Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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All men wear masks. Every day. Even if we do not realize it.

We put on false smiles and false bravado when we start to crumble within.

Every moment of every day beings in this world put on facades to manipulate and deceive.

The difference between myself and the others: At least I'm the assh-le who tells you that he's lying to you.

My name is Salim El-Habib et-Hital el-Faddir. Known to my people, the Bedine, as "The Beloved Desert Wind That Travels Many Sands."

Jester, Street Magician, and Comedian by trade. General pain-in-the-(hiney) to anyone of respectable authority. And boy, kids, do I have a story for you.

A story of Monsters and Eldritch Abominations that linger upon the edge of Reality. Gazing. Waiting. THINGS that should not be. Monstrosities which float within the depths of the void of the Stars, and ever plot and scheme.

Ever do they slumber. As ancient as time itself. Old when the Gods were young, and privy to secrets of the multiverse that no man was ever meant to know.

Things that, should a man know, would drive him incurably and inexorably insane.

Just. Like. Me.

But that is the price for Knowledge. Madness. For there are things in this multiverse that, merely to be aware of them, is to degrade one's own sanity.

But Madness does, indeed, have a face.

Insanity does, indeed, have a name.

And that name.....

...is THARIZDUN.

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The Chained God. The Elder Elemental Eye. The Lord of Madness.

In the beginning....yes, the VERY beginning, the Multiverse was Void. Unshaped. The very Laws of Nature had yet to be scribed. There was only Darkness. Emptiness.

The Chaos, for reasons unknown, spawned into being an Entity of pure malevolence which sought only to unmake all existence.

This Forgotten God reached into the depths of the Crucible of All Creation and drew forth from within a Shard of Pure Evil. Contained within were the essence of beings of pure wickedness that were spawned from the Shard.

These beings were the Obyrith. Primordial beings as ancient as the cosmos.

And when Tharizdun touched the shard his mind shattered into pieces, and his heart was instantly driven completely Evil. For to touch such a thing was to be corrupted absolutely.

He hurled the crystal into the violent maelstrom that was the Elemental Chaos. The place of power of the ancient Primordials, that Tharizdun had sought to claim for himself.

Within the Elemental Chaos the Shard of Pure Evil shattered, and where it fragmented it tore open a hole in reality that began to permeate and expand. And continues to grow to this very day.

For it was from this Shard of Pure Evil that the Infinite Abyss first sprang into existence.

The Obyrith: Pazuzu, Pale Night, and all the others manifested into physical beings. Physical beings which would become the progenitors of the Tanar'Ri.

This Abyss was a threat to reality itself. And so the Ancient Gods, beings of Law and Order, put aside all of their differences, briefly, and fought the Mad God. Eventually imprisoning him within a Cell in the deepest, darkest regions of reality.

A place so far deep within the Abyss, so close to the edge of known reality that Tharizdun's own poisoned mind would eventually shape it into an endless vortex of pure Insanity.

A place that would come to be known to scholars as THE FAR REALM!

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And as Tharizdun would struggle against his chains, he would bleed. And from his blood would be spawned incredible Horrors that would become the Lords of the Far Realm.

Creatures known as the Uvuudaum.

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Uvuudaum. Creatures capable of warping the very fabric of Time and Space all around them.

And, of course, the other denizens of the Far Realm which are infinitely just as malicious. Shapeshifters, capable of assuming any form, their true forms, like the Obyrith, so horrible that they defy Reality.

The Malaugrym

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The stories that I have to tell you, boys and girls, are stories straight out of your worst nightmares.

But these are not nightmares. These creatures are very real.

And when you see them: They see you.

When you speak to them....they speak to you.

And, just like me.....they NEVER SHUT UP!!!"
Last edited by kitteninablender on Mon Feb 17, 2020 2:37 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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It was a cold and star-filled night upon the desert sands of the Anauroch when....IT first spoke to me.

Not a man. Not a woman. Not anything truly. Merely...a presence. A presence more wicked than any I had ever seen or felt.

I was alone. I had been separated from my people by a sandstorm. But we Bedine, we have long since learned to navigate the stars much as the mariners upon the ocean. For just like being in the middle of the ocean, with miles of naught but water and waves upon you on all sides so too was it with the sands of the Anauroch.

To not understand the stars, among my people, is to face certain doom. For just as one on the water must be able to find land...one in the middle of the Desert must be able to find Water. And knowing the way to the nearest Oasis was a survival technique that my people had mastered over many generations.

But that night, as I gazed upon starlit sky seeking the constellations that would guide me to safety.....the stars were WRONG.

I did not recognize them. The constellations were all out of place. As if something in the heavens had moved them. I had no sense of direction. I was truly lost. And so I did what all who are lost did in desperation....I picked a direction, and I wandered. Hoping that I would find water before the sun rose over the Desert, and I would no longer be able to guide myself by the stars.

We Bedine, we move at night in the Desert. For to move during the day is far too hot. We seek shelter in caves or build camps to hide from the Sun. At night, when it is cold, we move so as to keep warm. For during the daytime in the Desert it becomes unbearably hot. But because the Desert Sand does not store heat....at night it becomes frigid. If one does not keep active, and keep moving at night...they can freeze to death. And freezing to death in a Desert is, perhaps, the most ironic death that one can ever have.


I looked and looked for a sign from the heavens as to which way I must go....but the skies were foreign to me. Until I saw in the distance a great, single, shining star that stood apart from all others.

It was glowing with Cerulean light. Almost as if it were calling to me. And so I began to follow the star, thinking that truly it would lead me to water. Lead me to safety. I walked, and I walked, and I walked, with only the companionship of my Camel, Shaharazad.

She was named for the legendary storyteller who weaved a thousand tales....because the beast never shut up. Just like it's master. Which is why we were such kindred spirits.

Camels are ornery beasts. They spit. Bite. And constantly groan. And they smell HORRIBLE. But if you can befriend one, they become a most loyal ally. Able to go for nigh a week without a drop of water, and capable of running just as fast as a horse. And upon Sand, no less. To the Bedine, they are our most prized possessions.

Upon her back I watched the single, solitary star. A shining light of hope, I thought then, that would lead me to safety. If only I had known then what I know now.

For the star that I was following within the depths of the night sky was no ordinary star....it was a Sign.

A most...Ominous Sign...

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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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What happened is...difficult for me to remember. Which, for me, is most ironic being that I am possessed of an Eidetic Memory. Both blessed, and cursed, to remember every agonizing detail of things.

And believe me when I say: There are things I wish that I could forget. Monsters most horrible. Beings of pure chaos and malevolence who's mere existence is abomination.

They are an affront to reality. Things that should not be. THINGS which lurk upon the precipice of our periphery and linger within the dark depths of the stars. Hidden to all but those who's insatiable madness would lead them to dare to venture forth into Darkness Arcane and seek out these which have existed since the dawn of all Creation.

But madness and curiosity are far too often intertwined. How deep does the rabbit hole actually go? And is it a wonderous Wonderland which waits on the other end? Or perhaps it is the depths of Madness made real.

A realm most Far...a Far Realm, one might even call it....

But the thing about having the courage to dive into the rabbit hole is the profound knowledge that it imparts when you reach the bottom. A profound Epiphany. And that epiphany is:

We are ALL Mad here.....

And somebody has to have the balls to acknowledge it.

Because Sanity is Just....So........BORING!!!

The thing is, boys and girls: Our world is quite literally going TO HELL in a handbasket.

And it's not even a good Handbasket!!! What's a proper handbasket without Pie!? There's no pie, dammit all!! You can't have a proper End of the World without Pie! It's a known fact!!

*AHEM!*

"Right, sorry, downside of Insanity, I get side-tracked. Anyways....where was I? Oh, right...

So...

The Prime Material is literally going to Hell, boys and girls. Not a great time to be alive. The planes are bleeding together, there's general chaos and unrest in the land, and I don't want to use the phrase Armageddon-outta-here...but it does come to mind, frankly.

So I've decided, at the behest of a friend, to try and write down my chaotic thoughts because, apparently, this "Mad Insight" that I am given due to my...err...shall we call it "Arrangement" with Otherwordly Entities might just give us the knowledge we need to fight these Devils...if I can find some way to actually share the information.

...and I certainly can't remain focused or coherent long enough to bloody write it out. Fortunately, for me, this Journal is magical. Anything I speak is instantly written into words. Pretty neat, isn't it?

I think it's flawed, however, for some reason it thinks I really like Ducks. Oh well....wait, is this thing still recording? Oh, right!! Wait!? Is this thing recording my thoughts? Okay, think about, I dunno, puppies or something. Come on Salim, you got this...wait, is this thing still recording?

Gah, dammit!! Okay!!! *AHEM AHEM*

So, yeah....this is Salim, uh, over-and-out? Is that a good sign-off? Sheesh, this is going to take some getting used to...."

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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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So I've kind of started to figure out this magical Transcribing device. It's rather fascinating.

Whatever I say is scribed into the pages in my handwriting.

Furthermore, the device seems to be able to....imprint my thoughts upon the page. Burning my thoughts onto paper. Thoughtography, I think it is called. The ability to "Burn" one's thoughts onto paper or onto a solid surface. I believe the Kara-Turans refer to it as "Nensha."

Either way, it's a great ability to have for someone who lacks any real artistic talent. Sure, I can draw spell circles. Quite intricately in fact. But that's just following Formulae.

Point is, this little device is going to make it a lot of fun to keep a journal because I'm quite lazy, to put it blunt, and if I had to actually write something I'd never keep a journal.

Thing is: It is said that keeping a journal is good for someone going through...whatever it is the man at the Gatehouse called it. A "Schism", I believe he called it.

Schism. Huh. That sounds like thing interesting I could call myself.

Schism......Schism....I like it. Yes....Schism....
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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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The thing about staring into the Far Realm for long enough is that you can learn a lot of things about the way the multiverse functions.

Things like Time. Space. Energy. Who knew that they were things that could be manipulated if one merely has the willpower to bend them to their whim?

So is this what being a God feels like? A being who can manipulate the very fabric of reality merely upon a whimsy?

No. No, I'm not a God. No. I don't need the pointless belief of lesser beings to fuel my powers.

And neither do.....they....

Creatures of unspeakable horrors that haunt my dreams. Creatures that are amalgams of my own worst fears and insecurities dreamt into being. I see them. They see me.

When I sleep, my mind ventures unto realms unknown. My consciousness skirts upon the edge of the precipice of madness just between this reality and countless others. I see unto the edge of perdition and it is pure Chaos to which I am beholden.

THEY speak to me, when I sleep. So many of them. So many voices. So many nightmarish...THINGS...

Things which should not be. Things who's mere existence is an affront to all Creation.

I haven't slept in many nights. I've drank coffee to keep myself aware. A bit of dreamleaf, too, for that extra burst of energy.

Can't sleep. Can't sleep. No. Can't sleep. If I sleep, THEY might come back. THEY might demand more of me.

They might show me things, more things, horrible, horrible things...like these DAMN SIGNS!! I KEEP SEEING THEM!? WHAT ARE THEY!?

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Good GODS...what have I gotten myself into?

Get ahold of yourself, Salim...you're losing it...

Gods DAMMIT ALL, I just want some SLEEP!!!!
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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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Madness. Pure madness.

That is the only word that exists that can describe the visions that have plagued my mind as of recent.

Pure. Madness.

I have seen into the Chaos of the Void. But that Void..it is not empty.

I have Astral Projected myself to the deepest, farthest regions of the planes in search of forbidden knowledge.

And forbidden knowledge, I have indeed found.

Though as I am coming to learn: It is forbidden for a reason.

The Echoes of Insanity still linger within my mind. When I close my eyes, I see....things. Things that merely laying one's eyes upon them, or reaching out to them with one's mind, can degrade the Ego and poison the psyche.

And yet despite the monstrous, horrific nature of the creatures to which I have laid eyes upon...I cannot bring myself to look away.

So very....Alien.

And yet, simultaneously, so eerily beautiful...

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Unnatural. No...no...that's not the word.

I believe....PSEUDONATURAL

...yes...that is the word. Pseudonatural.

What horrific monsters exist within the precipice of Chaos? What twisted amalgamations of Chaos and Entropy linger within the ever-churning vortex of Madness that is the Far Realm?

I suppose I'll have to venture deeper...and find out.

Here's hoping I come back in one piece...


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Re: Salim El-Faddir: The Archmage of Anarchy

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I....think...my mind came back in one piece. Mostly...

Oh dear GODS the things that I have seen.

But, most importantly...

...the things that I have learned.

I have learned, through studying the chaotic energies of the Far Realm, how to spontaneously reshape energy..

With this newfound power, I have learned how to...."poke holes"..in my offensive blasting spells. Allowing me to safely fire my spells around my allies without harming them in the crossfire.

How? How did I learn such precision from a realm so chaotic? So unprecise? So random...

But perhaps that's the key to it..yes...it's about controlling the chaos. It's about learning that Chaos, though random, is not entirely unpredictable. Not unentirely without some form of pattern. Some type of repetition. It is learning to spot the patterns within this chaotic disarray that I have learned the penultimate control of magic. A Mastery of Shaping...

...a skill that is befit of one possessing the title of...

ARCHMAGE...
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Re: Salim El-Faddir: Man of Many Masks

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Yes....ARCHMAGE Salim....

It has a rather...nice ring to it..I think I like it.

I think I like it a lot....

And that's the part that terrifies me.

Karsus liked power. Karsus liked power so much that he thought to snatch it from a Goddess and in doing so destroyed an entire Empire and reshaped the world as we know it.

Hubris lead to the annihilation of Magic. For less than a minute magic completely went away.

But in that minute an Empire frll from the sky. In that minute ancient Eldritch Abominations, locked away in ages past, were once again free to roam our world.

In that minute: The world crumbled.

So too can it be with civilization. Everything we are, everything we know, can crumble to dust in moments. All because of Hubris.

I must learn to keep myself in check. Can't allow this...sudden increase in power to go to my head..

There are consequences for gaining this much knowledge, this much power too quickly. People who get power too quickly don't know how to respect it. Don't know how to keep themselves from giving into the corruption that power brings.

I only hope I am strong enough.

Or, if not, I pray only that there are others strong enough to stop me...
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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It all began with what any truly great adventure begins with: A modicum of Boredom.

I sat there, at the campfire by Baldur's Gate warming my hands when I was approached by a young boy, his eyes full of tears.

"Help me!" he pleaded. "Me mum's been taken down a well!"

Great. Another kidnapping. Sheesh. This crap just happens around every friggin' day, doesn't it?

What the f-ck do we pay these Fist for anyways, huh!? Sheesh! You'd think that as well paid as they are to protect people they'd...you know...protect people. But nope. Of course, the Fist wouldn't spare a single man to go hunt for the child's poor mother..who was probably being eaten as we spoke.

Couldn't help it. I felt bad for the kid. So I took a little stroll, and down a well we went. Full of Oozes.

Good gods, I hate oozes. Slimeballs that leave a slime-trail everywhere they go, eat endlessly, and are complete squares.

If I wanted to deal with something like that I'd hang around the Baldur's Gate nobility....

So after blowing a bunch of oozes into smithereens, and completely ruining my robes for the next two days I might add, I finally found the kid's mum. She was crying, traumatized. She'd obviously just about been eaten...poor girl.

But underneath, in the rubble, I found something. I found something that the Oozes hadn't devoured yet..a book. A Tome. A very Dusty Tome. Ironic, being covered in dust despite being in the water at the bottom of a bloody well..but I didn't look into it really. I just cracked it open, and had myself a Gander. And boy, was it full of such...interesting tidbits..


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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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IT had a name. A name..that I will not record here.

A name that I never wish to hear spoken again. A name that should, and will, be lost to history. A name so profane. A name so ancient and terrible that it grated upon my mind and tore at my sanity as if hounds gnawing upon the very rotting carcass that was my psyche.

A name I will not dare to utter.

A speaker of Madness. A creature of Chaos spilled forth from the blood-stained pages of this monstrous text and spoke forth it's terrible, terrible name...a name that shall scar itself into me forever.

A thousand voices in a thousand chaotic words spoke a thousand echoes all within my mind all at once. In unison, and unparalleled volume they all mocked me. Laughed at me.

A million voices. Each screaming a million different ideas. Some of them were worthless. Some of them ridiculous. Some of them were recipes for Pie. Some of them were names. Dates. Some of them were...numbers. Equations. The wellspring of knowledge to which my mind had been...rather forcefully PLUNGED was quite overwhelming indeed.

Complete Information Overload. I was only capable of...retaining the information...for a few moments before the sudden psychic backlash of the spell dissipated itself unto the weave.

It was almost like, for a single moment, an entire LIBRARY's worth of knowledge poured itself into my mind. Like pouring an ocean...into a tea-cup. A QUICKENED Legend Lore. One of IMMENSE Arcane Power.

The information, it was almost...burned into my memories. Symbols. Equations.

Pure, unbridled CHAOS....

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AND I WANTED MORE!!!!!!!!!
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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I opened the book, and I read. Again. And again. But then it seemed to be...out of power somehow. Out of "Charge."

The book's pages went blank. The knowledge contained within gone just as quickly as it had came.

I was upset. Angry. I needed to recharge the item. So I went to the Old Sage in the Farmlands and I paid for the item to be renewed.

But my mind was exhausted from all of the information I had just...magically absorbed. So I went to the Friendly Arms, to my room, so that I might take a nap and try to recover.

But sleep, it would seem, was a dream that would not come that night. My mind raced with all of the new information that had been rather rudely shoved in there as if the book were doing it's impersonation of the Church of Bane: Giving me the type of "Education" that took the form of a boot to the skull.

But the reason that Baneites use a Boot to the Skull as "Education"...

...is so that they never have to repeat the lesson.

Turns out fascist regimes have to crank out soldiers pretty quickly.

Who knew?

Such things I had learned that night. Formulae. Arcane Rituals. But more importantly: The Sigils. Sigils I had never before seen, and could barely bring myself to comprehend. Sigils of Ancient Power, the likes of which came from a power that, quite possibly, seemed to even pre-date the Weave.

How is this possible? What are these sigils? What do they mean? And, more importantly, how is it that even after seeing them only once I can remember them with such utterly vivid detail?

So I started to do what I always do when I can't sleep...I started to burn images, with my mind, into this magical journal. This wonderful, amazing device which allows me to use Thoughtography to "burn" my thoughts onto the paper.

Before I knew it the Sun peeked it's way over the Horizon, casting light upon what I had began to burn onto these pages.

And what I saw...horrified me.

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Holy crap, what a day.
--- Salim
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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Today..I learned that apparently the multiverse does, in fact, have a sense of humor.

I was approached by a man who's name I will only say is....M.

M. was an old man. Grey in beard and in moustache, and wore upon himself a red cloak that draped over one shoulder.

He kinda looked like Elminster, based on descriptions of the old sage, in fact.

The man had tattoos upon his arms. I recognized them as Sangromancy. Or, to the more simple-minded:

Blood Magic

So I politely pulled M. aside and I calmly stated to M. that if I could recognize these Blood Sigils...others could to.

He went on to explain to me that he was part of an...organization. An Organization of people who weren't afraid to break the rules when it came to doing the right thing and fighting the "Good Fight" he called it.

This...M...intrigued me. And so I heard what he had to say.
We spoke for HOURS on the fundamental flaws of Civilization and Government. We talked about Arcane Theory, and we discussed theoretical applications of magic. It was good to speak to someone who's intellect rivaled my own. I hate having to dumb myself down for people.

It was then that M. pulled out a pendant. A pendant of a Tiny...Little.........Harp.

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And it took every ounce of willpower that I had.

Every fiber of concentration that I could muster.

Just to keep a straight face.

This...was going to be Hee-hee-Larious....
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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I nearly lost it. I politely excused myself with "I'll think about it before I teleported to my room.

I leaped upon the bed, and buried my face in the pillow, laughing so hard that I sincerely thought I was going to cough up a lung.

My ribs ACHED. My sides were SPLITTING..

That was the funniest damn thing that has happened to me in years!

Me! Salim! A God's-be-damned HARPER!?

"We could use a man like you." the Old Man had said.

Good GODS if the Harpers are trying to recruit somebody like ME it must mean one of three things:
  • 1) It's a prank.

    2) They have no idea who the hell they are dealing with.
Or, the worst scenario:
  • 3) They are really REALLY desparate.
And if the Harper's are that desparate...
...we are all in DEEP SH-T....
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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Had a dream last night. It was so...well...

...it was bloody HILARIOUS!!

In the dream, I'm sitting in the Elfsong Tavern having a drink when an incredibly charming, handsome man walks into the bar. Everyone turns to look at him, and he has a jovial smile upon his face.

He was an elderly gentleman, with white hair. He wore upon his back a red cloak. His fingers were adorned in fine magical rings, and a spectacular looking longsword sat upon his side.

But, of course, the thing that I noticed first, above all else...

...was the man's Magic Pipe.

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I smiled at the man, as I raised my mug to greet him as he entered. He saunters up to the bar, with a proud swagger, and he looks me straight in the eye.

"Salim el-Habib et-Hital el-Faddir." the man uttered plainly.

"Uhh.....don't know him!" I replied, nervously. "...never heard of him! Why are you looking for him? Does he owe you money?"

The old man simply glared at me, as if he could stare into my very soul. He was, quite simply, THE most intimidating man I had ever sat before in my entire life.

I could FEEL the Magical auras coming off of him. As if the very Weave itself trembled before this man's presence. Almost as if he had taken the Weave itself to bed, and made it shudder.

Turns out, I would find out later, that he had in fact done exactly that.

I was staring into the eyes of, perhaps, the one human being on the planet who had slept with more women than I have.

Granted, he had three centuries on me...


"You're not fooling anyone, boy."
"Uhh...I'm not trying to?"


"Salim, you are a Trickster. A Shapeshifter, an Illusionist, a Con-man and a Philanderer....a man after my own heart."


"Come again?"


"I hear that you were asked recently if you...played the Harp. So I will ask you plain, Salim el-Habib et-Hital el-Faddir....

Do. You. Play. The Harp?"

"...No. No, I do not..."


"A Pity....it's such a lovely instrument. I think it would do you some good if you learned..."

"Heh. And who is going to teach me to play, Old man? You?"


"If you can prove yourself...I just may."


The man vanished in a puff of red smoke, which blew into my face. It smelled of Cherry. I coughed, and choked...something I rarely do, considering how much Hashish I smoke on regular occasion.

I woke up, laying in my bed in the Friendly Arms. It was all a dream. Just a dream.

As if the Sage of Shadowdale would EVER visit a lowly mage like me. As if Old Stinkbeard himself would pay me even the slightest skew of his attention.

I rolled over, grabbed my own magical pipe off of the night-stand, and I proceeded to light up. Bentley hates it when I smoke in the room, but, fortunately for me a cantrip or two and it's easy enough to conceal.

I lied in bed, intoxicated from the herb, with a smile on my face, and a laugh. And I couldn't help but think to myself:

"What if I said yes?"

I, Salim el-Faddir. The Archmage of Anarchy.

The Chaotician.

The Chaos made Real.

And, now...

.....Harper Mage?

Hm. Something to consider, I suppose...
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.

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kitteninablender
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Re: Salim el-Faddir: Archmage of Anarchy

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The first thing I ever did as a Thaumaturge, being the degenerate that I am, was set out on an epic quest. The only true Quest. The ultimate Quest:

....to find the best pipeweed in the entire f---in' multiverse.

I summoned several potential such "Entrepreneurs"...to see what they could offer me.

The first was a Drug Baron from Gehenna, who's product was grown in the ashy, volcanic soils of Gehenna. Which are surprising nutrient rich. Volcanic soil always is. It tasted like dirt. I suppose that's all you can get in a volcanic wasteland...but I had options.

The second was a Dryad from Arborea. Her pipeweed was phenomenal. However, because she was a Dryad, the act of burning plants for recreational consumption apalled her. She used the plants for medical reasons. Not "For fun."

What a buzzkill...


Enter "Shrubby." I don't know his real name. "Shrubby" is a treeant. And not just any treeant:

He's a Treeant from Mount f---in' Celestia...

Yes. THAT Mount Celestia. As in Heaven. As in "If you are a tree-hugger, this tree will hug you back, and offer you a piece of it's fruit."

Or, in my case:

His leaves. Which make for the most satisfying pipeweed one can dream of. Literally infused with Heavenly Goodness.

It's not strong enough to force you to become good, unlike some such things in the multiverse.

But it is powerful enough....to keep you from becoming Evil.



You see, it turns out that if you take the leaves of this truly Good Treeant, and you grind them up into a powder and imbibe them...by smoking them...your body becomes infused with the latent residual energies of the Treeant "basking" In the lights of Mount Celestia. More specifically: The Third Level. Venya.

From a place known as the Green Fields. Which is the Divine Realm of Yondalla, Goddess of Halflings.

And Halflings love their pipeweed.

So it makes sense...that they would encourage their Treeants to grow it.

And if it's good by Heavenly standards...

By Primer standards, that's us, by the way: it's phenomenal. And, in fact, is so good that it carries with it the residual light of Venya.

In other words:

It keeps me from becoming a psychopath. Because the Light of Venya is a light of calming peace, and tranquility.

Because I'm already Crazy.

The last thing I need is to be crazy...and MANIC...


So my "Good Friend Shrubby"... because it would be a legitimate means of preventing the slaughter of innocent people from Salim having a bad day and throwing a temper tantrum....

...became my PLANAR COHORT.

....And, thus, he GIVES me the stuff by the Gods'-be-damned WAGON-LOAD.

Hmmm....I may just have to consider a potential career in...Agriculture?

I am a Bedine. We're all entrepreneurs, by nature. Most nomads are.

Salim. Potential Harper Agent. Potential... Drug Baron?

Heh...

Why not both?

Might be good for a laugh...
Chaos is relative. What is normal for the Spider is Chaos for the Fly.

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