The Last Melon
05-08-2008, 10:46
Well, hello everyone. I know I've been away for a while, but I happened to go back to doing a little bit of fan fiction (I've been doing non-canon stuff lately) and I thought somebody might appreciate it.
This is a companion piece to "Campfire!", which was accepted into TDL before it disappeared and I'm sure is somewhere on these boards. So, without further ado...
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The forest was quiet but for the sounds of nature, which blended with the crackling of the fire to create a night-time symphony that faded unobtrusively into the background, leaving the seven men and women that were being treated to it to their own thoughts. The flickering shadows played across the wide, bare chest of one of the men, a veritable giant who carefully adjusted a delicate golden monocle in his eye and opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm not completely certain that I follow you, my good man," he stated, carefully holding a small saucer with a teacup perched upon it in his enormous fingers. "Perhaps a quick review of your more essential points? I'm afraid to say that your speech - passionate as it was - was somewhat meandering, and I had a spot of trouble figuring out the thrust of your argument, so to speak. Am I right in thinking that you were trying to say that the Gods do not exist?"
"Exactly so!" came the reply from a heavily armoured man pacing back and forth before the fire. "And what's more, perhaps they never did exist! The great thinker Ni-Chi once said 'The Gods are dead,' and I'm inclined to believe him! Heaven is a conspiracy of angels, now, working to convince mankind that they represent some higher being - pah! A conspiracy! The Gods do not exist and never have, I tell you!"
The massive man sitting returned his teacup to the saucer, having taken a sip as his companion spoke. "Dear me, Jart! Doesn't this put you at something of a disadvantage as a member of the Paladin order? Your peers claim to draw power from the aforementioned Gods themselves, do they not?"
"Oh, they certainly claim it," said the Paladin scornfully, "but what does that mean? There is magic available to our order, I'll grant, but does it come from the Gods? No! Our spells cannot come from channelling the 'Gods' when there are no 'Gods' to channel! I have several theories concerning the source, which I will present to you when my thoughts are in order concerning them, but the whole charade is just the perpetration of the ultimate lie! I am considering changing my profession."
"At this age?" inquired the other man. "What to?"
Jart stopped pacing and looked down at the ground, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm, uh, not sure yet, but I've always been good with bows..."
"Oh, you can fire my bow any time you want to, big boy," interjected somebody from the other side of the darkness. The flickering light of the campfire caught the quite noticeable endowment of a woman sitting opposite the paladin, trying to pose in a position that let her skin-tight red armour accentuate her very feminine qualities. She tossed her bleach-blond ponytail and puckered her lips coyly at her target.
"I thank you, Lady Avma," replied Jart seriously. "I could always use the practice, and I'm sure you'll be able to critique my style with the weapon as an expert bow-woman yourself."
"I'd be willing to critique your style with some of your other weapons too," said Avma, undeterred and winking furiously.
"Er, thank you, but it's the bow that I truly wish to perfect," said Jart with some confusion. "However, if you would like-"
He was interrupted by somebody falling into him from behind, sending them both sprawling into a heap. "You B*TCH!" screamed Avma, leaping to her feet.
The new arrival scrambled to her feet - for, as Avma had noticed, she was female - apologizing profusely. "Jart! I'm so sorry! I tripped over something on my way back with the firewood - sorry! Let me help you up..." There was a squealing sound as the metal blades strapped to her wrists slid across Jart's armour, sending winces around the campfire.
"SORRY!" the woman all but screamed, dropping Jart to put her hands over her mouth and almost taking out her eye in the process.
"Good Lord, Lady Yin'chi!" cried out the first man, carefully putting his teacup aside and standing up to help Jart to his feet, "What horrible misfortune! Why don't you bundle together the wood you gathered and set it by the fire and I will help Jart to his feet!"
"The wood!" exclaimed Yin'chi, "I'm really sorry! I had it all but I dropped it and couldn't find it again! And I didn't want to go back for more because I was already kind of lost and I wasn't quite sure if that was the campfire I was looking at so I came here and I'm really, really, sorry!"
"No more wood!" lamented somebody sitting by the campfire, "I told you we should've tried to find a hotel! Now the fire's going to go out and we're going to be sitting here in the dark, and something icky's going to jump out at us! And the ground's all dirty! Me and Mr. Fuzzles have to sleep in a hole!"
The speaker lifted a small Chihuahua to his eyes as he spoke, letting it nuzzle his bearded face. "Isn't that right snoochy-woochy-poochy-poo! A big, dirty, smelly hole! We don't like that, do we, Mr. Fuzzles? Wuhwuhwuhwuhwuhwuhwuh..."
"I must say, Obmul, you are very different from many of the other Druids I've met," commented the large man, standing beside the now erect* Jart. "They all gave me a rather distinct impression of being fond of nature."
*Standing erect, that is, much to Avma's disappointment.
"Nature? Eeew!" replied Obmul returning the dog to his lap and playing with the pink bow around its neck. "Who would want to like nature? It's all nasty and smelly and...stuff. Eww."
"Well, that's of no matter," came the reply. "If our campfire runs the risk of going out this evening we can always ask Annacle to jolly up a bit of flame! Isn't that right, Annacle!"
A thin, exotic woman curled up by the fire gave a start and woke up at the sound of her name, staring blearily at the person addressing her. "Uh?" she asked.
"I said, you can always start another fire for us if our current one goes out, am I wrong?"
There was a silence as Annacle took in the relevant information. Another silence followed that one as she carefully worked out a new reply. "Who're you?" she asked finally.
"Why, do you not recognize me? Basil Algernon-Wittinbrooke Grud Darlington of Arreat! Do you remember me, Annacle?"
"I've been meaning to ask for some time now," said Jart as Annacle carefully cross-checked Basil Algernon-Wittinbrooke Grud Darlington of Arreat's words against any she might have heard before (some of them sounded quite familiar - "you," for example), "Why 'Grud'? It seems out of place with all of your other names."
"Oh, it's an old naming tradition of Arreat, I'm afraid," replied Grud, shaking his head, "Most families give their children a single-syllable name and add the clan name afterwards. I was forced to acquire the rest of my titles myself."
"Annacle sleep now," announced Annacle, and proceeded to do so, drooling.
"Odd Sorceress," commented Jart.
"Oh, I'm sure she's a wonderful girl at heart," began Grud, "Why, I'm all but certain that-"
"I'M OUT OF FOOD!" roared the last person sitting at the campfire, cutting Grud off and waving a bare pork bone in the air. His meaty jowls (and, indeed, everything else,) trembled as he spoke, the fire clearly picking out something in his teeth.
"Dear me, Xen!" exclaimed Grud, "You do eat much more than I'd expect of a Priest of Rathma. Are you finally finished?"
"No," replied Xen sulkily, throwing the bone away. "I'm out of food."
"Well, I'm afraid that that was the last of the boar," replied Grud. "In fact, I believe that that may have been the last of our stores."
"We should've stayed in Harrogath," muttered Xen, sucking dolefully on his fingers. "There was lots of food there."
"That was just the victory feast they threw after we killed Baal," volunteered Jart. "I'm certain that you would have eaten them all out of house and home if we'd stayed."
"I'd be willing to let you eat me all out of house and home," came Avma's comment. Jart bowed. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lady Avma, but it really isn't necessary."
"Ah, the death of Baal!" cried Grud, ignoring the two as he sat down again, retrieving his teacup. "What a glorious event that was!"
"And the 'Gods' had nothing to do with it!" proclaimed Jart, taking up his pacing again. "Our victory was due to our own skill and nothing more! I tried to explain this all to Tyrael when he showed up but the conspirator wouldn't listen to me! Accursed angels!"
"You will admit that the other group of adventurers had something to do with it?" asked Grud.
"The ones that charged in and went after Baal's clone? Certainly, but they weren't instruments of the Gods! Or, at least, if they were, the Gods are much more impotent than I thought they were..."
"I'd let you charge after my 'Baal's clone' any day," purred Avma. A silence followed.
"Do you have any more food?" asked Xen sullenly, having completely cleaned his hands with his tongue.
"I still have some tea if you'd like some," said Grud.
"Hot chocolate?" asked the Necromancer. "Do you have any hot chocolate?"
"I'm sorry," replied Grud. "All I have is tea."
Xen grunted. "I'm going to bed, then." He rolled over and off of the log he was sitting on with a thump.
"I still have to sleep in a hole," whined Obmul, standing up and scooping up Mr. Fuzzles. "I won't sleep at all. I'll keep getting poked by sticks and there'll be nature all over me..." He wandered off still talking.
Avma yawned and stretched, pushing her chest towards Jart. "I guess I'll go to bed," she said coyly. "Does anybody want to come with me?"
"I believe I will accompany Lady Avma to bed," replied an oblivious Jart, but was unable to continue his sentence as the Amazon leapt over the fire and pounced on him, dragging him protesting off into the woods. There was a short silence as the last two awake looked at each other.
"I'll take first watch," said Yin'chi.
"How kind of you!" replied Grud. "If that's the case-" He was interrupted by the Assassin walking into a low-hanging branch. She fell to the ground unconscious.
"Well!" said Grud after a few seconds. "Well!"
He adjusted his monocle. "I suppose the first watch belongs to me, then," he continued, then frowned at his teacup. "My tea's gone cold."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A few notes:
1. The names here are the reversed names from "Campfire!", which is why they'll seem a little bit odd at times.
2. The second adventuring party that's mentioned close to the end of the piece is also the party from "Campfire!" I mention this and the previous note because I don't expect anybody to remember the other piece.
This is a companion piece to "Campfire!", which was accepted into TDL before it disappeared and I'm sure is somewhere on these boards. So, without further ado...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
The forest was quiet but for the sounds of nature, which blended with the crackling of the fire to create a night-time symphony that faded unobtrusively into the background, leaving the seven men and women that were being treated to it to their own thoughts. The flickering shadows played across the wide, bare chest of one of the men, a veritable giant who carefully adjusted a delicate golden monocle in his eye and opened his mouth to speak.
"I'm not completely certain that I follow you, my good man," he stated, carefully holding a small saucer with a teacup perched upon it in his enormous fingers. "Perhaps a quick review of your more essential points? I'm afraid to say that your speech - passionate as it was - was somewhat meandering, and I had a spot of trouble figuring out the thrust of your argument, so to speak. Am I right in thinking that you were trying to say that the Gods do not exist?"
"Exactly so!" came the reply from a heavily armoured man pacing back and forth before the fire. "And what's more, perhaps they never did exist! The great thinker Ni-Chi once said 'The Gods are dead,' and I'm inclined to believe him! Heaven is a conspiracy of angels, now, working to convince mankind that they represent some higher being - pah! A conspiracy! The Gods do not exist and never have, I tell you!"
The massive man sitting returned his teacup to the saucer, having taken a sip as his companion spoke. "Dear me, Jart! Doesn't this put you at something of a disadvantage as a member of the Paladin order? Your peers claim to draw power from the aforementioned Gods themselves, do they not?"
"Oh, they certainly claim it," said the Paladin scornfully, "but what does that mean? There is magic available to our order, I'll grant, but does it come from the Gods? No! Our spells cannot come from channelling the 'Gods' when there are no 'Gods' to channel! I have several theories concerning the source, which I will present to you when my thoughts are in order concerning them, but the whole charade is just the perpetration of the ultimate lie! I am considering changing my profession."
"At this age?" inquired the other man. "What to?"
Jart stopped pacing and looked down at the ground, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm, uh, not sure yet, but I've always been good with bows..."
"Oh, you can fire my bow any time you want to, big boy," interjected somebody from the other side of the darkness. The flickering light of the campfire caught the quite noticeable endowment of a woman sitting opposite the paladin, trying to pose in a position that let her skin-tight red armour accentuate her very feminine qualities. She tossed her bleach-blond ponytail and puckered her lips coyly at her target.
"I thank you, Lady Avma," replied Jart seriously. "I could always use the practice, and I'm sure you'll be able to critique my style with the weapon as an expert bow-woman yourself."
"I'd be willing to critique your style with some of your other weapons too," said Avma, undeterred and winking furiously.
"Er, thank you, but it's the bow that I truly wish to perfect," said Jart with some confusion. "However, if you would like-"
He was interrupted by somebody falling into him from behind, sending them both sprawling into a heap. "You B*TCH!" screamed Avma, leaping to her feet.
The new arrival scrambled to her feet - for, as Avma had noticed, she was female - apologizing profusely. "Jart! I'm so sorry! I tripped over something on my way back with the firewood - sorry! Let me help you up..." There was a squealing sound as the metal blades strapped to her wrists slid across Jart's armour, sending winces around the campfire.
"SORRY!" the woman all but screamed, dropping Jart to put her hands over her mouth and almost taking out her eye in the process.
"Good Lord, Lady Yin'chi!" cried out the first man, carefully putting his teacup aside and standing up to help Jart to his feet, "What horrible misfortune! Why don't you bundle together the wood you gathered and set it by the fire and I will help Jart to his feet!"
"The wood!" exclaimed Yin'chi, "I'm really sorry! I had it all but I dropped it and couldn't find it again! And I didn't want to go back for more because I was already kind of lost and I wasn't quite sure if that was the campfire I was looking at so I came here and I'm really, really, sorry!"
"No more wood!" lamented somebody sitting by the campfire, "I told you we should've tried to find a hotel! Now the fire's going to go out and we're going to be sitting here in the dark, and something icky's going to jump out at us! And the ground's all dirty! Me and Mr. Fuzzles have to sleep in a hole!"
The speaker lifted a small Chihuahua to his eyes as he spoke, letting it nuzzle his bearded face. "Isn't that right snoochy-woochy-poochy-poo! A big, dirty, smelly hole! We don't like that, do we, Mr. Fuzzles? Wuhwuhwuhwuhwuhwuhwuh..."
"I must say, Obmul, you are very different from many of the other Druids I've met," commented the large man, standing beside the now erect* Jart. "They all gave me a rather distinct impression of being fond of nature."
*Standing erect, that is, much to Avma's disappointment.
"Nature? Eeew!" replied Obmul returning the dog to his lap and playing with the pink bow around its neck. "Who would want to like nature? It's all nasty and smelly and...stuff. Eww."
"Well, that's of no matter," came the reply. "If our campfire runs the risk of going out this evening we can always ask Annacle to jolly up a bit of flame! Isn't that right, Annacle!"
A thin, exotic woman curled up by the fire gave a start and woke up at the sound of her name, staring blearily at the person addressing her. "Uh?" she asked.
"I said, you can always start another fire for us if our current one goes out, am I wrong?"
There was a silence as Annacle took in the relevant information. Another silence followed that one as she carefully worked out a new reply. "Who're you?" she asked finally.
"Why, do you not recognize me? Basil Algernon-Wittinbrooke Grud Darlington of Arreat! Do you remember me, Annacle?"
"I've been meaning to ask for some time now," said Jart as Annacle carefully cross-checked Basil Algernon-Wittinbrooke Grud Darlington of Arreat's words against any she might have heard before (some of them sounded quite familiar - "you," for example), "Why 'Grud'? It seems out of place with all of your other names."
"Oh, it's an old naming tradition of Arreat, I'm afraid," replied Grud, shaking his head, "Most families give their children a single-syllable name and add the clan name afterwards. I was forced to acquire the rest of my titles myself."
"Annacle sleep now," announced Annacle, and proceeded to do so, drooling.
"Odd Sorceress," commented Jart.
"Oh, I'm sure she's a wonderful girl at heart," began Grud, "Why, I'm all but certain that-"
"I'M OUT OF FOOD!" roared the last person sitting at the campfire, cutting Grud off and waving a bare pork bone in the air. His meaty jowls (and, indeed, everything else,) trembled as he spoke, the fire clearly picking out something in his teeth.
"Dear me, Xen!" exclaimed Grud, "You do eat much more than I'd expect of a Priest of Rathma. Are you finally finished?"
"No," replied Xen sulkily, throwing the bone away. "I'm out of food."
"Well, I'm afraid that that was the last of the boar," replied Grud. "In fact, I believe that that may have been the last of our stores."
"We should've stayed in Harrogath," muttered Xen, sucking dolefully on his fingers. "There was lots of food there."
"That was just the victory feast they threw after we killed Baal," volunteered Jart. "I'm certain that you would have eaten them all out of house and home if we'd stayed."
"I'd be willing to let you eat me all out of house and home," came Avma's comment. Jart bowed. "I thank you for your hospitality, Lady Avma, but it really isn't necessary."
"Ah, the death of Baal!" cried Grud, ignoring the two as he sat down again, retrieving his teacup. "What a glorious event that was!"
"And the 'Gods' had nothing to do with it!" proclaimed Jart, taking up his pacing again. "Our victory was due to our own skill and nothing more! I tried to explain this all to Tyrael when he showed up but the conspirator wouldn't listen to me! Accursed angels!"
"You will admit that the other group of adventurers had something to do with it?" asked Grud.
"The ones that charged in and went after Baal's clone? Certainly, but they weren't instruments of the Gods! Or, at least, if they were, the Gods are much more impotent than I thought they were..."
"I'd let you charge after my 'Baal's clone' any day," purred Avma. A silence followed.
"Do you have any more food?" asked Xen sullenly, having completely cleaned his hands with his tongue.
"I still have some tea if you'd like some," said Grud.
"Hot chocolate?" asked the Necromancer. "Do you have any hot chocolate?"
"I'm sorry," replied Grud. "All I have is tea."
Xen grunted. "I'm going to bed, then." He rolled over and off of the log he was sitting on with a thump.
"I still have to sleep in a hole," whined Obmul, standing up and scooping up Mr. Fuzzles. "I won't sleep at all. I'll keep getting poked by sticks and there'll be nature all over me..." He wandered off still talking.
Avma yawned and stretched, pushing her chest towards Jart. "I guess I'll go to bed," she said coyly. "Does anybody want to come with me?"
"I believe I will accompany Lady Avma to bed," replied an oblivious Jart, but was unable to continue his sentence as the Amazon leapt over the fire and pounced on him, dragging him protesting off into the woods. There was a short silence as the last two awake looked at each other.
"I'll take first watch," said Yin'chi.
"How kind of you!" replied Grud. "If that's the case-" He was interrupted by the Assassin walking into a low-hanging branch. She fell to the ground unconscious.
"Well!" said Grud after a few seconds. "Well!"
He adjusted his monocle. "I suppose the first watch belongs to me, then," he continued, then frowned at his teacup. "My tea's gone cold."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
A few notes:
1. The names here are the reversed names from "Campfire!", which is why they'll seem a little bit odd at times.
2. The second adventuring party that's mentioned close to the end of the piece is also the party from "Campfire!" I mention this and the previous note because I don't expect anybody to remember the other piece.