The Wild Geas!

The misadventures so far:

1) The Elf, The Troll And The Wardrobe
2) Oh Brother Troll, Where Art Thou!
3) Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Vendo
4) The Dear Hunter
5) The Wild Geas (this one)

As with previously, a teaser ahead of writing the bulk of the story.

Apologies in advance to all the great and honourable as I shamelessly abuse and besmirch their names in the search for cheap laughs.

Without further babble:


The Wild Geas!
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Tir na mBeo was an unremarkable though picturesque village in Lough Derg nestling near the great south road. IT was a small, beautiful village on the edge of light forests made up of whitewashed cottages, delicate gazebos and a large well in the centre and over the road was a perfect view of the great lakes. It was home to around one hundred or so Hibernian souls.

Tiftok was scampering through the village. He was the kind of fourteen year old boy that cliches were made of: spiky orange hair, gangly legs freckled face and clothes that he was assured he would grow into. Funny the way mothers all do that; somehow just as you're about to fit into the current set, you are presented with something new that you are strongly told you will grow into, with the effect that you spend your entire youth wearing baggy clothes and looking slightly thuggish. Tiftok was bored as usual and just as any self-respecting boy would do, was looking for fun. As with most boys, fun to Tiftok translated to adults as mischief. Of course, for it to be called mischief would require him to get caught.
Today he didn't know what to do. He couldn't annoy the instrument maker, Cian, by swapping all the lute strings around, he'd done that last week. Rhian, the dye merchant was now wise to him placing the paint pots above a door left slightly ajar, but only after leaving Tiftok with a memory that he would treasure forever.
As he mooched around the Tir na mBeo well, Tiftok noticed a little lurikeen in gaudy clothes approaching f'Red's house with a large scroll under one arm, and a hammer under the other. Ah, a new notice. Unlike most of the other buildings, f'Red's house faced out into the forest, leaving the back wall facing the village. As a result, over time it had become the unofficial centre for posting public notices and village issues. Mostly it was wine growers, (or 'Winers' as they'd become known) complaining endlessly things that were wrong with the village and trying to elicit support. They were a quarellsome part of the local community, pointlessly competitive. My grapes are bigger than your grapes. Yeh? Well mine taste better. Etc. It had got so bad at one point that some Winers had been burning down some of the notices but since that potentially could take down the house, f'Red had made an example of one by banning him from this plane of existance with an ancient mystical device known as a dirty great bastard sword applied through the chest. There had been no flaming since.
Tiftok adopted that shuffling nonchalant walk that all boys do when they don't want to be noticed, which that subcategory of adults known as parents learn very quickly is a danger sign as subtle as burning beacons along a mountain range indicating incoming armies of the forces of darkness etc. Tiftok was far more dangerous than any army of darkness: he had learned how to smile innocently.
The lurikeen reached f'Red's house and sure enough unfurled the scroll. Pulling a nail from a pocket, first the top left of the scroll went up, then the right, and soon a large garish poster was visible for the entire village to see. The choice of colours were so bad it made the eyes water just to look at it but to Tiftok it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
His eyes widened as he drank in the contents of the poster and his little heart sang as he read.



After a pause to drink the poster in, Tiftok ran off at full speed to get his friends. This was big news. An actual circus was coming!

The wizened lurikeen watched the little boy run off and quietly said under his breath, "The game's afoot."

OMG I HATE U GIVF ALL THE STRY
i cant wait anymore!!!!

may only been 5minutes but BAH!

Firbie clowns...yay!

/Dracus

<Holds Breath>

See no Roo...
Hear no Roo...
Beg for Roo

Givf rest of story!!!

lets PM spam him till he caves in and dedicates all his tiem to writing stories for me to read... err us... for us to read... and because he enjoys it....
GIVF MORE

if he writes it, its worth waiting for, just like the end of Dear Hunter , just wait and be patient, and it will be done when he has the time .

Oro said:

WOW AT THE SPEEDY FLIPPER-JUGGLING OF TEH SEEL!

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I'm a celebererity!

Healer McHeal said:

if he writes it, its worth waiting for, just like the end of Dear Hunter , just wait and be patient, and it will be done when he has the time .

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but i r teh impatients type and i have nothing to do with most of my days.
quite frankly daoc getting boring most of time. so getting another nice story to read would be wubbly. bah may have to visit a library

Lakashnik said:

but i r teh impatients type and i have nothing to do with most of my days.
quite frankly daoc getting boring most of time. so getting another nice story to read would be wubbly. bah may have to visit a library

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Play Vampire the Masqerade: Bloodlines.

heh. if i had money to go out and buy games i would.
also if i had a pc good enough to i would (i will in 2weeks huzzah)
anyway i kinda high jacked and spammed oros story thread... sorry.
i thinks no more posting here till he puts more story in. or when people coem to read they will giv up after my umpteenth post of spam.
sorry!

I like the forums reference, is f'Reds house better than here?

old.Tohtori said:

I'm a celebererity!

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You were in the last one too, you dingleberry

GASP AS SAVAGE SABRETOOTHS KNEEL TO THE WILL OF 'Tasslehoff the Mighty'!

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Ugh! I´m also a celebrity!

Great start on a sunday morning reading this.

givf catacombs??? nahhhhh
GIVF MORE ROO STORIES. pweaseeeeeee.
wish i hadnt read the others now. me = hooked.

Oro said:

You were in the last one too, you dingleberry

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Ooh...gotta take a looksy. When did i miss that one...hmm..

old.Tohtori said:

Ooh...gotta take a looksy. When did i miss that one...hmm..

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you was in dear hunter, not sure about the others, i cant remeber , may have to re-read them lol

Healer McHeal said:

you was in dear hunter, not sure about the others, i cant remeber , may have to re-read them lol

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You were in The Dear Hunter and now in The Wild Geas.

santa for xmas plz make roo GIVF more story!!! plzzz

Lakashnik said:

santa for xmas plz make roo GIVF more story!!! plzzz

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I agree on that...

"All I want for Christmas is my two front teesh, my two front teesh" Hmmmmm...
"All I want for Christmas is to read the wild geas, read the wild geas"
A bit better, but...

he he spoke to roo today.
hopefully 1st bit o story shuld be up soon or so he said. he told me he was just needing to proof read it.
so be soon i hope... just thought would tell any1 wondering when it will be here as much as me....
and im v excited to cos of him leaving me wit lil teasers about it!!!
but anyway. rawr. wub to roo

The wagons rumbled on the great south road, Tir na mBeo finally in sight. Five wagons pulled by teams of very solid-looking horses. The wagons were decked out in garish colours, similar to the poster announcing them. Reds and blues and yellows were daubed over the wagons, splattered and seemingly covering over darker, faded paint. Written in big friendly letters on the side of each was "C I R C U S D E - M A" in the kind of crude text that made calligraphers contemplate suicide. It didn't so much grab your attention as threaten grievous defecit disorder to any attention that considered wandering elsewhere.



Tiftok and his friends lay on the brow of the small hill overlooking the road. Five huge wagons trundled down the road, squeaking and clattering and seeming to be on the verge of falling apart with every shuddering turn of the wheels. Teams of sweating horses strained at the reigns under the hot noon sun. The hugest firbolgs Tiftok had ever seen held the reigns.
The foursome were mesmerised.
"They look like the old war wagons." exclaimed Lakishnak, "my grandad told me about them."
Lakishnak was a tall, lanky and utterly uncoordinated celt boy of fifteen. Consequently, the young celt tended to spend a lot of time bumping, tripping and generally bouncing off inanimate objects. On more than one occasion he had fallen down the village well. The villagers fished him out in good humour which only failed the time he'd fallen in when he had a bad case of diorrhea.
"I wonder which one the mammoths are in." asked Karey. The lithe celt girl squinted in the noon sun. Lakishnak turned and looked at her. As always his heart leapt when he looked at her. She was probably the prettiest girl in the village - blond unkept hair, hazel eyes, lips which seemed to pout whenever she was thinking. She didn't play with the other girls though, she was always around this little band of trouble makers. Her trusty catapult, as ever, poked out of her belt. Lakishnak thought he was deeply in love with her, but it was just puberty.
The last of the motley crew was Beeble. Every motley crew has to have a fat kid and this one had Beeble. Beeble was a lurikeen that looked like he'd been inflated. Instead of being small and wiry like most of his kind, he was kind of like a glowering three foot tall beachball. He could hide almost as well as most lurikeens but he needed to be in a pumpkin patch to do it so he could blend in. However, anyone that poked fun at him tended to find strange things happening to them. Beeble was already well on his way to becoming a master alchemist at the tender age of thirteen. He could cook up substances more foul than any kebab shop or school kitchen. His proudest concoction he just called "Splat". This goo just stuck to whatever it was thrown at. Imagine someone throwing a jellyfish at your face and it stuck there for a week.
Nobody poked fun at Beeble. Those that tried had their noses disolved.
"They ain't no war wagons, fool." said Beeble with his usual supercharged charisma, "They're just big farm wagons painted up you idiot."
"War wagons," said Lakishnak sullenly, "my grandad talked about them. Thats what he said they looked like."
"Don't matter," said Tiftok dreamily, "its a circus."
"I want to see the mammoths." said Karey, her eyes wide as she imagined the huge beasts, " I wonder which wagon they're in."

The wagons reached the edge of the village and turned inwards, heading towards the centre. The foursome tracked around behind them, staying far enough away so they wouldn't attract attention, close enough they wouldn't miss anything. The wagons moved to the area just before the well and formed a semi circle around it.
Without a word, the firbolg drivers leapt down and moved to the rear of each wagon, dropping tailgates. More firbolgs leaped out, joined by celts and lurikeens. All in complete silence. In amongst them another firbolg jumped out of one of the wagons, taller than all the others with the hugest hands Tiftok had ever seen. He started shouting orders at the rest and soon stakes, poles, ropes and canvas appeared from the wagons. They were laid down on the ground and soon a tent started to rise behind the circus wagons.
The children were wrapt. They stayed watching for hours, hoping to see a glimpse of the strange creatures the poster had told of, but there was no indication of them. By early evening the tent was fully erected. Three of the wagons were moved so they backed straight onto it and had their tailgates sealed into folds in the huge tent.
"Gah, we're not going to see anything." said Beeble, "think I'll go turn old man Tole's apples purple. Anyone coming?"
None of the other three moved, and Beeble huffed but sat down, "I'll go later."
The only real difference between Beeble standing as opposed to sitting was that you could see his feet, even if he couldn't.
None of the children were in a hurry to go home. Their parents didn't notice them any more. The village had changed in recent years. It had stopped bustling, visitors had stopped coming. The adults looked with dead eyes and beaten expressions. In fact, even the neighbouring villages seemed to be the same now. The children just thought it was hard times as the crops didn't grow well any more and the animals were sickly, beyond the ability of the druids to devise cures. This circus was the first fun thing they could recall seeing in recent years - outside of the mischief they cooked up by themselves. The only way that most villagers were able to eke a crust was to join lord Batan's militia. They were always well paid and fed. Most boys looked with admiration at the polished armour of the militia men and aimed to join up as soon as they were old enough.
The children watched but were now listless and bored. Since the tent had been finished and the wagons backed onto it, there had been no sign of life apart from a few firbolgs wandered at random around the tent, checking pegs and lines, but other than that, there was nothing more to see.
"I'm going home. Hungry now." said Tiftok, "See you lot tomorrow."
"Yeh, I'm off." answered Lakishnak.
Karey and Beeble grunted agreement, and reluctantly left the area behind the tent, heading to their respective homes around the village. They sky was turning purple as evening set in.
Behind where they had been sitting, a firbolg appeared out of nowhere as he said quietly in Midgardian, "I are not tree."

Inside the tent, there was furious activity. Trolls, kobolds and norse mixed with Firbolgs, Lurikeens and Celts, all checking armour, weapons and ammunition, ranging from arrows to Woffle-toffs. In the middle of it all stood a massive female troll wearing tattered armour. Her gleaming axes practically shone, as they stuck out of her belt. she chomped a hunk of meat on the bone while her all-seeing eyes made sure the troops were doing exactly what they were supposed to. She smiled with grim satisfaction.
A flap of the tent opened up and Twisted entered the tent, looking to all intents and purposes like a firbolg. He walked straight over to Ma.
She glowered at him the whole way.
"Hunters reported back yet?"
"No Ma. They still looking."
"Gah. Only have tonight. Not seen Ham and Tight. Where they?"
Twisted looked uncomfortable.
"Well..."
Ma's head tilted to one side.
"Husband troll, they doin' somethin' stupid an' its your hide for my next set of armour. You were supposed to keep eye on 'em."
"Ma, Ham said he was thirsty and well, since he speak the language anyway..."
Ma looked at Twisted and closed her eyes in disbelief.
"Oh gods no. And Tight too?"
"Yes Ma."
"Freya's left tit." cursed Ma, "All this way, so close and those stupid boys go off. They must take after your side of family, Twisted Fisted."
"Oh you got cheek MRS. Fisted. Your brother Gristleface that drank the bar dry at our wedding."
"He was celebratin'. S'all." said Ma, but she looked at Twisted strangely. He only called her Mrs. when he was nervous about something.
Ma leaned over and squeezed his hand, "They our boys love. They Fisteds. They can look after selves. we taught 'em. They just dumb as dishwater at times."
Ma was indeed correct in that troll families brought whole new dimensions to the phrase "tough love". In the early years of their marriage, before they had children, Ma and Twisted used to bait the local militia. Being trolls they loved a good fight but sometimes they were too tired after a hard day's work to go find one of their own. So they'd fight each other until a neighbour complained about the noise and the Galplen militia guards were sent round to deal with it. Then the Fisteds would happily wade into the guards together and have a wonderful evening's entertainment. Ah, those happy days when life was simple and bloody. The militia had got wise to them and it wasn't long before should a neighbour complained about the noise, the militia would go around and beat up the neighbour. It was much easier.
It was around the same time that their fun was stopped that the young married couple decided to start a family. Pure coincidence of course.
Twisted broke Ma's reverie, "I know Ma, but so far from home. I miss snow."
"We finish this tonight love. And home we go."
Twisted managed a weak smile, "Yes Ma."
A moment later, Ma was all business again.
"Go stand watch around tent. Need to know if anyone get close."
Twisted nodded. Before turning away, he looked around the tent at the bustling activity.
"You sure we take demon troops with these love?"
Ma looked sideways left then right then straight at Twisted, "Rogues and cuthroats and vagabonds and thieves. Very worst from worst ghetto in Midgard."
Ma put on a fake soldier's voice, "Worst of da worst of da worst. With no honour. Sah!"
Twisted grinned at her.
She paused then said with bitter humour, "I Ma. All assist. Ladytroll fighting. Don' get in way."


Ham's reasoning went thus: he looked like a firbolg. Tight looked like a firbolg. Ham could speak and understand Hibernian. They needed information. What better place to find information than the local tavern. Beer was just a bonus. All Tight had to do was do what he did best: drink and shut up. Well that wasn't actually what Tight did best, but Ham was trying to avoid a bodycount. It still felt strange to Ham being in a firbolg's body, but Seal assured him and the others that he could easily turn them back to their original form. Ham wasn't quite sure he believed the smally fluffy one, but nobody had come up with a better plan for getting through Hibernia.

Tight had his dog, Jugulator with him. Jugulator never left his side. The tiny black hound always managed to unnerve people. He just had a knack for looking at people's throats which they found most unsettling. He never looked at their eyes like most dogs. Just the throats. Every once in a while he had this tendency to lick his lips while doing so. If he noticed, Tight showed no sign.
"Tavern there, brother troll." said Ham.
"Good brother Troll. I thirsty. Don't forget drink for puppy." said Tight.
Neither troll felt comfortable in these false bodies they wore. They moved wrong. As they saw it, trolls moved with style and grace which just goes to show there's no accounting for perception. These firbolg bodies just seemed to lack any elegance they thought.

Ham remembered the night he'd killed his first Hibernian. He was on the frontier, in Breifine, on the very edge of Hibernian controlled territory (at that time). He had tricked his way into joining a patrol heading out for a sweep of the area. Always watching for massing of troops signalling invasion, this neverending game that each of the three realms played constantly. He remembered the nervous excitement. No fear. They were invincible.

That night his patrol of eight was wiped out, except for him. The Hibernians had come upon them out of nowhere. Ham fell as the patrol held their ground before the ambush. Elves with eyes aflame and glowing swords leaped out of the trees at them and slaughtered the Midgardians. They fought as if possessed. Ham ran, swordless from the fight. He realised then he was not, and never would be, a fighter. He was forgotten in the short brutal fight then Ham ran through the forests, up along hills. He ran for all he was worth. Many times he almost blundered into the creatures that lived there, sometimes catlike creatures that stalked the night, sometimes the ghosts of fallen soldiers, bitter and twisted and hating the living.

A celt followed him, never tiring, driven by strength that no mortal should have. It ended in a bloody fight amongst the trees in near silence. Ham knew he could not run forever and decided to fight before his strength gave out, so he feinted one way and ran in a semi circle behind the Celt. He leaped out on the Celt, throwing him to the ground, but the stout Celt rolled with the fall, rising into a fighting stance almost immediately. The dance began and the pair faced off in the night beneath the canopy of trees. The Celt was an experienced fighter, but Ham was younger and stronger. Eventually Ham placed a stunning blow with a massive fist and the Celt was knocked to the ground. Ham wrapped his hands around the Hibernian's throat and squeezed as hard as he could. The Celt's eyes bulged and he made gurgling noises in his throat and was eventually silent. Ham let go of the lifeless head and watched it fall to the ground.
The Celt's eyes shot open and Ham could have sworn he saw faint light leaving its body. The Celt's mouth started moving and it took Ham a few moments to realise he could understand what the Celt was saying.
"You will free my Tir Na mBeo of the demon, Banak, and speak the tongues of all until you succeed. You can harm no Hibernian that doesn't harm you. You have one year or those you hold dear will die."
With that the Celt's eyes closed and he lay silent and still, a faint smile fading on his lips. The light dissapated, as if fleeing into the trees. It was many minutes before Ham gathered his wits enough to move away. That was the night Ham received his quest and curse. He hid on the frontier for months. It was only when he encountered Hibernians after that and was able to understand what they said that he started to believe in the geas.

Jugulator trotted along behind Tight. The little hound's tongue lolled as he happily followed his master. He used to have another master. A cold, hard force that ruled his mind with an iron will. It meant nothing now. He felt only love for the big troll, even though Tight looked like a firbolg at the moment. Jugulator was gradually adjusting to his own new shape but was still very much finding his way. For instance, he kept getting urges to lick his own balls but he found that his oversized fangs tended to chafe. He didn't miss being lurikeen or a vampire or for that matter a dragon (ever had one of those weeks you wish you just hadn't got out of bed? It had been a bit like that recently for Jugulator). Life had been a touch complicated for a while but now all he had to do was eat, sleep, walk and rip the throats out of anyone that threatened Tight. He was uniquely equipped for that particular job with fangs no ordinary dog had.
Every once in a while the little dog's eyes would glow bright red as he saw movement. Once he'd identified it wasn't a threat, and was instead say, a large cat, he'd ignore it and move on.
Jugulator's effect cats was however rather more dramatic. Cats tended want to find some flat surface to dig their nails into and stick on to. Usually it was a convenient ceiling, but in the absence of that, a wall or in this case, a passing lurikeen would do.
"ARRGH" said the little lurikeen, in the universal language of pain, annoyance and fear of iminent gouging.
"Nice hat there neighbour." said Ham.
The lurikeen danced around in pain, squealing. The cat's paws were firmly over its face, claws equally firmly digging straight in.
"Gerrof stupid cat!" squealed the lurikeen, stumbling around. Ham and Tight watched in amusement as the lurikeen ran around in a small circle then straight into a post, knocking itself out. The cat leaped off and sprinted away.
"Excitable folks in these parts." said Ham.
Tight said nothing but grunted agreement. Normally when Tight opened his mouth it was to allow entry to food or cause trouble but he realised that speaking Midgardian in the middle of Hibernia would proabably bring more trouble than even he could handle.
They stepped over the unconcious lurikeen and continued into the tavern.

Gah spotted a couple of things missing or should be removed after posting, FH DB went down and couldn't edit. Doh.

wub to roo!!
and wub puberty to ofc he he funny as hella.... but in my experience it isnt just puberty.... just me

Mooooreee!

:wub:

Givf more - Jugulator is too cute and fluffy for me to live without!!!

yay! ty roo!

Oro said:

"Gah, we're not going to see anything." said Beeble, "think I'll go turn old man Thule's apples purple. Anyone coming?"

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aran is famous

and!!!!

Oro said:

Behind where they had been sitting, a firbolg appeared out of nowhere as he said quietly in Midgardian, "I are not tree."

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hurar! \o/

Great stuff

Oro said:

Mostly it was wine growers, (or 'Winers' as they'd become known) complaining endlessly things that were wrong with the village and trying to elicit support. They were a quarellsome part of the local community, pointlessly competitive. My grapes are bigger than your grapes. Yeh? Well mine taste better. Etc.

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ROFL!!

come on, want more