Forgotten Freedom:39

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Terra and projection Kithle arrive at a large bolted double-door.

Terra: All right. First stop, the lab. My favorite place.

Kithle: Obviously.

Opening the door, Kithle sees a large room filled with beakers, jars, and shelves full of tomes and scrolls.

Kithle: Very mad scientist-y.

Terra: Thanks, but this is more of the production and refinement room. I do most of my original work in the field.

Moving on, she leads him to another room, this one more of a greenhouse setup.

Terra: These are my pride and joy. I've spent years developing these. In here you'll find everything from black lotus to all manner of medicinal herbs.

Kithle: Medicinal herbs? Why?

Terra: I was originally a herbalist, trading medicines with local villages while I was in training. I got into drugs in a desperate effort to ease the suffering of Volrath's mother.

Kithle: Old habits die hard, eh?

Terra nods, then leads him to the next room. The door is magically sealed with another recognition lock. Terra places her hand on the door, and it swings open. This room is filled with tomes, filing cabinets, and several maps of areas of Eberron.

Kithle: Well, this is interesting. Information center?

Terra: For lack of a better term, yes. I keep records, information, intelligence, and the like in here. Only certain members of my staff are allowed in here, for reasons you have seen.

Kithle: There's something else I've noticed. The people I've seen so far couldn't possibly be capable enough to keep this place running.

Terra: True. Most of my best and brightest are out on missions. With what I do, I can't afford to skimp on talent.

Kithle: (looking at the books) Think I can browse?

Terra: Knock yourself out. There's still time before the finale.

Kithle: (browsing) Finale?

Terra: Just a little something I think you'll enjoy before I return.


Aboard the FF, the non-projection Kithle approaches Satnak.

Kithle: Your services are needed.

Satnak can't speak at the moment, since she's stuffing chili into her mouth like there's no tomorrow (which, aboard the FF, is a real possibility).

Kithle: It's Stupid/Scholar. I've detected a possessing prescence. And you know what that means.

Satnak: Awright! Zorching time!

Kithle: Except…

Satnak: Doubt? You don't have doubt.

Kithle is silent for a minute, trying to come up with the best way to explain to Satnak how this entity works. He immediately rejects going through the trouble to explain how electrons work. He also knows that Satnak is a direct thinker: see bad guy, zorch! bad guy.

Kithle: You know how Igor gets around without even me taking the time to notice him approach?

Satnak: Yes.

Kithle: It's like that. If I watch S/S's brain, I know they're there, I know when and how they're controlling him, but I can't bring myself to care. I figure you won't have that problem.

Satnak: I'm getting sick of all these super-creatures trying to mess with the FF and keeping Norbaz from making me better chili. These one's won't know what hit them.



A few hours later Satnak has tracked down S/S to Ketler's lab. The two seem to be enganged in a heated haggle about something called a "helmet of ninja/pirate conversion", but Satnak really doesn't care.

Satnak: Get eaten, über-*****!

She steps out and hits S/S with the beam from her arm.

The beam sucks out two glowing ovals, one silver and one black, but rather than consuming them she hears "Finally!", and a silver-clad female elf teen and a crow pop into the air in front of her. Without an entity to suck up, the arm shuts off.

Elf: Okay, you were right, it worked.

Crow: Hey, thanks, Kith!

The elf gets up and dusts herself off, with the crow landing on her right shoulder.

Satnak: Just who in Khyber are you two. [she says, pointing the arm at them]

Elf: Have you eaten all of the chili?

Caught off guard by that question, Satnak just stands in her "crush deity" pose while the elf just shurgs and walks past.

Elf (whispered, in passing): Won't work on us.

Satnak (finding her voice): Who are you?

The elf and crow exchange glances.

Crow: Haven't decided yet. As they walk out, Aerith/Bianca is passing by. She sees them, hugs the half-elf and pets the raven.



Shortly after that she finds Sa'vor.

Bianca: "You decided not to accept redemption? Oh, Sa'vor, I'm so sorry!"

She tries to hug him.

Sa'vor: "Deva, if you don't keep her away from me, I swear I will find a way to end you."

Aerith: "Doing so would result in extensive damage to yourself - is that a price you are willing to pay?"

Sa'vor: "Quite possibly."

Aerith: "In any event, Good has the right to make an attempt to change your mind. Are you ready?"

Sa'vor: "You have got to be joking."

Aerith: "My apologies, but no. To begin: Aside from the esctasy of using magic, do you ever feel any joy or happiness equal to the baseline feelings you had as a Redeemed One?"

Sa'vor: "No. And how hypocritical of you, to listen in on a private conversation. Typical of your kind."

Aerith: "Very, actually. You forget, I am a Being of what some call the Outer Planes. I am not limited to your baseline of 5 spatial dimensions. Privacy on this ship simply does not exist from my perspective. My . . . I suppose you would call them 'manners', take this into account. I do not normally discuss private information with people who are not already privy to it. Furthermore, it is impossible to spy on us at the moment, at least for any creature below my level of transcendence. There are precisely three other creatures on this ship who might be able to break my veil, and they are not trying to do so."

Sa'vor: "Who would that be?"

Aerith: "I'm sorry, but that is private information, at least for now. To continue: Why did you suppose that you would be unable to develop a source of intense joy as Sa'vor the White?"

Sa'vor: "You know, that really is the smallest reason. I turned my back on Good because Good never succeeds at being good. I may be Evil to do it, but my rule will result in people who are good, and not just Good."

Aerith: "Thereby doing great harm to those people."

Sa'vor: "What?"

Aerith: "You do realize that most people aren't Good? It is extremely hard for mortal cultures to consistantly be majority Good. If you restrain yourself and merely teach those who will listen, you are in for heartbreak. If you force them to obey, you do them absolutely no good."

Sa'vor: "To h**l with doing them good. I will protect their victims."

A single tear tracks down the angel's face.

Aerith: "The victims you would protect will not live up to your dream, great-souled champion. They will fall short of your dream to the precise degree that you attempt to shelter them in this fashion. The Creators first warned of this, and we of Heaven have watched it again, and again, and again."

Sa'vor: "Do you honestly expect me to believe you feel grief?"

Aerith: "No. But I tell you true, my grief is more exquisite than anything you can imagine. And this, also, is true: The paladins who slaughtered your kin will suffer for it even more sharply, though they be enthroned upon the endless delights that await the righteous."

Sa'vor: "Oh, so they've been stripped of their paladin-hood?"

Aerith: "No. They acted in good faith. It is not the fault of Heaven that a caution and a warning was perverted and made a tool of genocide. Those who encouraged that . . . they are not on your side, for you do not rule Them and They do not rule you. But you have much in common, now, and that is by your choosing, and to Their mirth."

Sa'vor: ". . ."

Aerith: ". . ."

Sa'vor: "I don't care what lies you tell me. My empire will rise, and it will be fair and just, and it will be more than rule by whatever pack of bullies runs the world this week!"

Aerith: "I see. If you succeed in building your empire, I hope you have the courage to hold to that vision."

Sa'vor: " . . . I'm going to regret this. Care to explain that last bit?"

Aerith: "Your empire, as described, will consume you down to the last drop of blood and spark of eldritch power. So far, all who would use evil to bring about good have - without exception - compromised their vision, generally resulting in a horror that is remembered for eons. Let us pray you are unique in this regard. May your soul never diminish."

She begins to walk off. Sa'vor calls after her.

Sa'vor: "Now that that's done, care to share anything about Silver and her Crow?"

Aerith: "I'm afraid that this is one of those things were, if you don't have the ability to fully understand, it's better to blunder around in ignorance and thereby gain a measure of true insight, than to receive a partial and inevitably misunderstood description."

In the corner of their mind, Bianca is curled up and sobbing. Aerith lays a hand on her head.

Aerith: *It's okay, Bianca, you don't have to be sad anymore.*

Bianca: * . . . Thank you. How can you feel that kind of sadness and not die?*

Aerith: *It helps that I'm not mortal. In time, you, too, will be taught how to endure in the face of divine sorrow.*

Bianca: *Why would I ever want to do feel that?*

Aerith: *It is part of the endless and infinite joy of Heaven. There are pleasures in Hell, there is pain in Heaven, but that does not mean the first is preferable to the last. You'll understand better when the joy of Heaven is yours directly, rather than being filtered through me.*


Kithle has picked up a book of records and has found something of immense interest.

Kithle: It seems you've been watching us for a while.

Terra: Yeah. With all the ruckus you've caused over the years, the FF definitely warranted a close watch.

Scanning further, Kithle stops dead about halfway down the page.

Kithle: Wait, wait. If this is right...

Terra: (smiling) I owed you guys for destroying the Thranish armada a few times. It kept them off my back.

Kithle: YOU'RE the reason no reinforcements showed up during the Kundarak Bank job?!

Terra: I didn't know Sa'vor and Naz'roth were after the gauntlet, but I had my contacts cut off communication with the outside. You guys were too valuable not to do anything.

Kithle: But aren't you in the drug trade?

Terra: That's how I finance my operation, but it's more accurate to say I'm a major player in the black market. Where did you think I get all my rare stuff?

Kithle: I have sorely underestimated you. I guess I shouldn't have skimmed over that part in Dal Quor.

Terra smiles and pulls out another book.

Terra: (tossing it at him) Here, check this out.

Kithle: (flipping through) This is a compilation of info on the heavy hitters in each nation...

Kithle comes to a section on Queen Aurala and his eyes grow in disbelief.

Kithle: You have Aurala's MEASUREMENTS?!!

Terra: What?


Ketler: Captain, I have to ask something...

Jarlot: Quiet... I've almost won over the Scarlet Empress with my successful seduction roll. I just need one more success...

  • Jarlot botches his next Exalted role*

Jarlot: DAMN IT!

Ketler: Again, you blaspheme us with this game.

Jarlot: I'm banned from competing in official Dungeons and Dragons Con games after I pimp slapped Keith Baker.

Ketler: To be fair, he did touch your dice.

Jarlot: So what is it that you want to know.

Ketler: Yes, it's about Tifa...

Jarlot: Ketler, you're not going to be helping her with her scheme to inbreed chocobos are you?

Ketler: Oh hell no! I hate animals.

Giant Demonic Chocobos: SQUAWKKKK OF DOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

Ketler: Andrea and Terra are helping her with them though.

Michael: We need to know why you aren't shagging that hot babe left and right.

Jarlot: I'm in love with Aerith.

Michael: So what? Invite her to join in! My Heaven certainly has stuff like that in it.

Doog: Yeah, cause women are... for having sex with and stuff. YEAH!

  • sticks thumb up*

Doog: (Thinks: They suspect. I know they suspect. Quick, gotta think up a filthy limerick.)

Kanatash: Oh don't worry Doog. The only people who know are all the telepaths on board... ALL of us.

Doog: EEEEEEEK! *jumps over the side of the ship*

Jarlot: What an odd reaction. Well the answer is simple...

Michael: and don't give us... she might kill us during sex arguement. That's never stopped you before!

Ketler: Heck, you're still involved with Marish.

Marish: I charge 5 gold for a wag, 10gp if you pet me.

Michael: That's robbery.

Ketler: *counts* 10 silvers equal a gold... what do I get for 8?

Marish: An ear scratch.

Jarlot: Well the answer's simple really.

Ketler: You're not really into women, like Doog?

Michael: Say what?

Ketler: Man, you are just completely blind aren't you?

Michael: Whatever man.

Jarlot: She's a Balor.

Everyone but Jarlot: ?!?!

Jarlot: Basically, our little big bosomed fighting monk is actually Glorithanas the Balor of Shelvaresh. Banished to the Eberron for... I dunno... some reason. She doesn't remember being one and it manifests usually as demonlings about her but she is. If she ever recovers her memory she's likely to become a considerably less hot avatar of destruction.

Michael: That is SOOOO COOL.



A messenger arrives outside the door, whispers something to Terra, then leaves.

Terra: Though I hate to interrupt, it's time for that little finale I promised.

Kithle: Oh, good.

She heads through a series of corridors, finally leading to an underground colosseum. The seats are about half full, some of the spectators Kithle recognizes from the tour. Near the center of the arena, he can see several people bound, one of which is Greg. They sit next to a large hole in the ground, which he cannot see into properly.

Kithle: Ooooo, this should be good.

Terra: I still have to thank Igor for helping me set this up. The combination of spectacle and terror is hard to achieve any other way.

She takes her place before the seat of honor overlooking the helpless would-be conspirators. Stepping forward, she addresses the crowd.

Terra: Friends! Compatriots! I stand before you today to pass judgement upon those who would betray us! These scum have been found guilty of stealing not just from me, but from all of you who work so hard to make this organization great! They conspired against us, undermining our achievements to further their own selfish goals! There is but one punishment for such a crime!

During the speech, the crowd grew more and more angry at the prisoners, throwing what they had at them. Rocks, food, and trash flew at them alongside words of scorn. At Terra's last statement, the crowd erupted into a chrous, screaming "Death! Death to the traitors!"

Terra: Then let it begin!

At this, Terra whistles. From the pit, several large vines covered in spikes appear. Next, a head-like protrusion at least six feet in diameter emerges that looks vaguely like a Venus Flytrap. The doomed scream as the plant creature reaches for the closest one. His cries can easily be heard as the creature lifts him up. In one swift motion, the creature rips off one of his arms, gulping it down. Again and again, the plant tears pieces off him and devours them. The process repeats itself for each of the conspirators, the crowd transfixed in a combination of savage bloodlust and abject terror. During the episode, Terra is beside herself in manaical laughter.

Terra: Oh, it's been far too long since I've done something like this!

I'll take that as a yes. Oh! I have one last thing to show you.

Terra leads him down a staircase running under the colosseum. At the end of the corridor is a large door. Upon entering the room behind it, Kithle can see the plant-thing from before, curled up on the floor.

Terra: Beautiful, isn't she? I call her Genevieve, and I created her about 20 years ago.

Terra walks over to the plant, giving its head a big hug. What happens next creeps Kithle out beyond words.

Terra: (in baby talk) How are you, my little shnookums? Did you miss Mommy? I missed you! You were such a good girl today! (she begins scratching its head) Yes you were! Yes you were!

Kithle: *ahem*

Terra: (slightly flustered) Huh? Oh! Right... sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes... (turning to Genevieve, again in baby talk) Mommy has to go again, sweetie, but I'll make sure they take good care of you!

Kithle: Stop doing that!

Terra: I can't help it! She's my little baby!

Kithle: Just when I thought I understood you...

Terra: ANYway. Before I head back, I will arrange for the locks to recognize you. My information network is at your disposal, so long as it doesn't interfere with daily operations or expose my operatives. Projection Kithle: Oh dammit, the critters in S/S head are gonna be sticking around.

Terra: Oi just what we need more Ubers.

Projection Kithle: You know, that angel really isn't very smart.

Terra: Huh?

Kithle: I can't belive how often people forget I don't have to get info from them. Just from someone they've told. Sa'vor's mind is open to me now I know all about the conversation she tried to hide from me now that Sa'vor is no longer under the veil. Though I think she underestimates my skill. I'm sure me and Kanatash, could break it together, or Satnak just plain break it if she chooses to develop that ability. Also the Captain shouldn't worry about those memories resurfacing, If I didn't pick them up they aren't there anymore. Of course I'm still gonna let him suffer.

Terra: Is it weird with your mind bouncing across Eberron like that?

Kithle: Frankly, it creeps the Khyber out of me.


Kithle: Deva, one warning, do not even try to lecture me on good vs. evil. I'm sick of caring. Mortals have something you don't really get, the choice of the middle path. I don't wan't my empire to be good or evil. I want it to be strong. Regardless of the individual ethos and morals of the populace. Those who have ambition and capability to do so will do so. Those unfit to rule will be removed by those more suited, but It will still be my legacy, and it all starts with something I've learned is the key to Happiness : Think, Live, and Die according to your own vision. Don't let anything, or anyone stand in the way.

Aerith: How is that different from Anarchy?

Kithle: It will be my Anarchy. Much as this ship is Jarlot's.

Aerith: Are you telling me you intend to recreate the world into something inspired by your life on the Forgotten Freedom.

Kithle: Yes I think I am.

Aerith: ...............

Kithle: I can't believe it, I caught a Celestial speechless.

Aerith: NUTBUNNIES

Kithle: You're kidding me.

Aerith: I think I've been hanging out in Bianca's head too much.



Kithle, very pleased with himself for getting the jump on Aerith, returns to his lab.

But he stops in awe at the statue he sees in the middle: It's black. He doesn't know how black. It's so black that he can't really see any part of it that isn't lit from behind, yet he can also "see" in his mind's eye that it is a statue of him. He's not standing as if the emperor of some empire, he's not standing in some combat pose. He's standing in a defiant pose, one fist raised, mouth open as if roaring to the heavens. On the statue's base is an inscription:

"The key to Happiness : Think, Live, and Die according to your own vision. Don't let anything, or anyone stand in the way."—Kithlemin, half-illithid master of learning every power and all around nice guy

"Thank you Kithle, for expressing what we could not." Kithle: Is it my birthday or Something? This is going in the courtyard. Until then were Am i gonna put it so it isn't in the middle of floor? Terra: (behind Kithle) Wow, nice statue.

Kithle: Gah! How long have you been there? And how did you sneak up on me?

Terra: Only a moment and I always wanted to try because my staff gives bonuses to Move Silently and Hide checks. Jingo's right, it is fun. Kithle: Well, probably the best person to call for this job is Igor.

Igor (appearing suddenly behind Terra and Kithle): You called, thir?

Terra: Gah!

Kithle: Now who's having fun.

Terra: I thought I'd gotten used to that.

Igor: It'th been a while thinthe the thecret bathe, mith. And I mutht thay, the Forgotten Freedom ithn't my normal plathe of employment. I've had to adapt all my thkillth.

Kithle: You sure that I can't learn how to do that.

Igor shakes his head.

Igor: It'th tradithional that only truly dedicated henchmen can achieve thith level of thervithe. Now, let'th thee about moving that thtatue. I think we can enlitht thome of thir Tha'vorth half-dragonth. They could thertainly uthe the exthperienthe.

Terra: Of being henchmen?

Igor: Of moving heavy thingth.


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