User:JohnB/Fanfiction/The Creative Imperative

Ogrul gra-Sorghum was a good student of the arcane arts as he advanced up the Mage ranks to Magician, but there were many professors at the Arcane University who felt his advancement was too swift. For an Orc, he was very good at ingratiating himself with his master professor, who saw promise in him, for indeed there was some, but other professors who'd taught him complained that he wasn't very thorough in his research and experiments, often doing things in half measures that yielded quick preliminary results then fizzled for lack of attention to any follow-up and completion.

These complaints were brought to his master's attention on numerous occasions, and his master brought them to his attention as well, but he would promise to do better only to go on doing the same half-baked work he'd always done. The problem was that his master also had the tendency to jump to conclusions before obtaining complete results, and so it was a foregone conclusion that his master actually stood in the way of real progress. The best the other professors could hope for was to try and slow down his ascent into the upper echelons of Mage ranking--or else hope something would happen that would scare him into becoming more attentive to what he was doing.

Actually, it was the latter hope that finally won the day, but not in a way anybody would have actually expected because nobody knew what became of him.

Ogrul's master was in need of a certain book that could only be obtained at a fairly high price at Jobasha's rare books, so he entrusted a sack of gold to Ogrul and sent him to the Vivec guild to obtain the book. There was nothing Ogrul enjoyed more than perusing the bookshelves, even when he had the sought after book in hand, and he spent hours doing so. However, he found another book entitled "On Homunculi". He glanced about like a teenager in a dirty-book section before taking it from the shelf. It was an ancient tome, and when he opened it, he was enthralled at the quaint lettering and the odor of ancient parchment. He placed the book back on the shelf, but he found it very difficult to walk away from it. He took it again and approached Jobasha.

"Master Jobasha," he inquired unctuously, "would it be possible to buy both of these books with this gold?"

Jobasha lifted the sack with an experienced hand to judge roughly how much gold was in it.

"I'm afraid not," he answered shaking his head. "The other book is worth three times as much as the book your master has ordered."

"I have my own gold, but not with me right now because I didn't anticipate finding anything like this. Would you mind very much if I took this on credit?"

"I would need to get your master's permission first," Jobasha explained.

This was highly problematic since homunculi were not included in his field of research, and his master was amiable, but not amiable enough to allow him to have this book.

"Please, Master Jobasha, you know I have always come to you, and you know where to find me if only to shake me down." (Jobasha was one of very few people who could use the Mage Guild teleportation without actually being a member of the Mage Guild.) "I really must have this book, and I swear by Zenithar to repay you!"

"This is highly irregular," Jobasha warned, "but if you do not honor your oath to Zenithar, not only will you become the pariah of Vvardenfell, I will come personally to shake down your master for what you owe! Is this understood?!"

"Understood!" Ogrul responded, but once the book was in his tote bag and he was on his way back to the Arcane University, he had already forgotten who Zenithar was and what he had sworn to him.

After Ogrul delivered the book his master had ordered, he quickly returned to his private room in the dormitory.

Had he taken a greater interest in what the book contained, he would have learned some very useful things. Chapter One was a historical overview of the science of summoning homunculi, which in itself was not all that necessary to find out, but Chapter Two was about the nature of a homunculus. It means "little human", and so a homunculus possesses the same sense of dignity and self-worth as regular humans do. However, some scholars question whether homunculi actually exist. If they do, why has nobody ever seen one? Some scholars argue that they do exist but not physically; they are as spirits. Well, ghosts and specters exist, and those can be seen wherever they haunt. Therefore, other scholars argue that a homunculus is actually a figment of the summoner's imagination. A previous owner of the book had underlined this with an inked quill because he found it very significant.

Chapter Three dealt with the circumstances under which a homunculus should be summoned. It must be summoned with a specific purpose in mind, not to have it act as an all-purpose butler. Their ability to teleport anywhere at all made them especially useful as messengers, to take an envelope to a specific door and slip it underneath. The homunculus could then be sent back to the nether region where it originated. This is something Ogrul would have found extremely useful to know. The final chapter dealt with the care and maintenance of a homunculus. One must be very attentive to what sort of tasks to assign it so as not to make it feel unappreciated by giving it demeaning things to do. Above all, one must never do any harm to a homunculus because to do so would make every homunculus summoned thereafter extremely hostile, in which case the summoner may as well give up summoning.

Ogrul hastily opened the book on his desk and flipped through a number of pages until he came to the diagram he'd seen earlier. He then took chalk and sketched the pentagram onto his floor and carefully wrote in the various astrological and alchemical symbols in and around the pentagram. Then he flipped through a few more pages and came to the magical incantation. He intoned this, and a bolt of lightning struck the center of the pentagram producing a six-inch tall person that looked very much like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Ogrul was elated. It worked.

He got down on his hands and knees and examined the little person.

"Shall I stop?" the little guy asked by telepathy because he didn't have a mouth for speaking.

"What do you mean stop? You've just begun."

"Shall I stop?" the little guy asked again.

"Of course not!" Ogrul responded angrily. "You shall carry on and do my bidding!"

The rest of the day was spent playing with the little guy. He could read Ogrul's mind, and so carried on doing Ogrul's bidding without Ogrul's having to express it in words. Ogrul gave him the name Fred.

The next day, things were somewhat different. Instead of Fred, he had two homunculi.

"Which of you is Fred?"

One raised his hand, and Ogrul took an inked brush and wrote "1" on his back and wrote "2" on the other.

The two frolicked merrily, and Ogrul had an interesting idea. He made two tiny badminton rackets, a tiny net, and shuttlecock. He set up the game and taught the two how to play. It was great fun watching them go at it, and Ogrul was cheering for one and then for the other.

The following day, there were four homunculi. Ogrul was a bit nonplussed by this, but he made a few more sports items, and soon he had them playing doubles, and this was far more interesting than the singles because now he could hold a tournament.

The following day, there were eight homunculi. This is when Ogrul suspected something was very wrong, and this was born out when there were sixteen the following day, and then 32 the day after, then 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024...

"FRED!" he shouted one day. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"Master," Fred answered, "please go to page 156 of the book you haven't looked at since conjuring me."

Ogrul grabbed the book and flipped to page 156:

He read: "When thou hast summoned the homunculus, it will ask thee: Shall I stoppe? Thou must tell it to stoppe, or it will continyue to dooble ad nauseam."

"Fred," Ogrul said, "please stop."

"Stop what?"

"Doubling, you little bastard!"

He grabbed Fred and flung him into the hearth where he screamed as he burned to a cinder.

The other homunculi were mortified to see their grandpere reduced to ashes.

Ogrul could sense something was about to happen, and it did.

Hundreds of homunculi flew into a rage, and that was the end of Ogrul.

Jobasha never got paid for the book, but no matter--it was returned to him after it was found Ogrul had apparently absconded.