Inner Peace (Through Superior Firepower) - Episode 031

Inner Peace (Through Superior Firepower) - Episode 031

Her personal chambers had been preserved all these turns, just as she‘d left them. The ample room contained a canopy bed, silver candelabras, a teakwood armoire, and plush green carpeting.

Jillian sniffed her indifference, and began unbuckling her mail. It made for a good campsite, anyway. The plaster ceiling was sturdier than a burlap tent. There wouldn‘t be any animals sniffing around; no snipes or barking spiders would disturb her sleep tonight.

She pulled off her boots and everything else, and used the chamber pot and washbasin. In the armoire, she found satin robes and reasonably itch-free undergarments. These robes were the uniform of Court, since her father liked to pretend they were all “equal before the truth.” Bleh. Fine. The right armor for the right battle, she guessed.

She still didn‘t know what form the battle at Court would take. They‘d dump something she hated into her lap, she was pretty sure. They certainly didn't call her home because they missed her smiling face.

Despite her doubts, she was hoping they were finally going to get serious about the looming threat from Haffaton. Because on the flight in, she‘d had an idea about that.

Yeah, a pretty good one, the more she thought about it. She‘d have to figure out how to sell all these dreamers and windbags on it.

Beside the door, she stepped into a pair of thonged sandals and left the room behind, with its door swung wide open and her equipment littered around. Hrm. She had to admit these shoes were very comfortable, but that was the last thing she could let herself be right now.

To battle, to battle. Always on to the next one.

---

The Royal court had been arranged for formal tea, with its west-facing wooden doors slid apart to reveal the brightly sunlit loggia. Beyond its railing, the streets and buildings of Faq spread out below. The outer walls were an unbroken crescent of smooth clay in the middle distance. And at the Kingdom‘s edge, snowy mountain peaks rose to touch the blue sky.

Brother Labeler had designed this court for simplicity and elegance. Its surfaces were wood and plaster, its lines bold and neutral, and its furnishings spartan. Tiny trees and wussywillow stems were the only decorations, and those were given pedestals and little pots of striped sand as if they were silent members of the Court. Jillian had stood at courts which were built to dazzle, but this one was intended to humble. Her father thought of this place as a temple to knowledge or something.

The broad, low table occupied the center of the room. The King had a throne when it suited him, but today he sat at tea, and not even at the head of the table but in the exact middle.

Jillian was not announced when she entered, but almost no-one ever was. Heads turned her way, then all but Jack‘s returned quickly to Betsy Murgatroyd, who was holding the discussion with her soft and feminine voice. Jack gave Jillian a warm look, and indicated a cushion beside him.

“Therefore, an interesting thought exercise is to view injury terms of Foolamancy,” said Betsy, as Jillian walked up and sat down, cross-legged. She had to pull the robe out of the crack of her keister and pull it around her legs, but Jack Snipe was gentleman enough to pretend not to notice. Instead, he raised a finger and an eyebrow at the mention of his discipline. Betsy gave him a smile and a nod, continuing, “Hits could be seen as a form of physical veil, you see. An illusion of injury, which Healomancy dispels.”

Jack smiled and put his hand upon the table, claiming the discussion. “I see, Sister. And how do you know it isn‘t the reverse? Couldn‘t Life itself be the illusion? Perhaps, then, injury gradually weakens our ability to fool ourselves into believing we exist at all!”

The members of the Court mostly chuckled at this, but the dour Moothfott raised a finger. Jack nodded to him. “A Life debt is no illusion,” said the Moneymancer. “Hits are real, and they must be paid for. The principle is the same with any debt. Healomancers spend juice to repay a debt incurred in hits. No, there is no Foolamancy in it, that I can see.”

Betsy‘s finger was already raised, but the King‘s hand hovered above the ebony surface of the tea table. A gong sounded. Only now, after all this time, did Jillian‘s father look upon her. He neither smiled nor frowned, but met her eyes with discernment. Oh boy.

“Princess Jillian Banhammer has returned to us, at our order and pleasure,” he said. His voice had a melodic overtone to it, like the accidental chords made by bullfrogs croaking at night. Following the King‘s lead, the members of the Court folded their hands and nodded to her as one. Only two of the casters, Orwell and Rusty, were not present.

Jillian returned the gesture, and her father continued. “There will be time to hear news of your travels, Princess. For now, we celebrate with tea.” He nodded to waiting servants, and Jillian‘s stomach clenched.

Carts were rolled up, servants began placing all the paraphernalia upon the table. There were ceramic pots and hammered metal basins, porcelain cups, silver trays, bamboo ladles, dishes of honey and cream and on and on and on. In front of the King, they placed the largest array of items. In front of Jillian, stacks of small plates that she would have to adorn with bits of food and distribute.

“I am the tea master,” said King Banhammer, in profoundly serene and commanding tones.

Jillian tried not to sigh. She failed, but managed direct it through her nose. She had known how to perform these ceremonies from the turn she popped, and it didn‘t matter how many small furry things she caught and ate in the field. She couldn‘t make herself forget exactly how to carry out an hour-long, excruciatingly pointless ordeal around drinking hot dirty water and eating some pieces of cake.

“I am the tea master,” her father prompted again, patiently.

“I am the plate keeper,” Jillian said reluctantly. Her torture commenced.

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Recent posts... (See full thread)
Most. Ironic. Thread. Ever.

This is a forum full of people who do nothing but debate metaphysical and philosophical nuances. And they're talking about pointlessness.

Fantastic.
I would say that all commanders popped in the capital are children of the ruler and of equal position in the hierarchy of noble ranks (Royal, noble, commoner), though of course in the child position (like Prince) to the ruler (King). At least it fits the data given.

multilis wrote:
Some games had less likely to be betrayed/back stabbed if either your child or married to your child. Example: Genghis Khan turn based strategy game... was impossible for son or son in law to betray you.


If there is one thing I remember about that game it is that my sons-in-law betrayed me all the time...
Kreistor wrote:
Jillian grabbed Betsy's arm and smashed it down on the table. The room heard the crack of bones as her forearm shattered. Betsy screamed in pain....Assume the world is real. You'll live longer.

At which point Jack does the same thing to Jillian - only the wounds vanish with a wave of his hand afterwards, just as Betsy's would have if a healmancer took care of it. If Foolamancy can actually fool all 5 senses - if it can inflict pain and create the appearance of wounds - your argument falls apart.

Each 'mancer's perception of reality is colored by their discipline. Maggie perceives G-strings. Monemancers see debt. Luckamancers see dice. This seems to suggest a world that either has no grand unified magical theory, or a world in which the perceptions actually influence and even create reality. The philosophical assumptions of what is real on Earth may not equally apply to Erfworld.
Was trying to write a longer post, but I am having trouble phrasing the whole idea.

Out of fairness to Betsy, she likely has a sense similar to Wanda with corpses. What if she can essentially "see through" the damage on them to the real core of the unit beneath? And then can remove that damage with a thought? It would start getting hard to consider damage as something real.
I'm not understanding why this is profound.

Healing (and turn healing) in Erf works the same way it does in the real world. Invariable, and purely logical processes. The real question is whether foolamancy itself alters the world, or the perception of the world. Either way, the unit's perception, and the real status of the unit, have no effect on each other. If the question is supposed to be 'is foolamancy's power limitless?' I would say yes, but only the power to fool. After all, look at what's happening in the real world. It's actually illegal to tell the truth in many civilized countries. Limitless power, but still ultimately subject to reality.

I've been thinking recently about Banhammer's name, and wondering how important that is supposed to be. I suppose we'll learn soon enough, when a pikeman gains the arkenhammer.
MarbitChow wrote:
Kreistor wrote:
Jillian grabbed Betsy's arm and smashed it down on the table. The room heard the crack of bones as her forearm shattered. Betsy screamed in pain....Assume the world is real. You'll live longer.

At which point Jack does the same thing to Jillian - only the wounds vanish with a wave of his hand afterwards, just as Betsy's would have if a healmancer took care of it. If Foolamancy can actually fool all 5 senses - if it can inflict pain and create the appearance of wounds - your argument falls apart.


Foolamancy fools only sight and sound. it fails completely on touch, which means it also fails on taste which requires physical contact. Since Sight and sound are entirely external and affects everyone on the enemy Side, it is a hologram, not a mentally invasive magic. It takes Thinkamancy to affect senses of individuals.

As such, Jack cannot create pain, which requires touch contact.

Ergo, it is NOT Foolamancy. You might find a case with Thinkamancy, but that has severe restrictions that should also preclude creating physical pain.

You did not defeat any part of my argument.
MarbitChow wrote:
If Foolamancy can actually fool all 5 senses - if it can inflict pain and create the appearance of wounds - your argument falls apart.

Kreistor wrote:
Foolamancy fools only sight and sound. ... You did not defeat any part of my argument.

You're stating as categorical fact something that has not been proven. Certainly, the instances of Foolamancy we've seen so far only fool sight and sound, but I don't remember anywhere that proved that Foolamancy couldn't fool other senses. Jack's hypothetical seems to imply that it could, and no one at the table contradicted him. If Foolamancy had such as simple, known limitation, isn't it likely that at least one of the other casters at the table would be aware of it?
Kreistor wrote:
MarbitChow wrote:
Kreistor wrote:
Jillian grabbed Betsy's arm and smashed it down on the table. The room heard the crack of bones as her forearm shattered. Betsy screamed in pain....Assume the world is real. You'll live longer.

At which point Jack does the same thing to Jillian - only the wounds vanish with a wave of his hand afterwards, just as Betsy's would have if a healmancer took care of it. If Foolamancy can actually fool all 5 senses - if it can inflict pain and create the appearance of wounds - your argument falls apart.


Foolamancy fools only sight and sound. it fails completely on touch, which means it also fails on taste which requires physical contact. Since Sight and sound are entirely external and affects everyone on the enemy Side, it is a hologram, not a mentally invasive magic. It takes Thinkamancy to affect senses of individuals.

As such, Jack cannot create pain, which requires touch contact.

Ergo, it is NOT Foolamancy. You might find a case with Thinkamancy, but that has severe restrictions that should also preclude creating physical pain.

You did not defeat any part of my argument.

http://www.erfworld.com/book-1-archive/?px=%2F114.jpg

Foolamancy can very clearly create touch.
Really, Lamech? You can tell me exactly what is happening in each one of those panels?

All you get from that panel is a "maybe". We do not know that Jillian did not cut the real dwagon in that scene. The gwiffon in the next panel may be part of the Foolamancy. Jillian did not actually kill it (the possibly illusionary gwiffon does, created to inspire her to stop attacking a dead dwagon that is actually only wounded), but we never see the entire dwagon after the sword hit (only the neck forward in the next panels) and so do not know she did not damage it. We don't know when or where the foolamancy starts and ends (partially because we never get a Spell word, since Foolamancy having a spell word the target can hear kinda defeats teh purpose), and can draw zero conclusions about the entire event.

And given panel 5 in the next strip shows a hand passing through the same Foolamancy dwagon? I find it hard to believe that the same creation started as fooling touch but later failed to resist touch. I expect some consistency in spells, not "magic bullets" that act two different ways to the same event. In other words, the spell needs to start after Jillian's sword hit, and the gwiffon biting the dwagon has to be false in order to have an internally consistent spell.

Maybe you can find some kind of reference in Stanley's discussions in the Summer Update about what happened, but I don't have the time to hunt through them all today.

"You're stating as categorical fact something that has not been proven."

Show me an inconsistency. Lamech came close, but that panel has been debated over and over and no one has yet been able to demonstrate where the Foolamancy starts and ends. We know it has not begun before the 'Hammer creates a walnut, and is in place before the gwiffon chomps down, but where it precisely starts is a mystery.
Kreistor wrote:

Foolamancy fools only sight and sound. it fails completely on touch, which means it also fails on taste which requires physical contact. Since Sight and sound are entirely external and affects everyone on the enemy Side, it is a hologram, not a mentally invasive magic. It takes Thinkamancy to affect senses of individuals.


Your theory is elegant, but it is canon that Jack can manipulate the senses of an individual.

Episode 030 wrote:
“How ‘bout all of this?” she remarked over her shoulder to Chip Tunage, whose megalo followed closely along at her flank.

“Hm?” he said.

“This welcome,” she said, indicating the tower.

Chip frowned a bit, looking oddly apologetic. “Well, you know,” he shrugged, “what’d you expect, right?”


Episode 030 wrote:
It was just for your eyes, of course, Royal Highness