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【书籍搬运】A Hypothetical Treachery 假定的背叛

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原文出处:http://www.uesp.net/wiki/Skyrim:A_Hypothetical_Treachery

假定的背叛

作者:安西尔·莫维尔

翻译:aurax
校对:pcsjx

剧中人物
玛尔瓦西安:一个高精灵战斗法师
因佐莉娅:一个黑精灵战斗法师
多赛图斯:一个帝国人医疗师
斯奇阿瓦斯:一个亚龙野蛮人
一个幽灵
几名强盗
地点:精灵森林

当帷幕升起,我们看到传说中瓦伦林地精灵之森那薄雾蒙蒙而又纵横交错的景色。四面八方都能听见狼嚎声。一个满身是血的爬虫类,斯奇阿瓦斯,从树枝上跳下来,环视着四周。

斯奇阿瓦斯:安全了。

因佐莉娅,一个漂亮的黑精灵法师在野蛮人帮助下从树上爬下。周围传来了迫近的脚步声。 斯奇阿瓦斯按剑要拔,因佐莉娅也做好了施法的准备。可是什么也没有出现。

因佐莉娅:你在流血。你应该让多赛图斯给你治疗一下。

斯奇阿瓦斯:他在洞穴中施法过多,魔力已经耗尽了。我没事。如果我们能从这里出去,并且没人需要最后这瓶治疗药剂的话,它就归我了。玛尔瓦西安哪儿去了?

高精灵战斗法师玛尔瓦西安和帝国人医疗师多赛图斯在树上现身,两人一起抬着一个很重的箱子。他俩笨拙地搬着战利品从树上下来。

玛尔瓦西安:我在这儿,但为什么要让我抬着超过我抬不动的物品?我一直以为和强壮的野蛮人一起探索地牢的好处是他能帮我搬所有的战利品。

斯奇阿瓦斯:如果让我搬着那些,我就无法腾出双手战斗。如果觉得我错了可以告诉我,不过你们三个谁也没有足够的魔能从这里活着出去。在地下电死烧光那堆侏儒后你们就没有魔能了。

多赛图斯:不是那堆,是那些侏儒。

斯奇阿瓦斯:别担心,我不会做你们以为我要做的事。

因佐莉娅(天真地):做什么?

斯奇阿瓦斯:杀掉你们,然后独吞那件玄铁甲。承认吧--你一定以为我有那种想法。

多赛图斯:多么完美而又可怕的想法。我从不认为任何人,不论多么卑鄙与堕落……

因佐莉娅:为什么不?

玛尔瓦西安:正如他自己说的那样,他需要搬运工。他不可能一边搬着箱子一边击退精灵之森的土著。

多赛图斯:斯丹纳尔说,亚龙人是吝啬、狡诈的典型……

因佐莉娅:那你为什么要让我活着?

斯奇阿瓦斯:我没必要让你活着,只不过是你比他们两个长得好看,皮肤光滑水灵。此外,如果有什么东西追过来,你会首先成为它的猎物。

附近的灌木丛中传来一阵嘈杂声。

斯奇阿瓦斯:过去看看。

因佐莉娅:可能是一头狼,森林里有很多。你自己去看。

斯奇阿瓦斯:你有一个选择,因佐莉娅。过去,你还可能活下来;留下,你肯定没戏了。

因佐莉娅想了想,然后灌木丛中走去。

斯奇阿瓦斯(对玛尔瓦西安和多赛图斯):希尔维纳的国王会为这件铠甲付个好价钱的,我们三个人分会比四个人分划算。

因佐莉娅:你说得对极了。

因佐莉娅突然漂浮到舞台顶端。一个半透明的幽灵从灌木丛中现身,并扑向另一个人,那人恰好是斯奇阿瓦斯。当野蛮人尖叫着用剑砍它时,幽灵向他发出了回旋气流的爆破,把他撕碎散落在地上。幽灵接着扑向医疗师多赛图斯,正当幽灵集中精力向可怜的多赛图斯施放霜冻魔法时,玛尔瓦西安发出了一个火球,幽灵蒸发掉了,消失在雾蒙蒙的空气中。

因佐莉娅落回地面,玛尔瓦西安正检查着多赛图斯和斯奇阿瓦斯的尸体,他们两个脸色苍白,都中了幽灵吸取力量的魔法。

玛尔瓦西安:你到底还是留了些魔能。

因佐莉娅:你也一样。

玛尔瓦西安从多赛图斯的包里拿走了治疗药剂。

玛尔瓦西安:是的。好在治疗药剂没有因他跌倒而破碎。好吧,我想现在只剩我们两个来收集战利品了。

因佐莉娅:我们没有彼此就离不开这个地方,不管是否情愿。

两个战斗法师拾起箱子,迈着沉重的步子在灌木丛中小心地前进,不时停下来听听脚步声和其他奇怪的声音。

玛尔瓦西安:看看我是不是明白了,你还剩下一些魔能,于是你选择用它使斯奇阿瓦斯成为幽灵的目标,迫使我使用大多数剩余的魔能消灭那东西,这样我的力量就不及你多了。真是一流的想法。

因佐莉娅:谢谢。这只是符合逻辑罢了。你还有力量再施放其他的法术吗?

玛尔瓦西安:那是自然的,一个有经验的战斗法师总是会一些小而高效的法术来对付这样的局面。这么说来,我也可以认为你也在衣袖里藏了些小把戏吧?

因佐莉娅:当然,正像你说的那样。

他们停了一会,等到远处撕破天空的嚎叫渐渐消失,他们又步履艰难地上路了。

因佐莉娅:就当是个智力测试,我想知道如果我们不再遇到任何战斗,当离开这里时你会用什么魔法对付我呢?

玛尔瓦西安:我希望你不是在暗示说我想过杀了你,然后财宝就都归我了。

因佐莉娅:当然不是,我也不会那样对你。只是做个智力测试。

玛尔瓦西安:好,如果只是一个单纯的智力测试的话,我对你施一个吸取生命的魔法,这样可以夺走你的生命力来治疗我自己。毕竟,在这到希尔维纳的路上有不少强盗,一个受伤的战斗法师,又带着贵重物品,可是非常诱人的目标。我可不想活着逃出了精灵之森,却又死在野外。

因佐莉娅:这是一个很合理的回答。换做我自己的话,再说一遍,不是说我自己想这么做,我想一个简单而突然的闪电魔法可以很好地达到我的目的。我同意强盗很危险,但别忘了,我们还有一瓶治疗药剂呢。我可以轻松地杀了你,然后把自己完全治好。

玛尔瓦西安:非常可行。那问题就是看谁的魔法在那一瞬间更有效了。如果我们的魔法互相抵消,我夺走了你的生命力,却又被你的闪电法术重创,我们两个可能都会死掉。或者离死不远了,那样仅有的一瓶治疗药剂根本帮不了我们中的任何一个,让其独活下来。真是讽刺啊,两个阴险狡诈的战斗法师,哦不是说我俩阴险狡诈,只是说这个实力测验的结果,是徘徊在死亡边缘,完全耗尽魔能,只留下一瓶治疗药剂可选。那么谁会得到它呢?

因佐莉娅:从逻辑上讲,无论是谁先喝到它,好吧在这种情况下应该是你,既然你那么坚持。现在,如果我们中的一个受伤了,但没有死呢?

玛尔瓦西安:逻辑上,阴险狡诈的战斗法师会拿走药剂,留下他那受伤的同伴听天由命,我想。

因佐莉娅:那听起来的确是最明智的。但请想想战斗法师们尽管毫无疑问是狡诈的,却也确实是尊重彼此的。或许在那种情况下,胜利者会把药剂放在他或她重伤的同伴身旁的树上。然后当受伤的那个恢复足够的魔能以后,他或她就可以漂浮到树枝上拿回药剂。那个时候,胜利的一方早已拿走了战利品。

两人听到灌木丛中的声音时停顿了一会。他们小心地爬过树枝以避开它。

玛尔瓦西安:我明白你说的意思,但如果他或她让对方活下来,就有悖于我们假定的这个战斗法师的本性。

因佐莉娅:或许你说的对,但我的观点是最狡诈的战斗法师也会因打败了某人而沾沾自喜,并且让那个人活下来,终生生活在耻辱之中。

玛尔瓦西安:这些假定的狡诈的战斗法师听起来……(激动地)天亮了!你看到了吗?

二人快速穿过树枝并跳入后面的灌木中,于是我们看不见他们了。然而,我们可以看见太阳的微微光晕。

玛尔瓦西安(在高大灌木丛后面):我们成功了。

因佐莉娅(也在高大灌木丛后面):没错。

突然响起一道闪电魔法的爆炸声和耀眼的红色光环,然后便静寂了下来。过了一段时间,我们听到一个人爬树的声音。是玛尔瓦西安,他把药剂高高地放在枝头,窃笑着,从树上爬回地面。帷幕降落下来。

尾声。

帷幕拉开,是在通往希尔维纳的道路上。一群强盗围着用法杖勉强支撑身体的玛尔瓦西安,他们轻易地抢走了他的箱子。

土匪一:看看我们在这里找到了什么?你不知道像你这样的伤号随便上路不安全吗?要不要我们帮你减减负?

玛尔瓦西安(虚弱地):请……让我……

土匪二:来呀,魔法师,和我们战斗把抢它抢回去啊!

玛尔瓦西安:我不行了……太弱了……

突然,因佐莉娅飞了进来,从指尖向强盗们放出闪电魔法,他们屁滚尿流地逃跑了。她落在地上,并拾起箱子。玛尔瓦西安瘫倒在地,即将死亡。

玛尔瓦西安:假设,要是……一个战斗法师对另一个施放的法术不会立即伤害他,但是……可以吸收他的生命和魔能,一点一点地,这样他当时不会知道,不过……自信地把药剂留下会怎么样?

因佐莉娅:她是一个最狡诈最卑鄙的战斗法师。

玛尔瓦西安:那么……假设……她会帮助倒下的敌人……以便享受他继续……生存的耻辱吗?

因佐莉娅:以我的经验看,应该是不会的。她可一点都不傻。

当因佐莉娅拖着箱子朝希尔维纳走去时,玛尔瓦西安在舞台上断了气,帷幕落下。

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A Hypothetical Treachery
by Anthil Morvir
A One Act Play


Dramatis Personae
Malvasian: A High Elf battlemage
Inzoliah: A Dark Elf battlemage
Dolcettus: A Cyrodiil healer
Schiavas: An Argonian barbarian
Ghost
Some bandits
Scene: Eldenwood

As the curtain rises, we see the misty labyrinthian landscape of the legendary Eldengrove of Valenwood. All around we hear wolves howling. A bloodied reptilian figure, SCHIAVAS, breaks through the branches of one of the trees and surveys the area.

SCHIAVAS: It's clear.

INZOLIAH, a beautiful Dark Elf mage, climbs down from the tree, helped by the barbarian. There is the sound of footsteps nearby. Schiavas readies his sword and Inzoliah prepares to cast a spell. Nothing comes out.

INZOLIAH: You're bleeding. You should have Dolcettus heal that for you.

SCHIAVAS: He's still drained from all the spells he had to cast down in the caves. I'm fine. If we get out of this and no one needs it more, I'll take the last potion of healing. Where's Malvasian?

MALVASIAN, a High Elf battlemage, and DOLCETTUS, a Cyrodiil healer, emerge from the tree, carrying a heavy chest between the two of them. They awkwardly try to get down from the tree, carrying their loot.

MALVASIAN: Here I am, though why I'm carrying the heavy load is beyond me. I always thought that the advantage of dungeon delving with a great barbarian was that he carried all the loot.

SCHIAVAS: If I carried that, my hands would be too full to fight. And tell me if I'm wrong, but not one of the three of you has enough magicka reserved to make it out of here alive. Not after you electrified and blasted all those homunculuses down below ground.

DOLCETTUS: Homunculi.

SCHIAVAS: Don't worry, I'm not going to do what you think I'm going to do.

INZOLIAH (innocently): What's that?

SCHIAVAS: Kill you all and take the Ebony Mail for myself. Admit it -- you thought I had that in mind.

DOLCETTUS: What a perfectly horrible thought. I never thought anyone, no matter how vile and degenerate --

INZOLIAH: Why not?

MALVASIAN: He needs porters, like he said. He can't carry the chest and fight off the inhabitants of Eldengrove both.

DOLCETTUS: By Stendarr, of all the mean, conniving, typically Argonian --

INZOLIAH: And why do you need me alive?

SCHIAVAS: I don't necessarily. Except that you're prettier than the other two, for a smoothskin that is. And if something comes after us, it might go for you first.

There is a noise in some bushes nearby.

SCHIAVAS: Go check that out.

INZOLIAH: It's probably a wolf. These woods are filled with them. You check it out.

SCHIAVAS: You have a choice, Inzoliah. Go and you might live. Stay here, and you definitely won't.

Inzoliah considers and then goes to the bushes.

SCHIAVAS (to Malvasian and Dolcettus): The king of Silvenar will pay good money for the Mail, and we can divide it more nicely between three than four.

INZOLIAH: You're so right.

Inzoliah suddenly levitates up to the top of the stage. A semi-transparent Ghost appears from the bush and rushes at the next person, who happens to be Schiavas. As the barbarian screams and thrashes at it with his sword, it levels blasts of whirling gas at him. He crumbles to the ground. It turns next to Dolcettus, the healer, and as the Ghost focuses its feasting chill on the hapless Dolcettus, Malvasian casts a ball of flame at it that causes it to vaporize into the misty air.

Inzoliah floats back down to the ground as Malvasian examines the bodies of Dolcettus and Schiavas, who are both white-faced from the draining power of the ghost.

MALVASIAN: You had some magicka reserved after all.

INZOLIAH: So did you. Are they dead?

Malvasian takes the potion of healing from Dolcettus's pack.

MALVASIAN: Yes. Fortunately, the potion of healing wasn't broken when he fell. Well, I guess this leaves just the two of us to collect the reward.

INZOLIAH: We can't get out of this place without each other. Like it or not.

The two battlemages pick up the chest and begin plodding carefully through the undergrowth, pausing from time to time at the sound of footsteps or other eerie noises.

MALVASIAN: Let me make sure I understand. You have a little bit of magicka left, so you elected to use it to make Schiavas the ghost's target, forcing me to use most of my limited reserve to destroy the creature so I wouldn't be more powerful than you. That's first-rate thinking.

INZOLIAH: Thank you. It's only logical. Do you have enough power to cast any other spells?

MALVASIAN: Naturally. An experienced battlemage always knows a few minor but highly effective spells for just such a trial. I take it you, too, have a few tricks up your sleeve?

INZOLIAH: Of course, like you said.

They pause for a moment before continuing as a fearful wail pierces the air. When it dies away, they slowly trudge on.
 
INZOLIAH: Just as an intellectual exercise, I wonder what spell you would cast at me if we made it out of here without any more combat.

MALVASIAN: I hope you're not implying that I would dream of killing you so I would keep the treasure all to myself.

INZOLIAH: Of course not, nor would I do that to you. It is merely an intellectual exercise.

MALVASIAN: Well, in that case, purely as an intellectual exercise, I would probably cast a leech spell on you, to take away your life force and heal myself. After all, there are brigands on the road between here and Silvenar, and a wounded battlemage with a valuable artifact would make a tempting target. I'd hate to survive Eldengrove merely to die in the open.

INZOLIAH: That's a well-reasoned response. As for myself, again, not saying I would ever do this, but I think a simple, sudden electrical bolt would serve my purposes admirably. I agree about the danger of brigands, but don't forget, we also have a potion of healing. I could easily slay you and heal myself to full capacity.

MALVASIAN: Very true. It would end up a question then of whose spell was more effective at that instant. If our spells counteracted one another and I leeched your life energy only to be crippled by your lightning bolt, then we could both be killed. Or so near death that a mere potion of healing would scarcely help either one of us, let alone both. How ironic it would be if two scheming battlemages, not saying we are scheming but for the purpose of this intellectual exercise, were left on the brink of death, completely drained of magicka, with one healing potion to choose from. Who would get it then?

INZOLIAH: Logically, whoever drank it first, which in this case would be you since you're holding it. Now, what if one of us were injured, but not killed?

MALVASIAN: Logic would dictate that a scheming battlemage would take the potion, leaving the injured party to the mercy of the elements, I suppose.

INZOLIAH: That does seem most sensible. But suppose that the battlemages, while certainly scheming types, had a certain respect for one another. Perhaps in that case, the victorious one might, for instance, put the potion up a tree near his or her gravely wounded victim. Then when the wounded party had enough magicka replenished, he or she would be able to levitate to the tree branches and recover the potion. By that time, the victorious battlemage would have already collected the reward.

They pause for a moment at the sound of something in the bushes nearby. Carefully, they climb across the branches of a tree to bypass it.

MALVASIAN: I understand what you're saying, but it seems out of character for our hypothetic scheming battlemage to allow his or her victim to live.

INZOLIAH: Perhaps. But it's been my observation that most scheming battlemages enjoy the feeling of having bested someone in combat, and having that person alive to live with the humiliation.

MALVASIAN: These hypothetical scheming battlemages sound ... (excitedly) Daylight! Do you see it?

The two scurry across the branch dropping behind a bush, so we can no longer see them. We can, however, see the shimmering halo of sunlight.

MALVASIAN (behind the tall bush): We made it.

INZOLIAH (likewise, behind the tall bush): Indeed.

There is a sudden explosion of electrical energy and a wild howling aura of red light, and then silence. After a few moment's pause, we hear someone climbing up the tree. It is Malvasian, putting the potion high up in the bough . He chuckles as he climbs back down and the curtain drops.

Epilogue.

The curtain rises on a road to Silvenar. A gang of bandits have surrounded Malvasian, who is propped up on his staff, barely able to stand. They pull his chest away from him with ease.

BANDIT #1: What have we got here? Don't you know it ain't safe to be out on the road, all sick like you are? Why don't we help you with your load?

MALVASIAN (weakly): Please ... Let me be ...

BANDIT #2: Go on, spellcaster, fight us for it!

MALVASIAN: I can't ... too weak ...

Suddenly, Inzoliah flies in, casting lightning bolts from her fingers at the bandits, who quickly scramble away. She lands on the ground and picks up the chest. Malvasian collapses, dying.

MALVASIAN: Hypothetically, what if ... a battlemage cast a spell on another which didn't harm him at once, but ... drained his life force and his magicka, bit by bit, so he wouldn't know at the time, but ... feel confident enough to leave the potion of healing behind?

INZOLIAH: A most treacherous battlemage she'd be.

MALVASIAN: And ... hypothetically ... would she be likely to help her fallen foe ... so that she could enjoy the humiliation of him continuing ... to live?

INZOLIAH: From my experience, hypothetically, no. She doesn't sound like a fool.

As Inzoliah lugs the chest off toward Silvenar, and Malvasian expires on the stage, we drop the curtain.

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