The blade, the chain, and the book. Somehow, these mundane objects found incredible significance in Mahaziya’s life. She was closing a deal with an arcane antique shop. Myathethil, the shopkeeper, needed some silken textiles of a certain quality that Mahaziya was expert in providing.
A large dagger caught Mahaziya’s eye during their negotiation. Myathethil was quick to notice her interest and offered her a story about the fiend Mammon.
“A covetor of Mammon’s left these items with an incredible story of their value. I didn’t pay him what he was asking, because I know that Mammon has fallen out of favor ever since the reckoning. None of the archdevils trust him… But that doesn’t matter to someone like you, a master of the aesthetic. The blade is of rare quality, with a snake head carved into the haft of the weapon. There is a chain that connects the sheath to the wearer, and the sheath is shaped exactly like a small book. There are words in this book that I can’t decipher, I would have to find a covetee of Mammon, and I have yet to find one here in the underdark. Cult followers are fickle, even though they claim lifelong devotion with every other breath.”
“I would be happy to offer this to you as a sweetener to our arrangement. The sliken tapestries that you provide are second to none, and I think a woman like you would feel powerful with a blade like this at her side.”
Mahaziya couldn’t argue with her offer, and she had already gotten what she wanted in her negotiation. At this point in her life, she cared more about having a weapon at the ready than any story about a failed arch demon. Everything in Myathethil’s shop had an interesting story, but she didn’t care about them.
A man had recently left her life, in a most uncomfortable and awkward way. Elvish males are adolescents for 100 years, it would appear. He left making threats, while expecting her to need his protection. As her fingers wrapped around the snake head of her dagger, she felt safe and complete with this new found trinket from a collectibles shop.
She found a new fierce independence in her work after this point. She realized how a man had kept her from being completely focused on her work. Her outfits were never complete without the addition of her chain, book, and blade. She found a way to hide the weapon on her body, while wearing more and more revealing clothes. This was no small accomplishment with a tool that measured 13 inches from tip to haft. Hiding it gave her an advantage on anyone who might try something on a woman of her slim stature. Holding this instrument in moments of indecision balanced her mind and inspired her to remember that she was capable of deciding between life and death for anyone who crossed her. She gained muscle memory every time she designed her outfits, her hand could find the dagger in a heartbeat, and make an attack in another. If one hand could grapple, the other would have a blade against any man’s throat. Daily meditations, sitting silently became mental dojo’s, programming her body to be a weapon that held the dagger as the tip of someone else’s spear.
Somehow the thought of being someone else’s spear terrified her when she first happened upon it. It scared her and yet she did not want to reject the blade. Instead, she took the blade to bed. The thought of her taking one step away from her new found friend overwhelmed her with carnal desires. Instead of running from this new power, she wanted it closer. If this is hers, she also belongs to it. She had managed to keep her bed free for over three moons, and something had shifted inside of her. Now her relationship with the blade had become passionate. The snake head haft was more manly than any man she had ever experienced. The blade on the other end gave her more independence and power than any man had ever given her, and she wanted more. Somehow she knew that her momentary pause had hurt, damaged, wounded the snake that she had become so fond of having with her. A strange, arcane ritual had awoken in her mind, sexual in nature. She wanted to be bound by the chains, she wanted to know what was in the book, and she wanted that blade to be a part of her.
She took the chains and lashed her elbows together, the chain grew tighter. She placed the book within her mouth, and bindings wrapped around the back of her head. The haft of the dagger felt warm, soft and firm. She could feel the desire throbbing inside of it. For an hour she gave herself to fantasies and primal manifestations of sex that no man has ever given her.
She moaned Mammon, Mammon, Mammon. The blade orgasmed and her fantasies came to rest. It was clearly an orgasm. She could feel it. The chains released and the book fell out of her mouth, covered in her desire. She could see and smell juices that were not hers covering the snake’s head. Something was growing in her. A new power had awoken as well. After meditation, she realized that could cause force damage at range at will. And she was pregnant.
When Mahaziya awoke in the poorman’s guild, there were prayers made, meditation, and breakfast. All the conversation was about a new stranger in town, Horus. He made himself known to Master Gilbert as the god Ra in the flesh. He claimed to be the creator of the universe. Master Gilbert applauded his devotees for performing beautifully while accepting his incredible claims as factual. He spun the story into a warning against falling under the trappings of the ego. His story demonstrated how the spiritual practices that they follow are protection against the overwhelming power of the ego.
“He has chosen a path of suffering if he continues as he does. Beware that we do not fail this clearly enlightened being in this moment of decision that he has found himself in. He will continue to find rejection by those who are confused by his incredible claims. Hopefully we may serve him in some small way, just as we serve anyone who presents themselves to us. Even though he is arrogant, he is now a child of this city, just as needy as the orphans in the caring cudgel. Hopefully we can lead him to the path of service. It is the only way to avoid the trappings of the ego.”
Mahaziya heard something in this story that inspired her to seek out this man. A devotee of Gilbert’s was dispatched to lead this very pregnant woman to the glowing Aasimar in the Welcome Wench.
Horus didn’t find any new devotees while drinking in the Welcome Wench. He drank his fill of Goodberry Mead and was assisted to bed by Gundigoot.
The next morning, a beautiful moon elf presented herself during breakfast, recognized his brilliance and arranged to have him moved into a house that Gundigoot could provide.
Horus had finally found a real devotee. He was on the path of recognition that he deserved.