the Jester
Legend
Lost in Faerieland- the Conclusion
The eternal twilight remains all around. Our heroes don’t really feel tired; if they weren’t halflings and thus instinctively tied to their food, one wonders if they would grow hungry.
Marching through the woods, more and more frightened by the oppressive shadows and the spooky movements they keep seeing out of the corners of their eyes, our heroes jump when they hear a song ringing out:
”Alas and alack,
They’ve left the path;
No way back
From faerie wrath.”
Our heroes exchange a glance and, with a shrug, start following the voice.
”Alas and alack,
They’ve left the path;
Nor spell nor track
Will lead them back.”
“Who’s there?” calls Whisperclick nervously. The party passes through a screen of brush and trees, and in the midst of a small clearing they spy the singer- a satyr, his beer belly bulging, all too obviously virile. He grins and waggles his eyebrows at Naomi, the only obvious female.
“Alack and alas,
They’ve left the trail;
No faeries of grass
And they’ll surely fail.
No path nor pity
Nor friends nor guide,
No town or city
Roam far and wide.
In emerald woods
Forever they’re lost
Escape if they could
But won’t pay the cost.”
“Nicely sung,” says Sandy politely.
“Thank you, friends!” The rosy-cheeked satyr raises his wineskin and squeezes dark fluid into his mouth, smacking his lips. “Ahhh, that meets my ends!”
“Do you... know us?” Naomi asks cautiously.
The satyr guffaws. “Know you? I’d say not, I’m afraid not; but it would be a lie to say I’ve not heard of you! Indeed, all the woods are abuzz with word of you!” He belches, clearly drunk.
“What’s your name?” asks Beau.
“I am Gorgle Deepsinger, named for my deep voice!” He sings out a deep note. “Isn’t that choice?”
“Say, maybe you can help us.” Beau puts on his best smile. “We’re lost. Do you think you could guide us out of the woods?”
“Ahh, you ask my aid. I’ll give you a piece of advice for a lady’s honor!” He grins and winks at Naomi.
“She’s not really a lady,” says Sandy at the same time that Beau comments, “Well, I don’t know that she has any honor.”
Naomi cocks an eyebrow. “Sure, why not? If you can take the ride, anyway.”
***
Gorgle proves nigh-insatiable. With a little nudge from a charm, Whisperclick lends a hand as well, and what ensues can only be described with the word Superporn. With halflings. Right. Anyhow, we shall (mercifully) turn our heads away for a little while, and when we catch up with our heroes- surprise, surprise- it’s twilight. Still and again.
***
Though he shakes his head wondering why they’d want to leave, Gorgle is nonetheless more than happy to lead our heroes about. The infuriatingly vague nature of time and place in the fey realms seems to confound him to a certain extent as well. However, he claims he knows others that could help. It is not until our heroes stumble upon a group of four exceptionally ugly gnomes that our heroes have any faith in the lascivious satyr. But then he proves his worth. The gnomes offer to escort the party to the edges of Faerieland.
Their escort goes on for what seems like forever. Our heroes, though not needing sleep, do need to rest their legs; and so eventually they break for a rest period. It is then that Badeye, the leader of the gnomes, demands that the group surrender one of their number to the cook pot.
“Why does everyone here want to eat us?” Sandy grumbles.
But Gorgle intervenes. He talks to Badeye, Bignose, Smackhead and Dropkick, persuading them to let the party go to the aid of the head that Lita had kicked into the woods.
“Say, where is Lita?” wonders Sandy. Nobody has seen her since the witch’s hut.
“Uh oh,” moans Timothy.
The satyr continues to argue with the gnomes. Smackhead, especially, seems intent on devouring one of our heroes. But eventually, with the threat of the head’s anger, Gorgle manages to dissuade them.
Thus it is that, at last, escorted by the foul-tempered gnomes, our heroes tromp through the woods and find the head Lita had kicked off the path and away from its well, glaring angrily as they walk up.
“It wasn’t us!” wails Sandy. “It was Lita! And she’s gone now, we don’t know where!”
Carefully, they re-brush its hair, and then return it to the well in its bucket. It snaps at them and growls the whole time. “No hard feelings?” Timothy calls down the well. His only answer is a wordless snarl.
With a shrug, our heroes retreat from the well.
“That’s going to put you in good with the Haligonians,” the satyr points out to the gnomes, who only scowl and salivate.
Badeye and his cadre lead the party to the edge of the river, and then take their leave. After copulating with Naomi one last time, Gorgle does likewise. Soon our heroes are passing downstream, stepping from rock to rock amongst the jumbled stones of the shore. As they travel the trees around them begin to thin as the sky brightens.
“It’s dawn,” calls Whisperclick. “It’s dawn!”
Our heroes whoop in joy. The twilight is over!
Next Time: A visit to a temple of Bleak!
The eternal twilight remains all around. Our heroes don’t really feel tired; if they weren’t halflings and thus instinctively tied to their food, one wonders if they would grow hungry.
Marching through the woods, more and more frightened by the oppressive shadows and the spooky movements they keep seeing out of the corners of their eyes, our heroes jump when they hear a song ringing out:
”Alas and alack,
They’ve left the path;
No way back
From faerie wrath.”
Our heroes exchange a glance and, with a shrug, start following the voice.
”Alas and alack,
They’ve left the path;
Nor spell nor track
Will lead them back.”
“Who’s there?” calls Whisperclick nervously. The party passes through a screen of brush and trees, and in the midst of a small clearing they spy the singer- a satyr, his beer belly bulging, all too obviously virile. He grins and waggles his eyebrows at Naomi, the only obvious female.
“Alack and alas,
They’ve left the trail;
No faeries of grass
And they’ll surely fail.
No path nor pity
Nor friends nor guide,
No town or city
Roam far and wide.
In emerald woods
Forever they’re lost
Escape if they could
But won’t pay the cost.”
“Nicely sung,” says Sandy politely.
“Thank you, friends!” The rosy-cheeked satyr raises his wineskin and squeezes dark fluid into his mouth, smacking his lips. “Ahhh, that meets my ends!”
“Do you... know us?” Naomi asks cautiously.
The satyr guffaws. “Know you? I’d say not, I’m afraid not; but it would be a lie to say I’ve not heard of you! Indeed, all the woods are abuzz with word of you!” He belches, clearly drunk.
“What’s your name?” asks Beau.
“I am Gorgle Deepsinger, named for my deep voice!” He sings out a deep note. “Isn’t that choice?”
“Say, maybe you can help us.” Beau puts on his best smile. “We’re lost. Do you think you could guide us out of the woods?”
“Ahh, you ask my aid. I’ll give you a piece of advice for a lady’s honor!” He grins and winks at Naomi.
“She’s not really a lady,” says Sandy at the same time that Beau comments, “Well, I don’t know that she has any honor.”
Naomi cocks an eyebrow. “Sure, why not? If you can take the ride, anyway.”
***
Gorgle proves nigh-insatiable. With a little nudge from a charm, Whisperclick lends a hand as well, and what ensues can only be described with the word Superporn. With halflings. Right. Anyhow, we shall (mercifully) turn our heads away for a little while, and when we catch up with our heroes- surprise, surprise- it’s twilight. Still and again.
***
Though he shakes his head wondering why they’d want to leave, Gorgle is nonetheless more than happy to lead our heroes about. The infuriatingly vague nature of time and place in the fey realms seems to confound him to a certain extent as well. However, he claims he knows others that could help. It is not until our heroes stumble upon a group of four exceptionally ugly gnomes that our heroes have any faith in the lascivious satyr. But then he proves his worth. The gnomes offer to escort the party to the edges of Faerieland.
Their escort goes on for what seems like forever. Our heroes, though not needing sleep, do need to rest their legs; and so eventually they break for a rest period. It is then that Badeye, the leader of the gnomes, demands that the group surrender one of their number to the cook pot.
“Why does everyone here want to eat us?” Sandy grumbles.
But Gorgle intervenes. He talks to Badeye, Bignose, Smackhead and Dropkick, persuading them to let the party go to the aid of the head that Lita had kicked into the woods.
“Say, where is Lita?” wonders Sandy. Nobody has seen her since the witch’s hut.
“Uh oh,” moans Timothy.
The satyr continues to argue with the gnomes. Smackhead, especially, seems intent on devouring one of our heroes. But eventually, with the threat of the head’s anger, Gorgle manages to dissuade them.
Thus it is that, at last, escorted by the foul-tempered gnomes, our heroes tromp through the woods and find the head Lita had kicked off the path and away from its well, glaring angrily as they walk up.
“It wasn’t us!” wails Sandy. “It was Lita! And she’s gone now, we don’t know where!”
Carefully, they re-brush its hair, and then return it to the well in its bucket. It snaps at them and growls the whole time. “No hard feelings?” Timothy calls down the well. His only answer is a wordless snarl.
With a shrug, our heroes retreat from the well.
“That’s going to put you in good with the Haligonians,” the satyr points out to the gnomes, who only scowl and salivate.
Badeye and his cadre lead the party to the edge of the river, and then take their leave. After copulating with Naomi one last time, Gorgle does likewise. Soon our heroes are passing downstream, stepping from rock to rock amongst the jumbled stones of the shore. As they travel the trees around them begin to thin as the sky brightens.
“It’s dawn,” calls Whisperclick. “It’s dawn!”
Our heroes whoop in joy. The twilight is over!
Next Time: A visit to a temple of Bleak!