Introduction to Sanjuro
Differing opinions on The Sermon on the Mast, as orated by
Sanjuro
T'skrang of Legend, Swordmaster of Renown and occasional Poet of Epics
As noted earlier, the Sermon on the Mast has provoked a great deal of discussion amongst scholars, questors and the like. Because the Library of Throal wisely elects to present works in a fair and impartial manner, we instead offer these eyewitness accounts. The first excerpt, from a Syrtis merchant, is a criticism of the event while the second piece, a letter from a Throalic citizen, captures the ebullient reaction many people had to the the occasion. And please don't be surprised that windlings know words like ebullient. Because we do.
Vardin Silvertongue
From the journal of Manbajagg the Merchant
13 Strassa 1507 Last night, I witnessed a truly horrible act of the abuse of Floranuus' dictates. A raggedy, misguided T'skrang overindulged in one of the Nectars of Delight that the triumphant Floranuus saw fit to shower down upn the less-than-joyous members of his flock. This would be no unfotunate incident, except that the very clouded T'skrang seemed quite unable to handle a thimble full of the weaker spirits. Nevermind the reported half-cask of low-quality, hard-hitting Thunderblast stout that he consumed. Still, overindulgence is more a virtue than a sin - it frees the spirit and drowns the doubts that paralyze us all.
However, the mockery of all that is true and all that is necessary was unconscienable. To have ignored posted signs, and barrelled through a security detail just to shinny up the mast of Syrtis' most vital ship in the defensive armada around the town, just so he could command the eyes and ears of everyone in the harbor was the mark of one misguided mind, consuming spirits simply to temporarily inebriate his cowardliness so that he could make a desperate plea for attention.
To have mocked the Passions by so roundly and loudly claiming to be a Questor of ALL the Passions while perched in such a precarious position was insulting to the Passions, real questors, and himself. That several people misconstrued his babbling and swaying on the mast as a man speaking in tongues while in a meditative trance is regretable, and will hurt the cause of the Passions for years to come.
Worst off, I have discovered the cause for this offense to society: While delivering himself to his drunken stupor, he bet a slightly less intoxicated windling (who, we are led to believe, drank as much as the T'skrang) that he could make a story to fit any moral. The windling claimed to be a Questor of Mynbruje who was driven to drink by his inability to create illustrative examples for his Book of Virtuous Acts. After several silvers more of cheap drink, the T'skrang agreed to create a story (starting with a given first sentence) to illustrate six morals, also obviously made up on the spot. In exchange, the T'skrang would be made a royal consort to the Windling Princess Heliam and be given six pieces of elemental fire. One final condition was stipulated - the windling insisted that the parables be tested before they were accepted, and traditionally, all testing of morals HAD to be performed from the highest point within a days travel not directly rooted to the ground. Fortunately, such a point happened to be just outside...
At least I can report that the event ended well. The danger to
society was rounded up, along with an annoying pedestrian who saw fit
to punctuate the parables with his own little fireworks show (the
Dreadnaught's sails were soon repaired). Both were dragged off to
jail, where they rot to this moment. I am glad that Floranuus
spurred one of Mynbruje's servants to act on this disgrace. Finally,
the windling who incited such an act was found dismembered the next night
by a troll who was found hacked into windling-sized bits by a steak
knife soon after. It has been since discovered that the windling was
a servant of Vestrial who had sent a code-word out the evening before
that ended up being the order for his death by a large troll. City
Guardsmen are still trying to determine if this event had anything
to do with the windling's death. It has currently been ruled an
unfortunate accident, though several magistrates are pushing suicide
plea (in order to acquire the windling's substantial unclaimed
wealth of six pieces of True Fire....
On the Splendiferous Display Recently Witnessed at the Dreadnought
This letter shows the popular view of the Sermon on the Mast, and its endearing quality which helped Sanjuro Syrtis to his current position as one of the greatest t'skrang adepts to emerge from House Syrtis this decade. Note the indirect references to Maxwell Highcliffe, Wizard of the Coil, Hero of Scavia, and personal Defender of the King of Throal.
My dearest Mother,
I greet you warmly from the Cliff City of House Syrtis! I am penning this missive to ensure that you do not worry about my arrival here; the merchants of House Ueraven take great care with their employees.
The river journey was unpleasant. I caught some sort of river-borne fever and spent most of it below decks in my stateroom on the Syrtisian ship The Cask of Jik'harra. After days of sweaty tossing and turning, my fever finally broke. I stumbled onto the deck to get a view of the magnificent Serpent and found that we were just arriving in the Cliff City!
The Cliff City of House Syrtis is a truly wonderous sight to behold. As I gazed up the steep, high cliff, I could see the wonderful homes carved into its face. It boggles the mind that t'skrang could live in such high, steep places, especially noting their well-known fear of heights. I must not yet understand haropas.
We sailed indoors. While the other guests prepared for departure, I breathed in the clean air, so unlike the stuffiness below deck. My eyes were drawn to the absolutely enormous ship docked--permanently, I'm so told--across the lagoon, where a wonderful sight was taking place. As we sailed nearer, I was able to fully hear and see what was occuring.
A worshipper of Florannus had climbed to the top of the highest mast, and was happily shouting tales and lessons from his life to the gathered crowd below. I flinched, then stared in wonder as explosions of orange flame punctuated his stories at key moments. I was filled with the joys of all the Passions as I listened to this reveler, so caught up in the joy of living that he passed it along infectiously to those around him!
I gazed at the growing crowd, and saw smiles--of happiness, not derision--on their faces. In several places, dancing-circles had broken out. The entire area was possessed of an aura of festivity. I knew then the Passions were still truly alive in Barsaive.
My gaze was soured for a moment as I saw a bitter-faced man watching the joyful t'skrang prophet. This bitter fellow spoke pointedly to his friends, calling the t'skrang a drunk and a fool. I noticed that even this angry fellow's brethren were enjoying themselves, ignoring him, and moving away from his sourness.
As I watched the jolly t'skrang and his wizard friend, I clapped and applauded at the proper times. His stories held great wisdom, and I will tell you them in person when I return home, being as careful as possible to imitate this storyteller's distinctive and enlightened style.
Now, Mother, I must tell you something, and I ask you not to doubt me. But I heard rumours that the Passion Florannus himself attended that gathering in the form of a robust red t'skrang. I also heard that Florannus himself left touched by the stories he'd heard--that the Passion had actually learned something from this Sermon on the Mast!
Although I cannot directly verify this claim, I can say that the experience was profoundly pleasing and enlightening. It was the exact sort of atmosphere that would attract Florannus, so who is to say he wasn't in attendance? The crowd seemed to agree with me (except for the bitter fellow), and howled in protest when the two men were finally hauled away by guards. I later heard that the bitter merchant tried to spread negative rumours about the event, and even may have lit the sails of the Dreadnought on fire to embarass the wizard. Perhaps, Mother, there was the influence of two Passions there tonight, for only Raggok would want to dispel such a joyous and honorable occasion.
Your son,
Iucundus Drimsby
Editor's note: Iucundus Drimsby was later killed by a large baby roc which somehow found its way into the Cliff City. It is thankful that his final letter conveys the peace that had entered his life because of the Sermon on the Mast. Iucundus was cremated and his ashes sent to Throal; the t'skrang Sanjuro and the wizard Maxwell later went on to form the Bearers of Akasha; the roc was killed and roasted for the enjoyment of the city's prisoners.
Excerpts from the biography of Sanjuro
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Last Updated 05/19/98 by John/Paul
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