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Another Bastard Child of Tolkien - Litany for a Dead Campaign (The End)
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<blockquote data-quote="Paka" data-source="post: 1299295" data-attributes="member: 100"><p><strong>Chapter XII</strong></p><p><em>Our Funeral Ritual </em> </p><p></p><p>We have no temples, no holidays, only a handful of rites and rituals that I know of. Funerals happen to be one of them. Usually we get caught in an improper form and are murdered as was the case with this one. </p><p></p><p>Word is that the family had to pay a heavy ransom to the orc tribe that ended up with the body. He was caught in the form of an orc chieftan. The chief's wife caught him. Odd, loves rarely catch us. </p><p></p><p>Loves usually project their expectations so loudly that they are easy to hear, easy to use. Even making love can be easy because lovers project their thoughts like screaming babies. Yet another sign that love makes one's mind weak. </p><p></p><p>I have never been in love. But once I had to assume the form of a forty year old dwarven boy. It become obvious that this boy, was in love with an engraver across the street. I asked an elder who I could have known of this love even with no long term contact with the boy or no journal to work from. </p><p></p><p>The elder told me that we, like water, tend to fill the containers we are put in. The love was me filling the container, finding the truth in that form. It is clearly possible that the boy, before me, didn't know that he was in love with this engraver with her long bronze hair and square face. </p><p></p><p>Rumors have spread throughout the funeral concerning the death, the battle, the killers the final forms the dead assumed: sailor on a Silver City smuggling barge, dolphin, shark, dog, orc chieftan of the Goldoathed tribe, finally, killed as a pixie. </p><p></p><p>Those who have bothered to show up are wearing the wearing the clothes of their last form. Those of us in between long term forms are wearing bulky cotton robes. They would be itchy if we were prone to such things. </p><p></p><p>Three children run by playing tag shifting from one form into another. One of the children assumes the form of a large cat in order to pin the other child down and growls, "You're IT." </p><p></p><p>The cat's parents chastise him, not only for shifting at such a somber occasion but for making a cat talk, "Cats only rarely talk. Mistakes like that get us killed, child." </p><p></p><p>"If it were a familiar or a hellcat or was awakened by a druid it might talk. It might." </p><p></p><p>The parent grabs the precocious child, still in cat form, and sneers, "Hellcats don't talk." </p><p></p><p>The cat sighs. </p><p></p><p>It is not that we just look alike to other races. Truth is when we are all our true forms (whatever that means) we all look alike. Moving on from one form to another erodes any sense of importance the physical world might have. </p><p></p><p>The priest would deliver the speech if we had such things. As it is a parent drones, "We shall call our fellow Doppleganger by name for the third time, sending his soul to the next form. Whatever form that is, we know that he is ready to play his role, to find his place and become what needs becoming." </p><p></p><p>"Amen." </p><p></p><p>In unison we say his birth name for the third and final time. Once at birth, once at adulthood and now a final time. There are a possible five name-sayings but this one only reached three. </p><p></p><p>There's no shame in that. </p><p></p><p>While being johan, a sailor on a Silver City barge, contact was made with the green heralds. Apparently they were heading into Sun's port. Our Gold Father would not have liked this, not at all. </p><p></p><p>Undesirable contact was made. johan's form was discarded. </p><p></p><p>Enter the dolphin. </p><p></p><p>The green heralds made their way to shore on a small rowboat. </p><p></p><p>Enter the shark. </p><p></p><p>They made it to shore by use of a weak Elemental. Among them was a wizard of no mean skill. </p><p></p><p>It was obvious the green heralds were making their way to shore. </p><p></p><p>Enter the dog. </p><p></p><p>Along the shore was an orcish tribe. The chief was done away with while he urinated in some bushes. </p><p></p><p>Enter the orc chieftan. </p><p></p><p>The Green heralds made their way to the orcish tribe along the shore, unable to avoid being seen. </p><p></p><p>They travelled with the orc chieftan and his first wife. </p><p></p><p>Our Gold Father has a deep hatred for these green heralds and this failure has not gone unnoticed. Reports were made as often as can be expected. </p><p></p><p>It is unclear what finally happened. We only know that was a pixie when he died. Pixies are popular escape skins. </p><p></p><p>Humans write rest in peace on some of their grave markers. I always thought that was an odd thought, to be wished such a thing. Peaceful times are not happy times for me. </p><p></p><p>I saw this one, this one who died, once assume the form of a five year old human child, a notoriously difficult age and race. The form was a little girl with hair to the side, pigtails, they say. This pigtailed girl played with other children in the market for hours and was as carefree as was proper. She then politely told them she had to return to her parent's home and made her leave. This is my only memory of johan the sailor, the shark, the dolphin, the dog, the orc chieftan. </p><p></p><p>I bet if you skimmed the mind of any of those, even the meanest animal form he took you would have found shark thoughts in the shark skull dog thoughts in the dog. I hope this thought is a correct and proper one to have at one of our funerals. </p><p></p><p>The broken body is divided up, given to heads of the families to be disposed of and once that ritual is done we leave, returning to the lives that we inhabit.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Paka, post: 1299295, member: 100"] [B]Chapter XII[/B] [I]Our Funeral Ritual [/I] We have no temples, no holidays, only a handful of rites and rituals that I know of. Funerals happen to be one of them. Usually we get caught in an improper form and are murdered as was the case with this one. Word is that the family had to pay a heavy ransom to the orc tribe that ended up with the body. He was caught in the form of an orc chieftan. The chief's wife caught him. Odd, loves rarely catch us. Loves usually project their expectations so loudly that they are easy to hear, easy to use. Even making love can be easy because lovers project their thoughts like screaming babies. Yet another sign that love makes one's mind weak. I have never been in love. But once I had to assume the form of a forty year old dwarven boy. It become obvious that this boy, was in love with an engraver across the street. I asked an elder who I could have known of this love even with no long term contact with the boy or no journal to work from. The elder told me that we, like water, tend to fill the containers we are put in. The love was me filling the container, finding the truth in that form. It is clearly possible that the boy, before me, didn't know that he was in love with this engraver with her long bronze hair and square face. Rumors have spread throughout the funeral concerning the death, the battle, the killers the final forms the dead assumed: sailor on a Silver City smuggling barge, dolphin, shark, dog, orc chieftan of the Goldoathed tribe, finally, killed as a pixie. Those who have bothered to show up are wearing the wearing the clothes of their last form. Those of us in between long term forms are wearing bulky cotton robes. They would be itchy if we were prone to such things. Three children run by playing tag shifting from one form into another. One of the children assumes the form of a large cat in order to pin the other child down and growls, "You're IT." The cat's parents chastise him, not only for shifting at such a somber occasion but for making a cat talk, "Cats only rarely talk. Mistakes like that get us killed, child." "If it were a familiar or a hellcat or was awakened by a druid it might talk. It might." The parent grabs the precocious child, still in cat form, and sneers, "Hellcats don't talk." The cat sighs. It is not that we just look alike to other races. Truth is when we are all our true forms (whatever that means) we all look alike. Moving on from one form to another erodes any sense of importance the physical world might have. The priest would deliver the speech if we had such things. As it is a parent drones, "We shall call our fellow Doppleganger by name for the third time, sending his soul to the next form. Whatever form that is, we know that he is ready to play his role, to find his place and become what needs becoming." "Amen." In unison we say his birth name for the third and final time. Once at birth, once at adulthood and now a final time. There are a possible five name-sayings but this one only reached three. There's no shame in that. While being johan, a sailor on a Silver City barge, contact was made with the green heralds. Apparently they were heading into Sun's port. Our Gold Father would not have liked this, not at all. Undesirable contact was made. johan's form was discarded. Enter the dolphin. The green heralds made their way to shore on a small rowboat. Enter the shark. They made it to shore by use of a weak Elemental. Among them was a wizard of no mean skill. It was obvious the green heralds were making their way to shore. Enter the dog. Along the shore was an orcish tribe. The chief was done away with while he urinated in some bushes. Enter the orc chieftan. The Green heralds made their way to the orcish tribe along the shore, unable to avoid being seen. They travelled with the orc chieftan and his first wife. Our Gold Father has a deep hatred for these green heralds and this failure has not gone unnoticed. Reports were made as often as can be expected. It is unclear what finally happened. We only know that was a pixie when he died. Pixies are popular escape skins. Humans write rest in peace on some of their grave markers. I always thought that was an odd thought, to be wished such a thing. Peaceful times are not happy times for me. I saw this one, this one who died, once assume the form of a five year old human child, a notoriously difficult age and race. The form was a little girl with hair to the side, pigtails, they say. This pigtailed girl played with other children in the market for hours and was as carefree as was proper. She then politely told them she had to return to her parent's home and made her leave. This is my only memory of johan the sailor, the shark, the dolphin, the dog, the orc chieftan. I bet if you skimmed the mind of any of those, even the meanest animal form he took you would have found shark thoughts in the shark skull dog thoughts in the dog. I hope this thought is a correct and proper one to have at one of our funerals. The broken body is divided up, given to heads of the families to be disposed of and once that ritual is done we leave, returning to the lives that we inhabit. [/QUOTE]
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