The Sage's Lectern, Vol 2

The Sage's Lectern, Vol 2
File:The Sage's Lectern, Vol 2 (lorebook).png Hint: Found in Monster Loot
Category:	Gods
Area:	???
Visibility:	Hidden Until Found

The Sage's Lectern, Vol 2 is a Lorebook found on deceased monsters.

Content

The Sage's Lectern, Vol 2...Hello again. I'm Reginald the Pretty Good Mage -- you may remember me from my time as Reginald the Archmage. This is the second installment of my newsletter, The Sage's Lectern. In the last installment, I tried to interview Ormorek, the dwarven God of Bitterness, but it did not go well. As I was leaving that interview, an old dwarf offered to give me something good to write about. I agreed to “meet him in my dreams.”

---

I lay on the itchy bed, staring at the blue vial of liquid that Rulgirt had given me. Dwarven inns aren't the most comfortable places for humans. The stone walls are damp and cold, and the fireplace only seems to warm the air without drying it out, so the room feels moist and sticky. I'd had a hard time sleeping the past night... but this potion would knock me out fast. It was about midnight, I guessed... time to drink.

I'd had time to analyze the potion with my travel-sized alchemy lab, so I knew it was just a Drowsy Time potion. Completely harmless. But I didn't know what to expect after that. I was starting to get nervous, so I quickly downed the stuff and closed my eyes. I was asleep within a minute.

---

“Human! Reginald! Over here. Hurry up, my shift's startin' soon.” I knew this was Rulgirt's voice, but all I could see was fog. Then the old dwarf appeared out of the mist. “Come on. Stick close ta me, or you'll end up in your own personal dream fantasy.”

So it was true: I as in Miraverre's Dream Realm! I'd read stories of it, but never been here. At least, not that I remembered. I followed the swiftly-moving dwarf through the fog, staying as close as possible. The fog was so thick that if he got more than a few feet away, I couldn't see him anymore. “This is the dream realm! Do all sleeping people come here?”

I heard the dwarf snort. “No, 'course not! There's billions of sleepers an' only a few million in here. Most people dream in their beds. But sometimes they dream here instead. There's a cord, an' astral cord, she calls it, that can lead people here.”

No doubt “she” would be Miraverre, the Goddess of Sleep and Dreams. An astral cord to the dream realm? That's long been hypothesized by sages but never confirmed. This nugget of information alone was worth a hefty sum. But I desperately wanted more. “So is this place the reason we dream? Or do dreamers just happen to come here?”

“People dream regardless. This place exists BECAUSE they dream. Miraverre is made of dreamstuff. She does her best to make dreams restful, enjoyable, all that. But it don't always work out.”

Rulgirt moved just a bit out of sight, and I suddenly felt cold cobbles under my feet. I realized I was barefoot. And naked. The fog was drifting away and there were people here: hundreds of people, staring at me, aghast at my nakedness. I recognized the teachers I'd failed, and people I'd killed, and some I'd betrayed. My closest friend, Sylvia, stood in front of me, her arms folded, an uncharacteristic snarl on her face. Completely unrealistic: if the real Sylvia had been that angry, she'd be in wolf form. I knew it was a dream... but it felt completely real.

I realized suddenly that Rulgirt was here too. He was dressed in thick leather armor and had a comically large axe over his shoulder. “Looks like yer carrying' a lot of shame and fear around, human. Here.” He handed me my own bathrobe, and as I put it on, Rulgirt waved at the air in front of me, causing all the people to break up and waft away as if they were made of smoke. Even the cobbles faded away, and I soon began to wonder what I was walking on... and then there really was nothing under me at all. I was falling, screaming, trying and failing to cast the spell of slow-fall... then Rulgirt caught my hand.

“Ya stupid git! Yer gonna wake up! Do ya want your 'scoopful' or not?”

“I didn't mean to... Where are we now?” We were standing atop a great wall that stretched off in two directions as far as I could see, seeming to bisect the world. On one side of the wall was gray fog. As I looked down at the massive fog bank below, I spotted glints of light, explosions, and other brief interjections in the faceless gray -- dreamers having adventures. So this is what the Dream Fog looked like.

I looked over the other side of the wall, and saw only darkness, as on a moonless night. But I suddenly made out a creature scaling the dark side of the wall, and it didn't look friendly. Dressed in black armor, and with huge hooks for hands, it was slowly working its way up. “Over here,” I called to Rulgirt. He'd already seen it.

“Shit! They're attacking this early? I've got this one. Run to the tower. That way.” He pointed to my left. “Tell [[ Freyka]] I sent you! I'll be there in a minute. Go!” He hefted his battle-axe. It seemed impossibly large in his gnarled old hands, but he swung it with ease. I decided to take his instruction.

The wall was perhaps eight feet wide and made of mortared stone, so it was easy to run across the top. That meant that attackers would be able to run across it, too. I sprinted in the direction Rulgirt had pointed me. I could make out a tower built into the wall... but it was a mile away. As I ran, I could hear noises coming from the dark side of the wall. They didn't sound comforting, but all I could see were shadows. I tried to take in as many details as I could of the world around me, but they didn't make much sense. Was it day or night? The sky was black, without stars or moon or sun. But everything was well-lit as if by daylight... except on the other side of the wall, where it wasn't. I felt the warm wind on my face as I ran. Or was it cold wind? Yes, cold. But I was sweating, so it must be warm. And then it was warm again.

I realized I could change reality here, at least a bit. As I ran across the wall to the tower, I experimented with this power. I gave myself clothes, my hat, even my trusty battle-staff, which in reality was back at home. But when I tried to change the wall itself, I couldn't. It was real. Or at least, more real than I was, here.

There was a blast behind me, and I turned to see a black dragon-like creature breathing flame out of the darkness. It was blasting a person back there in the distance -- no doubt Rulgirt. I felt my heart sink, but then Rulgirt tossed aside a massive shield and flung his axe at the creature. The axe struck true, and the creature screamed and retreated... and the axe flew right back into his hand. Rulgirt ran toward me, and I waited to see if he needed help, but when he caught up to me he just kept sprinting. “Run, moron!” So we ran to the tower. I was surprised to find myself not terribly tired from all the sprinting. The air was clean and cool. I felt good.

The tower loomed fifty feet above the wall. It was huge, hundreds of feet wide. The wall seemed to run right through the tower and out the other side. As we approached, a lady dwarf shouted down to us. “What's that behind ya? Get down, I got him!” she aimed a massive crossbow.

“No! He's a friend!” shouted Rulgirt. “This is Reginald the Arch-Mage! He's dreamin'!”

“Bullshit! I heard he died! Twice!”

“No I didn't,” I shouted back. Well, once, sort of, but...

“Well all right then! We could use some fireballs up here!”

That made my heart sink. I'm not the arch-mage I once was. But before I could explain, Rulgirt pulled me into the huge wooden door of the tower and slammed it behind us. The inside of the tower was lit by torches. It seemed almost cozy. In a moment the other dwarf, Freyka, was there. “Larabelle's gone.”

Rulgirt scrunched up his face in disbelief. “What the hell coulda woken her up? She's been at this for forty years!”

“No... she died yesterday. I tried to get the word out, but...”

“What! Larabelle's dead?!”

Freyka nodded. She took his hand. “Just old age, hun. Nothing sinister.” For a moment, I could see just how old Rulgirt was. His posture slumped. His axe hit the stone floor with with a thud. Then he straightened himself and cussed under his breath.

Freyka was no young dwarf herself. She moved swiftly, but her face was a ball of wrinkles. “We mourn tomorrow. The Worm's sensed weakness. It's sending a whole battalion of nightmares. I've got Tremund coming in. And the eastern wall is safe. You go back the way you came. I'll take our arch-mage up top, get him started, then head the other way. We can do this.”

Rulgirt picked up his axe and opened the door we'd come through. “'Course we can fucking do this! For Larabelle!” and then he was gone. Freyka took my hand and pulled me out of the cozy room, up stairs, and back out into the daylight at the top of the tower. Auto-ballistae were firing down into the darkness. Freya ran to each one, loading another magazine of ammunition from a nearby stack.

I wanted to study the ballistae -- real state-of-the-art dwarven ballistae are highly secretive. But,Freyka pushed me toward the tower's edge. “If you see something coming out of the dark, and the ballista doesn't stop it, KILL IT! I'll be back in a bit. Don't let this tower be overrun! Those things are creations of Gulagra. They'll invade peoples' dreams and take their minds.” She headed toward the stairs, but I grabbed her by the shoulder. She looked startled and annoyed at my hand.

“I'm not the arch-mage I once was. I have two or three fireballs in me, tops.” I've learned how to be smarter than my enemies because I can't match them in brute power anymore. “I can still do some amazing Wards, though. I can ward this entire tower top. Can you can guard it for five minutes?”

Freyka rolled her eyes. “This is the Dream Realm! Stop that,” she said, this part more gently. I'd already started making a circle of salt along the crenellations, but stopped. She smiled a wrinkly smile. “Look, I get it, you're all washed up.” I stiffened at that. “No, look, I'm washed up too. I'm two hundred and eight! I could drop dead any minute! But I remember what it feels like to be powerful. Do you remember what you used to feel like?”

“Oh yes.” A shiver ran down my spine. How could I ever forget?

“Then feel that way again, and go SHOOT SOME FUCKING FIREBALLS! I've got work to do!” And she was gone down the stairs.

Two of the auto-ballistae were firing at something climbing the wall nearby. I ran over to the edge and peered out: another creature. Maybe a serpent-man? It was hard to tell. But it had huge bolts in its side and didn't seem to care. “Okay. Feel like I was a kid again. Here goes.” I summoned a fireball and tossed it at the creature. It hit! But the thing was unfazed.

“Wait... I'm not tired by that at all!” I began throwing more and more fireballs. I felt fine. My mana reserves were replenishing as fast as I spent them. I remember shouting “I'm an arch-mage again!” The fireballs weren't having much effect, though, so I stepped back and began a fancier spell. Hopefully the walls could handle it... there was a loud burning sound in the sky above the creature, and then thousands of pounds of boulders fell onto it, sending it hurtling back through the dark. The wall was covered in rocks, but otherwise unharmed. Dwarven engineering at its best, I supposed.

But there were many more creatures coming. There were dozens at first -- and I found I could handle dozens. But after an hour or so, the dozens had turned to hundreds, and the ballistae had run out of ammunition, there was no sign of help, and I wasn't fast enough to drive all the beasts back. And I was starting to feel tired. Even an arch-mage has limits. “I need to be smarter. Smart AND powerful.” I've learned things that young-me couldn't have even dreamt of... yes, that was it. A Will-ward!

I am quite proud of my work advancing the science of Wards, and I'm still quite good at casting them. Wards allow me to travel safely and protect my possessions even when I can't work much magic. But my greatest Ward inventions are too costly for me to cast. Will-wards are one such invention: they're directly augmented by the caster's magical energies. I'd never been able to keep one up for long, or expand it beyond a few yards. But this was the Dream Realm.

I leaned into the power reserves hidden in my magic staff, and used it to light huge firewalls atop the stone walls as far as I could. That would have to hold them off. Then I summoned a golem and handed it a bag of salt, and we got to work creating the ward. It didn't need to be large: I just warded a small circle around myself. I would make it larger.

I knew the firewalls were dying out, but you can't hurry wards. It took a minute, but then I felt the familiar hum. I was surrounded in a bubble of invisible force. Now it was time to give it some juice. With a deep breath, I expanded the bubble. First I encompassed the whole top of the tower -- which wasn't too hard. Then I took a deep breath and expanded it again. The bubble was becoming visible as a yellowish field of crackling energy. It began to encompass the walls, which were unharmed, but when the bubble came in contact with one of the creatures, it flung them off the wall and sent them falling into the darkness.

I took another deep breath and expanded the ward again. This was its theoretical maximum: almost a quarter-mile wide. Then I expanded it again, and then again. I leaned on my staff, shaking with exertion. The bubble encompassed everything I could see. I just had to keep it from popping.

But I didn't have to hold it for long. Or at least, it didn't seem like a long time. Soon the darkness began to fade, and both sides of the wall had the same gray fog. I let the bubble burst and collapsed. I think I fell asleep then, and I woke up back in the inn. The fireplace had almost gone out. I added another log and began writing everything down. I knew the memories wouldn't last long.

---

There was a knock on my door, and I woke up with a shock. I'd fallen asleep while writing and spilled ink everywhere. I cursed and tried to blot it up while the knocking continued. “Just a minute! Um, come in!”

The door opened a crack and the kindly proprietor of the inn appeared. “Sorry to bug ya this early in the morning, but you've got a visitor. Shall I tell him to come back later?”

“No, no... it's fine. I'll be out in a minute.”

She closed the door and I got dressed. My hands were stained with ink, but my notes were still legible. I was much relieved, because my memories of the Dream Realm had already become hazy.

In the inn's little foyer sat Rulgirt. He smiled when he saw me. “You did good. I didn't plan that. I wanted to give ya a tour, not put ya to work. Did you get your scoops of knowledge?

“Yes. I got quite a scoop.”

Rulgirt beckoned me over, and handed me a pendant. It was a tiny piece of stone on a chain. I could feel a faint magic in it... It was a bit of dream-stone, somehow brought into the real world. “If you're willing, we'd be pleased to have you in the Dream Keepers. Don't worry, just in the reserves! If you go to sleep wearing that and we need your help, we'll be able to call ya. Don't wear it if you've gotta be somewhere the next day, though. I bet you're feeling last night, eh?”

I was indeed. “That was exhausting. I guess I will accept this honor, but I don't know how often I could do THAT.”

He nodded. “Yeah. It's usually easier. But sometimes it's not. Look, the Dream Keepers've been secret a long time. But I think its time people knew about us. I was one of the founding members, almost fifty years ago, so I get to decide.”

“Those were Gulagra's creations in there. Gulagra is in Miraverre's realm! That's where he's been hiding!” Gulagra hasn't been seen in our world in a long time.

“Not exactly, no. He lives in another place. But about a thousand years ago he tore a hole into the Dream Realm. It's how he drives people insane in their sleep, makes them his minions. Miraverre is constantly fighting to close the tear, but she hasn't managed it yet. And so fifty years ago she called on her old friend Ormorek for help.”

The history books say that Miraverre and Ormorek were close friends before the God War, but that version of Ormorek was basically a different god, the God of Dwarves. Now Umrad is the God of Dwarves, and Ormorek is just the God of Bitterness. It made no sense to call on him. “Why didn't she contact Dreva? Or Arisetsu? Or...”

“Look, godly politics are complicated. And,” here he hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Since the big god-war, Miraverre don't exactly get out much. But anyway, when this first happened she called on Arisetsu for help. And for hundreds of years that's all it took: whenever the old Worm burst the hole open again, Arisetsu would come weld it shut again within a few days. But fifty years ago, he attacked when Arisetsu was busy. So in a panic, Miraverre called on her closest friend, Ormorek. And it broke his heart all over again.”

I nodded with understanding. I knew what it felt like when a friend is in dire need of your help and you just can't help them anymore.

“So anyway, one day when we come into The Bloated Pony, Ormorek's in there wailin' about how he's let his one true love down and all this shite. So some of us regulars decided to fix it. Got some engineers, a couple sages, a bunch of warriors, and we got to it. We've been making walls all around the tear. It's nearly done, just another few years and we'll start the roof. Even Gulagra can't get through our dream-walls! We'll keep him contained in there forever. So tell your readers: we don't need their help, or their pity, or their concern. We've got this. We're proud of it. We've saved the sanity of countless people.”

“And you did it in Ormorek's name.”

The old dwarf smiled a cryptic smile. “That we did. We told Miraverre he'd sent us. She's been pretty happy for the help.”

“Does Ormorek know?”

“Of course he does. He told us to cut it out. Made all kinds of bitching and moaning. But I think he's proud. And ... you know how gods are made up of their connections to the world? Well, we're some of his connections. And we're doing great stuff, which is slowly making Ormorek feel better. Hell, he *almost* gave a human an interview!” The dwarf laughed at his own joke, then stood up.

“I gotta get some sleep. We had to call in a bunch of reserves yesterday. A few of the young'uns are still in there, cleaning up some strays that got through. But you held Tower 4 all by yourself! Pretty impressive for a human. And Freyka says thanks too. Are you staying in town another day?”

“I could.”

“Tonight we'll have a wake for Larabelle. She was one of our strongest, but Vol comes for everyone eventually. You can come to her wake if you want.”

“I'll be there.”

He nodded and left the inn, and I stumbled back to bed.

Related Lore

The Sage's Lectern, Vol 1

The first volume of The Sage's Lectern.