Eaten alive at a cannibal feast only to have my remains animated as a caddy ?
KEWL!! ^^
Although the PG-13 rating of the board might be of some concern ...
I just wanted to add my voice in here to let you know that I'm greatly enjoying this journal. I just found it about a week ago and have been spending more time reading this at work that doing actual work.
I've just begun to run this campaign and this is a great resource for inspiration.
Thanks for your dedication. I'm looking forward to reading in until the end!
The heat of those accursed volcanoes didn’t abate during the night. For a time I was relatively certain that I was going to die. I kicked off my covers and cloths and fanned myself against the heat with an old scroll page which I’d folded into a fan. Thankfully the darkness and Lavinia’s sheet (which I’ve often used as a cape) shielded my modesty from the men.
In the morning we were thankfully finally able to leave that cursed fissure. I never thought the sweaty jungle air would be a relief, but compared to the oven like volcanic heat, I felt like it was the rainy season back in Sasserine. Our journey back to the village wasn’t quite as favorable as our journey to the temple. It was nearly dark by the time we walked back to into the Oman village. I felt better once we had hit the water, the ocean breeze was quite refreshing, and by the time we returned I felt my old self again.
There was a celebration for us, nothing too elaborate, but the people of the village we happy to show their thanks. There was plenty of strange food and drink, served only on special occasions our hosts assured us, and although some of our group eyed it suspiciously, I happily gobbled down the strange fare (after I was sure it wasn’t poisoned). Some of it was organ meat, of that much I am certain, but there were also many strange tubers, fruits, and vegetables, and many preserved foods that were salty, vinegary, or even sweet tasting. There was strong drink as well, along with dance and music, but I found it was mainly the men taking part and so I found a quite part of the village to update my journal . . . last night, after the heat of the volcano, I didn’t feel much like writing. Even now I can feel the heats effects on my body but I think I’ll sleep well tonight.
When much of the excitement had died down I rejoined the other. Fredrick showed me the tooth he’d collected as a prize from Zotzilaha, I got the sense that he wanted me to tell him more about it, but sadly there was little I could tell him . . . even with the magical monocle that Blenak had sold me on my last visit to Sasserine. I felt that it was somehow familiar to me though, like something I’d read or heard in a lecture years ago, but I just couldn’t grasp at.
“You know,” I said to Fredrick, “some of these items are only useful when they’re attached to your body. There are some truly horrible items, the hand and eye of Vecna for example, but I guess some people think the incredible power is worth the sacrifice of their humanity and sanity. This tooth looks like it could fit into someone’s mouth . . . maybe you could sell it to someone who’s willing to try that?”
Fredrick nodded and left with a strange look in his eye. For a moment I wondered what he might be up too, but then it occurred to me that he couldn’t possibly be thinking what I thought he might be thinking. The man cared about his looks far too much for that . . .
I didn’t have much time to ponder the possibilities, shortly after my discussion with Fredrick I found the chief and her wise women joining me, and we had much business to discuss.
“Tell me Tristan Lidu,” the chief said, “are you married?”
“Me?” I laughed, “heavens no! Nor do I think I will even marry . . .”
“We were unsure,” one of the wise woman said, “we thought that perhaps one of the men you were traveling with . . .”
“No,” I said quite quickly, “they are friends and companions nothing more.”
“Ah,” said the chief looking to my companions, perhaps sizing them up for potential marriage.
“They’re all pretty much available,” I said, “except for James, the one with the pink swords, so if you’d . . .”
“And what of you Tristan Lidu?” The chief said turning back to me, “did any of the men catch your eye?”
Surprise must have been written on my face because many of the aged women seemed to have a chuckle at my reaction. I stammered for a polite response but thankfully the chief held up her hands signaling that I didn’t need to reply.
“A marriage of your tribe with mine would be a great event but not something that is necessary for there to be peace between our people. You are still young Tristan Lidu, and a woman with much strength and resilience, but there is wisdom that comes with child birth and motherhood. I think this is something that you could use. This is something we can discuss later though; we must talk of this threat to Farshore, and what we can do to help. You aided us when we needed and now we must help your people as well.”
“You needn’t feel obligated,” I said, “we helped you because it was the right thing to do, but you might not want to risk your lives for . . .”
“Strife and hardship either brings neighbors together,” the chief nodded, “or it drives them apart. We will send supplies and warriors.”
“If we don’t stop these monsters they may head north,” I warned them.
“Let them,” the chief nodded, “most of our villages are off the shore, they need to come inland, and the longer they stay in our waters the greater the chance of meeting Baaragrauth, the great eel. He would teach them respect and fear.”
“But . . .”
“We have other questions Tristan Lidu,” one of the wise women said, “Have you experienced any strange dreams while on the island?”
My mouth went dry. “Why do you ask?” I gasped.
“There are stories and legends,” the woman said, “they speak of a time of trouble, and of outsiders who break the great curse on our people and this island. There are signs that this time may be at hand. The stars seem right. Some of your friends match the people from our prophecies, in stature if not completely in deeds, and even you seem to resemble the dream haunted traveler. We’ve been watching you, and you clearly hear voices, but do you see things in your dreams?”
“I don’t think I hear voices, but I do have dreams . . .” I said slowly, “but so does everyone. I seriously doubt that we’re heroes from your legends.”
“What do you dream about?”
“That’s personal,” I said, the last thing I needed was someone telling me I was crazy because of my dreams, “I’m sorry but I’m not going to share my dreams . . .”
“Have you had any visions?” another of the wise woman asked.
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“You’d know the difference,” the woman said.
“Those that travel to the temple of Zotzilaha and sleep at the gate sometimes are visited by visions,” the chief said (although I imagine that what they were talking about I would call hallucinations brought on by heat stroke), “did you have any visions yesterday?”
“I didn’t sleep yesterday,” I said, “no dreams, no visions, absolutely nothing unusual.”
“We’ll see,” said another of the wise women, “we’ll see. I still say that it is too soon to tell.”
“We have another request,” I said seeing the lull in the conversation, and anxious to change the subject, “and I thought I should ask while we have some time. We need tar from the tar pits to the northwest, more then you could transport by hand, and I was hoping that we could transport by cart through your territories . . .”
“This is not a problem . . .” one of the wise women said as she turned to the chief.
“But our warriors report that Temauhti-tecuani has moved into the area,” the chief said, “and with him hunting the tar pits even our own warriors are nervous to gather supplies there.”
“Temauhti-tecuani?” I asked, trying to remember the tales of the infamous seven, “He’s the dinosaur right?”
“Dinosaur?” I heard the women around me ask.
“He is the lizard that walks on two legs,” the chief said, “the savage hunter, the oldest of his kind . . .”
“He has one hand and one eye . . .”
“He runs faster than a man and eats more than a village . . .”
“He . . .”
“He’s dead then,” I finally cut in, “if we need to kill him to secure the tar pits then he’s placed himself between us and our goals . . . and that’s a very dangerous place to be these days. He’s clearly outlived his welcome and I intend to free up those tar pits for Farshore and the seven villages.”
“Be careful Tristan Lidu,” the Chief said, “he may be no more than a beast, but he is still dangerous and incredibly powerful. He may be the death of you and your companions yet.”
“Not me,” I said holding up my ring for the wise women to see, “I’ve received a gift from Zotzilaha and I’ve taken the boots from the master of the Fogmire. Temauhti-tecuani will neither see me nor will he be able to reach me. We’ll send word as soon as the great lizard is dead.”
“If your friends are in danger you may do something foolish to try to save them,” the chief warned.
“Nonsense,” I laughed, “you have me mistaken for a fool. I’m the most cautious woman I know.”
“If you say so Tristan Lidu,” the chief said with a raised eyebrow, “but I think it is likely that you don’t know very many women.”
‘What does she know?’ I asked myself later, ‘I’ve had a few reckless moments, but it’s not as though I’m going to charge some giant reptile, even if it was to rescue a friend. I had better sense than that.’
Here’s to no more dreams or visions,
Cthulhu dreams
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------
_______
“Wake, Tristan Lidu, wake,” said a strange voice.
My eyes opened and I was suddenly wide awake. It wasn’t as though I’d just woken up either, I wasn’t groggy, I wasn’t tired, I was just suddenly completely and totally awake. I sat up in bed. The room was still. There was no sound. Not even the sound of breathing.
“I must be dreaming,” I muttered to myself. My nights had been relatively void of dreams after that series I suffered a little over two weeks back. Ever sense we’d dealt with those damn dirty apes my nights had been relatively peaceful, I still had the odd flash here and there, but nothing even remotely so vivid or as terrifying.
“You’re not dreaming Tristan,” the voice snapped, there was something vaguely familiar about it, enough so that the hairs on the back stood up, “if you were I’d be taller.”
I scanned the room. Kiki lay in the bed beside me . . . but she wasn’t moving. I gasped, she looked like a statue, yet when I touched her she felt soft and warm. At the end of the bed Hop-Toy sat in silent vigil. I picked him up and he flopped over in my hand. I felt panic building inside me.
“He’s not dead,” the voice reassured me, “nether are your friends. I’ve simply pulled us out of time for a few moments. When our conversation is finished I’ll return you to your time stream as though nothing happened.”
“Who are you?” I asked, trying to locate the source of the sound.
“Who? That implies I’m an entity of physical form or at least a being that would register on your level of comprehension . . .”
“Very well,” I said, climbing out of my bunk, the sound seemed to be coming from the floor somewhere, “what are you?”
“You must forgive me,” it said, “I’m still not completely familiar with your language, everything is light and sound to you, and I struggle for the words that your puny mortal brain might grasp. This isn’t a simple thing like teaching you to swim . . .”
“You’re the voice I heard in the water!” I knew the voice sounded familiar, “you saved my life!”
“Yes, then you promptly stopped hearing me again, as though panic or distress was the only frequency I could channel through.”
The voice seemed to be coming from my haversack of all places. I picked and held it to my ear. “You were in my head before. Now it sounds like the voice is coming from somewhere.”
“I’d thought that this island would present all sorts of opportunities, but no, you had to prove annoyingly strong and level headed.”
I could hear the voice emanating from inside, I’d have thought that the magic would muffle the sound, but at the time I didn’t really didn’t put too much thought into it . . . I began emptying my haversack.
“You’ve been trying to contact me?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, to no avail, both before and after your near death experience. I grew tired of trying and was forced to call in some favors.”
“What sort of favors?” I asked absent mindedly as I pulled out item after item from my haversack.
“I needed a focus, and I knew you weren’t going to stumble across one accidentally, so I needed someone to help me build one . . .”
“What sort of focus?” I asked as I pulled out the demon head . . . something caught my eye . . . like a twinkle, or a hint of movement . . . I turned the cursed thing around so I could see its face . . .
“Boo!” it said with a smirk.
I screamed! I flung the Bar-lguras head across the room as hard as I could. It seemed to laugh for the entire flight . . . then the laughter stopped as it thumped into the wall.
“Ow.” the voice said, “so this is what flesh creatures call pain. Strange, not at all what I’d have imagined, too bad . . .”
“I . . . we killed you,” I said standing and pointing an accusing finger at the severed head.
“Killed? Me? Don’t be so silly,” It said, seeming to roll under its own power to face me, “I’ve never been alive in any of your senses of the word, so how could you possibly kill me? No it was the demon you killed, his flesh was far more malleable to my desires, and once you consumed his flesh, so your body absorbed traces of his body, I was able to attune your body to my thoughts as well. Now I can use this head as a tool.”
“What are you?” I asked again.
“To you?” it asked, “to you I must seem a god! But I’m not parasitic. I don’t care for the plight of mortals or anything on your stupid mortal plane, I don’t accept prayers, and I certainly don’t care for the plight of souls that have shed their worthless mortal coils.”
“Then . . .”
“Yes, what do I want with you? It seems silly really, you’re one of the few capable of drawing from the far realms, if that’s a flaw or a gift is perhaps a matter for debate . . .”
“You’re from the far realm?”
“How you manage to exist thus far is truly a marvel,” it muttered, “no, I’m not from the far realm. If I were why wouldn’t I simply transport myself to your world?”
“Because . . .” I couldn’t really think up a suitable answer, “maybe my world is deadly to you?”
“Rather the other way around,” it said raising an eyebrow, “so although I don’t care for your plane of existence, I’d still rather not crush it, or you specifically, with my being.”
“Then . . .”
“Imagine each and every star you see in the sky is a world,” the head talking head began.
“Yes, yes, I’ve thought of that concept . . .”
“Then imagine that all those worlds, plus your own, from far enough away looks like a small glowing dot, much like a hundred bon fires in the night might look from miles away . . .”
“But . . .”
“Now imagine that there are many more glowing dots, perhaps as many as there are grains of sand or stars in the sky, and if you were able to do this you might be able to master the concept of the universe. That’s the easy part. On top of all this you must imagine multiple universes, none of which are directly connected to your own, and if you were able to somehow able to reach another universe you’d simply be popped out of existence in a quick and violent reaction. So what keeps these universes together? This is where the planes come in, every world, in every universe in all of existence is connected to another plane of existence . . . but not necessarily every plane is connected to your particular world. So if you could imagine every point of light connected to multiple threads, which in turn connect to other worlds, and in this way they connect the entire universe . . . you with me so far?”
“So you come from another universe?”
“No,” it said without skipping a beat, “pay attention, a couple of these threads are loose, so to speak, and they float and flutter in the breeze of existence, and occasionally, and thankfully only occasionally, one of these threads touches a thread from another universe. This usually brings catastrophic doom and destruction, such as when a certain elder god reached across this gap and touched your universe, but thankfully such occurrences are rare by my standards, and completely nonexistent by yours . . .”
“But dread Cthulhu . . .”
“Not in the time of man, or at least what you call man. That event happened before even the birth of the Tanar’ri, before the rise of your gods, and the tale was passed down from one now extinct race to another now extinct race. Your stories (thankfully) don’t come from any living memories. Now where was I? Yes, that is the basis of your entire existence, nothing more exists for mortal flesh creatures such as your self . . .”
“Then what are you?”
“I’m nearly there! Learn some patience. So as I was saying some of these threads hang loose and sort swaying. Some even dangle outside of the boundaries of the universes they are linked too. The dimension you know as the far realms is one such thread, it is very loose indeed, and it flutters dangerously close to many of these other universes. As a result many of the entities you find in the far realms are more like the beings found in other universes. That is to say that those of us that exist in the furthest reaches, the areas that are actually closer to another universe then they are to your own, are quite strange and even toxic to your world. My natural form would shatter what little remains of your mind . . .”
“But you just said that you weren’t from the far realms!” I snapped.
“I’m not,” it said, its eyes glaring at me, “these constant interruptions actually slow the discussion down. If you’d learn to sit and listen you’d speed things along . . .”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled.
“S’all right,” the head said, “I’m effectively immortal, and so I have all the time in the universe . . .”
“Well I don’t,” I snapped, “unless that’s a quality of whatever time pocket you’ve pulled me too, so please continue.”
“The far realms are also extremely chaotic and messy. As they travel and wind through the void they leave residuals, shadows, or imprints in the vast nothingness. I come from a pocket dimension that was once part of the far realms of this universe, yet a pocket that floats dangerously close to another universe. For this reason I’m neither part of this universe nor part of another. I cannot enter into your world without causing irrevocable harm and yet if I don’t take some action my world will be destroyed when it’s inevitably sucked into another universe.”
“So you want my help?”
“Yes,” the thing said, “in a manner of speaking I suppose that’s the case. You see I don’t follow along the same timeline as you, in my world certain events have already occurred, and . . .”
Suddenly something occurred to me: “you’re working with the rhyming girl!”
“What? The rhyming girl?” it said with a puzzled look on its face, then something occurred to it, “Oh wait,” it said with a laugh, “yes! Yes I suppose I am. Funny you, at the ripe old age of seventeen, should call her a ‘girl’ thought! She needed to convince you to eat this things brain didn’t she?”
“She said that I was her,” I muttered.
“Well that is true in some ways, perhaps not intellectually, physically, or even personality wise,” the head said with a condescending roll of its eyes, “but I understand you both share the same soul or something. She chooses to look like you I think, she even has the same habit of cutting people off, but she’s usually right . . . and is far more interesting and pleasant to be around . . .”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t take it personally; in fact see it as a complement, for if it wasn’t for her I wouldn’t have even bothered with this primitive backwater . . .”
“Is there something you want?” I snapped, “Otherwise I’d rather continue with my dreams.”
“Well it doesn’t really work that way,” it said, looking up as if it were thinking, “I’m not here looking for your help, not yet anyways, rather for now, I’m here to help you.”
“What? Why?”
“Call it banking a favor. I’ll advise you and sometime in your future you’ll have a chance to return the favor.”
“How can you help me?”
“Admittedly I know little of what you call spell casting, it all comes naturally to me, like breathing comes naturally to you, but I do understand the universe and future events. I can’t really answer too many questions about the future, that could alter things and muck up your time stream, but I can offer hints from time to time and answer the occasional question.”
“I don’t think the others . . .”
“I have no intentions of talking with the others,” it said, “when I want to give advise I’ll do so like this, out of your time stream.”
“What should I call you?”
“Good question,” it said with a blank look on its face, “naturally my language and your own are completely different, for one you are 92 appendages short and can only talk out of one orifice.”
“What does you name mean then?”
“Ok,” it said, “using only colors describe Tristan Lidu to me then.”
“Point taken,” I said, “we’ll just have to call you something else then . . . what about Apehead?”
“No,” it muttered, “although a head is all I possess, calling me ‘head’ makes me sound less then whole, or worse, incomplete. No, you call yourself a human, I shall be ‘something’ man as well.”
“Apeman?”
“Apes are mocked by humans, ‘dumb as an ape’ you say. I want something that implies intelligence and cunning.”
“Foxman? Maybe owlman?”
“But I have the head of a primate, an orangutan, which I’m well aware from reading your mind is part of the ape family . . .”
“You’re reading my mind!” I gasped in horror.
“How do you think I know your language? Observation and study? I’m immortal but even I have better things to do. It’s far easier to take the language straight from your mind. Now wait a minute, before you fill the air with your pointless complaints and whining I just stumbled across something in all that verbiage you have floating around up there, ‘dumb as an ape’, but ‘smart as a chimp’! I like it! Call me Chimpman.”
“You . . .”
“Chimpman . . .”
“You’ve been reading my mind all this time?”
“Only sense you were about fourteen.” The filthy ape head spouted.
I was speechless.
“Well this has been a wonderful first session,” the severed said, “I formally introduced myself, explained out places in the universe, and even got a flesh name in the process. Overall a very eventual night. Shall we place everything back as we found it so I can return you to the time stream?”
“Wait . . . why do . . .”
“Because although you weren’t in the time stream, everything around you is, and I would think that your familiar for example might become distressed if he should suddenly find himself on his back in the middle of your bed.”
“So . . .”
“Yes this is very similar to the spell you call ‘time stop’, seeing as you were sleeping at the time when I drop you back into the time stream you’ll be back to sleep . . .”
“Wait,” I said trying to get a word in edgewise, “if you drop me back to sleep will I remember any of this?”
“Perhaps . . .”
“Can you give me time to write it down?”
“I suppose,” he grumbled, “but put me back in your bag first. Chimpman will be answering no more questions tonight.”
I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination but the head felt strangely heavy. I watched the thing as I carried it back to my side of the cabin and my haversack. It seemed almost alive, its eyes even blinked, how could an alien intelligence think to do that? Unless it was simply mimicking my own movements . . .
I quickly replaced everything the best I could and copied out our strange conversation. If this entry remains in the morning I’ll know I’ve not been dreaming.
|
Hi,
I have only read up to the end of SWW so far (I am trying to avoid spoilers and that's where my group is at).
Your journal is extremely interesting to read! It's so much fun to compare our 2 groups. I really like the detailed descriptions you give us of Tristan's thoughts and opinions. Also, you have a very good vocabulary.
Wow, she and Kale REALLY don't get along (at least, not up to where I read). If they weren't both "Good" I bet they'd have tried to kill each other already. :) Again, I really see a parallel between Tristan vs Kale and Belessa vs Lagaan in my campaign. In each case, the woman is the informal leader of the group, and the man is just trying to contradict her at every opportunity he gets.
Thanks for posting the stats of some of the other members of the group, it's much easier to follow the story when you can "connect the dots in your mind" by knowing what each PC can and cannot do.
I also like Tristan's familiar, and their interaction. In a previous campaign I ran, the handsome, high-charisma SUN ELF sorcerer of the group also had a TOAD familiar, and I would often make the familiar speak to him in an absolutely retarded voice... It was hilarious.
Actually, funny anecdote: the familiar started with no name. During the adventures, they met a Druid who had a beautiful dire wolf animal companion called Moonbeam (whom my avatar is based on!). The toad fell in love with the magnificent animal and its name, and asked his master to be given the same name. So he became henceforth known as Moonbeam... THE TOAD... :/
;)
All right, I'll continue reading in a few weeks once we've cleared Here There Be Monsters. Have fun in your campaign and keep writing this great log. :)
|
|
Cthulhu F'thang
I've been reading this thread to occupy my time whilst working on the night shift
Love everything about this campaign...the Lidu/Kale dynamic..Lidu's confused sexuality...Her gradual descent into madness..Kiki's obvious training in the Justin Whalen school of trap detection(just couldn't resist referencing the Movie on that one)
Plus the interludes with Gt Uncle Worrin and other important people in her life...all of which make Lidu one of the most 3D characters I've come across in a long time.Keep up the good work
I find it particularly enjoyable that Olangru's noggin has become a focus for some Thing to interact with Tristan, further escalating her erosion of mental stability.
The rhyming-alternative to herself is probably the most singularly enjoyable aspect of her character to date so far Sir Humual. Again, KUTGW with this!
|
Just wanted to say - I stumbled on this camapign journal only a few days ago, and have since spent nearly all of my free time reading every journal entry. Outstanding! Great character development, conflicts, everything. Now I find myself anxiously waiting for the next entry...
Keep up the great work!
Disaster nearly struck today, yet tonight we’re all alive and well, and we have potentially made some new allies.
Again Fredrick’s estimations were almost exactly precise as we arrived outside of the tar pits about an hour before lunch and quickly scanned the area for our prey. I knew Temauhti-tecuani was truly a ferocious predator from the warnings from the oman villagers, and from Larissa’s journal. Still, we figured, we’d slain one of these beasts before, how much tougher might another one be?
The thing I hadn’t taken into account was that the tar pits proved to be a massive area. You wouldn’t think that a dinosaur could hide anywhere, but there was jungle surrounding those boiling bitumen bogs, jagged rocks, and thick greasy clouds of toxic smelling smoke. The best we could hope to do was patrol the area and hope to stumble across the feral lizard. Had I the ability to fly for any length of time I’d have hunted the damn beast myself and destroyed him with my magic, but because we were on foot, and because this was a tar pit with plenty of places for someone to slip and sink into we wisely decided to stick together.
“This monster is capable of swallowing someone whole,” I warned the others, “let’s try to take it out with missile fire while I summon up something big and meaty to stand in front of it.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Kiki said. The young halfling relied almost exclusively on her crossbow as of late. I wasn’t sure why, it certainly wasn’t a quick or (in my experience) a particularly reliable weapon, but I guess you didn’t need to get up close to anyone to use it, and that meant you were normally out of any direct danger. She’d certainly gotten good with the practice. Kiki could even shoot a target though a mass of people with ease, which she’d done on a couple of occasions now (much to our horror). This was a feat I wouldn’t even try with my magic. Kiki could also fire twice as fast as I could, easily as fast as someone with a bow, and far, far quicker then James or Orlani’s could with their pistols.
Everyone was in agreement on the plan. Not that it was radical or extrodanry, everyone remembered Kale nearly being devoured alive, and nobody wanted a repeat performance. It was common sense I suppose . . . but there’s a saying about the best laid plans . . .
The first sign of trouble was actually a chorus of high pitched screams. They were almost animal, shrieks of pure terror, but there were some notable variations in the voices that made it sound almost like a language. The voices were far, far closer than we would have liked, almost directly on top of us, and if it hadn’t been for the smog we would have been surprised exactly how close we had inadvertently wondered to our suddenly distressed fury neighbors.
Our eyes were immediately drawn to the source of the sound and, amazingly, the wind seemed to cooperate with our curious eyes as it blew off the oily white smoke like curtains. There, no more than ten fathoms away, was a large group of (what I initially thought were) small terrified lemurs . . . their large expressive eyes wide with fear. Our eyes darted to the source of their terror. A monstrosity, bigger then three loaded wagons, was darting low to the ground from the nearby jungle! Seeing a monster that size move with such grace and speed was truly terrifying. We’d faced one of these beasts before. That encounter had given me misplaced confidence and a touch of false bravado, but now I saw that what we’d dealt with was a young male, and this, streaking towards us, was a powerful, cunning, and deadly hunter. This was Temauhti-tecuani. This was our target and already he was well within bow range and quickly closing.
I think I might have panicked. I used my ring to hide before summoning. Perhaps I should have started summoning immediately. It may not have made a difference, but as I play the scene over and over again in my mind, I wonder if things might have gone differently had I managed to summon something weighty earlier? I don’t think anything would have helped. The timing was bad. Kiki stepped forward and fired her crossbow. Temauhti-tecuani surged forward with a speed that none of us could have predicted . . . in an instant Kiki was gone.
There was panic and pandemonium. I instinctively summoned an orb of cold, I added every trick my mind could muster to it, and simultaneously Kale surged forward with his broad sword. The blows struck the mighty beast hard and he opened his mouth to share his anger. It was the most powerful and penetrating noise I’d ever heard. The ground shook, I felt my breastbone vibrating with the thunder, and lesser men and women might have emptied their bowls and would have been considered wise to have turned and fled. Not us though, I think I might have roared back as I summoned another orb. Our cleaver plan was gone by the wayside now, we all surged in to kill him . . . we all wanted blood. Buffy smashed away with her mace, Kale with his sword, James and Fredrick slashing and stabbing away.
In seconds Temauhti-tecuani was cut and leaking gore from over two dozen ragged wounds, great frozen blisters formed on his upper body, arrows rained down on him from our new found primate allies, but the great lizard still had fight left in him. His massive head darted down and he snatched Kale up in his mighty jaws . . .
That was it though. The beast shuttered and fell. Kale climbed out of its mouth bloody and bruised but somehow still alive. The primates continued to pepper the carcass with arrows well after the monster fell and stopped twitching. I dropped to my knees, slicing them on the sharp volcanic rock . . . I felt empty inside . . . my best friend . . .
Suddenly Buffy was screaming. I pulled myself to my feet. The priestess had found something and was running over to fetch it. I felt a strange surge of hope, and my eyes, already wet with tears, followed our priestess to a rough bloody patch of sod as my feet slowly began stumbling after. Buffy lifted a tiny blood soaked body from the turf. The skin was pale. The body was limp and lifeless. It almost looked like a porcelain doll. Buffy prayed to her god and color slowly returned to the tiny bodies’ limbs. It was Kiki, somehow she’d survived being torn to shreds by those massive teeth, and was likely expelled when the beast had blasted us with his voice.
Kiki’s eyes slowly opened, “What happened?” she asked.
I felt such joy and relief, I felt myself hugging and crying over Kiki in a heartbeat, “Tristan what’s wrong?” Kiki asked.
But there was no more time to be emotional. I saw the small creatures that we’d inadvertently saved gathering thirty feet or so away. Now that I could get a closer look at them I could identify them from Larissa’s journal: they were Phanatons. I wiped my eyes and released Kiki, theses were potential allies for Farshore, and thanks to Larissa’s journal I knew exactly how to address them!
“Greetings noble phanatons,” I said in sylvan, “I am Tristan Lidu and we’d like an audience with your tribe.”
The small creatures looked at me with blank stares. Was my sylvan that bad? I tried again:
“We are from the human lands to the south,” I said slowly, “you had a human stay at your village a few years ago. Do you remember Larissa Vanderboren?”
Again they looked at me with puzzled looks. They nervously talked amongst themselves in their own strange language.
“Do you understand elven?” I asked in elven, it was a language very similar to sylvan; it shared the same alphabet, and sylvan was likely the root language for the elven people. Again they looked at me with quizzical looks on their faces.
“Do you understand draconic?” I asked in the ancient mystic tongue. Draconic was the root language to most magic and if the small forest people had any spell casters amongst them it was possible that they understood the strange words. Again they looked at me with blank expressions.
“What about abyssal?” I asked, more on a whim then any real hope, and I wasn’t surprised when they didn’t respond.
“What about the Dwarven tongue?” I asked using the gruff sharp language, the creatures were getting confused now, and I was running out of options.
“What about the mother tongue?” I asked in ancient Suloise, the creatures chattered amongst themselves and looked about ready to leave.
“Do you understand Oman?” I asked in desperation, the small creatures almost all snapped round and looked up at me with understanding in their eyes.
“We know the language of the dark tall ones,” a particularly quick and sharp looking phanaton said stepping forward, “thank you for saving us from Temauhti-tecuani. We come in peace. Are you friend or foe?”
“I am Tristan Lidu,” I said, “and we come from a village far to the south. We mean you no harm and would like to speak to the leaders of your people.”
“Thank you Tristan for saving us,” the cleaver phanaton said again over the chorus of thanks from the others, “we must take you back to our village so you can tell the tale of the slaying of Temauhti-tecuani!”
This brought cheers from the group of phanatons, they somehow seemed immediately convinced that we were safe and friendly. Then came the questions:
“is your friend alright?”
“Where are you from?”
“How tall are you?”
“Was that magic?”
“What sort of your hat are you wearing?
“Why are you wearing clothes?”
“Why are two of you normal size and the rest of you so big?”
“What do you have in your backpack?”
The hoard of phanatons surged forward while asking their questions, most didn’t even seem interested in hearing answers, and soon they were swarming all over us, and I mean quite literally swarming all over us. One was on my lap, another on my back and in my hair, and another two or three were at my sides. My companions were all getting the same treatment. There was a regular chorus of “what’s that, what’s that for” and “can I have this?”
They had a bad habit of looking with their fingers, which was very annoying and disconcerting, but when they were done and we were all sorted we were happy to find that they didn’t actually steal anything. Thankfully once they figured out that Fredrick also spoke their language it took some of the pressure off of me.
“You should come to our village,” the cleaver one said, when they were finished greeting us, “we’re taking the tar back home with us. You should come with us.”
“That would be fine,” I said to the Phanaton, “but what is your name? I’d like to talk to you some more but I’ll need to call you something.”
The phanatons laughed with glee at my request for some reason. I wondered if I’d made some sort of social blunder.
“There is no exact translation for my name, in your words I would be called ‘bird with red belly that dances and sings, but hides from the predators,’ the Oman don’t have a name for this bird. It is very rare, and it was only chance that one was seen on the day I was born. It’s not as beautiful as the rainbow jungle birds, its back is dark and grey, but I think it is a lucky creature with a handsome small yellow beak. ”
“I think that’s a robin,” I said to smart creature, “they’re rare where I live as well, but very common to the north. I think I’ll call you Robin if you don’t mind. It is a very pretty bird with a beautiful song voice.”
“Very well,” said the newly minted creature, “from now on in the human lands I will be known as Robin. Now let’s all go back to our village.”
The phantatons quickly finished loading up the jugs with tar and the entire lot of us set off for the phanaton village. The journey, as it turns out, was going to be at least three days overland. Perhaps more if the land and its creatures weren’t going to cooperate with us. The questions started up again the moment we started walking. It was going to be a long three days.
Kiki seemed fine, she was very tired throughout the rest of the day, but amazingly she seemed none the worse for wear. Most of the cuts had come from the volcanic rock she’d been tossed and rolled across. She’d somehow missed the teeth completely which was good because those teeth were as big as her and would have cut her in half in an instant. If she had been in poor spirits she certainly didn’t show it, and she quickly took to the phanatons, and they to her, even though none of them spoke the same language.
Kale was spared the worsted as well. Although he’d been in danger of being bitten in half, he’d somehow had the wherewithal to wedge his sword between jawbone and tooth, and although he still ended up with great gashes in his leg and side he was still in relatively good shape afterwards. After he’s been healed Kale set about cutting the head off the dinosaur while our new fury friends set about collecting their tar, but the job proved to be too much even with the Fredrick and James. The head alone was about the size of a carriage and it took James and Kale together to lift the darn thing. There was talk about me teleporting them back to Farshore with their new prize but I kyboshed that idea quickly. Although I’d been sure to prepare for a quick escape, I’s only prepared the one spell, and so while I could get us back to Farshore I wouldn’t be able to get us back again today. We had no idea where the phanaton village was, and we couldn’t afford leaving the phanatons for fear of never coming across them again. Thankfully Churtle had a suitable idea:
“Why nots sinks it in the tar?” she asked the three blood soaked men, “you wants the skull right? The tar will preserve it for when we gots time!”
“Not a bad idea,” James said, but Kale still looked slightly petered.
‘you get a crown, he wants a crown,’ Hop-toy croaked, ‘you get a severed head, he wants a bigger severed head . . .’
“And,” Churtle was continuing, “after ninety days meat is just right . . .”
“Wait,” Fredrick coughed, “you’d eat that after it’s been in there to rot?!”
“You don’t eats the skin,” Churtle said rolling her eyes, “and all poison and bad belly gas is gone out of the meat. The meat is smooth and melts in your mouth. Almost like paste.”
Not surprisingly there were few takers on Churtle’s rotten meat recipe. The Boys did sink the head into the tar with sturdy piece of rope coiled around it but I wonder when we’ll be back again to collect our prize?
After a long day’s hike I summoned my house and we camped down for the night away from the phanaton’s incessant questioning. Tomorrow will bring another day of hiking.
Enough with the questions,
Cthulhu dreams
WOW O.O Guy you never mentioned this Magnum Opus ...kudos man kudos. I just found it, so far nice job!
Today we finally reached the Phanaton village and were treated to a small celebration. We gained some important allies, but more importantly, gained more information about the island.
I think I’m almost starting to get used to eating bugs . . . our phanaton guides were busy foraging when we woke. This was their usual routine, they knew how to live off the land, and they knew that the jungle could produce a veritable bounty of food if you knew where to look. They returned to camp producing a veritable feast of fruits, stalks, tubers, and crawlers. It would have been rude not to accept their generous gifts . . .
“Try this one!” Robin said, as he eagerly tried handing me a fat larva that was bigger than his fist, “they’re wood worms, and they’re the best!”
“Thank you Robin,” I said, hoping that my face didn’t look as green as I felt, “I’ll have Churtle cook it up for me . . .”
“What? No! Fire ruins them! You have to eat them raw. They’re so sweet and soft this way,” he said placing the massive larva in my hand, “I got you the biggest one I could find. It was a lot of work because he’d dug himself in so deep but I managed to dig him out without breaking him. The bigger they are the better they taste!”
I glanced down at my guide. Those large eager expectant eyes looked up at me filled with hope and joy, and then to that horrible disgusting wriggling worm and I just knew I was going to have to come up with a wonderfully inventive lie.
‘This ought to be good,’ Hop-Toy said as he climbed out of my pocket, his transformation was complete now, and in the morning sun his skin seemed to glisten with all the colors of the rainbow. His arms were now almost humanoid in appearance, his biceps having grown to twice their previous length, and his webbed paws now looked more like hands. His eyes had grown in size as well, perhaps as much as a twenty five percent larger, and they seemed to swirl with an inner light in an almost hypnotic pattern. Despite these amazing changes he didn’t look at all unnatural, strange and exotic sure, but not necessarily unnatural . . . his alternate form on the other hand . . . Hop-Toy could now seemingly turn himself inside out, becoming a mass of tentacles and organs, it was unsettling at best, and it should have been especially terrifying to me, as Hop-Toy is an aspect of my being, and now a physical representation of the far realms corrosive influence on my psyche. But it didn’t bother me. I thought Hop-Toy’s new look was fascinating.
“Are you going to help me think up a lie?” I asked him in abyssal.
‘Nope,’ he said, ‘you’re always hiding your true feelings, worried about the feelings of others over those of your own, and I’m not going to be party to that. Do try to enjoy your worm though.’
He wasn’t talking about the Robin and worm and I knew it. I didn’t want to talk about that subject anymore, I’d forbid him from even mentioning it, but he was far smarter than was healthy for him these days, and he was able to find parallels to act as parables in my everyday life. It was annoying. I’d hoped that the jungle and all this dangerous preparation would let me forget about my problems for a while. Thankfully Churtle came to my aid.
“Hey Boss!” Churtle chirped behind me, “I didn’t slaves over a hot stove so you coulds ruin your appetite! You can eats it, maybe, after I gets the porridge ready.”
I turned and Churtle took the disgusting thing out of my hand. “You is always eating things you shouldn’t. You should eat healthy foods more. Maybes if you eats all your porridge you can have it fors desert.
“Too many sweets isn’t good for her,” Churtle said confidentially to Robin as she stepped close to the clever Phanaton, “and if we makes the village tonight there’s sure to be more sweets . . .”
Robin nodded. There was a very serious look in his eyes, “our shaman is always telling us that belly aches are caused by bad eating. Too much of one type of food, not enough of another, eating spoiled foods. These things are bad for you. You should listen to your kobold friend.”
“And the worst part is,” Churtle said, “she’s a human, a wizard, and a noble. They is very hard to cooks for because there is so much that they can’t eat because it makes them sick.”
“I didn’t know,” Robin said, looking me over with concern, “guess I should be careful what I feed her huh?”
“Let’s mes see it first,” Churtle said glancing up at me, “she bes very smart, but she puts almost anything smaller then her fist in her mouth.”
“Thank you Churtle,” I said in draconic after Robin had left, I wasn’t exactly pleased with Churtle making me out to be an idiot woman child that couldn’t feed herself properly, but I was happy for the results, “I really didn’t want to eat that . . .”
“So kays,” Churtle said with an enigmatic little smile, “I know the boss not like a lot of things . . .”
Churtle quickly turned and went back into the cabin (which was serving as her kitchen). I couldn’t help noting that she carefully carried the wood worm with her, and, as she turned to leave I could have swore she mumbled something like ‘that’s why I grinds things up . . .’
We ate breakfast before another day of trudging through the jungle. Churtle’s cooking was excellent as usual, but I couldn’t help but be suspicious of the taste, was the porridge slightly sweeter then before? I churned the oatmeal with my spoon searching for unidentifiable parts. Much of what the phanatons had foraged Churtle had sliced up and remained on the side to add at our leisure, namely the fruit, stalks, and the roots, but Churtle had also fried up some of the bugs to crispy perfection, and I wasn’t the only one brave enough to sprinkle a bit of fried insect onto my porridge. It added some refreshing crunch and flavor, quite enjoyable really . . . if you could forget what you were eating.
After breakfast I managed to find Fredrick alone. It had been nearly a week sense he had put the mysterious tooth in his head and I wanted to know if there were any side effects.
“How are you feeling?” I asked him, “any side effects? Any unusual urges? You haven’t acquired a taste for human blood or anything, have you?”
Fredrick glanced around, clearly not comfortable talking about this subject in front of others, “No, I’m fine,” he quickly answered.
“Nothing unusual?” I asked, pressing the matter.
“Nothing,” he quickly answered.
“Can I see it?” I asked. I wanted to see if his body was changing in any way as a result of adding the tooth, it had clearly taken to his mouth as we occasionally saw it peeking out from under his lip, but I wanted to see how it had set into his mouth. I still didn’t know very much about this tooth and I was hoping for some clues to fuel my research.
“My my,” Fredrick said, as he reached for his belt, “you’re getting quite bold, well I suppose a quick peek wouldn’t hurt . . .”
He started unbuckling his pants, obviously trying to take the ‘can I see it?’ question out of context, “Great,” I said, pulling out my artificer’s monocle, “after you’ve showed me that I can have a look at your tooth . . .”
This wasn’t the reaction he was looking for. Most ladies might squeal and run at the thought of a man exposing himself to her, but I was an educated woman, and I’d taken some anatomy classes. I was very much aware that, for the most part, a man’s sexual organs were no big deal. Holding my monocle up to examine his privates probably didn’t help boost his ego any either. Still, Fredrick was not one to back down, and for a moment I thought he might actually drop his pants to save face, but thankfully he probably came to the conclusion that exposing himself to a seventeen year old girl wasn’t in anyone’s best interests.
“You want to see the tooth,” he said, “fine make it quick.”
Fredrick opened his mouth. I was horrified. Sometimes magic items can cause deformities, or so I’d read, but I wasn’t expecting this!
“Wee Jas!” I gasped, “Fredrick your mouth has gone black!”
“Really?” Fredrick said, he was missing some of the shock to go with it, and I suspected that he already knew. He did care about his looks a great deal, and I suspect he owns a mirror, which meant that he had to have known about the change and had decided not to share with anyone . . . for some reason.
“When did this happen?” I asked, looking him square in the eye. I didn’t want any more lies!
“About a day after I put the tooth in,” he eventually said. I thought he might be telling the truth.
“Does it hurt?” I asked.
“No,” he said, “I feel fine!”
“Look,” I said glaring at him, “I want you to tell me if you start to feel anything odd, and I mean anything. We need to be sure that that thing isn’t going to affect you in some strange way. Some of these items are secretly controlled by strange evil powers. I don’t want something evil taking you over.”
“Tristan,” Fredrick finally said, “I feel fine. If anything changes you’re the first person I’ll tell alright?”
“Fine, fine,” I said backing away, the man was getting irritated, “just remember we’re your friends.”
I was almost certain that he wasn’t telling me the whole truth, he was defensive from the beginning and I felt he was holding something back, but if I pressed the mater now I’d get nothing. Perhaps he might feel like talking about this later. Besides, I needed to research the tooth more, and now I had a rather large lead. I’d talk with Fredrick when I knew more.
We had another long day of walking ahead of us, although when I say ‘we’ I don’t mean me specifically, because now that I could fly I hardly walked anywhere. With my boots of levitation the only reason for me to land these days was to eat, sleep, and to do the unmentionables, the rest of the time I was flying in the air. Not that flying was less work: to control yourself in the air you needed flex and move your body in ways that you didn’t on the ground. I was using muscles I didn’t even know I had. After my first day of flying I was sore all over, some of the stiffness persists today, but the thrill and the feeling of flying was worth the strains. In a few days my body will be trained to the new locomotion, and given time, I’m sure I’ll be as comfortable in the air as I ever was on the ground.
As for the journey itself I have nothing more to report. With the exception of the destination our hike through the jungle was pretty much the same as it was today. I’m still amazed at the agility and grace of the phanaton. They could climb and glide through the trees with such ease. This was why transporting the clay jars of tar was so dangerous for them: in the jungle canopy almost nothing could catch them, but on the ground, waddling around with those heavy clay pots, they were extremely vulnerable. Thankfully, save for bugs and leeches, nothing attacked us.
We walked through lunch, sharing leftovers from breakfast – and not surprisingly there were plenty of bugs left, and we made it to the Phanaton village not long after that. Although I didn’t spot the village before it was pointed out to me I did detect signs of habitation before that . . . the jungle didn’t seem as dense here, there was still plenty of ferns and undergrowth, but no thick vines or twigs everywhere. There were strange calls from the trees overhead. Our guides excitedly answered back and soon the place seemed to be swarming with phanatons, I’m not sure exactly what was said, but soon hoards of phanatons were bubbling all over us (as they had in our initial meeting). This time there were hundreds of them.
The Phanatons led us back to their village. I saw it once Robin pointed it out to me; it sat high in the trees, made up of dozens of platforms as well as many, many individual tree houses. They were scarcely noticeable because of some kind of camouflage. There was no fixed way up into the village, the phanatons themselves got back up by climbing the trees or scampering up ropes and vines that were lowered for them from high above. Thankfully there were a few platforms used for raising supplies from the forest floor and my companions were lifted up to the village on those. I carried Kiki and Churtle up myself. The platforms were slow and I was restless. I had each of them up in no time, as I wasn’t quite strong enough to carry both at once (mainly because Churtle weighs a lot more then she looks she should). No sooner did we land then the phanatons, many of them children, were swarming all around us. We were instantly bombarded with questions.
My companions were eventually winched up and were greeted by throngs of excited villagers. The celebrations began almost immediately. No doubt the tale of our battle with Temauhti-tecuani had spread throughout the village. Small wooden cups were handed out with powerful alcohol mixed some kind of sweet fruit juice and water. It was quite refreshing after such a long hike but I could feel the alcohol going straight to my head. To make matters worse I scarcely had a sip before our overly gracious hosts were falling all over themselves to refill my glass. I knew it would be rude to refuse such kindness. This was going to be a long afternoon.
Eventually we were able to meet with the village elders. They were anxious to talk with us and hear our stories. I let Fredrick do most of the talking, my cheeks were already feeling a bit flush, and I worried that I might stumble over my words a bit. He was able to keep a clear head long enough to secure the aid we needed for Farshore, not that it was particularly difficult, the phanatons were half drunk and hopped up with the tale of Temauhti-tecuani’s defeat. No sooner did Fredrick make the request then the phanatons were cheering for a deal. The village elders did make a show of discussing the issue amongst themselves but they seemed almost as excited as everyone else and with the drinks still flowing freely, it wasn’t long before they made up their minds. I only hoped that the others were responsible in their drinking, alcohol and heights don’t mix well, and I didn’t want to see anyone stumbling over the side. The jungle floor was a long ways down . . .
A feast was prepared. Bugs were on the menu again, of course with so much alcohol in us very few of us really cared, and with everyone in such a jovial mood the drinking marathon showed no sign of slowing down! Death or blindness was a real possibility. Thankfully as the sun began to set there was some respite. Drinking after dark, it seems, was frowned upon. The phanatons had good eyes, even in starlight, but many jungle predators came out at night and nighttime was when everyone needed to stay alert. Drinks were still offered to the guests but thankfully less frequently now and our hosts were willing to accept even a slight rebuff without seeming insulted.
The elders spoke of the jungle, their history, and of the dangerous monsters that stalk the land. I asked them about the rakastas, Lavinia knew of them only in legend, and the omans knew of them only in passing, but the phanatons, it was said, actually traded with them. Thankfully this information proved to be good. The phanatons did know of the rakastas, even where their village was, but we couldn’t convince anyone to lead us there because the phanatons were convinced that whatever great evil destroy the rakastas still lingered. They did give us very precise directions . . . and Fredrick was certain that he could find the place . . . eventually. The Phanatons were also generally nervous of the central plateau. It was a sentiment that was echoed by the omans. Sooner or later, I felt, we’d need to travel there and deal with whatever lurked up there to keep the island safe.
As darkness fell I shared some of our stories with the locals. I used my magic and cantrips to enhance the story, floating high over the gathering with my boots of levitation, and using prestidigitation to add lights and sounds. Some seemed absolutely enthralled with my stories, others seemed more expressed with the magic, but all wanted more by the time I was finished. I was tired though, and I needed my sleep, tomorrow I’d need to travel back to Farshore and report our progress, and most importantly, to tell them that we had secured the tar pits. Tar was desperately needed, not only for Fareshore, but also for repairing the Sea Wyvern. We’d need that loaded onto the Blue Nixie before we sailed it up to the reef where our ship lay.
Tomorrow I return to Farshore,
Cthulhu Dreams.
_______
“Wake up,” that strange voice commanded me, “Tristan . . .”
“What do you want?” I mumbled into my pillow.
“I have a name you know,” the damn ape head scolded, as if I could forget, “but our lessons will not continue tonight. I have but a single task for tonight.”
“It seems like every night . . .”
“Every other night,” Chimpman corrected, “I’m actually running on a forty eight hour cycle, I’m still not completely sure how long a human lifespan is or how much knowledge you can retain, but I figure at this rate I’ll have explained all I need to tell you in sixty three years. Humans live for eighty years right?”
“Some do . . .”
“Alright, then I’d also ask that you try to live at least that long, too bad you spend a third of that time asleep, but you’ll need to wake now and go for a walk.”
“Why?” I asked. What had once been a novelty was now a minor nuisance, being ‘pulled out of the time stream’ as he put it, had been fascinating the first time, but afterwards I noticed my sleep had been horrible. I found myself tired now. Not physically, my body seemed fine, but mentally I couldn’t seem to get it together after these strange visits. My mind seemed to drift, not just because of the information the talking head was spilling, but I felt as though my brain lingered ‘out of time’ sometimes. I felt I was on the edge of something . . . I couldn’t put my finger on it though.
“Just wake up,” he said, “and get me out of this sack! It’s dark in here.”
I reluctantly climbed out of bed and pulled the stupid severed head out.
“Why is it,” I asked, “you never talk or even move in regular time?”
“Some of the things I’ve told you could drive lesser minds over the edge, some of your friends simply couldn’t handle the sight of me, and of course, I can’t really project myself across worlds like this for any length of time. So in the second or two that I can achieve contact I simply pull you out of time so we have all the time we need to have a discussion. Mind you, should you ever reach a friendlier plane I could project myself for a longer period.”
“Alright,” I said carrying the thing outside of my cabin, “where are we going?”
“Just find somewhere you can see the sky.”
I took flight, soon clearing the trees, and finding myself beneath that black and silver canopy. I would have activated my boots at this point, but I suddenly realized that I’d left them beside my bed, and then I realized that I’d also neglected to put on a dress . . . here I was flying over the savage jungle wearing nothing more than a thin shift . . . the thing scarcely reached mid thigh . . .
“Oh please,” Chimpman muttered, “anything that exists in out time is not going to be interested in human women. I want you to locate the moons, note that they’re full? Now look to the western sky and see if you can spy an orange colored dot. Can you see it?”
“yes,” I said squinting, the dot looked like star, but I knew that it moved completely unlike the other stars in the sky. Some astronomers believed it to be another planet.
“Good, one last thing, a gateway between worlds, between planes, and even universes is possible when certain things are lined up. If that dot had sat directly over the two moons a gateway, without a focus, might have been opened to the abyss. Also, you should know that when such an alignment happens, beings from that plane can also sometimes reach across and effect things in your world. You needn’t worry though, such things almost never happen, and even if you live for another eighty years after I’ve finished teaching you there’s no chance of such an alignment in that span.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“No reason. Time to return.”
“This happened a long time ago didn’t it?”
“A long time by your standards, yes.”
“Is that what happened to the oman civilization?”
“That’s complicated,” the ape said, “if you invite a cat into your home and it knocks over a candle that burns down your home, who is responsible? You or the candle?”
“What about the cat?”
“Cats are stupid, you couldn’t blame something that was lacking intent could you? However you were the one to allow the cat in and it was the destructive force of the candle that destroyed everything. Those are the two culprits.”
“Why couldn’t I blame the cat?” I asked, “by that logic I’d be the only one to blame then because I lit the candle. You can’t blame an inanimate object for such a disaster . . .”
“Interesting,” was all he said.
I got nothing more out of him after that.
Hi I finished reading this a while ago chittering with glee. Hopefully the next installment should be soon but I thought I'd give this thread a bump...
Alright alright I wanna see how the Tristen/Lavinia romance turns out! But really this has really been well written and think I've accidently let it slip to one of my players. I've printed out an entry or two to read off line and they found it. Now I have to consult with a certain "Mad" man to see about a few... surprises.
Nummies! ^_^
Ok, new post tomorrow I promise, I need a few more pages on this entry and then the editing . . .
Your fans eagerly await Sir Humual!
The temple of the Jaguar, we spent five days slogging through the jungle to find it, for although the phanatons had clearly marked it on our map, and although I was able to fly high above the jungle to scout for the mysterious temple, rain, fog, and the densely packed jungle hampered our efforts.
Being lost in a jungle tends to end the small talk. There wasn’t much patience that morning as we began our second day of backtracking. Our phanaton allies had marked the temple on our map but as James had happily quipped four days ago “an X on a map is not exactly the same as an X on the ground,” it had seemed slightly amusing then, and it had lifted our spirits after a day of futile searching, but by day four, the first day of backtracking, our good humor had run out. Most of yesterday we’d spent grumbling and cursing both James and Fredrick as if they were somehow the cause of our bad luck. They had taken it upon themselves to navigate, but none of us had any practical woodland knowledge, and I don’t doubt that any one of us that had taken the lead in this mission would have met with similar catastrophic failure. Still it was nice to have someone to blame . . .
“Maybe we should go back to the oman villages or Farshore to find a woodsman,” Kiki said beside me.
“Maybe,” I echoed, truth is I’d been thinking the same thing.
“You know Tolin is an experienced woodsman,” Kiki said, without a hint of a smile.
“I’d rather die of starvation, alone, in the deepest nastiest part of this jungle then ask for his help!” I snapped.
“He’s a big hunter,” she said, quickly talking him up, “always stalking, and trying to bag the big prizes. Like rare birds or young does.”
“The man’s an insolent pig and he seeks to over step his place. He’s always starting fights as well.”
“Tolin is quite the explorer I hear,” Kiki continued, I was wondering why she suddenly so supportive of the great vacuous bore, “most of the ladies say he’s really anxious to go off exploring into uncharted territory . . .”
I was about to respond when something occurred to me.
“Kiki,” I said, my eyes narrowing, “are you trying to make double entendres?”
“No,” she said looking up at me with innocent eyes, “I don’t even know what a single entendre is, how could I possibly make them double?”
‘She’s funny,’ Hop-Toy said. Toads didn’t really laugh exactly, but they did have a strange (almost morbid) sense of humor, and they often, against their better judgment, enjoy sharing that unique sense of humor with their masters . . . much to their master’s chagrin. ‘What’s the matter Tristan? Are you just realizing that Tolin is a poacher?’
“Laugh it up . . .” I muttered under my breath, “you two are a couple of comedians. . .”
“I found something!” Kale shouted from the front, and for a moment the slights were forgotten. A nearly solid wall of vegetation gave way to a clearing on the jungle floor. I use the word ‘clearing’ loosely, it was more of a less densely vegetated depression than an actual clearing, and all sorts of greenery had invaded and reclaimed the village. Two dozen huts sat in around what must have been the temple of the jaguar. Everything was vine covered and decaying. No one had lived in this village for a long time . . . or so we thought . . .
As we approached the temple entrance it seemed as though a great tree trunk shifted . . . it was a snake . . . as long as a ship, and its horrible mouth, with its foot long teeth, bit into Kale’s arm, and in a heartbeat it had pulled Kale high up on top of the wall. We could only watch in horror as the thick coils instantly wrapped around Kale’s body and started squeezing. Kale’s face seemed to almost instantly go purple as capillaries burst and blood was forced to his head. The others were unable to reach the massive snake and were forced to resort to missile fire. For a moment I considered trying to ice the monster, or summoning something that could reach the beast, I told myself that Kale was tough, that he could last for a while, and another part of me said he probably deserves a bit of squeezing, but another part of my brain told me that Kale was a friend and I couldn’t risk Kale’s life. Also he was our heavy hitter and I needed him up and fighting if we were to slay this beast.
I took to the air and danced through the jungle growth towards Kale, thinking that my ring of invisibility would allow me to rescue Kale completely undetected, but as I got within a few feet of Kale I heard the snap of the snake’s mouth snapping at the air where I’d been only a blink earlier. I placed my hand on Kale and pulled him through the 4th dimension. I placed us down just out of the snake’s reach on the other side of the wall. The snake responded by snatching up Kiki and attempting to crush her. It seemed Karma was in my favor.
Kale and the others opened fire with their ranged weapons while I blasted it with my magic. Moments later the snake dropped Kiki and attempted to flee. We weren’t feeling particularly benevolent at the time though, and we chased after it, and brutally put the giant handbag down. Kiki and Kale were more or less ok, despite their ordeals. Buffy’s healing had them looking as good as new in no time. After I was sure there was no permanent damage I felt a slight tinge of sadistic glee. Kiki had been teasing me and fate had seen fit to punish her . . . and Kale, well, he could always use a bit of a lumping. He certainly earned a lifetime of thrashings after his behavior on the Sea Wyvern, he had toned down a bit in the last few weeks, but he still walked about with a smug aloofness and a sense of moral superiority that I don’t care for. Seeing him brought down a peg would make him far more likable in my mind.
I should also point out that once the battle was over Kale seemed to forget that I’d risked my life to rescue him. Not that I felt the need to point it out to him, nor did I feel that I’d done anything above or beyond the call of duty, but still a little recognition would be nice. He is quick to point out my errors though . . .
We approached the temple again, this time moving cautiously and hoping that there were no more surprises. The temple complex showed signs of a slaughter. The bones of a catlike race were strewn all about the grounds. There were the broken and crushed bones and skulls of children along with those of adults. It seemed likely that none of the people had survived the slaughter. There were also chips and gashes in the walls where heavy weapons had struck stone instead of flesh and left their marks. Statues and carvings had also been defiled as the attackers had sought to add one last indignity to their victims by destroying their culture and history. The monsters had committed these acts were truly a vile and despicable people. We reluctantly entered the temple.
Inside the rough pyramid we discovered an amazing sight. A great statue sat in the middle of the temple, untouched by the ravages of time, and looking as though it had been completed only yesterday. The base was formed by statues of warriors, priests, and sages, all looked vaguely human, and each layer supported another layer until it reached the top to reveal an impressively large jade statue of a jaguar. I wondered if the great statue might form a strange hierarchical tree, or if the different layers might represent different generations. I wondered if the rakastas might once have been human.
I flew to top and attempted to perch high atop the statue to examine it more closely and to better scope out the surroundings . . . but my foot passed straight through it as I attempted to land! My heart jumped into my throat. I hadn’t had that unexpected falling feeling in a long time. I struggled to fly as gravity and momentum pulled me sharply down. I dropped completely through the illusory statue and into the darkness below. Thankfully I managed to stop my terrifying fall somewhere below the floor of the temple. I activated my boots of levitation and pulled out my everburning torch from my haversack. I found myself in an underground complex. On one of the walls I spied a ladder carved into the rock. The ladder led to a narrow ledge with a door arch. The shaft continued (with smooth walls) down past that ledge into the darkness below. This was a hidden complex concealed by powerful magic. It was also a deadly trap. What, I wondered, could be hidden below?
“Tristan,” Kiki was calling, “where are you?”
“Are you alright?” Kale called out.
“Boss!” Churtle barked in distress.
“I’m alright!” I called up as I slowly levitated back to the surface, “be careful, there’s some powerful illusionary magic all around here. This is why I hate the stuff really. It’s such a cheap trick of a school. Quite frankly I’d rather have a real statue then this stupid thing.”
I could have flown but I wanted to examine the walls on my climb, Kiki would need to look things over for herself, but my untrained eye could see nothing suspicious. The ladder looked to be in amazing condition, without a hit of mold or fungus on the stone, and the rock naturally seemed sturdy enough to support our weight. I caught the reflective shimmer of water somewhere far below.
“What’s taking so long?” Kale asked.
“I’m looking for anything suspicious,” I snapped, “easier for me to do it now coming up then Kiki could going down.”
“Fine,” Kale laughed, “relax . . .”
I felt my hand tighten around my torch as I momentarily imagined it to be Kale’s neck . . .
“I only thought you might have run into some problems,” he continued, “I’m allowed to worry about you aren’t I?”
I finally reached the ground floor of the temple. Most of the others seemed to see me through the illusion but James did not.
“What are you all looking at?” he asked.
“Tristan’s back,” Orlani said to him, looking on with some concern.
James squinted. “Is she on the other side . . .” he started to ask, but at that moment I flew through the illusion and James jumped like he’d seen a ghost! It took a moment of explaining but soon even his mind was able to wrap around the illusion.
“There’s a ladder over here,” I pointed out to the others. A few minutes later we stood at the base of the ladder at the mouth of a winding tunnel. The tunnel was lined and decorated with jaguar statues, real ones, with gemstone eyes. The fact that they were still intact and in good shape suggested that the attackers who had desiccated the village, the people, and the statues outside, had failed to discover this hidden temple complex inside.
We eventually found ourselves in a large underground temple . . . probably the true temple. It had impressive twenty foot ceilings that were lit with magical everburning torches. The chamber walls were richly decorated with murals of cat headed warriors fighting dinosaurs, demons, and even more horrible looking creatures. Here we saw the cat warriors we’d heard described. Was this temple of a later date then the one above?
“What are you doing here?!” a strange voice demanded, “You are not my people, so this is not your temple. Explain yourselves quickly.”
The voice came from somewhere above us, and as my eyes were drawn upward I couldn’t help but gasp, for there, coiled around one of the pillars was a mythical couatl! A winged snake to the layman. Yet despite our earlier encounter with a serpent I didn’t feel the slightest shock or fear, couatls were benevolent creatures, and were unlikely to attack without provocation. Then I remembered that we were trespassing and this semi divine being must have felt or known about the devastation above . . .
“Fredrick,” I whispered, “start talking!”
“You’ll have to forgive our intrusion,” Fredrick began, “we are but humble adventures and we were told by many that the village was deserted. We saw signs of the devastation above, we know now that something truly horrible happened to the rakastas that lived above, and you must know that if our need were not so great we would never have sought to intrude on their one remaining sanctum. But we are in despite need, and we do need all the help we can get, for the town we come from, Farshore, is doomed to be attacked by the Crimson Fleet. We heard legends . . .”
“From the Oman people,” I quickly added, “who used to revere and worship your kind.”
“That the rakastas were talented weapon smiths,” Fredrick continued.
“And we’re desperately lacking supplies and weapons,” I added.
“And although we heard that the rakastas had vanished,” Fredrick said glancing to me.
“We had hoped that some vestige still remained . . .” I said.
“And so we came here, hoping against hope, to find rakastas to trade with,” Fredrick said looking back up at the couatl, “or perhaps some secret cache of weapons, but hope is quickly fading.”
“We didn’t mean to intrude,” I felt the need to reassert.
“Had we known that this place was still inhabited we would have asked for permission,” Fredrick wisely added, “and if you wish we will leave. We have no desire to accidentally desecrate or trespass . . .”
Fredrick allowed the words to hang there. The couatl gazed upon us for some time, then, with grace and dexterity, he glided down to our level.
“I believe you,” he said, “but you must understand why I had my doubts. What happened above, to my village, was monstrous, but I was powerless to stop it. I should have died with my people but I didn’t. I fled and now all the rakastas are dead and yet I, the supposed protector of their people, am all that remains.”
The great being voice was filled with such sorrow. I wanted to comfort it but what could I say to end all that hurt?
“Who did this to your people,” James demanded, “we’ll bring revenge!”
“So you’ll do to them what they did to my people? Some say blood calls out for blood, but such violence won’t bring my people back . . .”
“When we’re finished with this Crimson Fleet . . .” Kale started saying.
“Yes,” the couatl interrupted, “I couldn’t save me people, but perhaps I can give you the tools you need to save your own.” The creature’s tail darted out and touched a hidden button in the central platform of the temple. The sound of ancient gears and the creak of wood filled the air as the central platform rose to reveal a hidden weapons cache! There were bows, spears, javelins, and strange clawed gauntlets that looked as though they would shred an opponent in ribbons in melee. “Here is all that remains of the rakasta’s legacy. Take what you need but do not waste or squander this gift. Remember my people and speak kindly of them, for they truly were a noble race . . .”
“Tell me who did this,” James whispered, “if not for you, for me. Fredrick here can honor your people with his fancy words, Tristan here can record their story with words and paper, but me, I’m just a simple sailor, a privateer, and a warrior. I’m a simple man. There’s one way, and one way only, that I can return this favor: bring justice for your people . . . tell me who did this.”
“High upon the central plateau sits the ruins of the ancient city of Thanaclan. From this long forgotten seat of oman power I feel great evil spreading. The monsters that attacked my people are known as skinwalkers. They are horrible creatures that sacrificed their humanity to serve some evil host. They cannot be reasoned with, they will not offer mercy or give quarter, and they won’t be happy till everything that is good and pure on this island is destroyed and gone. That is who attacked my people and that is from whence they came.”
“Then they must be stopped,” Kale said.
“Yes,” the couatl nodded, “but If couldn’t stand against them, and forgive me if I sound condescending, but what could you do to stand up to them?”
“We’re surprisingly innovative,” I said, “good at smashing things, and we’re great at shattering expectations. I’m not saying that we can destroy these skinwalkers . . . I’m just saying that you might be surprised.”
The creature nodded. “Very well,” it said, “I must take my leave of you now, I need to return to the outer planes to seek atonement for my failings, but before I go I must leave you with one final warning and one final boon. Beware of temptation. There are things that will try to corrupt you, turn you against one another, and be careful that in your fight against evil that you don’t become what you seek to destroy. Now lastly I make a gift of three of my feathers,” he said as three multi colored feathers fell from his wings and into Buffy’s open hands, “use them to call me if you should ever need my help in the future . . .”
“Wait,” Buffy cried, “what’s your name?”
“Tonatiuh,” he said as he shifted out of reality, “don’t let my people’s memory die . . .”
We spent the next hour or so bringing the weapons to the surface. We had quite the stockpile when all was said and done. Even a couple of magical ones. We could equip about a hundred soldiers with this stock but we’d need to somehow transport it back to Farshore. There was a bit of debate but we eventually decided to split the group up. I’d teleport the men (carrying the weapons) back to Fareshore with me, while the women waited in the safety of my magical shelter till the morrow when I’d return. It wasn’t the most ideal solution but it was all we had at the time.
Soon I, and my three human pack mules, were standing on the beach near Farshore. I left them to sort out the weapons; I immediately went to visit Lavinia. It had been almost a week sense I’d visited her from the phanaton village, she seemed even more ragged and tired now then she had then.
“Lavinia,” I said, drawing her attention from her desk, “how are things?”
I found myself in an unexpected hug.
“That bad?” I asked.
“No,” she said into my shoulder, “things are going good. You’ve been a great help. The seven villages have started sending aide. We’re expecting the first shipment of tar any day now. I think the phanatons will be a huge help as well when they get here. What you’ve done in the harbor . . .”
“But . . .” I prompted.
“There’s always a new crop of problems popping up everywhere . . .”
“What about the election?” I asked.
She shuddered and returned to her desk.
“We got the militia some new weapons,” I said, “that’s why we’re here!”
She gave a half smile, but her heart wasn’t in it, “that’s great news,” she said, “The stories were true then?”
“Yes,” I said, what was wrong I wondered. There was brief moment of overwhelming silence. I found myself staring into her tired but beautiful eyes. She met my gaze. “You do remember that promised I made you? That you’d be mayor?”
She smiled. It was still a tired, world weary sort of a smile, but I could feel her warmth behind it. Her eyes were still locked into mine, as if there was something of great importance hidden away in them, and yet she said nothing. I wondered what she saw.
“I don’t make many promises you know,” I felt myself being drawn closer, “and I’ve only made two to you and one is that I’ll make you mayor. I find all my promises as of late have been too you.”
I felt her drawing closer as well . . . I felt her breath on my lips . . .
“What’s the big idea leaving us to deal with all those weapons?” Kale snapped as he entered Lavinia’s study.
I stood and Lavinia immediately returned to her work.
“I was discussing our progress with Lavinia,” I snapped, James entered rather sheepishly afterwards, “you’re the warrior, you deal with the weapons.”
“Good work securing those weapons,” Lavinia said, glancing up at the men, “we need to repair the Sea Wyvern yet . . .”
“You said you had some more problems popping up,” I prompted, “what’s causing you grief?”
“Well,” Lavinia said after taking a long steadying breath, “the election for starters, this Lefty character is starting to become a really contentious issue. I think the population is starting to believe Manthalay’s claims that I’m soft. Also Avner is starting to win over the locals with his charm, despite Amella’s efforts, and I fear that despite some fierce campaigning, the election is starting to slip away from me . . .”
“We brought Fredrick here with us,” I said, “He’ll soon sort this mess out.”
“But there’s only two weeks left before the election.”
“Ages and ages to sway people’s opinions,” I assured her, “you need to step back and delegate. You’re doing too much . . .”
“Won’t we need Fredrick to help with the boat?” Kale asked.
“There could be all sorts of monsters living in or around that boat by now,” Lavinia pointed out, “you might need his swords or navigational skills.”
“Somehow we’ll manage,” I said wryly, “what else?”
“There’s been some thefts from the local warehouses,” Lavinia said, I rolled my eyes at absurdness of this being brought to Lavinia’s attention, the villages should have been cleaver enough to solve this, “but wait,” Lavinia quickly added when she saw my reaction, “the thief or thieves seems able to get into locked and guarded buildings, take what they want, and escape without being detected. We’ve already determined that it’s not an inside job . . .”
“Why don’t you have the Jade Ravens look into this?” I asked. This task didn’t sound dangerous or particularly difficult so it sounded like exactly the sort of job they could handle, “Get Tolin to handle this . . .”
“Tolin and I haven’t been talking,” Lavinia said, “he confessed his love for me and I made it clear that it was never going to happen.” She glanced at me for some reason, “I don’t date employees.” She quickly added.
“And as well you shouldn’t,” I nodded, “it’s unseemly. We’ll find the Jade Ravens and set them to work for you. What other problems?”
“Jeran Emrikad over at the hall of records has said he’s made some sort of discovery and wants to meet with me,” Lavinia sighed, “but considering all of my other problems . . .”
“James can go and meet him,” I said looking to James, “you can sort him out I think.”
“I’ll take care of it,” James said with a nod.
“There’s also the matter of trade routes,” Lavinia sighed, “I’m getting pressure . . .” she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, “you see with two ships in the harbor people seem to think that I should start be starting trade routes.”
“But we need those boats for the defense and upkeep of Farshore,” James snapped, “Those people are idiots!”
“I know,” Lavinia sighed, “but I’m not a very popular figure right now and I’m unsure exactly how to deal with such complaints in the middle of an election.”
“Tell them to stuff it,” I snapped, furious at the implication that someone thought they could pressure Lavinia in an election for personal gain, “anyone that stupid doesn’t deserve you as mayor. I’ll be head of the complaint department. Send theses idiots my way.”
“And lastly there are these reports of Troglodytes,” Lavinia said, “I’d hoped that we could peacefully co-exist on this island, but apparently they’re getting bolder . . .”
“Troglodytes?” I asked, “Where?”
“The central part of the island,” Lavinia said, “there’s a large cave . . .”
“I’ll take care of that right now,” I said, “what time is it?”
“We should be able to clear up some of these problems for you,” James said, “I’m sure things will be far less hectic once they’re taken care of.”
“Kale you go find Tolin and tell him about this warehouse,” I said, “he can get the rest of the Jade . . .”
“They’re no longer working together,” Lavinia said, “you might need to gather them up and convince them to get back together. I’m not quite sure of all the details . . . but you should know that Zan is often seen in the bar, Kaskus in the green house, and Liamae is often in the chapel.”
“The chapel? Kale asked.
“Yes,” Lavinia said, “on our journey over she was struck by lightning and claimed to see a forty foot Rudd beaming down on her. She’s been fiercely religious ever sense. The others avoid her now, seems she’s been trying to convert everyone.”
“Fine then,” I said turning back to Kale, “find Tolin and convince that worthless lump that he needs to get back to work, James you find Zan, we’ll get Fredrick to track down the dwarf, and I’ll find the lightning rod.”
“Why do I have to talk to Tolin?” Kale asked, seemed no one liked Tolin.
“Why?” I asked holding up my hand with the ring of invisibility, “because . . .” I activated my ring, “uh oh, invisible, can’t argue with me anymore.”
Kale ground his teeth. Lately I’d started ending all my arguments with Kale that way, by simply turning invisible and not talking, after a while Kale felt as though he was arguing with himself, and would reluctantly stop. It was wonderful. I never had much use for the illusion school but this was the greatest spell ever.
I did eventually tracked Liamae down but first I needed to make a quick side trek to the center of the island. Near a great cave.
“Oh, I’m a helpless lost villager alone in the woods,” I called out in draconic, “I sure do hope that I don’t run into any monsters or troglodytes . . .”
A horrible wooden Javelin grazed my leg and three of the nasty beasts stumbled out of the woods towards me. I felt a smile cross my lips. I took to the air; two more javelins hit me, one in the front and one in the back. I activated my ring of invisibility. The nasty little beasts threw more javelins at where I’d been, perhaps foolishly thinking that I was still there or that I’d fled, and they laughed and taunted me in their crude draconic. Meanwhile I activated my boots of levitation and hovered safely some twenty feet above and slightly behind them. They continued scanning the sky where they’d last seen me. I started summoning. One monster, with particularly sharp ears, pointed to the sky quite close to where I hovered. A few more Javelins were thrown up at me . . . and then a massive horror (not completely unlike a dire boar) stood in their midst . . .
It took almost five minutes in all. The troglodytes summoned reinforcements . . . and so did I! Some of the trogs rode in on giant lizards others crashed in through the brush. They stabbed and clawed and bit my monsters but with one bite or one gore or in retaliation and crumbled like paper. It wasn’t much of a fight. I could scarcely contain my jubilation. The only real danger I faced (apart from the early barrage of javelins) was that the duration on my summons might expire before all of the Troglodytes were did. I had plenty of summonses though . . . but rapidly less and less enemies! I did a clean sweep of the area afterwards. There was no dirt left. All in all twenty trogs and six lizards were sent to meet their scale-ly master in the sky.
I stopped by Lavinia’s to tell her the good news.
“That Troglodyte problem’s been solved.” I said as I appeared in her study.
“Tristan you’re bleeding!” Lavinia said in shock.
“It’s only a flesh wound,” I said waving it off, “don’t worry about it. I’m off to talk with Liamae . . .”
“Wait,” Lavinia said, as she stood to reach out to me, but I quickly turned invisible and fled. I felt something . . . and I knew I couldn’t stay in her presence any longer. I needed a bath in ice water.
“Greetings Tristan Lidu,” Liamae said when I appeared before her, “have you found Rudd?”
“I didn’t know she was missing,” I quipped. Thankfully Liamae didn’t seem insulted by the response.
“Tristan you’re bleeding,” Liamae gasped.
“Why does everyone keep saying that,” I asked, the worst had already sealed over, and the blood was scarcely a trickle, “it’s only a scratch. I’ve seen more blood that time Orlani convinced James to let her shave him. Orlani has steady hands but James had dangerously curious ones. Also I think Orlani is ticklish. Bad mess all around. Maybe you should talk to James about Rudd.”
“Oh Tristan,” Liamae laughed, “I speak of salvation and faith in our lady luck. You’re an adventurer, and you would do well to pray to the lady, for she shines down and sometimes offers her favor in times of need.”
“I’m pretty happy with Wee Jas, thank you, she might not be completely satisfied with me, but that’s another matter. Religious debate isn’t why I’ve come though, Lavinia needs your help, and I was wondering if you’d consider re-forming the Jade Ravens.”
“But of course,” she said, “I’d love to test Rudd’s love . . .”
“Well there’s a thief stealing from one of the warehouses in town, he’s talented and sneaky, and I think it would take quite a bit of luck to catch this character.”
“Consider it done!” Liamae laughed, “I’ll talk to the others immediately. But please let me heal you. You came to my aide all those months ago; let me help you out now.”
I thanked Liamae. Then I flew to a distant beach on the island. I stripped off my cloths and bathed in the waters. The water was cool, but perhaps not cool enough. I wondered if I could control my feelings when I returned to Lavinia. I wouldn’t embarrass myself or Lavinia. She was in the middle of an election . . . scandal or rumors of impropriety could ruin her chances . . . I couldn’t be so selfish.
‘You have needs as well’ Hop-Toy croaked from my clothing pile.
“But if I spoil Lavinia’s chances I’ll never forgive myself,” I snapped back, “and she would be very justified in never forgiving me either.”
‘So your happiness is worth less than running some tiny backwater village?’
“Lavinia’s parents founded this place, it’s all that she has left of them, and I’d rather die than spoil her chances.”
‘Fine,’ Hop-Toy snapped, ‘she’ll be the lady and you can be the knight in one of those dull sexless children’s books. You can hold hands, do her bidding, and come to her rescue. You might even get a kiss as a reward. However don’t come crying to me when the real world passes you by.’
When I finally returned to Lavinia’s home they were just sitting down to supper.
“Tristan I was worried,” Lavinia said when she saw me.
“I’m sorry I had a lot to do,” I said sitting down, “I didn’t mean to run off like that but I didn’t want to fall behind schedule.”
“You were wounded,” Lavinia said, “You mustn’t put everything before yourself!”
‘Smart lady’ Hop-Toy croaked.
“It was nothing,” I reassured her, “besides I was heading to a priest anyways. The only reason I stopped here first was so you’d have one less thing to worry about . . .”
Lavinia smiled and for a moment I thought she might tear up, “my worries are less important than your life . . .” she whispered.
“Guess what?” James asked.
“What,” I asked, somewhat relived with the interruption.
“The tar arrived this afternoon,” James said with a smile.
“That’s great news! Let’s load up the Nixie and set sail tomorrow . . .”
“Already taken care of,” James said, “Amella is sailing at first light. She should get to the Wyvern in three days.”
“Who’s she using as crew,” I asked.
“A few from the Nixie’s earlier voyage,” Fredrick said, “plus some that James has recruited from the village to sail the Wyvern. Plus old Lefty the pirate.”
This was good. This was one of the suggestions I was going to make. If we could get this controversial character out of the public eye it might make things easier for Lavinia. Fredrick had clearly been thinking the same thing.”
“Excellent,” I said, “and you’re fine with looking after things here while we repair the Wyvern?”
“I’ll manage somehow,” Fredrick said with a swirl of the wine Lavinia had served with dinner, “we can’t all slave under the hot sun patching up boats now can we?”
“Did everyone else finish their tasks in town?” I asked my friends.
“Yup,” James said.
“But of course,” Fredrick laughed.
“Yes,” Kale snapped. He wasn’t happy about something.
I let the silence linger a while longer then I turned to Kale, “is there something wrong Kale?”
“Why did I have to deal with Tolin?” he asked.
“Well I thought that you and he . . .”
“I can’t stand him,” Kale snapped, “he’s so arrogant and he’s always putting you down.” I blinked; I wondered if the surprise was written all over my face? Thankfully Kale’s eyes were on his food, “I can’t tell you how close I came to slugging him. You want to talk to him you do it, you always give him an earful anyways, but if I have to hear that blow hard yap again I think it might come to blows.”
Kale . . . who knew you cared?
Cthulhu Dreams
|
|
Awesome as usual, Guy. Already can't wait until the next installment. I've noticed the "alien-ness" in Tristan's personality is really coming through now, more than ever. From long, almost rambling sentences to short, clipped descriptions within the same entry; and her almost overconfidence and nonchalance (sp?) against deadly threats (snake and trogs) to total fear and insecurity around Lavinia (nice tease there, btw ...) Do I detect a possible alignment shift towards Chaotic, perhaps?
It has been several weeks, but I have read ALL of this journal. There is so much I would like to say, but I fear my head will explode if I start mentally running through the list.
However, I will offer this: I inquired over on the STAP board if you had the diary in a downloadable format (You didn’t and one other person who had compiled it for ease of reading did not still have the file). Well, I did reinvent the wheel and compiled it all into one document file. Two hundred and twenty nine pages! It’s not a big file, though; 1.3 megs uncompressed. Anyway, Sir Guy, if you would like me to, I’d be happy to e-mail the file to you.
Before anyone start asking, though, no, I’m not going to send it whomever asks. This is, after all, somebody else’s work, and I don’t feel comfortable sending it to anybody but the author. Guy could certainly then disseminate it as he sees fit. Even if Guy said it was all right, I don’t WANT to deal with a bunch of e-mail requests or even figuring out how to host it somewhere. Compiling all of this was a GREAT DEAL of work and I don’t want to do any more. <childish whine>
So, Guy, what I’m getting at is that I so thoroughly enjoyed your writing that I was willing to invest many hours into compiling it, as well as reading it.
It has been several weeks, but I have read ALL of this journal. There is so much I would like to say, but I fear my head will explode if I start mentally running through the list.
However, I will offer this: I inquired over on the STAP board if you had the diary in a downloadable format (You didn’t and one other person who had compiled it for ease of reading did not still have the file). Well, I did reinvent the wheel and compiled it all into one document file. Two hundred and twenty nine pages! It’s not a big file, though; 1.3 megs uncompressed. Anyway, Sir Guy, if you would like me to, I’d be happy to e-mail the file to you.
Before anyone start asking, though, no, I’m not going to send it whomever asks. This is, after all, somebody else’s work, and I don’t feel comfortable sending it to anybody but the author. Guy could certainly then disseminate it as he sees fit. Even if Guy said it was all right, I don’t WANT to deal with a bunch of e-mail requests or even figuring out how to host it somewhere. Compiling all of this was a GREAT DEAL of work and I don’t want to do any more. <childish whine>
So, Guy, what I’m getting at is that I so thoroughly enjoyed your writing that I was willing to invest many hours into compiling it, as well as reading it.
urm - unless I am seriously mistaken, Sir Humual is far from done with this excellent campaign journal. If I am correct, you will have many more hours of compiling ahead of you in the years to come!
And to Sir Humual: it is because of excellent character-driven campaign journals that cause people to dust off their magazines and play once more! KUTGW
urm - unless I am seriously mistaken, Sir Humual is far from done with this excellent campaign journal. If I am correct, you will have many more hours of compiling ahead of you in the years to come!
Umm, yeah, I got that. (?) I was just working with what there was so far . If Guy had found all this effort useful, it would be a lot easier to add on to this 200+ page document file each time he did an update than to wait until the STAP was comple. (!!)
<Dude! Give him a break! The do call him Turin ”The Mad” after all.>
Wow, thanks Khartan, I'm honored that you enjoyed my journal that much :D
I still have all the entries (albeit in over forty different files on two different computers) so having one big massive file might be neat . . .
Well, if you want it, just let me know how I can get it to you. On the other hand, I could take some time to “pretty it up” (there are a few typos – no offense intended). Plus, as I said, I could continue to update the file, as I said, whenever you post an update.
What would be great is if there were some way to upload the latest entry somewhere so people could download and convert it into a more reader friendly format. Sadly I don't have the computer skills to handle that. also I wouldn't mind making that file you created available to the public...
Yeah, I don’t either. However, Tracerbullet once posted a file for me somewhere. I’m going to update the post that started all of this for me back on the STAP board and see if he can help us out. Assuming that’s okay with you.
RPG Superstar 2010 Top 32
|
Well, as a long-time fan ... okay, fanatical follower of Tristan's adventres I'd be happy to help. I've a bloggy thing I very rarely update but there's no problem with sticking a doc or pdf on it for everyone to download. I've half a gig of space and can have hundreds of gigs of traffic every month. I think I use about 30 meg and have maybe a hundred meg of traffic. The only people who read it are a few friends and family.
The offer stands, no pressure.
Wow, thanks carborundum, I might take you up on that offer. If someone is going to host these files for download I'd prefer that they were hosted by a fan rather then a disinterested 3rd party.Well, as a long-time fan ... okay, fanatical follower of Tristan's adventres I'd be happy to help. I've a bloggy thing I very rarely update but there's no problem with sticking a doc or pdf on it for everyone to download. I've half a gig of space and can have hundreds of gigs of traffic every month. I think I use about 30 meg and have maybe a hundred meg of traffic. The only people who read it are a few friends and family.
The offer stands, no pressure.
Excellent. I’ll leave the two of you to work out those details. As for the file itself, Guy, I’ll work with you by e-mail.
|
RPG Superstar 2010 Top 32
|
I think Guy has my email address - if not it's foolish.child at gmail. It'll take 30 seconds to upload whatever arrives and I'll stick the link here right after.
I'm sure there's all sorts of editorial stuff going on first, not to mention work and sporting excellence so I'll forget about it again until I get an email.