On the Outside

[Brian]

You walk on again.  This terrain is a bit more strenous to cross than the wastes, with all the up-and-down from the hills.  Liandral seems unaffected by the changes in elevation, and Ginrai learns to start using his staff to help him walk very quickly.

After a while, Liandral yawns, and says that you've walked on far enough.  He leads everyone to a hollow in one of the hills, and then bids everyone to sleep after making a small campfire from scrub brush.  "Eat, and rest," he says.  "We'll move on to the outpost in the morning."

[Bjorn]

"I'll take first watch," Bjorn says, quietly.  With that, he moves away from the fire, moving up near the top of the hollow, where he can see (as much as the dark allows) the surrounding area.

[Huitzil]

Paul notes that Dracos is acting about a billion times more calm and comfortable than he is, and HE wasn't the one chased by atomic spiders.

"So, uh, where are we now? How much time do you think we saved on the trip?"

[Dracos]

Dracos, having no desire for battling for watch, much for getting off his feet, and plenty for food, sits down, brushing a hand through his hair and getting to eating and recovering from that ordeal.

Dracos

[Brian]

In short order, everyone but Bjorn is asleep.

Code Select Expand

<Faceless> roll 3d6
<Chibi-Suu> Them bones was tossed for Faceless ... : 3d6 -->{3}Except that Bjorn remembers that Liandral didn't actually sleep the last time they rested.  And might not need to sleep at all.

In fact, there's a good chance that Liandral's faking it.  This speculation is proven when he (once everyone else is asleep) carefully wakes up the lady, and leads her towards you in the darkness.

"You're still as watchful as ever," he says quietly.

The lady looks a bit confused, and very tired.  "Master Liandral, what's going on?" she whispers back.

Liandral looks upset, and says, "Something is wrong.  I don't understand it ... or know how ... or why.  But Sir Bloom and Master Nathan are not themselves.  They've not acted like themselves since we were attacked at the waypoint north of here.

"Sir Bloom has not once turned to his drink -- for the love of Hamar, he actually watered his wine down!  I would think this positive, but other, more confusing things worry at my mind.

"We confronted a great evil in the depths of our passage, and both Sir Bloom and Master Nathan claimed to have run across its kind before.  They slew it, true, but how they can have knowledge of such a thing is beyond my understanding.

"But most damning, Madame Mirallia, Sir Bloom, who lost his own kingship due to the theft of his torc ... claimed not to even know what one was.  And Master Nathan showed not a hint of concern that it was missing from the body of Hadrick Shuker.  I am deeply troubled, and do not understand what is happening."

The lady nods slowly, and surveys the sleeping camp.  "Master Parthipan and Master Durant also, are not themselves ... and I do not say it because I dislike them; I say it because something is sorely amiss.  I see it too.  Only the three of us seem to be ourselves, after all of this.

"Bjorn, what are your thoughts on this?" the lady asks, turning to look at you.

[Bjorn]

Bjorn hesitates, mind racing.  Then he shakes his head.  "M'Lady, I don't know that I'm the one to say anything of any sort.  But... I think something happened, when we were ambushed on the other side of the mountains.  To be honest, I, myself, remember... very little of what came before.  And as you say, all of the others seem very much... touched.  More than just a loss of memories."  

He shakes his head, again, and then looks the lady in the eyes.  "But for all that, we made it through that dark place, m'Lady, and are ahead of the Dreadmarch.  I cannot think that what happened was against Hamar's will.  By His grace, and if we trust in Him, I think all will be well still."

[Brian]

The lady nods reluctantly.  "You are correct ... for all that it is odd, they've done nothing to hinder our quest at all ... have they?" she asks Liandral.

He shakes his head slowly.  "That is true," he says slowly.  "They have not hindered us."

"Then we shall trust in Hamar, and worry about it later," she decides.  "Perhaps it is for the best after all."

With that, she heads back to her cloak, and bundles up to sleep again.

Liandral sighs.  "Go and sleep," Liandral murmurs.  "I will rest when we reach the keep."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn makes to rise from his hiding spot, but then checks himself.  "What did happen, Master Liandral?" he asks, quietly.  "It sounds as if Sir Bloom and Master Shuker acted far more strangely than Master Parthipan or Master Durant have."

And if they did, I'm going to have beat them all the harder.

[Brian]

"They called the creature a golem," he says, frowning.  "It ... spat fire and they said it created lines in the air ... the firefly hid them from my eyes, however.  I don't understand how, but they slew it by throwing water on it.  It hissed wickedly, but did not struggle once it was doused.  It simply ... died.  It was quite strange, but its body grew hotter after it was slain.  Then they insisted that we should run, and so, we did."

[Bjorn]

Bjorn nods, slowly.  "I see... or, rather, I don't.  Thank you, Master Liandral, and good watching."

With a parting nod, Bjorn rises and returns to the camp, where he promptly falls asleep, the jitters from a nightmarish dungeon crawl no match for exhaustion.

[Brian]

The night passes.  In the morning, everyone but the lady is woken up.  Liandral says he's going to do some quick scouting, but everyone should be ready to go in an hour.  The lady needs her rest, though.

After that, he vanishes to the west, one hand on his belt knife.

[Bjorn]

Opening his pack, Bjorn roots around for the provisions.  "So," he says, conversationally, "last night I had to reassure the elf and the lady that you aren't all possessed by demons or madness or something."  Producing the cheese, he adds, "I had to do this because you're all being fucking retards."

Slamming the hand holding the hardtack against his thigh (and giving himself a bruise in the process), Bjorn glares about.  "You are supposed," he spits the word, "to be people in this world.  That means you're supposed to know things that you don't actually know, and behave in ways that you wouldn't normally behave, and it most certainly fucking means that you don't know the motherfucking Lord of the Fucking Rings!"

His knuckles whiten as his fists clench.  "Ezmereth said the key to success was taking the dream-self into ourself.  I don't know exactly what that means, but I'm sure as fucking hell that it doesn't mean prancing around like you normally do, convincing everyone you're insane!"  He exhales, sharply, and visibly calms himself.  "So do us all a favour, and try to fit in.  Don't know things you shouldn't.  Keep quiet, and watch, and try and figure out what you should know, and react the way peope expect you to.

"For example," he rubs his head, tiredly, "a torc, it turns out, is a symbol of kingship.  So the fact that you," he points at Nathan, "weren't upset by the fact that Hadrick's torc was gone set alarm bells off in Liandral's head.  But that ain't nothing compared to the fact that you," pointing at Dracos, "acted like you don't know what the fuck a torc is.  Did you know you used to be a fucking king, here, and lost the kingship because you lost your torc?  Of course you didn't," he interrupts himself, not giving Dracos a chance to reply, "because instead of shutting the hell up and learning, you decided to convince Liandral you'd gone insane."

He glares at Parthipan and Paul.  "I'm not even getting started on you two."

Unwrapping the cheese, he asks, much more cheerily, "So, who wants breakfast?"

[Huitzil]

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should have known better, what with my years of experience leaping into people's bodies in alternate universes where there's magic and orcs and a keep to save. Oh, wait, that's right, I don't have any experience, and I don't know what the fuck is going on here. Apparently I'm some kind of bard now, because I can play music. Is it magic? Shit if I know. Why am I with you guys? Beats the fuck out of me. What do these draughts of life do? I have no idea.

"All this is stuff I should know, but funny thing, I don't. Because I don't know a god damn thing about this place, and you'll EXCUSE ME If I can't instantly adapt to being tossed into a world and body I have never even heard of when hours before I was digesting the best quesadilla I've ever had. Oh, so damn sorry that I can't take all of this perfectly in stride and start playing a part when I not only haven't read the script, I've never even heard of the play.

"Jackass."

[Bjorn]

"I don't know anything either," Bjorn snaps, "and I don't like it any more than you do.  But instead of yapping on about Ezmereth, and airplanes, and cellphones, and things which it is absolutely motherfucking clear that nobody here should know about, I try to keep my trap shut.

"Jackass?  I'm not the preadolescent bonehead who's quoting fucking Tolkien for no motherfucking reason.  You're so gung-ho about stopping the motherfucking Enemy?  Then shut the hell up, stop whining, and deal.  You knew what the hell we were getting into when we started this thing, and that is 'way the hell over our heads.'  Right now, you're being a fucking liability.  So shut up, stop being a defensive little whiny brat, and the next time you feel the urge to quote literature or whine about a lack of technology, ask yourself, 'Gee, would doing that maybe make me look out of place?'"

Edit:  Bad spelling helps me blend in!

[Huitzil]

"When, precisely, did I whine about a lack of technology? Show me on the fucking DOLL where I was whining about a lack of technology. Once -- ONCE -- I mention airplanes and all of a sudden I'm bringing about the end of the goddamn universe. Did I go over and say 'Here, now what I mean by airplane is a vehicle from an alternate universe that uses differentiations in air pressure across its wings to carry people through the sky'? No, as a matter of fact I did not. Just because YOU associate 'airplane' with 'flying thingy' doesnt mean they do -- why should they? It could be a kind of bug. I could have been talking about some fable, I'm a bard, I think they do that. And that's even if they DID hear me.

"I'm fucking dealing as best I can, not all of us are perfect like you. What I'm NOT dealing with is you whipping out your cock like this to piss all over me because, whee, lookit that, some people don't take to alternate magical realities where they're different people as well as you do!"