The Wild Geas!

[Roo Stercogburn]

Sorry, been busy with stuff post move, been ill (hence zero concentration), mum in hospital, 3-month work project starting and when I've had free time been playing WoW somewhat. Logged into DAoC a few times but couldn't get groups for my ickle runie and just went back to playing WoW. Feels good to be in the ol' SM epic armour again though as Roo even though hardly logged on. Miss all the goodies I had on Elim since he was ML10 but in time I'll get them again for Roo but it will be over a looooooong period of time.

Was writing more on the train this morning, hoping to get a fair bit done this week since I'll be commuting for a change. Sorry for delays, slightly concious this has dragged on a bit.

And of course someone new to poke fun at, the clue is earlier in the story. I shall probably have much apologising to do after this. Sooowwy.

 

[Tasslehoff]

Not hard to find excuses huh?

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

The four children ran for all they were worth. Beeble struggled to keep up. Between being first of all a lurikeen with short legs and secondly a very fat lurikeen. He was already wheezing and panting heavily after only having ran a few steps. Almost inevitabley, a tangled root in the undergrowth got in the way as Beeble ran past. The little boy went flying face first and yelped. The other three skidded to a halt, ahead of him and turned, hesitating whether to come back and help him. Then the massive firbolg from the circus appeared behind Beeble and the decision was made. They turned and didn't look back again as they sped off.

Ham looked down at the lurikeen child, lying on the ground and whimpering in fear and pain.
"Busy day little fella," said Ham, reaching down and gently lifting him.
Beeble struggled but Ham held him firmly.
"You have nasty bruise there soon," said Ham, motioning his head towards Beeble's ankle.
"You can call me Ham. What's your name?"
Beeble stopped struggling a moment, "You're just going to eat me. You're all trolls and nasty kobolds in there. You're enemies of Hibernia!" screamed Beeble frantically.
Ham sniffed Beeble mischeviously, "Nah, not enough real meat for eating on you. Too much gristle."
He winked at the terrified boy as he set off back towards the tent.

Sweat poured off Tiftok as he ran around the back of f'Red's house, or more accurately the front - it was just the side that happened to face away from the village. Karey and Lakishnak came running around a moment later. He cautiously looked around the corner to see if they had been followed. He couldn't see anyone and heaved a sigh of relief. "Stinking Middies" he wheezed, "I've seen pictures."
"We have to tell someone." said Karey.
"Who? They'll never believe us." said Lakishnak, then he added sourly mimicking his mother's voice, "We're just children. I come of age tomorrow and I still get treated like a child."
"They've got Beeble." said Karey.
There was a sudden silence as the three of them stopped their panting.
It seemed very loud when a moment later Tiftok whispered "Ol' man Tole. He's not like the other grownups. Not changed."
"If he's even there. That's just a place he goes in summer or something. Nobody ever sees him." said Karey, "He's always in Tir na Nog or they say he goes on the frontier and shouts at people a lot."
"Who else then? And I think the shouting is cos he's a general." said Tiftok sourly.
"He's no general. Just an old hermit." said Lakishnak.
Karey grimaced and said nothing.
"We don't have time for this. We try Tole." said Tiftok, with all the assurance of a future leader.
Having nothing better to offer, Karey and Lakishnak nodded agreement. After peering around the corner, Tiftok set off in the direction of old man Tole's cottage, which lay not far from the village.


Garan Tole, guildmaster of the Birch Huggers, general of the Hibernian army, cunning ranger, occasional crafter and sometime spy for the royal house of Tir Na Nog, was enjoying a good solid dump in the peace and quiet of his hideaway's outhouse. His little lurikeen legs dangled in the air while he sat. The cottage itself was a rather unremarkable thatched cottage just outside Tir na mBeo. It was the perfect place to hide from intrigues, politicking and of course, massive scale warfare. The largest battle he did around Tir na mBeo was with the occasional trout or salmon. He seemed to escape here less and less each year and he treasured the tranquility to fish, hunt game and of course commune with nature without having to worry about a Midgardian axe cleaving his much respected brow while he wiped his arse. It takes a soldier to appreciate the simple pleasures. He knew there were rumours in the village about him, but they didn't bother him, and he never went into the village itself in case he was recognised.
So it was with some surprise that he heard a battering on the door of his cottage. He leaned forward and peered through a knothole in the outhouse door.
He was in precisely the right building for the word he chose when he exclaimed. It was those children he often had to chase off his land. Even though he wasn't here very often he knew them. He idly wondered where their fat friend was, the one who made his apples turn amusing colours. The children of course had no idea he knew exactly who did what on his land. He generally chuckled at their antics without wanting to hint approval. One had one's public image of a grumpy old local hermit to maintain.
Garan reluctantly finished up and exited the outhouse.
"What do you lot want? Can't a man have peace on his own land?" he said gruffly, as he exited the outhouse.
Garan's eyes narrowed when he saw their expressions.
"What's happened?" he asked.
"There's trolls and kobolds and norse in the village!" blurted Tiftok without thinking.
"We're being invaded!" shrieked Karey, finally losing her self restraint.
"They've come to eat us all!" yelped Lakishnak.

Beeble sat on a bale of hay, scared out of his little lurikeen mind. Around him lounged trolls and kobolds and norse. One of the trolls said something in a language he couldn't understand and the firbolg that had carried him here answered. It seemed odd to Beeble that both the troll and Beeble himself could understand Ham at the same time. It was just one more minor oddness piled onto the events of that morning and way down the list of important things. Top of that list was 'Avoid getting eaten at all costs'.
Ham turned to Beeble and spoke, "So wee wolf, what we to do with you? You got any ideas?"
"Let me go." said Beeble, sullenly.
Ham shook his head sadly and leaned forward so his face was right in front of Beeble.
"We not what you think we are." he said.
"You're a traitor to Hibernia, dirty firbolg spy. Helping stinking Middies."
Ham smiled and stood up straight, "I am troll, and proud. Just wearing another shape just now."
Ham paused as he said that. He had never really thought about it before. He did indeed feel proud of being Midgardian.
Beeble's frown just deepened as Ham spoke. Ham wondered how such a young face could be comprised of all scowl, the kind that normally took old men perfect. If Beeble wasn't careful he'd end up looking like a Bloodhound.
"You noticed anything funny about the grownups in village?" asked Ham unexpectedly.
The question was so different from anything Beeble expected he automatically answered, "Huh?"
"The grownups. Been changed, haven't they?" said Ham softly.
Beeble chewed on this a moment, "Maybe. Yer. I guess. Not so nice here and crops all dying and people unfriendly. When I was little it was much more fun here."
Ham tried not to chuckle at Beeble saying about being little. He was still a young boy and a lurikeen at that. Perception is all.
"You wondered why they change?" asked Ham.
"Its just grownups. They're not nice."
"No Wee Wolf, it more than that. Happened about same time Banak come to village, yes?"
Beeble tried to digest this. Villagers went into the service of Lord Banak, it was the rule. In fact, the children had been looking forward to Lakishnak's coming of age the next day, since they saw it as a big party. It was hard to remember things being any different. He did remember that big brothers of friends had gone to serve and seemed strange and different afterwards. He just thought it was because they'd gone and got all grown up.
"Maybe." said Beeble stubbornly.
"Do grownups laugh any more?" asked Ham.
This really threw Beeble.
"Course not. They're grownups. Grownups don't laugh. Just give us into trouble. They laugh at the inn though."
"Most of those at inn are passing through though and not from here, aren't they?"
Beeble wasn't sure. He wasn't allowed to go near the inn and had no interest in the place. A sullen shrug was all Ham got in reply.
"Wee Wolf, you got to believe me. What I say next is very important."
Beeble caught the tone in Ham's voice, something about it that was earnest and begging to be believed but nevertheless being called Wee Wolf irked him.
"My name's Beeble," he said, "not Wee Wolf."
Ham smiled and nodded.
"See all these people around here, Beeble?" he said, waving his arm around the tent to indicate all his countrymen.
"Yes..." said Beeble suspiciously.
"They here to save your village from demon, Banak."
Beeble snorted, "Never." but there was a tinge of doubt in his voice, "Banak's a demon?"
"The grownups here serve Banak. They not free, Beeble. And yer, Banak is demon."
"You expect me to believe you?" said Beeble.
"I had hoped." said Ham, sadly.
Ham was slightly at a loss as what to do. There was pressure just to have the boy's throat slit but he didn't even want to consider it.
"What is a Wee Wolf?" asked Beeble.
"Deep in Midgard, near Fort Atla, lives a type of wolf, so small they are hard to see in the long grass there. They fast, cunning and deadly. You have look of Wee Wolf about you. You make a fierce warrior one day."
Beeble nearly burst out crying, "They call me Feeble Beeble. Too fat to play. Only Tiftok is my friend. I'll never be a great warrior."
Ham was unsure how to answer. He suddenly felt he'd strayed accidently into parenting territory, which was well outside of his experience. Ham put a big meaty paw in the little boy's shoulder to comfort him.
"You be Wee Wolf one day, you see." he said simply.


Garan wandered into the village openly for the first time in years. He was quite self sufficient, hunting what he needed when he visited, and the isolation was what he sought. He saw the marquee in the middle of the village and also the gawdy poster on the back of f'Red's house. He casually wandered up to the poster, all the time his eyes taking in the village scenery, missing nothing. He frowned. This place was quieter than he remembered it. The few people he saw wandering around seemed intent about whatever business they were on. Hardly typical friendly village life. Nobody was talking to each other. Nobody on corners gossiping, no old men in rocking chairs watching the world go by. Something was wrong here, even though he doubted it was troll related. He stopped by the circus poster and carefully read it. Hah, they had a troll in the circus. Well, he very much doubted it was real. Probably a firbolg dressed up to look like a troll. "Children's imagination", he thought to himself, "so precious."
Though he knew himself he could be a cantankerous old ranger, he didn't want to hurt the childrens' feelings. They believed there were trolls here. Garan quickly arrived at a decision turned around, heading back to his cottage where the children waited. He would tell the children he was investigating further and would attend the show this evening, while trying to ferret out what was going on with the circus. He was puzzled by the behaviour he saw around the village and would take the opportunity after the show to go to the inn to find out what had changed so much in the little village.


Lying outside the door to Besz's cottage, Jugulator stirred from a restless nap, while he waited for Tight to emerge after the previous night's entertainment. He sensed a presence, cold and spiteful. He recognised it instantly and wimpered. Banak had returned from Tir na Nog and was in Tir na mBeo now. Jugulator felt an old hunger reawakening in his belly, the urge to feed. He fought the feeling down and put his head back down on his paws, mournfully waiting for his master to return from Besz's arms. He felt drawn to the power he sensed. Jugulator suddenly felt lonely, unwanted and afraid.

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

Lord Banak's house was quite grand by the standards of the ordinary Tir na mBeo villagers. Just grand enough to stand out, not so grand it showed him to enjoy the wealth and power he was really growing. For several years now, Banak had been carefully increasing in stregnth both mercantile and in arms. He controlled mBeo with an iron fist, the adult population completely in his thrall and each child that came of age sworn into his militia and placed where he could rip their will apart and own their souls. He grew in strength with every soul consumed and held prisoner within his own.
Banak entered the house, his thrall entourage walking quietly around him. Guards and servitors unnaturally alert, driven to uncanny vigilance by Banak's will.
Banak had no need to go through the motions of being a lord here. They were so utterly under his control, no pretence was needed unless there were outsiders present. He shed his armour as he walked in the hall, skin rippling, trying to lose this unnatural Celt shape and return to its demonic form. Banak needed a little rest - once again it had emerged that if a job needed doing properly, he had to do it himself. It amused him to think that fools could enter his domain and think he wouldn't know about it. Banak had a show to attend tonight and trolls to kill.



"Right," said Twisted to the assembled assassin team, "this here is climbing wall. We need going in tonight and want best for sneak attack. Volunteers for first climb please."
The group of black clad assassins just started blankly back at him.
Eventually one spoke, "You want us to climb? Actually ascend. And you want us to show you how good we are on that?"
The assassin pointed at a makeshift wooden wall several times taller than a troll. It looked rickety. In fact, it looked like even its rickets had rickets.
"Yer Blackdick. Brave assassins like you lot should have no trouble."
"Why don't you show us how its done then? Anyway, I'm Blackshadow. There is no Blackdick."
Twisted thought differently but didn't comment.
"Do you all have to dress in black? You all look same."
"Hey!" exclaimed one, "Black is beautiful!"
"Keep the faith bro'" said another in a deep, rich voice.
Blackshadow said smugly, "So why you wearing black then Twisted?"
Despite being only slightly smarter than the average petri dish, and slightly less so than the average petri dish's contents, Twisted recognised a threat to his authority when he saw it. Anyway, he'd hurt himself trying to test the practice wall when nobody was looking.
"I in charge here. I wear black. I knows I can do climb. Need to see how fast you lot are. Lets see if you as good with wall as with mouth Blackshadow. Upsy when you ready ta."
Blackshadow opened his mouth to speak and closed it again. Whatever skill Twisted may or may not have as an assassin, he was certainly a vey big troll with very big fists and a belly that looked like it was rumbling again. He decided against further antagonising Twisted. With a small shrug he took a running leap at the climbing wall, fingers expertly splayed to catch on to any imperfections in the surface to allow him to grip. It was with some surprise then that he crashed straight through it.
"False wall" grinned Twisted, "You want be more to left."
Blackshadow growled at Twisted, "What in Freia's left titty is the point of that? What chance is there of hitting false wall?"
"None. Just fed up with some of you being smartarses. And don't swear. Ma no like it."
Blackshadow dusted himself down.
"When you ready, try again." said Twisted.


Dusk descended on Tir na mBeo. Coincidently, it descended on the rest of Hibernia too, but we're only concerned with this small part of it. We've got a passing interest in the part of Hibernia where Thor was sitting forlornly in a field watching animals rutting, wondering why even these lowests of beasts could find a mate and he couldn't. In Tir na mBeo lanterns were lit, candles appeared in windows, black clad assassins suddenly felt more comfortable with their darkening surroundings.
Banak approached the circus tent with confidence. He had his personal guard of four with him, but that was all. To the outside observer, he used little protection, but since the entire adult population of the village was in his thrall, that showed how little appearances could be depended on. Banak wore light armour, all red. His guards also wore red. A servitor took care of the entrance fee. Villagers filed into the tent, watched by circus firbolgs. There was rough seating around the tent, and a slightly better area, obviously intended for very important people. Though not technically a person, Banak knew that meant him. So thats where the trolls hoped to surprise him was it. If only that fool champion hadn't freed himself of Banak's control in his dying moments, this wouldn't be needed. Regardless, it was a diverting amusement, even if it had become an irritation trying to track that troll first of all across the various frontiers then within various realms themselves. Banak had considered possessing the troll, but decided to err on the side of caution. Ham Fisted had to die.

Near the back of the line, Garan, Tiftok, Karey and Lakishnak shuffled towards the tent. Despite himself, Garan was looking forward to this. He had absolute confidence that the children had just got overexcited. He did conceed though that the chained troll at the entrance was a nice touch. Having it standing behind the lurikeen collecting the entrance fees was a master stroke. You were so busy looking at the brute that most failed to realise they were being ruthlessly short changed.
"I should get a discount for children." said Garan to the lurikeen taking the fees.
"Nuh uh." said the disinterested lurikeen, "One fee fits all."
"But they're only half the size. Half the fee."
"But they get twice the pleasure of an adult." said the lurikeen, "if anything they should be charged more."
"Ah, but they aren't fully developed," answered Garan, "they don't see everything an adult sees. They can't appreciate the full experience and so aren't able to get the full value of what they spend."
The lurikeen nodded, "I can see how that would be. However, there is one factor that makes them exactly the same as adults."
"What's that?" asked Garan.
"They taste just the same as adults to trolls."
Garan looked up at the big troll behind the lurikeen. It rattled its chains in a friendly fashion and grinned at Garan.
"My, thats a lot of teeth." said Garan. He had seen trolls close up in battle before but did conceed that when it came to close combat he preferred to be no closer than say several hundred yards with his bow unslung and arrows notched.
"All the better to eat you."
"Ah." said Garan.
"Just so. 'Ah' indeed. And a few ahems too. And may I be so bold to include a polite cough." said the lurikeen, holding out his hand for the coins and covering his mouth with the other while making a gentle cough. Garan grudgingly handed over the money.
They entered the tent, Garan muttering under his breath about rip-off travelling circuses.
Inside the tent, all was quiet. Garan felt uncomfortable at the lack of chatter amongst the villagers. Everyone sat with dead eyes facing straight ahead, waiting. Looking across at the box area, Garan saw Banak. For some reason he couldn't explain, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up as Banak turned to look at him. Garan's level gaze returned Banak's, betraying no hint of the discomfort he felt.

Eventually, the covering over the entrance was closed. If it wasn't for the already dead silence, this would normally be where an expectant silence would fall. Its also at times like these that someone inevitably trumpets a rather loud fart. No fart came, or if it did, it was silent and deadly. Lakishnak looked uncomfortable while for no apparent reason several villagers near him started gagging.

There was a rather feeble fanfare. Not quite a rousing brass chorus, but more like a child with a penny whistle making his faltering first attempt to learn it. Their fear of being eaten temporarily forgotten, the children all leaned forward excitedly. It was still a circus and they had, at least partially, accepted when Garan said there was no stinking Middies in Hibernia.
The massive firbolg they recognised from earlier in the day strode out into the middle of the ring, resplendant in red and black with gold trim on just about everything.
"Laaaaadies and gentlehibbies...WELCOME! Toooonight we de amazing Circus De Ma will amaze you, astound you, and confound you."
Garan saw the ringmaster falter as he faced Banak. There was a brief moment where the ringmaster and Banak just stared at each other. Garan was becoming more uncomfortable. Something was very wrong here, from the almost zombiefied villagers to the tension building rapidly in the tent. Garan suddenly very much didn't want to be here. He unconciously fingered his hunting knife while he sat, otherwise completely still.
"Without further ado" said the ringmaster in his loud booming voice, "We do what we came here to do."
Garan could have sworn the ringmaster looked at Banak as he said this.

 

[Thrinnor]

I liked the build up to you better

Top stuff as always Roo

 

[haarewin]

yay great stuff Roo

i hope beeble does end up as a wee wolf

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

Banak calmly regarded the interior of the tent as the show started. The troll ringmaster was that fool, Ham Fisted. Banak was so close to him he could almost reach out and throttle him where he stood. Now there was a complication. Unexpectedly in the crowd had appeared Garan Tule, whom Banak recognised instantly from spending much time at the royal court in Tir Na Nog. What was one of the favoured generals of Hibernia doing here. Banak now worried that there was something going on he didn't know about. He didn't know too much about Tule, other than he commanded armies. Banak delayed striking the troll down while he pondered this new development. He couldn't risk giving his true nature away to the royal court, they would send armies to kill him. He needed to know if Tule was accompanied, and by how many if he was, and who knew he was here and why there was no little boy passing amongst the rows selling buttered popcorn.

Dark shadows moved elsewhere in the village as the team of black clad assassins darkly made their way through the darkening village intent on their dark purpose with dark deadliness and a whole host of other darkly inappropriate uses of the word 'dark'.
"We should have a name." hissed Blackshadow as he slunk along a wall.
"Waddya mean?" mumbled Blackdeath, behind him chomping. His face had traces of icing on it and he fumbled in his pack for another bun.
"Well, something that makes us sound elite." said Blackshadow, "You know, dark, deadly, darkly cool and darkly mysterious."
"And dark." said Blackfalcon.
"I don't remember you." said Blackshadow to Blackfalcon.
"Been along the whole time." said Blackfalcon, "I just stay at the back and don't say much."
"Oh yeh, a name would be good."
"I know!" said Blackdeah, "Impossible Mission Blades."
"Hmm no they work out of Naliten." said Blackblack, hugging a wall and edging along.
"The Incredible Deadibles." suggested Hoster.
"Sounds like a circus act." said Blackshadow.
At that moment there a black shape plummeted from the roof above them and hit the ground with a soft thud.
"Gnrrrrrblhmmmf." said the shape.
"Tol' you not to go roof way, Hoster." said Blackshadow, shrugging, "Your knees can't take it any more at your age."
"Have a bun." said Blackdeath, proffereing a sticky mass towards Hoster.
Hoster looked up, feeling slightly dazed. He remembered a time when he could safely drop from much greater heights though that was of course before he started getting back trouble. He was a martyr to it.
"How 'bout The Blue Daisies." said Hoster.
Everyone stopped in their tracks, turned and looked at Hoster. Beneath his mask, he felt himself start to go red.
"Just a thought." he muttered, "I hear out east they do things like that. Name themselves after flowers or summit."
"Steel squad." said Blackshadow, "or maybe Steel Eyes or hmm, Metal Militia. Not something namby pamby like a flower."
"You need a good slappin', you know that Blackshadow." said Hoster.
"Oh yeh, and who's going to be giving me it? An ol' past-it wrinkly like you? You shouldn't even be here fatso."
Hoster seethed. He knew Blackshadow was right. He was a used up old assassin that could barely sharpen his knives without hurting himself these days. He just wanted one last glory job before he faded completely. He remembered a time when he was the most famous assassin in all of Midgard. One last glorious fight, one last chance to prove he was Hoster, the invincible blade that struck from the shadows.
"You got a lot to learn, Blackshadow." said Hoster quietly.
Blackshadow snorted and they all started moving again, all conversation silenced. Hugging the walls and staying out of direct light they made their way to the location that had been indicated to them as Banak's mansion.


The two mammoths stood up on their hind legs triumphantly as the vendo bear went running up the back of one to perch neatly with one leg on each head. He howled in triumph as he stood there at the apex and then did a neat sommersault onto the ground. Children all around the circus tent went wild, the adults clapped mechanically.
"THAAAAAANKYOU!" Bellowed Ham, really getting into the swing of being a ringmaster.
"And now" he shouted, the incredible, the amazing, the one and only... yes! Its.. TEH SEEL!"
Seal waddled out into the circus ring on his back flippers, waving around the circus tent as he went. The mammoths and the vendo bear returned backstage as it were, passing the Seal as he entered.
"Arf!" yelled the Seal as he waddled happily into the centre.
Most of the children watched him expectantly. In one corner of the tent a very young child giggled as she exclaimed "Mummy, look at the fluffy!"
Seal stood still in the centre of the ring and clapped his flippers together as he rotated on his rear flippers. While he did this, a female lurikeen entered with a variety of rings, balls and other items which it now became obvious Seal was going to juggle.
"Bah," whispered Lakishnak, "its just a juggling seal. Big deal."
Seal began juggling the hoops. One, two, three... more and more got added. Soon. there were ten hoops flying through the air. Then he timed it so they were all up in the air at the same time. Suddenly there seemed only to be one big hoop instead of ten smaller ones.
"Ooooh" exclaimed the children around the tent. Even Banak was impressed. Through heavy lidded eyes he assessed if this flippered fool was any kind of threat to him, or if it was something that could be turned to his usage. Along with the villagers, he clapped a few times then subsided.
"Arf! Arf-arf! Arf! yelped Seal happily, waving his front flippers.
Next he took the soft balls from his assistant, who simpered and smiled for the crowed, while making motions with her hands to indicate how clever the Seal was. Seal began juggling them. It was very quickly impossible to count how many balls were in the air. They blurred as they moved, gaining speed, faster than gravity should allow. Then Seal launched them all fast and high and there was a flash as they reached the apex of their trajectory. Where the balls had been before appeared Beeble, tumbling to the ground. Seal backflipped and his assistant threw something under where Beeble was plummeting. Another flash and it turned into a large mattress. The crowd went wild. Beeble landed bounced, quickly scrambling to his feet. He flung his arms up in victory and jumped up and down excitedly.
Tiftok, Lakishnak and Karey were on their feet immediately yelling and cheering and clapping. Beeble bowed to the audience then ran over to the side where his friends were with a huge grin on his face. He was flushed and excited. Quickly sitting down beside them he leaned towards Tiftok and said "I got so much to tell you. This isn't what we thought."
"Thankyou!" boomed Ham, "Another big hearty clap for Teh Seal! More from him later. And a clap for assistant... Wee Wolf"
Ham pointed towards Beeble and started clapping. Again, the children around the tent clapped and cheered.
Garan wasn't clapping. He knew what a Wee Wolf was. He knew that no Hibernian would use a name like that. His blood went cold as he sat there, his mind racing. The Midgardians were probably here to kill Banak, that was all he could come up with, but he coudn't think of any reason for it. The children had been right.
He leaned over to Tiftok, "I have something to do. Make sure you go with your parents when you leave. I'll be back."
Tiftok looked at Garan, wide eyed and still enthralled by the wonderful circus. He just nodded as Garan stood and quietly left the tent.

Once he had slipped outside, Garan ran as fast as he could to his cottage. His trusty horse waited as always in his tiny stable. He threw the saddle on as fast as he could and prepared to travel. As soon as he was finished, he leaped on and dug his heels into the horse. The horse neighed and reared then sped off into the night. Garan pointed his horse north towards the town of Mag Mell. He would be riding most of the night he reckoned.

 

[Tasslehoff]

Getting better and better

Hope we get more soon-ish.

 

[Legohelten]

 

[Healer McHeal]

"What in Freia's left titty is the point of that? What chance is there of hitting false wall?"
"None. Just fed up with some of you being smartarses.

lol. had to laugh at that bit, and as always, cant wait for the next part

 

[haarewin]

3 updates in 2 days! hurrah!!
twas great as usual, and now im eagerly awaiting the next part

 

[Teslacoil]

Ho Ho Ho Santa Claus Is Coming Soon

 

[Teslacoil]

my previous post...this is what happends when you forget to log off while at work and leave your computer on while your away for an errand....a collegue wanna make some fun....


/slap
/slap
/slap
/RUDE!

will kill someone now , cu all later

btw GR8 STORY ROO AS ALWAYS !

 

[Lakashnik]

excellentay!

this is all i come here for now so
yay for roo.!!!1111!!1!!!oneoneEXCLAMATIONMARK1!

 

[old.Tohtori]

"Just so. 'Ah' indeed. And a few ahems too. And may I be so bold to include a polite cough."

Bra!....push up and quite filled bra! *claps*

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

"You sure this is the place?" asked Hoster, dubiously.
"Its where we were told. Big building, edge of town. This is the only one." answered Blackshadow, "Now get climbing, there should be a skylight we can use to get in."
"I just thought his house would have windows and stuff. And... this place smells funny."
"Quit moaning. Get up there."
Blackshadow began to scale the wall. Sighing, Hoster followed him. The other shadowblades silently ascended behind them. Blackdeath reluctantly stopped munching buns long enough to make the climb.
A short time later, they were all on the roof. Hoster's back was aching but he wouldn't let it show to the younger blades. They quickly found a skylight and Blackshadow found it was not secured. It was the work of moments to silently open it.
He ducked his head inside and looked around. He couldn't see anything but equally he was satisfied there was nobody around.
"All clear." he said to the rest of the blades.

Back in the circus tent, the show was drawing to a close. Banak was trying to work out where Garan had gone and how close he was. He silently fumed that he didn't dare risk attacking in the circus. He also wondered why the Midgardians had not made their move. Possibly they were aware that the presence of the villagers gave him an effectively much larger fighting force. Regardless, he could not do anything at the moment. Everyone clapped for the circus performers, bowing as they ended their show. Banak rose and left with the rest of the villagers, seething. Curse that lurikeen, Tule.
He would return to his mansion for now. The Midgardians weren't going anywhere since it was obvious to him that he was their target.

The children all returned to their homes, excited and happy they had a wonderful evening. Beeble fretted he couldn't find Garan anywhere but was unable to get a chance to talk to the other children about what he had discovered. Their parents firmly made sure they were taken home for the night with no further distractions.

Tight pulled the heavy door open and entered the barn. It was right beside Besz's little cottage. He had no idea generally what she talked about but she seemed content to feed him and give him drink which in turn made Tight a happy, happy troll. He had managed to pick up on the fact that she wanted something from the barn so he duly puttered out there to see if he could figure it out. Much of the last day or so was a blur. After finding a large stash of beer, he had drank his fill (which was a lot of filling in Tight's case) and then he and Besz had got to know each other much better than most religions allow unless you've pledged eternal bickering with each other. He was indeed a happy troll and had all but forgotten why they were here in Hibernia in the first place.
So when he entered the barn he was somewhat surprised at the flurry of dark shapes charging at him out of the shadows.
"Smiiiiiiiishing time!" yelled Tight as he faced his attackers. He chortled. His day was complete and he couldn't be happier. Drink, sex, food and now violence. The simple pleasures. If Besz had set this up she would make the perfect wife. Tight bellowed and ran towards his attackers, who on hearing him bellow all leaped out of his way.
"Tight? That you?"
"Huh?"
"Its you, innit?" said Hoster.
"Bah." grumbled Tight, subsiding, "No smish?"
"No Tight, no smish." said Blackshadow, heart pounding.
"Bugger." said Tight, crestfallen. He toyed with the idea of sneaking in a quick smish on the offchance that nobody would notice then decided against it. Ma would probably get angry.
"Um," said Blackdeath, "so this isn't Banak's mansion then?"
"No little norseblade, it barn belonging to Besz."
"Damn." chorused the darkly elite team of shadowblades.
"We must be at the wrong end of the village." said Blackdeath.
"Easily done." said Blackblack.
"Ma ain't gonna be happy." said Blackfalcon.
"Nor Twisted." said Hoster.
"Think I'd worry more about Ma," said Hoster, "She likes to cook yer bits for a light snack if she isn't happy with you."
"Oh no," said Tight, "Ma not had sweetmeats for days. She practical gone given it up."
Even the blue skinned kobolds went white at this.
"So. Whaddya reckon we do?" asked Blackshadow, any pretence of leading the blades gone.
"I ain't going back. Ma will have us." said Blackblack.
Several blades muttered agreement.
"Tight," asked Hoster, "Think your friend would mind if we stayed here for a while. You know, just til it gets a bit calmer."
Tight ruminated on this.
"Weeeelll, you have to make this place tidy. Think that what she wanted me to do. Man stuff. Barn stuff. I think. Not sure really, she speak funny."
"Its called 'Hibernian'." said Hoster.
"So if anyone don't speak right, its called Hibernian?" asked Tight.
Hoster looked at Tight for a moment, debating whether to bother with a full answer then remembering how Ham tended to handle Tight, "Yes Tight. Thats it."
"Not smished in long time. Needing something soon." mused Tight.
Unconciously, all the shadowblades stepped back a little, giving Tight some more space.
"So then, we'll be getting this barn tidy lads." said Blackshadow, slightly brighter than he really needed to.
All the shadowblades nodded vigorously. Hoster gingerly patted Tight on the back and eased him towards the barn door.
"You can tell your lady friend everything is taken care of."
Tight rumbled, "Can't. Don't understand word she say."
Within moments he was back outside and the barn door closing behind him. He turned as he realised he had no idea what the shadowblades were doing there. He would have asked but Hoster was waving to him as the door shut with a gentle 'snuk' noise.
Tight shrugged and returned to the cottage. Somewhere at the back of his mind was the notion he should go to the circus but he decided that there were plenty of people helping his brother and anyway, he had a sneaking suspicion that Besz had more barrels hidden somewhere else.

Banak entered his mansion unmolested but frustrated. He fretted that the royal court had somehow uncovered him and he was now being watched. He was very careful in all his dealings. His visits to Tir na Nog were as low key as he could make them. For power he needed wealth, for wealth he needed mercantile success, for that he needed to visit Tir Na Nog at times. He preferred not to as with all the adepts in the magical arts that lived in Tir na Nog, it was dangerous for him due to the increased chance of detection. Banak reviewed every moment of his last visit, wracking his brain for anything that had happened that might have given him away. He could come up with nothing. He despatched a servitor to find Garan Tule and keep watch on him. Time to eliminate the trolls before they became more than an annoyance if there was a danger the royal court was sniffing around Tir na mBeo.
Banak went into his richly furnished study and pressed his hand against one of the wooden panels on the furthest wall from the door. A section of wall slid back, and revealed a rocky tunnel, heading downards at a sharp angle. As he descended to his crypts, Banak had the glimmerings of an idea how he could deal with the trolls and at the same time raise his standing with the royal court. It wouldn't even be very hard. Nothing more could be done for now. He would watch and await developments he was sure would follow. And if they didn't, he would encourage them along. Banak entered the first of the crypts that led to his secret temple. The only light was a tracery of glowing fungus around the walls, lending the place an unearthly feel to it. The crypts were joined by short tunnels and the net effect was a maze that would confound even the sharpest eye.
Finding his way with complete confidence, Banak was soon in his temple. It was a large rocky cavern with a great pit in the centre, behind which was an altar, raised on a dais. Banak nodded to the pit as he passed, acknowledging his gate into this world. Inside the deep pit appeared to be glass statues. These were in fact the Hibernians that had unwittingly let him through as they dabbled with demonic magics. Banak had quickly killed them with little more than a word. It amused him to have them like this, a reminder to anyone that stood before the altar of Banak's power.

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

Fingo N'eal sat with his feet up on his desk, a pipe in his mouth and a mug beside him. His left foot was heavily bandaged. All soldiers endured their share of injury and Fingo had taken a beating from many years of overdoing the wine and rich food, now suffering from full blown gout. With the exception of his leg, life had been good to Fingo these last years. He had the easiest job in Hibernia - captain of a guard station in a village where nothing happened. What could be more perfect. A keen observer would have noticed remnants of his previous meal decorating him. Fingo had a rather generous belly. His hands were clasped and resting on it while he sat back in his chair, gently snoring.
The door burst open and to Garan charged in, "Captain of the guard!"
Fingo had years of experience and knew exactly how to deal with those that were a tad overexcited. He always found it was a lot of fuss over nothing.
He lazily opened one eye, "Shut the door. From the other side."
Garan's eyes slitted as he regarded the slovenly guard captain. He walked around the desk and kicked away the chair. Fingo went flat on his back with a loud crash, spluttering and cursing. Garan enjoyed the senseless violence. It was completely pointless but dramatic in a way that was a tradition with the Huggers of Willow.
"Who the hell are you?" bellowed Fingo, as he picked himself up, wincing at the pain in his left leg.
"Garan Tule, and I need one of your riders to take a message to Tir Na mBeo.
Captain Fingo was quiet a moment. He knew the name.
"Proof?"
Garan threw what looked like a small gold coin on the desk. Again, Fingo knew what this was and nodded. Bah, he had been having such a nice dream about elf maidens, a lake and lots of roast boar. He sourly looked at Garan. He examined the royal seal and handed it back to Garan.
"So what is it you want a rider for?"
"There are Midgardians in Tir na mBeo. We need to remove these invaders as fast as possible. Angry Redwine should be on watch there tonight, no doubt the others are keeping the company of the local barmaids as usual. Have Angry rouse them and send them to Tir na mBeo as fast as possible. I want them on their way by dawn."
"Why can't you just tell them? Wouldn't it be better since you're supposed to be Mr. General sir?" said Fingo, sarcastically.
Garan didn't have the patience for this lazy guard captain but he gritted his teeth and answered, "I have to get back down south as soon as possible."
Fingo grunted acknowledgement, but still looked surly. He resented someone barging into his domain, upsetting him and giving him orders, even if it was with royal approval.
Garan flipped the golden coin with the royal seal on it to Fingo, "Give this to your messenger as proof the message comes from me."
Fingo deftly caught the coin.
"Why are you still here?" asked Garan.
Fingo bridled at Garan's tone but said nothing. He put on his helmet and stomped out of the door.
Garan nodded approval and followed him out. Fingo went to rouse one of his men to make the relatively short journey from Mag Mell to Tir na Nog.
It took Fingo very little time to find one of his men, but it took many long minutes to get him into a useful state.
"Jacko, c'mon. Tiny and mighty Hibernian general needs you to serve your country."
"Can't cook." slurred Jacko, a swarthy celt with red eyes of which any dipsomaniac would be proud,
"Don't need you to cook. Need you to ride."
"Whaaat?" slurred Jacko.
"Just to Tir na Nog. You like the inns there, don't you?"
"Mmm." said Jacko, brightening, "A'right. What am I going there for?"
"Stinking Middies have invaded Tir na mBeo. You've to go to the Huggers of Willow guildhouse and tell Angry Redwine that they've to bring, erm, at least a company of men to Tir na mBeo as fast as possible."
"Yessir!" slurred Jacko, attempting to salute. Fingo half carried Jacko to his horse and helped him on.
"Are you sure this is your best man?" asked Garan.
"Yes sir!" said Fingo, his tone just short enough of outright insolence to avoid being pulled up on it, but strong enough to actually be insolent.
Fingo gave Jacko the royal seal and did as best he could to make sure Jacko would remember it.

Jacko wobbled off towards Tir na Nog somewhat uncertainly. Fingo slapped his horse to send him that little bit quicker. Jacko's horse was well used to his master and trotted easily along towards Hibernia's capital city. It wasn't far, and Jacko made it to the city just before dawn without mishap. On entering the city he had sobered up enough to find his way around, though someone seemed to be practicing throwing hammers inside his head.
Jacko wound his way through the city of cobbled streets and elegant spires until he arrived where he had been ordered.
He slid off his horse and rapped on the door of the large guildhouse. Despite being slovenly and with stains on his uniform, he still wore the colours of the guard, and despite his best personal efforts, managed to carry an air of some credibility. A peephole panel in the door opened up and two brown eyes regarded him.
"Who goes there?"
"I do."
"Friend or foe?"
"Depends. Got any drink?"
"Who are you?"
"Jacko Miladdy of the Royal Guard. Who are you?"
"Lord Gitfius Brownfinger of inner grove of the Huggers of Willow, master of druidic ways and keeper of our sacred libraries."
Jacko did the kind of sloppy salute that would have got him potatoe duty for a month on any parade ground, "I have no idea what you just said but even I'm damn impressed."
"Hmmp. What do you want?"
Jacko had to think about this. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember the
message. Jacko also wondered if this fellow was really a lord, what was he doing answering his own door. That thought drifted off in the breeze that was Jacko's thought processes.
"Got a message for Angry Redwhinge. Midgard has invaded. They're at Tir na mBeo. General Garan has ordered that you bring some companies south."
The eyes behind the peephole widened in shock.
"Why should I believe you."
Jacko said, "Wait a sec." and started fumbling in his uniform.
"Aha! Here it is!"
He held up the coin for the person behind the door to see.
"Royal Seal." said Jacko.
There was the sound of bolts being drawn back in the door and it swung rapidly open. The Celt that emerged grabbed the coin off Jacko and inspected it closely. Jacko barely noticed.
"Why you wearing a tutu?" asked Jacko.
The honourable Hugger of Willow's face went red and he hesitated.
"Erm. Guildmeeting. Uniform. Tradition you know."
"Oooookay." said Jacko, edging slightly away from the door.
"I'll be off then. Erm. Better get your dance troupe together, uh, I mean army." smirked Jacko.
Lord Gitfius glowered at Jacko, torn between the urgency of the message and the sudden need to excercise extreme violence on this slobbish soldier. He settled for slamming the door closed in Jacko's face. Jacko heard his voice echoing around the guildhouse.
"Alarum! Alarm. Alarmed! Alarming! To Arms! To me! Uh, to get changed."
Jacko shook his head as he heard the yelling. Now to find an inn that might be open at this time of the morning. After many years in the royal service, he had a fair idea where to look.

An hour later Gitfius stood in the throne room in Tir na mBeo before the king.
"Great and Awful Master, the Huggers of Willow bring forth dire tidings, verily news of calamities, disasters and portentious events. We are beset, besieged and bewigged. Erm, never mind that last part."
"That is just a statue." said Lady Brigit, "There is no living king. Address yourself to me. You really should know this by now Lord Gitfius."
Gitfius looked uncomfortable and tried to look at Lady Brigit while he spoke but he found he kept being drawn back to addressing the statue of the dead king.
Brigit leaned forward on her throne and beckoned Gitfius to come closer. From seemingly out of nowhere, she produced an arrow.
"Do you know what this is Lord Gitfius?"
"Uh, yes your most magnificent worshipfullness. It is an arrow."
"Well done Lord Gitfius. And do you know the difference between it and you?"
Gitfius knew better than to say yes, despite every fibre of his body screaming out to explain to Lady Brigit the differences between an inanimate object and one of the greatest Hibernians that had ever lived (all be it self proclaimed).
"No, oh mighty Benefactor of Hibernia." squirmed Gitfius.
"It reaches a point."
Gitfius blushed and was angry. He'd have to make this sound good to recover. He did his best to regain his poise and said, "Midgard has invaded Hibernia and their standing army is currently at Tir na mBeo. General Garan sends word to raise the our army and bring it south. We will need many companies to defeat them."
Ha, that would sort him.
Lady Brigit pondered this a moment.
"What confirmation do you have?"
Gitfius produced Garan's coin, and handed it to Brigit. Lady Brigit regarded the coin thoughtfully. She knew the Huggers were prone to being pompous and had a tendency to exxagerate but at least their guildmaster, Garan, could usually be relied upon. She could not ignore this and motioned to an aide.
"Sound a general call to arms. Have all companies and guilds within a day's riding distance of Tir na Nog summoned immediately to converge at the Mardagh. That puts us in easy reach of Tir na mBeo."
Lady Brigit made a fist of her right hand and punched the palm of her left.
"Filthy Midgardians on our home soil. This is an outrage."
"Where do you want the honourable Huggers of Willow, your majestic majesty?"
"What, both of them?" asked Lady Brigit.
Gitfius fumed and tried to keep his voice level, "We are a small company, yes, my beloved liege, but we are mighty. And as I keep reminding your wonderous majesty, we are more than two. In fact, we number into the..."
"Go straight to Tir na mBeo and scout for our army."
"By your command."
Gitfius bowed low and backed away from the throne.
When he had left royal court, Brigit turned to one of her advisors, "Who do we have near Tir na mBeo?"
"Only Eclipse, your majesty."
"What are they doing down there? There's nothing to fight."
"They are raping and pillaging."
"Eh. Who precisely?"
"Each other I believe, your majesty. They got bored hunting on the frontiers. They're on sabbatical."
"Do we have anyone useful in that area at the moment then?"
"No, your majesty."
"Bother. Do you think we can rely on the Huggers to bring back any useful information?"
"With the greatest respect, your majesty, I wouldn't rely on them to clean out a bucket of nightsoil. If, however, you want a rousing speech praising the great heroes that emptied said bucket then we've found the people you are looking for."
"Buggeration." said the wise and benificent Lady Brigit, "I suppose we'll do the usual then: charge in and have animists throw pus-spitting mushrooms everywhere. Tell Garan he has command with our royal approval. And if he comes back with only mushroom soup as the spoils of victory again we will not be amused."
"It was mushroom and leek last time, your majesty."
"Only because he couldn't make it behind a bush in time. That lurikeen must have the world's most active digestive system. Raise the army. You have our royal leave to leave."

 

[Thrinnor]

When he had left royal court, Brigit turned to one of her advisors, "Who do we have near Tir na mBeo?"
"Only Eclipse, your majesty."
"What are they doing down there? There's nothing to fight."
"They are raping and pillaging."
"Eh. Who precisely?"
"Each other I believe, your majesty. They got bored hunting on the frontiers. They're on sabbatical."

Brilliant

 

[haarewin]

Brilliant

agreed

cant wait for the next installment roo

 

[Lakashnik]

come on roo ur killing me with such long pauses
i wanna know wht happens (an to find out wht young lakashnik gets upto )
tbh finish this 1 and then release a book with them in.
i believe it would be rather good.

 

[[SS]Gamblor]

Go Roo , as usualy a compelling read =) , now i'd better get back to doing some work and stop laughing at my computer screen

 

[Lakashnik]

over a month. some1 find roo!
withdrawall symptoms.... sooo cold *shivers*

 

[Fragoverrule]

just read the whole story again, and damn we need th rest of it

 

[[SS]Gamblor]

R00 where are j00 ?

Hmmm sounds like a bit of a theme song imo ...


Seal, bet you can't come up with the rest of the song ;P

 

[old.Tohtori]

It's Seel durnit...

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

The story's unfinished and we need more,
waiting for the next piece is a real bore.
We need more stuff and we need it now!
So where you hiding you talented cow?!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

Ok, sorry, you're not a bovine.
Your writing is just so, oh, divine!
The natives will soon hunt for blood!
The reply amount is nearing a flood!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!


Mwah.

 

[Thrinnor]

*votes to rename this Wild Geas Forever*

 

[MaditioN]

gifv rest!

 

[Roo Stercogburn]

Sorry chaps, been distracted (won't bore you with details). Will get back to doing more very soon

 

[Chronictank]

It's Seel durnit...

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

The story's unfinished and we need more,
waiting for the next piece is a real bore.
We need more stuff and we need it now!
So where you hiding you talented cow?!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

Ok, sorry, you're not a bovine.
Your writing is just so, oh, divine!
The natives will soon hunt for blood!
The reply amount is nearing a flood!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!


Mwah.

stlong withdrawal symptoms : o

 

[flinter]

It's Seel durnit...

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

The story's unfinished and we need more,
waiting for the next piece is a real bore.
We need more stuff and we need it now!
So where you hiding you talented cow?!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!

Ok, sorry, you're not a bovine.
Your writing is just so, oh, divine!
The natives will soon hunt for blood!
The reply amount is nearing a flood!

Oh, Roo, Where are j00!
We're all bored, nothing to d00!
Thread so old it smells of p00!
Oh, Roo, where are j00!


Mwah.

Hahah made me rofl :worthy: