Bon did not sleep much nowadays, not when there was work to be done. Things to be researched. New knowledge to be slipped into the ever-widening cracks that have begun forming in his psyche, not to mention chisels to be wielded to cause the cracks in the first place. Every profane glyph his eyes roved over carved let more of the useless base of Bon there was, either uncovering the truly perfect sculpture beneath, or creating a fissure into which he poured the molten gold that was knowledge.
Bit by bit, he made himself anew every day. But knowledge was not all that was wiggling its way into the wounds in his psyche.
Bon’s eyes opened to brightly lit darkness. A foggy room, circular, no more than 30ft in diameter, surrounded on all sides by infinite, impenetrable black from which a strange light shone, illuminating the area. A dream, he concluded immediately, but before he have another thought in the same vein, he heard a familiar sound: the bow of a violin raking across its strings, effortlessly forming a melody.
“I get eight hours of sleep a week and I have to spend them here with you.” Bon remarked, appearing on his feet in this dreamscape.
“It’s good to see you again too, Bon.” Said the spirit of the lanky jester that stood opposite to the diminutive goblin, his back to the dreamer whose consciousness he had invaded as he played a simple, flowing song.
“Uh-huh. So what is this? Are you projecting into my dream?” Bon asked as he paced the room, finding out that he could go no closer or further from Rey, and no matter which direction he traveled in, Rey always stayed at the opposite side of the room. He didn’t move but to play his tune.
“Not quite. I’m casting Dream.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, some pride as well. Though his back was to Bon, he could still see the goblin’s eyebrows raise in surprise. His stonefaced demeanor did not follow him into the dream world.
“That’s not how that works. When you enter the Shadowfell, your strengths get stripped away.” Bon stated, as though magic could not do the impossible anyway. “You don’t keep anything but your memories.” ... Right?
“HAH! Bon, any nobody from nowhere who dies with a grudge can become a bonified poltergeist if their emotions were strong enough!” The violin suddenly screeched, howling as though it could feel pain, “And mine were... very potent when I died. It’s only natural.” Plus, Rey mused to himself as he settled back into his slow song, it’s fitting that I be a few steps above some simple ghost. It’s what I deserve.
Bon held his chin in thought, mind chewing on this. That knowledge he worked so hard to cram into his head was proving frustratingly incomplete here; there was a precedent for especially hateful souls to cling to the Material Plane, but Rey did not. As far as he knew, the jester was still condemned to the Shadowfell. ... Wait. The Shadowfell. Could--
“So how is everyone?” Rey’s voice was a knife severing the threads he had just been trying to connect. The answer to the riddle danced off the edge of his mind and into oblivion, despite his attempts to drag it back. Dammit.
“Recovering. After the wasteland mishap, everyone wanted a vacation. Everyone’s still on edge, because the first vacation went to hell.” Bon had a good time at the hot springs, but no one else did, especially not Vastalin. The man blessed by the Tengeriin... Another curiosity to study. Another book to read on the mountainous pile he had already assembled.
“Really? What happened?” More amused curiosity, the tune stopping briefly as Rey’s head turned ever so slightly towards his captive audience.
“Ask them. I’m not a storybook.” The goblin lied, his papery form fluttering lightly from an unseen breeze as if to call him out on it. He would have told Rey everything, as is his nature, but he had more burning questions in line first. “Why are you even here?”
“A few reasons. One, to see if I could, and I can.” The violin resumes, “Two, to check in on everyone. I don’t know if I can reach them just yet; your mind is the most familiar one to me, so I went with you first.” It was his turn to lie that time. How hard he had tried to reach Celos, only to be blocked by his divine connection... But with Bon, the doors were open. Inviting. “And three, I had a proposal for you.”
Silence. Even in the dream, Rey could feel Bon’s eyes burning into his back, as they always did in life. Now, though, it was a literal heat. Go on, his intense stare said, you have my attention.
“I want to come back.”
“Celos still has your remains--” Bon couldn’t even finish before Rey held up a hand to halt his sentence.
“Not like that. Not in that way. I can’t come back in that body. In that... shape. Not when I could be so much more.” The music began to get a bit more frantic, as Bon noted the hand Rey held up was not either of the hands he was using to play. “And especially not with them still around.”
Ziskudar and Ramona. Especially Ramona.
“I’m pretty sure if you asked, Celos, Iska, and Neea would gut them on the spot to get you back.” 20% sure, really. “Scooter might actually do it herself.” Powerful body, but fragile mind. Another book to study, that one. To have channeled a demigod--it was all he could do to restrain himself from pulling out her soul and examining the changes personally. He settled for looking over what samples she allowed from her blood and body, seeing just how twisted she had become inside and out.
Rey laughed him off, “Maybe. But I won’t ask that of hi--of them. Not unless I get desperate.” The music has not slowed.
“Suit yourself. So. Coming back. How do you plan on that?”
“With your help, of course.” Another silent stare, urging him to continue. “And with a bit of help from our old friend.” Another hand raised. The music did not stop.
Four arms, but only two were his. The threads pulled back together, seizing the puzzle piece from oblivion and dragging it into place, the riddle solved the moment Bon saw the spines, the claws, the wisps of shadow.
“Mar’rak.” Bon had gotten a very, very good look at the arms of the demon prince during the battle on the tower. Arms that now sprouted from the jester’s shoulders, thinned to the point of being sticks to match the rest of him. “How did--”
“These secrets and more can be yours...” The arms moved as though the joints were backwards, holding up a single finger to the back of Rey’s head as though shushing Bon, a shadowy smile spreading from the finger outwards. Rey slowly began turning himself to face Bon, letting the goblin see just why he had been facing away in the first place. “For the low, low price of helping me reach the Feywilds from here.”
The hook set, baited, dangling before him. Knowledge. Information. More chisels to carve him into his perfect self.
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Do any of your characters have something akin to an unconquerable fear? Something they just can't handle?
ur bein extremely subtle here hugo and i like it
Bon fears losing his mind or his higher reasoning abilities. He prizes his intelligence and would rather die than lose it.
Lets see... in TC, Valor’s got a pretty heavy and severe phobia of paralysis or losing control of his body in general. He does NOT want to go back to being Goop, because that was a huge And I Must Scream scenario for him.
Rey was tuning his violin for the fourth time in as many hours when he heard the soft shff of the tent flap opening. No clank of armor, no heavy footsteps, no immediate, enraged ‘REY!’ greeted his ears. That eliminated almost everyone, except for...
“Yes, Bon?” He asked, not turning around to face the papercraft goblin. He focused his effort on twisting the peg just slightly, and running the bow across the strings as he listened for the smallest imperfections.
“So the sacrifice thing is a bust.” Came the reply. Rey didn’t need to see Bon to know that the goblin was standing stock still in the middle of the floor, just staring into his back. He could feel the little bugger’s gaze on him, like a fly. Or a beam of sunlight. It took him a few seconds to remember what Bon was even talking about, taking about halfway into his next sentence to recall talk of demonic allegiance and ritual bloodletting. “Zokai said no. Tsagani said ‘under no circumstances.’ Then she tried folding me into a paper airplane.”
rrrrrrrnnnnt
Rey muttered a G-rated curse under his breath, the chuckle that had slipped out drowned by the sound of the bow raking awkwardly over the strings. Now he had to make sure none of them had come loose again. “What about everyone else?” Never let it be said he didn’t support people’s hobbies.
“Does it matter?” Rey felt the goblin’s gaze move off him as the little thing wandered over to his ‘bed,’ the collection of loose papers and scrolls taken from all over camp. A nest, more like. “Zokai runs the place, and she said no. I don’t think she’ll let me transform them, either.” His voice was flat, but Rey could hear the disappointment. Rey knew the frustration, perhaps better than anyone. Whereas Bon had dealt with it for only a few days, Rey had been suffering a lack of progress on anything but his songwriting for weeks. He’d been ordered to stop testing his spells after the third fool ran screaming into the desert, and had been essentially twiddling his thumbs since then.
He plucked the string he’d been tightening. Better. Ran the bow across it. Perfect. Now for the others.
“Transform?” That was new.
“Yeah.” He heard Bon sit up in his pile, and knew in an instant he’d opened a floodgate. He braced himself for the tide. “There’s a demon called the Rutterkin. Its bite is poisonous, and anyone that dies while poisoned becomes a Wretch. Not really strong, but useful for...”
Rey half-listened, focusing instead on getting the other strings perfect. In a way, he was glad that someone was actually talking to him in a way he could understand. On the other, it was about something he only moderately cared about. Still, Bon rattled on, undeterred by the fact the conversation had been one-sided. “... told Saffron about it but he only seemed interested in the bargaining-with-a-lord part. Can’t blame him, it’s a good idea if we could pull it off, but getting into contact with any Lord I’ve read about would take time and resources we don’t have. He did bring up the possibility of working with Mar’rak, though.”
Rey’s finger stopped its slow descent down the string. “Did he now.” Have you gone crazy too, inventor?
“Yeah. I wish I could have been here to actually study the thing so I could figure out if it’d be a good idea or not, but apparently we’re leaving in like two days.” Flat tone, prickled by frustration again. Rey almost felt sorry for him.
“it’s an idea.” Rey piped up, now sitting up a bit straighter, his tuning halted entirely as he stared down at the instrument, “And a possibility.” He felt that soft pressure on his back that told him Bon was staring at him again. “Mar-mar’s been free for nearly a month, and hasn’t made any progress out of the wasteland... He’d probably jump at the chance for assistance.” And better us than the gnolls.
“... yeah. Everyone else seems bent on shoving him back in his cage, though. If that’s the case, I could probably find a way to siphon his power.” Rey heard that book of his crack open, each turning page accompanied by a flurry of hushed whispers, “With the knowledge Alexius has, it should be easy to figure that one out. All the benefits with no chance of being backstabbed.” Bon muttered something else, but Rey didn’t hear. His focus was elsewhere, in a haze of irritation.
Alexius. Rey set his violin down, and stared at the wall as though willing it to vanish so he could gaze forlornly into the horizon. That lich seemed to have everyone at its defense. Celos, Vastalin, Akumu, Ziskudar, all wrapped around its bony fingers, ready to shield its with their own bodies if it needed. Three weeks they had spent with this creature, coming back and spinning a tale of a time anomaly. Ridiculous. He’s seen strange things, done more, and believed in many, but he knew of spells like Modify Memory and Geas, and personally knew the power of Suggestion, Charm, and Dominate. It would be child's play for a creature like Alexius to seize control of his allies.
... He had checked them for those spells though, most of them. Scooter could rot in the thing’s dungeon believing it to be the God’s gift to the world, for all he cared, but everyone else? Dispel Magic brushed against nothing. Even if it had failed against the magic, he would have still felt its presence there. They couldn’t be getting controlled directly.
He thought he was being paranoid, thought he was dwelling on it too much, but then came his talk with Celos. Poor, dear Celos. A wreckage, stripped bare of his elegance by whatever events had happened in that tower. The man nearly broke down in tears talking about how he’d ruined Alexius’ life. And then there was Akumu, stoic and stonefaced as he ever was... Until he talked about Alexius. Softened expression, softer tone. He even referred to the lich as an example of what humanity should strive for, in that he was trying to undo his mistakes.
And then there was Ziskudar, deep in thought and planning, hunched over maps and seeking to end her conversation with him as fast as possible, ignoring his jabs and needles and brushing him off with a wave rather than a threat. She even allowed him the last word in their little spat.
The people he knew weren’t acting like the people he knew. Not controlled, but definitely influenced by something the lich had done. They had to be.
“Hey.” At some point, Bon had drawn closer. He could see the soft red glow of the goblin’s eyes in the corner of his own vision. “You listening?”
“Barely.” His answer was itself answered with a frustrated exhalation. “... Something about backlash with your power siphoning idea.”
“That’s about it, yeah. Alexius’ wife exploded when he messed up last time, but I think if I could convince him to write down how the ritual worked, I could find out what went wrong, correct it, and perfect it.” The glow on the wall vanished, and more whispers filled the air as Bon flipped through his book. Celos’ warning came back to mind, of the dangers of pushing Alexius. “I only saw it twice, but through my detection I got a good enough look of how the spell flowed with the...” The damn lich just kept coming up, but Rey found a bit of catharsis in how the goblin explained the situation; without care or compassion, treating everything and everyone around him like a resource. It was an admirable trait, one Rey tried to emulate with questionable success. Even now.
“Bon.“
“Eh?”
“Do you believe Alexius will help us defeat Mar’rak?” A question he’s asked five times, now. The tiebreaker.
“...” A pause in the endless banter as the goblin mulled the question over. Rey already knew what Bon would answer... But he just needed reinforcement. He needed to hear it and hope the words would give him the final nudge he needed. “Probably not. Guy’s biggest goal right now is to die, so he’ll likely fling himself in the thing’s path just to get obliterated. I’m hoping he’ll at least teach me to summon Spectators before then.”
Rey’s shoulders slackened. Tasked with finding a weapon to beat the demon, and they failed. We don’t know if he can be beaten.
They failed.
But it solidified his decision. It was all he needed to hear. Rey stood in one smooth motion, tucking his violin away into the haversack at his side. He’d packed everything he’d need for a lengthy journey ahead of time. Days ago, in fact. Before they had returned.
I won’t.
“Second question. You know Phantom Steed, yes?” He’d been puttering around for too long, hemming and hawing about the decision, the pros and the cons, the costs and the benefits.
“... Yeah?”
“I’d like to make a suggestion, then.” No more of that. No more holding himself back. No more being held back. No more being stifled.
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I like the juxtaposition of Bon being just an awful, horrible little demon sitting in the manor basement as he absorbs accursed secrets from his patron, eyes ominously glowing in the dark as letters of Dark Speech course across his paperlike skin And him being treated as a toddler or a stuffed animal as soon as he emerges from the basement by just about everyone
Bon, Oma, and Mox have similar personalities in that they're always hungry for more knowledge. As for why, they're fairly different. Bon hoards knowledge for the sake of having it. Actually applying it isn't his goal, but if a situation comes up and he has the information needed to deal with it, that's a bonus. Bon's main goal is to just Know Everything, and he's willing to make a lot of sacrifices to do that. Oma specifically hoards arcane knowledge for the goal of advancing her own understanding of souls, the afterlife, Outsiders, and quintessence. She scoops up every spell or magical power she can and takes them apart like a beginner mechanic disassembles every device around them, looking for ways she can rewire them to better suit her goals or build something completely new out of the parts. Mox is similar to Bon in that she wants to Know Everything, but whereas Bon seeks knowledge from the relative safety of libraries, Mox answers her billion questions by actual, dangerous experimentation, and applies all she's learned to her mixtures to try and make them more potent and powerful. Unlike Bon, Mox is fully aware of her physical and metaphysical limitations and her secondary drive is seeking out a method to alchemically increase her own capacity for thought.
