Brae Hammett (Interviewer): Hello, and welcome!
Thank you so much for coming. Please, introduce yourselves.
The Chosen One (The Knight of All Kingdoms, The
Bearer of Gods' Blessings, etc...): *Grunts* Surely, I do not require
introduction.
Tiberius (Assistant of The Chosen One): And I am
called Tiberius. I am only here to observe. Please, do not mind me.
Brae: Excellent! Well, it is certainly a great honor
to meet you, Chosen One! Very few common folk have the opportunity to converse
with the Greatest Hero of Men. What brings you to our fine city?
Chosen: Well, you had undead beavers. So... you're
welcome.
Brae: Oh? But you just arrived this morning.
Chosen: Yeah. All dead. That's what I do.
Tiberius: That's true. We were celebrating in the
tavern by noon.
Chosen: *belches loudly*
Tibeius: *Face-palms*
Brae: I see. I did hear about the terrible
unpleasantness on the river. I'm so glad that evil has been resolved. Thank you
very much.
Chosen: Yes, yes.
Brae: With so much great evil in the world, how did
you learn about our small city?
Chosen: The gods direct me.
Brae: Of course. But do you receive letters
somewhere or perhaps have a council of wizards monitoring for...
Chosen: *growls* I've answered this question.
Tiberius: He doesn't like to repeat himself. He
meant that quite literally, the gods direct him. I've seen it with my own eyes.
It can be anything from a feeling of intuition to a bird carrying a message.
Chosen: Don't answer for me.
Tiberius: Sorry.
Brae: Fascinating. The legends say the gods are
known to speak directly to you. Is this true?
Chosen: When they choose, sure.
Brae: What does the voice of a god sound like?
Chosen: Like the embodiment of everything they
represent and command.
Brae: That's hard to imagine. Is there a way you
could describe it to a common man such as myself?
Chosen: *growls*
Tiberius: Allow me. I have heard the voice of Trion.
Brae: Truly? The God of Strife and Darkness? That
must have been terrifying.
Tiberius: Well, yes, but his voice... Nothing about
it sounded human. There was a deep, unquestionable understanding that the
personification of living power was speaking to me. I couldn't move, couldn't
think. His words in that moment were the only reality I knew. Everything I've
ever read about him: good, bad, horrific... I felt them all at once, and all so
overwhelmingly, I couldn't breathe. It was also the saddest thing I have ever
heard.
Brae: Oh, yes. Of course.
Tiberius: Sorry.
Brae: It is said you are quite old, though you look
young and very hale.
Chosen: I am called to defeat the strongest and most
cunning creatures that prey upon the innocent. I do all I can to remain equal
to that task.
Brae: And how old are you?
Chosen: Was that a question?
Brae: I... I didn't mean...
Tiberius: I thought you did well. He stayed longer
than I expected. Please send me a copy of your article when you write it. I
will add it to our library of publications.
Brae: Wait! Can you answer the question? Are you
also immortal?
Tiberius: Um. So long as I serve him, I believe so.
I really must go. I'm certain he doesn't remember the way back to the tavern.
Excerpt:
I returned to the room and knocked, entering at the direction of The Chosen One... who stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but his Chosen underwear and the tyrian purple cloak wrapped around his shoulders. His chest was puffed out, and his enormous, muscular limbs flexed this way and that as he posed himself in dramatic battle postures with his famous great sword. Every inch of visible skin was hairless and glistening. He had worked up a sweat admiring himself, and I could still smell the liquor on him.
"Um..." I mumbled, wondering if I should return at a more convenient—and less embarrassing—time. Much to my chagrin, he didn't stop flexing on my account.
"Go ahead and pack," he grunted as he clenched his stomach to make all of his tightly bound abdomen muscles pop. "I'll wait for the pressed clothes." He turned to the side and threw the cloak over his shoulder so he could admire his hips and backside, casting daring glances at his tiny embroidered face on the seat of his underpinnings through the polished brass.
I was certain my own face was scarlet as I skirted past him to gather up everything and return the items to the trunks that seemed the most appropriate. The entire time I worked, he didn't break from his posturing, and I wondered if it was a form of exercise for him, or if it merely exercised his ego. My work was hastened by embarrassment, and when I was done, I silently took up the first Tome of Tiberius. I turned my back, ignoring his grunting and wheezing, and flipped to chapter 3, skimming for the most pertinent pieces of information. I needed to know how to handle The Chosen One's finances.
I quickly learned it was my duty to draw up contracts when The Chosen One agreed to take a deal, enforce the contracts, and collect the fees. It was my duty to arrange for appraisers, auctioneers, and moneychangers to convert any "spoils" of The Chosen One's labors—those that he did not keep for his personal collection—to coin. It was my duty to ensure there was sufficient coin for The Chosen One to live whatever lifestyle he chose and to fund any campaign. Incidentals incurred as a direct result of a campaign—such as bribing furious husbands—came from funds before they were deposited into a bank and Tiberius' percentage was calculated. There was a list of "lifestyle" actions that came from the bank and were not considered incidentals; "donations and women" were on that list. Thus, I assumed him throwing coins into the crowd was not an incidental, either, but came from The Chosen One's own bank holdings.
"You need to plot a course for Vevesk," The Chosen One said between poses. "They have vampire stoats."
"What," I asked, slightly startled by the break in silence. "What is a stoat?"
"I think they said it was like a long rat." He glanced over at me. "Find out. And find out how to kill it."
I stared at him until his self-admiration embarrassed me enough to look away. "You don't know how to kill them?"
"I assume I cut them up enough, they'll die," he quipped. "You need to figure out how it happened so I can stop it. Evil wizard, ancient curse, typical vampirism, that sort of thing."
"I have to learn what caused this outbreak of blood-sucking long rats?" I asked, incredulously. Surely he was jesting. That was his job.
"Chapter 2," he said, stripping off the cloak so he could better admire his shoulders.
I grimaced and turned to the second chapter in the Tome of Tiberius. This detailed how I was to conduct necessary research for a campaign and successfully translate it to The Chosen One, for him to then implement that knowledge to complete his feats of heroism. I sighed deeply. "There is no university here to hold historical works, and many of the larger temples do not have any books in them at all. I will need to visit the Wizards' Guild, the Questers' Guild, and the Scriveners' Guild," I explained.
"Go quickly," he ordered without sympathy. "We leave soon."
I gritted my teeth and rose from my chair, throwing Tiberius' quill and a stack of paper sheets into my shoulder bag. It was all but impossible to do the kind of research this would require in only a handful of hours. So, I ran.
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