Out of Time

By: Wyspen Posted on: August 06, 2004

"It all amounts to Time."

The beautiful music of the song birds in the Aureliana sang counterpoint to my own harmonizing, whilst I pondered the depths of all things, my natural bent towards philosophy only increasing with my change of profession.

"Time", I continued to the nearest bird, who was busy serenading my Continuo, "is the essential intangible object to be amassed. It is the hours spent adventuring among the dark Underworld, attempting to recapture those precious experiences lost from the most recent unpleasant death. It is the valueable golden sovereigns gained by whiling away Time in a shop, forging a new rapier or collecting the sparse herbs amongst the land...". I paused for a moment, my tone becoming belligerent. "It is the *years* of training and knowledge wasted because you were too damned arrogant to stop and think for a moment!"

The bird stopped it's serenade in surprise, but was even further shocked at my next action. At that point I heedlessly jumped from a tree in a fit of pique, intending to break something important, but instead gliding gently down to the ground. "It's those worthless elixers you're now nearly completely out of, levitation, venom, mending, argh!" I ran head-first into a nearby tree for the sheer masochism of it, intending to relieve a bit of frustration that my far too soft landing had not done.

When I awoke, a thought hit me, not unlike the painful pounding in my skull. "Time is the restoration salve too, which you're also out of.". I was, needless to say, a bit angry with myself. I had underestimated an opponent of mine (I was not a Bard of peace, after all), and had paid dearly, repeatedly, for it. Closing my eyes, I recalled the events of a few days ago.

"Hmm, goldenseal, nope, sileris berries, zero, ugh... Out of cohosh and ash now too." The serpent slid towards me in an action almost too fast to perceive. I tried to move, really I did, but my body and my mind were currently arguing over whether or not leaping into a nearby hallucinated lake was plausible. My body conceded the debate, and did a swan-dive into the ever-so-soft ground nearby. Meanwhile the snake stabbed me again with that irritating little dirk of his, and new, unpleasant sensations coursed through my body. None of this mattered, I realized, for I was truly invincible. Instinctively, part of me balked at such an absurdity, but I had to chuckle at myself. I had literally jumped into the fight completely unprepared, and now I was writheing about on the ground like a dieing cockroach because of my foolishness. Amusingly, this analogy wasn' t far from the truth.

The snake moved forward with such rapidity of motion that my eyes perceived him as a blur. My insectoid system recoiled as the camus venom, aided with the help of scytherus, entered my bloodstream. "I'm invincible, gwahaha! ", said my mind. "A health elixer? You've got to be joking." , gurgled my stomach. In unison, my lungs piped in, "No smoking here, thank you." My skin added insult to injury, complaining how oily my complexion was these days. My muscles didn't say a thing, they just kind of laid there in mute apathy of it all. I saw doom at hand, and all I could think of was, "Are giant pink bunnies native to the black forest?"

Eventually, even the stars quit gracing me, refusing to lend an aide to a dieing warrior-poet. My life, once again, flashed before my eyes, and I came to under the kind hands of a Shallamese Priest. He explained to me that I had died, for the fifth Time, at the hands of the same serpentine opponent. You see, it wasn't enough that I was bested three Times earlier, no, being the exceptionally intelligent Bladesinger that I am, I refused to toss in the Tasur'kian towel. I had headed out for another couple rounds of death and agony. It was, I must admit, not one of my better days.

So, back to the present tense, with a mildly frustrating headache and a bit of frightened local wildlife. At once I set off to regain that which I had lost, which I ultimately wrote off as nothing more than a loss of Time. For cannot Time return the memories of those fallen in battle, deemed worthy of rising again? Can it not produce the wealth of Selucarian Kings and Prosperian Merchants? It takes Time, you know, to perform noble deeds and valiant ventures, to regain lost face and banish all disgrace. Supplies, too, can be acquired, with but a bit of patience and Time. I was certain on all these points, but one still remained, "How many centuries will it take before a Bard learns his lesson?"

A few days later, I emerged from the Temple of Unlife, feeling like a new bug. Whilst in the Underworld, I had amassed gold, learned clever tactics and strategies fighting evil, and had even acquired a new odor of a particularly desireable scent. Not the galling perfume of Belladonna's keep, or the revolting smell that nearly every practioner of pranks seems to have about them, but the fragrance of death and danger itself. In fact, it was disturbingly akin to that of those who practice necromancy; so much so that it made me cough and wheeze for a second or two in appreciation. Or perhaps that was the result of that mythical 'old age' thing. "Oh well, nothing a little Time in a nearby river won't cure. While I'm there, I might even play with my good old fishing pole for a Time or two."

There is nothing quite like the direct conversion of fish into new rapiers, and my old snake-sticker was certainly feeling the effects of Time. I headed out towards the Pachacacha, intent on catching some smells and cleaning away the fish, or did I have that backwards? (Oh, and for those unaware, the process of converting a fish into a rapier goes something like this: Put pole in water, pull pole out of water with fish attached. Give fish, minus the pole, to local fish-keep in trade for shiny sovereigns. Give shiny sovereigns to a shiny knight. Get a shiny rapier from a shiny knight's shiny forge.)

Ahem, where was I? Oh yes, it was only a matter of Time before I had completely recovered from the most unfortunate incidents of the past week. I had fished, fought, and foozled my way to fabulous fortune, and so I fled the favorite fun spots of the filthy rich. Cheerily I set out once again to sing songs and chew Myrrh Gum(Oh no, there's something else I'm all out of). Then something strange abruptly occured to me, what would happen if next Time, ended up as the last Time? If my foolish bravado and simple mistakes put my life at a point where even The Logos wouldn't help me? I felt an odd sensation, and it wasn't clumsiness. Was I, perhaps, becoming concerned about the future? About how my actions might affect myself and others. Well my goodness dear Wyspen, it's only taken over a dozen decades of indifferent dawdling to deduce such an idea.

It was at this point in my epiphany of attitude that I recognized the familiar form of my previous opponent farther down the highway. My intended target suddenly wasn' t such an interesting person to spend a day with, what with my new-found appreciation of the true value of Time. Now a coward I am not, at least under most circumstances, but in this case I turned tail and fled, not from a battle, but to a richer life. I had heard earlier that there was a social gathering promising fun and excitement back in Shallam, but had forsaken such a pastime in favor of that which I had, until now, desired most (Combat, dear readers, combat). Now I realized that I could spend quality Time in a manner not so destructive; in such an inescapable circle. A slight grin crossed my face as I thought of why I had originally become a Bard, and how much I'd love to play for an audience again.

I picked up my pace as I passed the Delos bridge, the shimmering Jewel of the East coming into sight. My fond memories of fighting faded away with the same apparent alacrity that I had changed my perspectives. I must acknowledge, however, that the tedious Time spent regaining lost essentials had played a definate, nigh subconcious role in my about-face. Casually casting my quicksilver conversion aside, I realized I had to get to Shallam soon. The party was half-over by now, and I was nearly out of Time.