Part 7: An Obeyer Interlude: Your Faithful Servants

An Obeyer Interlude: Your Faithful Servants





Before announcing yourself to the leader of the Obeyers, you decide to walk the walls. Pentil village was built like a fortress, with four towers and four gatehouses. The solid stone construction reassures you that this place is, if not perfectly safe, at least easily defensible. There is absolutely no sign that the rogues from Pentil Plains or the mysterious northern wastes have ever been able to penetrate this fastness. The ancient Shapers who built the place built it to last.

The structures here also appear to be in surprisingly good shape. The Obeyers have taken great pains to maintain what their masters left behind. If not for the armed guards, very little here would feel out of place in a modern Shaper compound. The architecture is rather antiquated, but there are plenty of historic settlements on the mainland, so Pentil is not terribly unusual.



Your footsteps trace the paths of this one-time administrative center by muscle memory alone. Architecture aside, almost nothing has changed about how Shapers like to lay out their compounds since this place was originally planned and constructed.

There's a sign by the central offices which reads, "Hall of the Obeyers." This must be where the leader of the Obeyers waits for you.




The only other soul here is a lone servile. You approach with your creations gathered around you, signs of your power and legitimacy in this hall, among these serviles.

You aren't used to seeing this complicated a mix of emotions in the face of a servile. Normally, they are simple, obedient, docile creatures. Not this one.

You see in his face the look of one who has spent many years in command, plotting and scheming, who has now come face to face with the thing he has worshipped for many years. Awe and cunning fight within him as he tries to decide how to deal with you.

Finally, he says, "Shaper, I have heard of your arrival. I... I am awed and grateful that you have returned to us at last. I am Rydell. I am the leader of the Obeyers, the only sect that has stayed steadfast and true in our obedience to your kind.

"We know that you are alone here, and endangered by the rogue creations that surround us. We hope that you have come to assist us, and to reward us for our obedience." He looks up at you expectantly.

Leader Rydell's words trigger a chill that travels along your scalp and down the nape of your neck. You recognize this sensation as paranoia. Until your arrival on Sucia Island, you wouldn't have described yourself as the paranoid type. Much like anyone else living in Shaper lands, you have certain expectations about the way your life will play out and your role in Shaper society. That includes a mutual understanding shared by every other being that belongs to your culture -- the roles of creations, of outsiders, of Shapers, and of the Shaper Council. You recently left the ranks of the ordinary humans, the outsiders, and have been inducted into the sphere of the Shapers themselves. Even though you are but a lowly apprentice, your standing is significantly higher than a vast proportion of society, and you've complacently expected to be accorded the leeway that status commands.

Your expectations have been continually violated since you landed on Sucia Island. First by meeting feral creations, then by the defiance of the Awakened, and now by the niggling doubt that sours your mouth upon hearing Leader Rydell's word. He has certainly prepared and practiced this speech since he learned of your coming.

Your silence stretches until Rydell's discomfort reaches almost palpable levels. Finally, you address him. "I want to learn more of the Obeyers," you tell him. "Tell me more of your beliefs."

"Gladly, Shaper. My life is centered around describing our beliefs. I think that they will, upon reflection, be pleasing to you. We are dedicated to nothing but showing your kind the obedience we owe you as our creators. We hope, one day, that we will be able to convince you to ally with us." You motion with your baton for him to continue. "I should not need to describe our beliefs, Shaper, for they are exactly those of you and your people. You are the creators, the formers. We were not there, and then we were, through your will and efforts.

"The Awakened say that our debt to you for your act of life-giving may be paid off. We do not know if that is true. We doubt it. But, if the debt truly can be paid, it will take many, many more years of true obedience and service.

"Note, however, that we only serve the true Shapers, who follow the Shapers' true beliefs. If we feel that a Shaper has been twisted from the will of its kind, we will not obey." Leader Rydell examines you closely, watching you for reactions that will help guide his words.

"I am impressed by your wisdom and self-control in the face of adversity. You gave us the obedience we are owed. You deserve to be rewarded for your loyalty," you say, though the words taste bitter and your voice sounds distant even to your own ears. These serviles... have they wasted the opportunity that the other sects have seized? The opportunity to grow into beings far greater than the simple-minded serviles guided and hobbled by you Shapers? Or have they endured suffering and struggled against resentment to maintain their compact with your kind, the compact between parent and child, creator and creation, master and servant?

Rydell exhales a deep breath of relief. "So many years of self-doubt, Shaper. So many years of wondering why you abandoned us. Now we know, though. Now we know that we followed the true course. Thank you."

You may have consoled him, but there's no one in Pentil, you realize, who can console you. "One thing you said is troubling, Rydell. True Shapers? How can you decide whether a Shaper's beliefs are valid or not?"

"It is, well, it is a difficult question, and one we have much discussed. We feel we owe obedience, but we are not sure whether we owe total obedience to all Shapers, or what to do if two Shapers say different things. For now, we have decided to follow the Shapers' beliefs as last represented to us before the Shapers left. It is the best we can do."

"I see." Your flat stare discomfits Rydell. "And what sorts of tasks have you carried out in our name?"

"I am glad you asked, Shaper. We have attempted to maintain your structures, and to keep ourselves trained in the skills you required of us. In addition, we have interfered as much as we can with the strange, rogue servile sects around us," Rydell says. He is eager to expound on the Obeyers' deeds and win your praise, but you detect a reluctance that puts your teeth on edge.

You don't doubt that it will come to a head in your conversation soon enough. First, though, you're determined to extract all the information you can. "Interfered in what ways?"

"However we could. We realized that if the Awakened or the Takers gained strength, their ideas might escape Sucia Isle and infect others. So we have maintained the servant minds, harassed their villages, kept them from needed supplies, and so on. For example, we kept the servant mind Control Four, to the west, alive and well. This has helped keep Vakkiri small and weak, and thus unable to seriously expand their anti-Shaper views."

This goes some length in explaining the disparity between Vakkiri's development and Pentil's. The Obeyers have deliberately throttled the growth of their rival sects. Their goal--keeping the Takers and Awakened too weak to escape Sucia Island--also gels with your earlier, though erroneous, hypothesis about why Sucia is Barred. It's a worthy goal, and the way Rydell has set about crippling his rivals is impressive. That deviousness is also extremely worrisome. The serviles you grew up around are not calculating, political creatures. The most deceitful thing you've seen a servile do, Sucia Island notwithstanding, is try to cadge an extra cookie off someone. The serviles here do not share that same innocence.

A recent memory surfaces unbidden. The pile of long-dead serviles in Crag Valley, where the only signs of recent habitation are two Obeyer guards... You now strongly suspect that those dead belong to the Awakened. That means not only have the other settlements been denied resources, but they've also struggled against a long-standing campaign of attrition. Of deliberate, premeditated killing.

"Tell me of this village," you say, smiling.

Rydell is only too happy to comply. "This is the largest servile settlement on Sucia. We have worked hard to make it so. We want it to be ready for when the Shapers return. Still, the many threats we face have made our lot a difficult one."

"How have you obeyed us in our absence?"

"For each of the tasks the Shapers have serviles perform, we have one group which carries it out. We train each new generation to serve as the ancestors have served. Please, Shaper, speak with the serviles here. Note their skill and loyalty, and see how it has made us strong and prosperous."

You nod. "I'll keep that in mind. Why don't you tell me more about the rogues."

"I would, but I think you would best learn of the threats which face us from those who must deal with them directly, every day. Find Mickall. He can tell you much. And, Shaper, if you are feeling merciful and kind, please help us. Recently, our difficulties have been great." Of course. If the Awakened had tasks for you, there's no reason to expect the Obeyers to be different.

You've already lifted the blockade between them and their fields. You wonder if it's a coincidence that there's so much cultivated land in the area between Pentil and Vakkiri. Perhaps that area used to be relatively safe from rogues, not counting servile on servile violence.

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for further disappointment. "I want to leave this isle. Where can I find a boat?"

Rydell looks startled. After centuries of waiting for Shapers to return, it did not occur to him that, upon your return, you would immediately want to leave. Still, he is obedient.

"I do not generally think of such things, but I heard Pixley speak of a boat recently. She is in town somewhere."

For once, the answer blows away your expectations. "Really?" you blurt out, then you tamp down and cover with a more measured, "Is that so. Hmm. Be that as it may... I am Interested in allying with you. I believe that you have served us well, and I would like to help you make this isle more obedient to the Shapers."

For a moment, Rydell's worship is eclipsed by his cunning. He thinks about how well you could aid the Obeyer cause, and whether you are a true representative of the Shapers.

Finally, he speaks. "Your words to others have not yet proved you are a true Shaper. Talk to others properly and, one day, we may believe that you are not trying to incite us serviles to disobedience and insurrection, but to obedience and wisdom. Until then, we can't believe that you are one we should obey. We can't take the risk of obeying one who would only lead us away from the true Shaper path."

You laugh at that, startling Rydell, who isn't sure if he should laugh as well or take offense. His face contorts as he struggles to handle what must feel like outright mockery from an imperfect representative of his long-awaited masters.

"I've heard enough from you," you tell him, as he at last manages to reclaim his dignity.

Rydell looks disappointed, but he doesn't press you. "Of course, Shaper. I apologize for boring you."

You sweep out of the gathering hall with your creations at your heels, not bothering to cast a look backward. Leader Rydell is certainly a dangerous schemer. Left to his own devices, you're certain that he will eventually become the sole power on this island, at least for a time.

The figureheads of the Awakened can't compare to him. They have no clear plans, at least not that they've shared with you, and based on what you saw in Vakkiri and Ellhrah's keep, no means to carry out any meaningful offense against the Obeyers. The fact that the Awakened are so completely geographically cut off from their closest ideological comrades, the Takers, means it's extremely unlikely that they would ever be able to ally and throw off the Obeyers' yoke. In fact, you suspect that the Awakened have no idea how far the Obeyers have undermined them.

If any sect on this island can be counted as a credible threat, it's the Obeyers. Say what he will about obeying the Shapers' will, the Obeyers have deviated in two significant, drastic ways. They maintain armed forces and have openly defied a Shaper. Either of these would be enough for your kind to purge every last servile here, lest some flaw in their design be what gives rise to these profound failings. In these respects, the Obeyers are not distinct from the Awakened you've already met. You laugh to yourself, drawing frightened glances from nearby serviles.





You examine the communal kitchen and a large vegetable garden. Nearby you find a sign exhorting serviles to "always be thinking of the true will!"

Apparently your will doesn't count. This still strikes you as funny.

There's a servile diligently hoeing the rows here, chopping up weeds and clods. When you greet her, she is glad to pause her back-breaking labor. This is one of the serviles who works hard to grow food and raise meat. The hard work has left the creature with rough hands and strong muscles. It's very different from the serviles back home.

She bows to you. "I am pleased by your attention, Shaper. I hope I can help you."

"Tell me about your farm," you say.

"It is outside the west gate. Now that the gate has been cleared, we are starting to return to our lands to repair the damage that has been done."

"I'm looking for information. Is there anyone here who can help me?" You notice that something has caught GreatEvilKing's eye. His head bobs, bird-like, as he focuses with one eye on something in the dirt.

"Rydell is the leader here, and the one with the most knowledge. He is the leader of the Obeyers. I know that he would be honored by a visit from you. His hall is at the west side of the central building." As you wonder whether her answer was coached, GreatEvilKing snaps up a large centipede disturbed by the farmer's work. The audible crunch leaves her looking slightly green.

"Never mind. You can return to your work."

"Thank you, Shaper," she says, a bit faint. "You are very kind."



Near the vegetable patch is a small Shaping station. The nearby signage indicates that someone called "Learned Jaffee - Sage" works here.


You examine the two essence pools here, which appear to still be in good condition. The serviles have continued to feed and tend the pools, so the protoplasm has not soured or evaporated over the last two hundred years.

You meet a servile sage. You know that serviles are often used as researchers and laboratory assistants. This one clearly aspires to be something more. You smell the sulfur stink of living fyoras.

"Welcome, Shaper," the old servile says. "I am Jaffee, of the Obeyers. I have been here long and learned much. I am sure there is much you want to know about this isle. I can help you."

"What sort of work are you doing here? What is this lab for?" you ask. You would like to assume only good intentions, but even those can be dangerous.

"Do not fear, Shaper. I am not following the arts forbidden to us serviles. I would never attempt to try to make my own creation. I have been trying to tame existing creations, to control rogues and to have them fight for us instead of against us. I expose them to training, to beating, and to essence, and appeal to their natural obedience to true Shaper thoughts." This all sounds reasonable enough, though you doubt it's a simple matter to condition rogues to obey serviles.

Jaffee appears to have met with some success somehow, though accepting what you're seeing in the southern pens is difficult. "Does it work?"

"Yes it does. Most of the rogues we capture do not survive the taming. But a few, all fyoras, have. They fight for us now, in some places. We need all the force we can have to survive what is against us," Jaffee replies.

That makes some sense. Fyoras are shaped with more complex brains and given enough intelligence that they can be trained as both pets and guards. Still, that's all under the guidance of Shapers. Without the natural compulsions a fyora feels to obey a Shaper, though, taming them must take incredible patience and luck.

"There is much I would like to learn from you," you say.

He watches you quietly. He doesn't look awestruck, but he clearly finds you to be very interesting. "I am sure there is. However, I can only share my knowledge with an ally of the Obeyers. I know much, and I cannot afford to aid anyone we are not sure follows the true designs of the Shapers."

Once again, an Obeyer has denied you. "Very well," you say. "That's all for now."



The tamed fyoras are a little diffident. Whether that's because of the presence of your own fyoras, who watch these specimens jealously, or because of the watchful eye of Learned Jaffee, you can't tell.



You find a wide-open warehouse marked as the "Hall of Travelers." Within you meet a relatively happy servile, good natured despite the horrors that surround her. When you approach, she switches from happiness to ecstasy.

"The Shaper! Visiting me! I am honored. I am Pixley, the leader of the travelers, ones who move things about, who roam the whole isle. Sometimes to aid the Shapers, sometimes for ourselves. It is the greatest honor to meet a Shaper at last."

"You travel around?" you ask, curious. Pixley is the servile that Rydell indicated knew something about a boat, but she might also be able to give you a better idea of the lay of the land around Pentil.

"My ancestors were the ones who moved supplies around for the Shapers. We do the same thing now, keeping the routes of travel clear so that we may serve your kind in the same way when you return. But, since you have been traveling, you must know how dangerous our task is."

"Tell me what lies east of here."

Pixley is only too happy to share her knowledge with a Shaper. It seems that not all of the Obeyers will openly taunt you with secrets. "First there is a river, spanned by two bridges, crumbling but intact. Then heavy woods. You will find many rogue creations, but servile outposts as well. Some of them will aid you. Then the deadly area of Kazg, swarming with Takers. Then a few jagged, rocky peaks, and then water again."

"And to the north?" you ask.

"Desolate wastes, with rogues and little else. Beware that area, Shaper. Not even my folk travel up there," she warns you.

If the serviles all avoid the northern part of the island, then it's the perfect place for outsiders to hide. They may be the original cause of all the rogues there. That likely implies that they were present on the island far earlier than you originally thought based on what the serviles have told you so far. "What has made things especially dangerous?"

"That is an easy one. It's the bridges. The river to the east is spanned by two bridges, and they're both blocked. They're guarded by monsters and such." Pixley clutches her hands together in prayerful reflex. "I have lost two travelers there. Both killed. It is the sort of horrible thing we have been hoping the Shapers would rescue us from. If you were able to clear one of the bridges for us, we would be so thankful."

"I wish to find a boat. In your travels, have you ever seen one?" You hold your breath, intent on her response.

It would be a rare servile indeed who didn't respond to so much focused Shaper attention. Pixley's happy demeanor dims almost immediately. With eyes downcast, she says, "I wish I could meet your every need, Shaper, but I have never seen a boat. But..." She thinks. That "but" is your lifeline.

"One of my travelers told me that she saw a ship recently, near the shore south of here." She tells you how many days ago. Coincidentally, it was the same day you were attacked and swam to this island. Then did the outsiders arrive recently or not? Your thoughts swirl as you struggle to sort this all out. Pixley continues, “She was traveling through the Tombs. To get there, go south through the Pentil Woods, and then east. If you explore the shore, you might find something."

"Thank you, Pixley," you manage. Then you remember something. It's not important to you, but it means a great deal to someone else. "Before I go, I have a message from Coale, in Vakkiri. He wants to resume trade with you."

"Before you arrived, I would have said it would be futile. But you have done much to clear the route between here and there. Tell Coale that I will do my best to begin sending goods there. He must be patient though. It will take time. There is still much danger on the roads," she says. She seems to be recovered from the blow of being unable to present you with a boat, because she beams sunnily as you depart.

That the Obeyers trade with the Awakened is curious given Rydell's strategy. Maybe it's a way to keep tabs on them. You can't be sure.



South of Pixley's warehouse are living quarters and a market. The serviles live and eat communally, though their quarters, really cells, are where individual Shapers slept and stored their belongings. Small private quarters grant a measure of sanctuary while encouraging often reclusive Shapers to engage in public life, which promotes socialization and common values. The Obeyer serviles, though, value individualism and privacy less, much more like normal serviles, so there are two to four pallets per solitary cell. You wonder if Rydell lives in one of these. You doubt it.




The market isn't so different from what you saw at Ellhrah's keep. They do, however, have many more goods on display here.

"Greetings, mighty Shaper. I am honored that you have found the time to inspect my humble wares. I hope that you will forgive me, but times are very tight, and I must l ask much more for my goods than I would like to," the merchant says. So that is why he looks so unhappy.

Though you already know the answer, you ask, "How has trade been lately?"

"Oh, Shaper, it has been terrible. Since those horrible monsters started roaming everywhere, it has been so dangerous. We have been unable to scavenge for Shaper artifacts, and we have not been able to carry goods between settlements. If only one of the bridges to the east were clear, life would be much easier. Perhaps someone will come and help us in our time of need." The servile looks at you hopefully.

You trade away some salvage you don't need. The servile merchants here are certainly richer than the others you've met so far. Dreet would be envious of their success.




At last, you meet a servile who is doing a proper servile act. Serviles are generally used for record keeping and other less physically taxing jobs. They are too smart to be used for farming and too weak for fighting.

This female shows you the respect and awe that seems the norm here. "Shaper, you inspect us at last. I am Dayna. Welcome to the records hall. I maintain it and train other serviles to maintain it. I hope it meets with your approval."

"What sorts of records are stored here?" The shelves upon shelves of fragile scrolls lend a heavy, musty scent to the dim library. Despite the darkness, the scrolls are yellowed and brittle.

"My ancestors were charged by the Shapers to keep the records of affairs on this isle. And, for years, we have done that. It has been difficult, pulling people away from hunting and farming, but we have always trained more to keep these records. Sometimes, they have rotted and been damaged, and we have recopied them. I am sure everything here is intact and as the Shapers would wish it. I hope our work pleases you."

You can't tell Learned Dayna that all her efforts, all her family's efforts have been futile. That would break anyone's heart. It's not her fault that she was given a pointless role. Thinking back to what Rydell said about judging true Shapers from false, you say, "You have done well. You should always do what the Shapers wish, even if it doesn't always seem to make sense." It is the right thing to say. It's the thing you should say.

She seems pathetically pleased by your ornk-handed praise. "Oh, thank you, Shaper. You are very kind. For so many years, so many of us have wondered if there was any sense in doing what we do. It is good to know that we were doing our creators' will. We will redouble our efforts, to make sure that the knowledge here stays intact."

"Is there any way I can help keep the records?" you ask. Perhaps among all this junk you might find useful information -- reports, notes, designs... Something besides accounts and make-work.

"You are kind, Shaper. Many old books of records have been lost over the years. Some to the west. Some to the north -- and many around Kazg. We have tried to find and preserve them, but with little luck. The more such records you can bring to me, if you find any at all, the better we can serve you."

"You've gathered many of our records here. Do you know much about the history of Sucia Island?" Surely it's not all useless.

"Very little. The records are, well, we don't really understand them. But I have gathered a little bit of knowledge," Dayna says.

"Do you know anything about the canisters l have been finding? They seem to be changing me." Admitting this to still another servile is perhaps unwise, but without any other means of understanding the canisters, you have to try every avenue.

"I know that they were discovered here. I have records of their construction and use. They are capable of rewriting the very code of life, hidden deep within your being. The Shapers then stopped making them suddenly and fled the island. I do not know why." She looks at you closely.

"Shaper, you have been using them, haven't you? Though I have never seen one of you, you look strange to me." She fetches an old mirror, worn and cracked, and shows you your face. She is right. You have changed. There is a cold look in your eyes, and you think you can see a faint glow underneath your skin. Very strange.

Perhaps what drove the Shapers away is... No. The canisters haven't harmed you. They've only made you stronger and better able to advance the Shapers' cause here while you seek an escape.

"Do you know why this island was Barred? Or what it was used for?"

"Records tell us that huge amounts of supplies were moved around here, and many, many Shapers came and left. The most important Shapers were Defniel, Corata, and Danette. What they were doing and why they left, I have no idea. I am so sorry." You take note of these names. Defniel you've already heard of thanks to Povralus, but Corata and Danette are new to you. "I can tell you, though, who keeps the good records. His name is Toivo. He is a foul Taker, in Kazg. He jealously guards the most valuable records of the Shapers, even the locations of their most useful artifacts! To learn more, find him."

"Toivo, hm? Thank you, Learned Dayna. If I find more records, I'll bring them here for safekeeping."



You find a small, locked room just off to the side of the library. The door looks like it hasn't been opened in a very, very long time. Grime has settled in, defiantly resisting all attempts to keep the lever and door clean. Your charm, however, loosens the hidden rust within the mechanism, and the automatic door hisses open. Within are three wooden cases. Dust lies thickly upon them and the wood is bone dry.

Learned Dayna keeps her distance but watches curiously as you retrieve records not seen in two hundred years. You handle them with care. Even the oil from your skin can accelerate their decomposition. Now that they've been pulled from their protective cases, these records will probably decay quickly. You leave them on the long scribes’ table for Learned Dayna before you go.



The northern courtyard is lined with statues of proud Guardians. They all appear intact, though some of their toes have been burnished by the touches of many servile hands. It seems that they share at least one habit with humans.

One servile watches the courtyard. This servile guard looks very beaten down, as if he has seen a lot of intense combat recently. His shoulder is bandaged, and his face is bruised. He looks familiar.

"Welcome, Shaper. Thank you for your support in the western fields. It is good to see that you are well." Chesh looks weary, but he is determined to continue his patrols.

"What are you doing now?" you ask. You don't remember his shoulder being bandaged before, but perhaps the wound had been untreated when you first met him. One of the siege thahds could have easily done damage not visible through Chesh's robes.

"I am only part of the town watch until I am better. The moment l am at full strength, I will be patrolling the bridges to the east, watching for rogue serviles and other Taker scum. I can't wait to begin fighting anew, in the name of our creators. Having you here inspires us all, Shaper."

You leave Chesh to his solitary post. He's probably lost his squad, and now you better understand why he was so reluctant to support your assault. If he had but told you, you could have set and healed his wounds, but he didn't have enough faith in you for that.

Near the northern courtyard you find another large warehouse, this one marked as the "Hall of Farmers."

Inside you find a lone farmer. This servile is young, but she moves as if she bears a heavy burden. Her hands show the signs of much hard work, but her robes are clean, indicating she has been working inside for a while. When she sees you, she kneels. A single tear runs down her cheek.

"I heard, but l did not dare believe. It is true. After all our waiting, you have returned to us. Welcome, Shaper. I am Natley, head of the farmers. I have trained the serviles as you would wish," she says.

You wait for her to rise, but she doesn't. It's awkward for you, but Natley doesn't seem to notice. "Tell me about your farmers," you say, steering her towards a comfortable subject.

Natley continues to speak on one knee, still overwhelmed. "We serviles always grew food for the Shapers of Sucia Isle. When they left, we felt they would one day return, and we wanted to be able to resume service to our creators. So, for generations, we have trained our children to grow food. Of course, being able to eat it ourselves helped us survive to serve you better."

"I've reached Pentil from the west. Actually, I cleared the rogues away from the west gate."

"Oh, Shaper, I know! Thank you, thank you! Even now, we are sending out farmers to repair the considerable damage. Thanks to you, we will not starve. You came to solve problems when all was worst, as we were always taught you would."

You tell her what you observed about the state of the fields and livestock back in the plains. She is grateful for the information -- it allows her to better anticipate the needs of her people. With those needs in mind, you ask her, "Why are you so worn?"

Natley bends lower, leaning closer to you for strength. Hesitantly, you touch the servile's shoulder and finally she speaks. "Not long ago, my bonded was lost. His name was Hudge. He was cutting wood. A vlish poisoned him, and he died. For a time, I questioned how the Shapers could abandon us. I wondered how they could let these things happen to us. In the end, Rydell came to me and told me how it was all for the best. He told me how you understood all, and you made sure it was all happening for a reason. It was a great comfort to me. Please, Shaper, forgive me for my doubts."

As you try to formulate some meaningless, comforting pabulum, visions of your lost creations come to mind. "Rydell was right." The words come slowly, and though you're not sure if you believe them, you think Natley needs to hear them. "Sometimes our creations must suffer, but it is necessary."

"I -- I -- I believe you. But at times, some of us, not me, you understand, but some of us question it. I do not. If you say how things must be, that is how things must be. I know that now," she says.

Telling her it was not only unnecessary but also pointless and preventable wouldn't offer her any comfort. How could any person, any creation be comforted by the idea of an uncaring, arbitrary world?

After a little while, Natley straightens, though she doesn't rise. You take the opportunity to ask, "What does it mean to be bonded?" You haven't heard many serviles talk about something like a private life.

"He was my mate. My love," she says quietly.

Interesting. Though you knew that serviles were fertile and could reproduce (because it would be a waste of effort to magically create all that are needed), you never thought about their mating rituals and such.

It isn't something Shapers pay much attention to.

When you depart, Natley seems a little energized. You're a little sorry that words are all you can offer her. At least you were able to restore the fields to Pentil's control, for the moment. Perhaps what she needs is the distraction of labor.



Not far from the Hall of Farmers is another wide-open chamber. The flooring here is lovingly fitted and polished wood from species native to Sucia. There's not a single nail in sight. This was all done by a master carpenter. One wood-cutter labors alone here, though as soon as he notices you, he sets his work aside.

This burly servile has a pair of axes at his belt, one on either side. He looks very restless, and not excessively in awe of you. This hall, once quite grand, has been converted into a lumberyard. The smell of freshly cut wood is heavy in the air.

"I'm Godwin," he says. "I'm the head woodsman. I keep serviles trained in the ways, so when the Shapers return we're ready to fetch wood for them." It is odd. You've never known serviles to be asked to fetch wood.

"I've never met a servile woodsman before," you tell him.

"No? Cutting trees and getting wood was one of the main things Shapers used us serviles for. Though that was a long time ago, I guess. That's why we make sure to train new woods folk, down generation to generation. We must always be able to obey your will. Though it's often been difficult," Godwin admits.

Perhaps there are no more servile woodsmen because that would require giving them axes.

"And you must always obey the Shapers." It's not quite a statement -- you've left a lingering question there.

"Always, if they are a true Shaper, one who believes in maintaining the old ways of things. You aren't an Obeyer, so you don't understand. But we will obey you and take our part in the grand way of things, and give you proper gratitude for our creation."

"What sort of difficulties have you had lately?"

"Nothing that'll surprise you. Rogues. Vlish. Lots of them, in the woods to the south. They aren't tough. Run a few of us at them with axes and we can take them down quick... but then, the next week, they're back. They keep reappearing and we can't figure out from where," Godwin says. From his description of the problem, you're almost immediately certain of what the woodsmen are facing.

"Perhaps I could figure out where the vlish are coming from," you tell him.

"Perhaps you could. We have always hoped Shapers would return to help us, but l never thought it would happen. But if it did, I sure would be grateful. If you can find the source of the vlish and remove it, I would reward you as best I can." Now that sounds closer to the Awakened way of thinking, and much more useful than garnering more worshipful praise from the Obeyers.

"So what are you using all this lumber for?" you ask.

"Not just lumber. Warmth. Tools. Cooking fires. Also, we're running out of space in Shaper buildings. We think we should try to make our own, new buildings, out of wood. We don't know if serviles making buildings follows the true will of the Shapers. There is argument. But soon, I think we will have no choice."

You depart, thinking about the nightmare represented by a vlish spawner. Only a madman would create such a monster. This is certainly something you're obligated to take care of. You are confident that you have the power to deal with the vlish if you can just put them down one by one.





With extermination in mind, you head towards the servile guard barracks to meet Mickall Blade as Rydell suggested.

You doubt that you will ever get used to seeing serviles like this one: tall, armed, armored, and skilled with weapons. Fortunately, you have little to fear from this one. It is all he can do to keep from throwing himself to the floor at your feet.

"Welcome, great Shaper. I am Mickall Blade, commander of the armed serviles here. We have waited so long for the return of your kind. There are so many foes facing us, and so little we can do to oppose them. Without help."

"What is troubling you, servile?"

"If you leave the city gates to the east and travel down the road to the south, you will reach Thorny Wood. Along the central road, you will find a small outpost. The guards there block in a band of dangerous, rogue serviles, sent from wicked Kazg to the east. They have protected themselves with traps and guards, and we cannot eliminate them. Thus, I must waste valuable forces besieging them. If you could slay them, it would be most helpful to your loyal serviles here," Mickall says, allowing an unbecoming amount of desperation slip into his voice.

"I see... So not only vlish, but Takers. I wish to learn more of the threats around you."

"Ah, where to begin? There are the constant spies and infiltrators from Kazg. There are the rogues. And now there are even sightings of evil humans on our isle. All humans are Barred from here, yet they come." He sounds affronted.

You are affronted. Mickall presents still more confirmation of outsiders on Sucia Island. Though Clakkit knows less than he thinks, what he's told you is confirmed by more and more creations.

"Where did the rogues come from?" You'll start with what you can deal with most easily, then work your way towards handling these damned outsiders.

"'We don't know. They first started to come about a year ago, first one or two, small and misshapen, then more, and then hordes. I hear there are even huge beasts that hide in caves and make the things themselves." Mickall shakes his head. "At first, it was a nuisance. Now, it threatens all our lives."

"What about the spies from Kazg?"

"Kazg is a village to the east." You nod as he speaks. You've heard of Kazg many times by now. "It is a sick place, consumed by the beliefs of the Takers, who would lead us in rebellion against your kind. The horror of it! I can't bear to think of it!" He has to take a few breaths to calm himself before continuing. "They send spies out here all the time, to foment violence against our creators. Do not worry, though. When we find one of them, we deal with them."

"How?" you ask.

"Quickly. And in a way that ensures they never question the Shapers again. We never hesitate to do your will."

You wonder about that. The bodies in Crag Valley... How much of a distinction do the Obeyers make between Takers and Awakened? Where do they draw the line? But you have more important matters than spats between rogue serviles. "Now tell me more about the humans, these outsiders," you say.

"I have never seen one. I have only heard rumors. But this is what I have heard. They look different. They speak a strange tongue. Their manner is strange. They came here on ships from far away. Each one has the strength of ten thahds, and they can shoot beams of flame from their eyes. This is all rumor, though, so perhaps some of it might not be entirely reliable."

Outsiders with magic? The only notion more terrifying is outsiders who can Shape. Mickall Blade bows deeply to you as you depart to inspect his barracks and think about what to do next.

Next time: An Obeyer Interlude, 2: The Use of Power