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From: Guido Roessling <[e-mail]>
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY: Quelrik 87
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Date: 10 Oct 1995 17:27:09 -0400
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***
Take a look at QELRIK's WWW Page at
http://www.pu.informatik.th-darmstadt.de/dida/qelrik.html
***

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Philosophy
=================================================================

Fox knelt next to the roped orc, and glanced up at Percy, raising one pale
eyebrow. "You do quick work," she murmured.  Her fingers touched one of
the knots near the orc's twisted shoulder. "Good knots." She looked back
down at the orc, eyes hooded and smoldering.  "So what has this gre'fash
said about us?"

She had deliberately said the last sentence in orcish, using the vilest
insult she could think about. It had no direct translation in any other
language Fox knew, but she knew tribal wars had been known to start over
such an insult. It had something to do with sex, but as far as Fox could
tell almost all orc cursing had to do with that. 'Most human cursing
too,' she thought.

"Shekath," the orc spat back.

"Tral koran," she snapped.

"Irell!"

"H'sha khallka!"

"P'bela!"

Fox's eyes widened in shock, and her head whipped around to glare at
Percy. "Show me where those pressure points are," she snarled, her eyes
turning slowly back to the trussed orc. "The most instant and painful
one," she added through gritted teeth.

"A master of the orcish curse, I see," Percy commented.  "A worthy pursuit
for any young woman of quality, what?"

"Very funny." She rose, resisting the urge to kick the orc in the face as
she strode to where her horse was tethered.  A quick check of her
saddlebags confirmed nothing missing; her bow and quiver were still in
place strapped to the outside.  As she ran her hands over the horse's coat
to confirm it wasn't injured, she said, "So what did our enchanting friend
say about us?"

"I'm given to understand that you're the vanguard of some invading army or
other," Sir Percy replied.  "Apparently these chappies have been gathering
in force to raid local settlements, perhaps even Trelham itself.  There's
the usual orcie talk of plunder, torture, blood, and such like, but
there's at least one interesting bit.  The chap behind it all isn't an
orc."

"Some hobgoblin or similar creature, I expect," Fox muttered as she
unhitched the baggage.

"Well, no, actually.  Thing is, no one's seen the blighter, expect for
maybe one or two of the top orcie lieutenants."

Fox heard Sir Percy and the captive exchange a few more words in orcish.
The words took her a little by surprise, and she turned to make sure
another orc hadn't come on the scene.  Just listening, with her back
turned, Fox would not have thought that Sir Percy was one of the two
speaking.  To the naked ear, two orcs were conversing.

"No doubt about that," Sir Percy continued. "Our captive here says his
comrades think he's human, judging by what accent they heard.  Though
orcie types don't usually speak even their own language very well, I
daresay."

"I know what he said," Fox said with minor irritation. "I don't need a
translator. Human, huh? Probably thinks I'm a human, too."

"Elf," the orc said, leering at her from the ground.

"Wrong again, friend," Fox shot back in the creature's own tongue. "Teeth
you like? Kick them out I can." She raised an eyebrow at Percy. "Your
accent's good. Those gutterals rip out my throat. Know nothing about this
'human' you do?" she said back to the orc.

"Saw not," the orc said only after a careful prod of Sir Percy's booted
toe. "Know I don't."

"You speak Shirsa, by any chance?" Fox asked Percy. "This . . . thing
seems to understand a little of the local lingo."

"Sorry, no." Percy shrugged. Shirsa was the language of the Dark Sidhe and
was still widely spoken in Tamorin.

"Valcoazan?"

"Enough to haggle at the market, no more."

"Chichini?"

"It's not my best language," Percy said, switching easily to Chichini,
with no trace of an accent.

"Like to hear your worst," Fox muttered. Her native language was a variant
of Chichini, and it had been some time since she had spoken it. Her rustic
Lhynnish accent was still heavy, she knew, but she continued anyway.
"We're not part of any invading army. Fact is, I didn't know any of these
people until a half-day ago, when I helped them out of the orc hold."

"Very noble of you," Percy said. He looked a bit puzzled.

Fox's mouth flattened in a tight line. "I owed it to someone," was all
she said about it. "It's a long story, and I really don't want to stand
out here." She gathered her horse's reins in gloved hands and nodded to
the orc. "Was up to me, I'd just kill him, but he's your problem."

"Oh, my dear, it's absolutely no trouble at all," Sir Percy said as he
drew his long dagger.  He and the orc exchanged a few very brief words and
then Sir Percy quickly slipped the dagger into the orc's right side.  The
creature actually smiled as it quickly expired.

Fox was taken a bit aback.  It just didn't seem like Percy to do something
that, to many, would seem so cold-blooded. "That was quick," she
commented.  "Another trick of anatomy?"

"No quicker death for them than a hard puncture to the spleen," Sir Percy
responded cheerfully as he wiped the black blood from his blade.  "I
promised him a quick, sure trip to his maker at the outset.  That's how I
got him to speak so freely.  And after all," Sir Percy knowingly smiled,
"it's not as if they're creatures with a real soul, is it?  What?" Sir
Percy adjusted his hat and cape as he turned and started back the way
they had come.

"Hold it right there," Fox shouted back. "Just what in hell do you mean by
that?"

Sir Percy turned, plumes floating elegantly on the early morning breeze.
"What?" he asked, genuinely surprised at her obvious anger.

"That . . . what you said about him having no soul." Her finger stabbed at
the orc, whose blood pumped lethargically from his side, spurred on by a
rapidly failing heart. "I don't know what the hell to make of you. Were
you joking, or not? Because if you weren't, we're going to have something
more than words, you and I."

"What I meant, Dear Lady, is that they have no spiritual principle
embodied in their makeup, don't y'know," Sir Percy responded sotto voce.
"There's no immaterial essence or animating principle about them.  They're
spawned.  They aren't rational.  They simply hate.  They don't think or
come to a decision based on their own feelings because they have none of
their own, I daresay.  They are creatures of another creature.  In short,
they have no free will.  Even most animals have at least that, now don't
they?"

Fox scoffed softly. "I've heard similar arguments to justify the idea
that I have no soul. Haven't you heard the old jokes about elves and Sidhe
and such being part of a vegetarian diet? Well," she snatched the geldings
reins and started to lead him toward the way they had come, "I don't find
them funny."

"Obviously argued by someone not familiar with his subject," Sir Percy
replied.  "Just because it walks about on two legs and knows how to dress
itself doesn't mean it has a soul, and conversely, just because it don't,
don't mean it doesn't, if you follow me.  A soul is such a valuable
commodity," Sir Percy smiled as he looked directly at Fox. "We must be
sure its value is realised, what?"

She looked at him levelly, pale eyes piercing, a small, somewhat superior
smile coloring her thin lips. "Orcs have souls," she said with a degree of
finality. "Not particularly sophisticated ones, but they do have souls. In
fact, so do birds, dogs, cats, rabbits and hedge-hogs. They aren't as
complex as other souls, and perhaps they don't exist in quite the same way
as others, but they have them." Fox's smile widened. "Humans, and elves
and Sidhe and all the other races of the world aren't quite as
sophisticated and advanced as they would like to think."

"Oh?" Sir Percy asked. "That a fact?" Clearly, he was not convinced by her
statement. "And which scholar concocted that little gem?"

"Not a scholar. No theory or postulation or long-winded story that just
seemed to make sense at the time. There's fact and evidence, if you ask
the right source." She looked away toward the rolling terrain, frowning.
Her brain felt like it was screaming in her skull. "Philosophers are just
looking at the wrong evidence."

"Well, m'dear, if you wish to expand the definition of 'soul' to include
'alive' then you'll get no argument from me, I daresay.  But for my money,
it's free will and what y'do with it that counts, what?  That orcie back
there has no say in the matter as regards the cosmos.  It kills, hurts,
maims, and fouls not out of choice but because it was compelled to do so
by its creator.  Didn't have any say or choice at all, what?  Now, folk
like you and me, that's different.  We can choose our own gods (or not)
for all our own reasons, for good or ill, better or worse.  Many even
choose not to choose, though that in itself is something of a telling
choice, if you follow me.  And as for asking the right source, well, we
could list Uncle Tom Colbeigh and all, couldn't we?  Who says what's
right?  You?  Me?  No, I'm not making any sort of judement, Dear Lady,
just registering an opinion, don't y'know.  I've quite enough to keep
track of without getting a frightful wigging, what?  And I'd just hate to
see anyone do anything terribly drastic and final without due
consideration. But I'm sure you've no worries on that score, I daresay."

Fox shook her head. "As for your belief that souls mean free will . . .
well, as you said, you were just registering an opinion. Some souls are
stronger than others, more complex, but the energy is there, beyond that
which just makes life. I'm certainly not offering that a carrot has a
soul, but it lives and grows. My definition and understanding of it comes
from a source I'm not sure you'd find unless you happened to be a . . .
follower of a particular school of thought. Personally, I don't fall into
the free will argument. I think we'd like to believe we have free will,
but we don't. At least, not as much as we'd like." Fox flashed a flat
smile to Percy. "As to never doing anything drastic or final without due
consideration, well, it's clear you don't know me very well yet, my
friend."

"But I'm _so_ looking forward to doing just that!" Sir Percy said
cheerily as they disappeared over the ridge.







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