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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Jack7" data-source="post: 4720557" data-attributes="member: 54707">FALFLA, PART THREE: A BARD WITH NO NAME“On the first part of the journeyI was picking at all the liceThere were plants that talked and rocks that sangThere were desks on which I’d bangThe first thing I met was a Roc with a buzzAnd ligers up in the cloudsThe cold was hot and the rest becauseBut my skin was full of clownsWell I swam through the desert On a Bard with no nameIt felt good to be off of my chainIn the desert… You can’t remember your name‘Cause there ain’t no wineFor to drink with your rain…I say, La la lah la la LoggLa la la lah Logg…La la lah la la LoggLa la la lah Logg…After two days in the desert doneMy eyes began to turn deadAfter three days of mixing my ownMy best pleas had all been pledAnd the story is told of an Angus so boldMade me sad to think it was bledYou see I flew through the desert on a Bard  with no nameIt felt good to be back in the gameIn the desert I can’t remember your name‘Cause there ain’t no crime to attach to your blame…La la lah la la LoggLa la la lah Logg…La la lah la la LoggLa la la lah Logg…”The first time I met Logg’s Angus we had been traveling up around Goblintown. Back then it was only a hole in the wall through which vermin liked to crawl in order to scrape off all of the barnacles.Wanda and I had just met and we were still kinda unsure of the exact nature of our relationship. That was fine though because she would use magic to put spells on me so I wouldn’t remember anything afterwards. I miss those days.Well me and Rolph had scouted up ahead to see if there was anything worth eating. When that didn’t work out I had Wanda call our order in with a magic mouth, a portable hole, and some invisible ink. When Wanda caught up we all sat down, made camp, and decided to eat our horses while we waited for our food to arrive.About nightfall I saw a strange light in the air and decided I’d go about three hundred yards or so into the woods to check out what was up. I left Rolph with strict instructions not to listen to Wanda if she started talking about how much fun it is to “get mesmerized” and made off to see what I could see. I got into some dense underbush first though, right before I left. That keeps the natives happy.When I couldn’t see the light from our fire anymore I began to have this weird and creepy feeling like I was being watched by a small humanoid with big bug eyes and who seemed to float everywhere they went. A spooky chill ran down my spine. Then time seemed to stop and I felt completely paralyzed. I was pretty sure it was Wanda again and so I started to sweat profusely, smile nervously, and I think I may have accidentally loosed my bowels. Then I heard a vicious snort that sounded like a herd of lemmings were just about ready to bolt. Fearing assault I tried to reach for the sword on my hip, or at least the multi-tool in my pants (sometimes just having the right tool for the job is very comforting), but found I still couldn’t move anything below my hairline except for my vocal cords. So I shouted for help, or screamed like a little gurl, it just depends on which side of the county line you were standing on. I hear tale though that they also probably heard it just north of Angmar, and that they had trouble getting the polar bears to settle back down again for a few weeks. Apparently they’re real sensitive to hypersonics.Anyways the shout seemed to have dispelled whatever had me on the clutch because suddenly I could move again. I quickly looked around expecting the worst when instead there was a terrifically bright light and this big, shiny, blinking egg shaped object rose noiselessly and eerily into the air, did several trick flips, caught a flying halibut, and then scooted off at amazing speed into the night sky. I was pretty sure it must have been a Shedu, or maybe a flock of trained, trick Cockatrice, but just to be sure I made my way over to the spot where I thought the thing had taken flight from. To my amazement I found a blue skinned fella sporting the Mace of Saint Cuthbert, and a huge Red Angus. I moseyed on up to them real cautiously and said, “What up home fries? This my leafy wood-hood. Yu best represent!"The blue guy turned towards me and I jumped about three feet high and six feet sidesaddle in surprise. He had a big head that looked something like a cross between a disemboweled goat bladder and a Skirlian bagpipe. With fish eyes and bubblewrap.“Hold on a minute,” gurgled the blue guy. “I haven’t put on my game face yet.” Then he sort of danced a reel-jig, squatted over backwards, said some kinda mumbo-jumbo, stuck a toe in one ear, lit his tongue on fire, and slowly transformed into a nice grandfatherly looking sort of gent. I think it was some sort of ritual. He was still blue though. Whatever he had done couldn’t fix that.“Who are you?” I asked, big pimpin my moonwalk. “And where you be from?” I demanded, making the universal two and three finger hand gestures for ‘stay cool brother’ and ‘don’t front me.’“Oh, we’re not associated with any gangs in this area,” said the blue one. The funny thing though was his lips never moved. I wanted to get him to teach me that one. It would come in handy at conventions. “My name is Fahtor Jilecks-eizhamm Klactu-varada. And this is my associate, Logg’s Angus.”“I am meant for Logg,” said the Angus.“Well, first of all,” I replied, “That’s who you are, but where are you from?”The blue one pointed at the sky and said, “My actual point of origin lies just beyond the eighth outer arm of the southern galactic disk in a region bounded within a set of seemingly fixed yet ever drifting coordinates probably best known to you through the appellation you would normally apply to the constellation currently known in this region of your world as…”“Hold up right there Sky-top. Are you saying you’re from heaven?”“In a manner of speaking, you might say that it is possible you would most logically construe…”“Okay, so cut that out already. You’re a cleric, I’m down with that, but I don’t speak theology, so you don’t have to go any farther in that direction til I’m either drunk or dead, or both. Then you can work your word and tap-dance magic when I’m not looking. For now, I’m just gonna call you Father Jyles of Hamm.”“This indeed is a very pleasant designation from my point of view. How then may I best identify you?”“I am meant for Logg,” interrupted the Angus. “And only for Logg. I am Logg’s Angus. He is incomplete without me.”“Well then you’re in luck Red,” I said turning towards the one trick bull-head. “Cause Logg is one a’ my best friends.” Then I took up again with Jyles. “As for me, my name is Noeman.”“No-man,” said Jyles.“Noeman.”“No-man?” repeated Jyles.“No, Noeman.”“No-no-man?” asked Jyles.“No, no. Noeman!” I shouted.“No-no-no-man?”“I am meant for Logg,” said the Angus. “I must join with Logg this very moment.”“No, man, that ain’t possible.” I replied. “Logg lives in the desert.”“I thought you were no-man,” said Jyles puzzled, pointing at me.“Well, I’m not,” I said flatly.“This is unacceptably confusing. You will not have a personal nomenclature then,” said Jyles. “For purposes of absolute clarity you will instead be identified according to your professional function.”“Fine by me. What does that mean?” I asked.“What is your occupation?”“Well, most of the time I’m busy with either ale, or females, or both. Sometimes though I try harder stuff if I can afford it,” I replied.“No, no-man. What do you do?”“Oh that… I’m a Bard.”“What does that mean?” asked Jyles, seeming genuinely curious.“I sing and dance and people pay me for it.”“Why?” asked Jyles incredulously.“It’s sort of like being an actor.” I said.“So, in other words,” asked Jyles, “you don’t really do anything at all?” “That’s right,” I answered.“And people pay you for that?”“A lot,” I replied.“Why?” he begged.“Because most people aren’t very smart with their money.”“I see. Very well then,” said Jyles confusedly, “you shall be the Bard with no name.”“Noeman.”“Correction,” continued Jyles, “the Bard who is no-man.”“Alright”, I said. “I’ll stick with the no name part.”“I am meant for Logg,” said the Angus.“Yeah,” I replied. “We got that part too.”I rounded them both up after that and I steered them back towards my camp. Since they didn’t seem to have anything better to do.“Say Jyles,” I asked as we made out way through the trees in the dark. “That’s a pretty fancy head-banger you’re holding there. Did you get that offa some Saint, or out of some treasure hoard?”Jyles looked at his rod and then looked back at me. “Do you mean to imply the chronospectacalculoggatometer?”“I told ya not to speak church-talk so much,” I said dubiously. “Just give me the low-down on your magic mace, will ya? How’d ya come by it, was it a gift or a did ya cop it from a fresh corpse?”“Neither,” he replied. “I made it myself.”“You made it yourself?” I asked surprised. “Yes, Bard with no name, every able bodied Kwilock of Abstrusion Age manufactures his own personal chronospectacalculoggatometer that only he is capable of fully and properly employing.”“Why does it glow like that then, did ya trap the spirit of some eldritch being inside it to make him do your slave-bidding?”“I am meant for Logg,” said the Angus.“Do you mind Red?” I said loudly, kinda annoyed. “We’re trying to conversate a role-play over here!”“No, it glows because it is made of Nth metal?” Jyles continued, not missing a beat.“It’s made a what-what?”“Nth metal is a substance that possess a peculiar sub-atomic property that allows it to disrupt arcane energies upon contact. I thought it might be useful while visiting your world.”I eyed him suspiciously.“It is an extremely rare and valuable artifact,” he offered up as an after-thought. Now that, I said to myself, that I understand.To be continuated…</blockquote>

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