, the Party would not listen to me when I begged them to remove these beans and replace them with delicious tasting duds. We could have left these children with healing word, shield, and goodberry. Even counterspell could save a life.
But, I was outvoted in the name of this commerce god, whose influence, I fear, might have already been exerting itself upon us, even so far away as Steverik. Surely, no other god would brook such cruelty and call it “healthy” for community growth.
Is it possible, I wonder, to kill a god?
Ah! My mood! I must apologize that I’m not my usual chipper self! It seems that this letter comes at the tail end of a rather maudlin drinking binge.
I am, if I’m honest, a bit… at odds with my companions. It’s clear that The Party will be leaving Cavri and heading into the woods for this dangerous assignment tomorrow. We only just got to the city, Idyril! There are scones! There are so, so many taverns that I haven’t learned all the names of yet! There are hundreds, if not thousands of lovely women, men, and others here that could keep my bed warm for days upon days! I don’t want to go into the woods. Things will try to kill me there! Meanwhile, we have the most amazing suites here at The Foolish Bachelor! The Beanwrights, or whatever Neville’s family name is, have excellent taste in furnishings and such a lovely view of this vibrant city! And it’s all paid for, for months!
But, my companions will go.
I can’t convince them otherwise.
And I can’t let Hana go alone--not without me! She’s too precious for this world and, if I stayed here, in the lap of luxury, while she stumbled into some trap or was murdered by a zombie… Well, that would be no good, would it? Oh, Idyril, how do you STAND having someone you actually care about? It complicates everything! I waste so much of my time wondering if she hates me for the awkward, attempted drunken fumble at the Mid-Winter Hostel or if she finds me too brash or too loud or… too drunk. And such a stereotype, the two Elves together! I hate it so much, but I can’t seem to stop the way my eyes always return to her, seeking her approval surreptitiously or just hoping to see a soft smile on her lips.
And it's so very clear Hana hates the city.
Ah, this relationship is so doomed.
I will say, somewhat unrelated, that it surprises me how much I miss our own kind. I had honestly taken you for a bit of a racist, but I’d forgotten that outside of the Beech Wood, my attitude towards sex would be considered… inappropriate, at best, and become the subject of so many bawdy punchlines. I’d forgotten that humans are so strange about lovemaking. They all want to do it, all the time, probably more often than I do, even, but they want it to be behind closed doors and initiated by men only, and gods forbid a woman enjoy herself with whomever she likes and as often as she likes. I think they expect me to care deeply about the people with whom I tumble, and the fact that I allow lovers to come and go without tying them down with emotional strings is some kind of… moral (??) failure on my part. Ah, how the Beech Wood would shock these humans!
It’s so clear that their short and often brutal little lives have stunted their wisdom.
I heard one of them call this university old, Idyril! It’s only seventy years older than I am! It’s only fifty years older than you! And, I’m fairly certain Hana is at least a couple of hundred years older. Mother would be considered ancient by these human’s standards, and she’s only just this side of middle aged!
It explains so much.
Yours, in a united bafflement of humankind,
Ave
P.S. What am I supposed to do if I’m falling for Hana? Please send big brotherly advice ASAP!
=====
June 15
The Foolish Bachelor Inn & Tavern
City of Cavri
Ceyan Empire
Dear Idyril and Sierra:
We finally met Simon’s Professor Daddy and he didn’t impress me. What passes as intellect here in Cavri is very different than what I’m used to among the sages and scholars of The Beech Wood.
I had gotten the sense from Simon and, as it happens, the concierge at The Foolish Bachelor that Dr. Dad was some kind of bigwig at the University--or at least someone to be reckoned with. The concierge didn’t know he’d moved here for the professorship, but he did mutter in a way that made it seem as though it was expected for a Great Man, like Simon’s dad.
I tell you, Dr. Dad must be hiding his light under a bushel because all I saw was a crabby old man in a cramped office in a dusty, dark corner of his college’s faculty building who, like literally all the men with whom I’ve attempted to discuss my alternate SpellyJelly ideas, completely dismissed me. At least my chatter helped distract the stupid little professor long enough for Rakke to “liberate” a couple of old books from the irritating man.
Not that Rakke takes me any more seriously than any of the rest of the human men. I doubt he even knew that I was intentionally helping him. I’m just a silly little thing, after all, chirping away. No one expects that I watch everything like a hawk on the wing.
It’s a woman’s natural defense, after all: being underestimated!
A wrench in it, however, is that the people here seem very well acquainted with our family name. More times than I can count since landing in the Ceyan Empire, I’ve watched people flinch away from the name Travorian. The Messy Magic professor, who is hiring us to go into the woods to investigate a creepy-ass sounding stone fungus village or some such, said that she recognized me even before I said our surname. You and I have the same look, apparently. The indigo eyes, I suspect, are the give away. Though, Mother does grow us pale and ghostly and so very Fey--the Bastard being the only exception, of course.
This woman, the professor, was apparently educated in The Beech Wood, probably by that little conclave of sages and scholars I tended to avoid like the plague, but whom I at least respect in terms of their learnedness. In that case, I suppose, it’s not so strange for someone like that, who lived in proximity of Mother’s great and terrible shadow, to know enough to take a visible step back at the sound of our accursed name.
The problem is that it’s difficult to pass myself off as ridiculous and harmless if people are going to take a second, more wary look once they know I’m a Travorian! Idyril! THIS IS YOUR FAULT. Your letters made it seem like I could go ahead and use the signet ring or present my scroll of pedigree and that very few people would do more than raise an eyebrow! Now, when it’s far too late and Mother’s assassins and spies are probably already on their way, I’m going to have to stop dropping our damn name and using the signet ring to get us the good rooms and service!
At least Cavri is big enough of a city for me to keep ahead of any assassins. Did I tell you they have both an entire district devoted to brewers, as well as a SEPARATE vintner’s district?? Hana and I also spotted a delightful little scone place in the market. I could live here forever!
Mmm, but there’s one thing about Cavri that I can’t decide if I like: their god.
I know it's probably useless, but I still sometimes whisper my prayers on the wind to our family goddess Lesh. Like you, I tend towards a kind of practical agnosticism. Like, obviously gods exist! But, which one is the best one is fully debatable, am I right?
At any rate, this town used to belong to a decent and respectable ancient virgin warrior goddess, but some upstart by the name of Gaem is worshiped here now. I think he makes the city vibrant in his own way, but he does it by fostering so-called “friendly” competition among vendors. I heard someone in the market call him “The Invisible Hand” of commerce and trade. I don’t like him, Idyril. I feel like I should? But I prefer a goddess of winds and secrets because her aegis covers us all, equally. We are all children of the wind. Every heart--high and low, young and old, healthy and infrim--holds secrets. A god who would have us fight each other for dominance, even under the guise of ‘being good for the community’ strikes me as far more evil than even the darkest of the Old Ones. Direct and occasional human sacrifice is, at least, an obvious evil. This? There is a subtle menace here that I find… frightening. After all, I can only presume that it’s the influence of this Gaem's spirit of "friendly competition" that makes an old man think it’s necessary to sell acid arrow, scorching ray, and inflict wounds spells to children.
Some of the young people here have only just started to shave, Idyril. And, I have delivered to them with my own hands hundreds of fun and easy to consume weapons.
If I don’t try to steal them one more time before we leave this city, Idyril, I’m as culpable for the pain and death these children will suffer as Dr. "Great Man" Dad and his grisly profiteering. There is simply no peaceful application of a necromancy spell that, at a touch, turns living flesh to ruin and rot. And, the Party would not listen to me when I begged them to remove these beans and replace them with delicious tasting duds. We could have left these children with healing word, shield, and goodberry. Even counterspell could save a life.
But, I was outvoted in the name of this commerce god, whose influence, I fear, might have already been exerting itself upon us, even so far away as Steverik. Surely, no other god would brook such cruelty and call it “healthy” for community growth.
Is it possible, I wonder, to kill a god?
Ah! My mood! I must apologize that I’m not my usual chipper self! It seems that this letter comes at the tail end of a rather maudlin drinking binge.
I am, if I’m honest, a bit… at odds with my companions. It’s clear that The Party will be leaving Cavri and heading into the woods for this dangerous assignment tomorrow. We only just got to the city, Idyril! There are scones! There are so, so many taverns that I haven’t learned all the names of yet! There are hundreds, if not thousands of lovely women, men, and others here that could keep my bed warm for days upon days! I don’t want to go into the woods. Things will try to kill me there! Meanwhile, we have the most amazing suites here at The Foolish Bachelor! The Beanwrights, or whatever Neville’s family name is, have excellent taste in furnishings and such a lovely view of this vibrant city! And it’s all paid for, for months!
But, my companions will go.
I can’t convince them otherwise.
And I can’t let Hana go alone--not without me! She’s too precious for this world and, if I stayed here, in the lap of luxury, while she stumbled into some trap or was murdered by a zombie… Well, that would be no good, would it? Oh, Idyril, how do you STAND having someone you actually care about? It complicates everything! I waste so much of my time wondering if she hates me for the awkward, attempted drunken fumble at the Mid-Winter Hostel or if she finds me too brash or too loud or… too drunk. And such a stereotype, the two Elves together! I hate it so much, but I can’t seem to stop the way my eyes always return to her, seeking her approval surreptitiously or just hoping to see a soft smile on her lips.
And it's so very clear Hana hates the city.
Ah, this relationship is so doomed.
I will say, somewhat unrelated, that it surprises me how much I miss our own kind. I had honestly taken you for a bit of a racist, but I’d forgotten that outside of the Beech Wood, my attitude towards sex would be considered… inappropriate, at best, and become the subject of so many bawdy punchlines. I’d forgotten that humans are so strange about lovemaking. They all want to do it, all the time, probably more often than I do, even, but they want it to be behind closed doors and initiated by men only, and gods forbid a woman enjoy herself with whomever she likes and as often as she likes. I think they expect me to care deeply about the people with whom I tumble, and the fact that I allow lovers to come and go without tying them down with emotional strings is some kind of… moral (??) failure on my part. Ah, how the Beech Wood would shock these humans!
It’s so clear that their short and often brutal little lives have stunted their wisdom.
I heard one of them call this university old, Idyril! It’s only seventy years older than I am! It’s only fifty years older than you! And, I’m fairly certain Hana is at least a couple of hundred years older. Mother would be considered ancient by these human’s standards, and she’s only just this side of middle aged!
It explains so much.
Yours, in a united bafflement of humankind,
Ave
P.S. What am I supposed to do if I’m falling for Hana? Please send big brotherly advice ASAP!