[To Serve] IC: The Journeys of Sir Galien Oglethrope

[TriciaOso]

Twas in the merry month of May that Sir Galien Oglethorpe and his three nameless servants* set out on an embassy to the enchanter Zazzlebrax, a mission of utmost importance from His Majesty the King. Sir Galien was a stout and honorable man, and the title he bore were the the Handsome, Primal Battle Sorcerer, Legendary Cloud Lord and Knight of the Realm. He brought with him a certain priest*, for he was a faithful man, and a charming jester***, for he was a merry man, and his cook****, for he was a man of prodigious appetite.

Chapter 1: The Temptations of Sir Galien

And when they come to the crossing of the River Pring, Sir Galien espied an old woman a-sitting by the riverside, boiling her dinner in a cauldron, with her pack a-lying beside her, and he drew up beside on his horse, and said, "What ho, Mother!"

"I'm not your mother," snapped the harridan.

"No, of course not," Sir Galien said uncomfortably. "Only entering into the spirit of the thing."

"I don't think I'm really any much older than you," she grumbled.

"Right, I see," said the knight shortly. "Shall I help you across the crossing, milady? I should be happy to carry yon pack for you, so as to ease your ancient bones."

The old woman's eyes flashed red then.

"I am so pleased to have given you an opportunity for this condescension then, milord," she said in a sinister voice, and cloven hooves flashed as she shifted her legs beneath her skirts. "It seems even the holiest knight may be tempted by an appeal to his pride."

Sir Galien, who had been admiring his haircut in his reflection in his vambraces, did not notice any of this, and said, "Twould be my pleasure." And he bent and lifted the pack.

"Do I have your vow upon it, good sir, and your word as a knight?"

"You have my heart's vow, good lady, and my soul 'pon it!'

And the old lady smiled devilishly and through back her wimple, revealing curling ram's horns.

"Oh wait, good sir!" she said eagerly, and as she rose from her seat a pointed tail lashed about her feet. "I have some other things to pack." She picked up the rock she had been sitting on and shoved it in the pack. "First--the Mistyvale Mountains--" And she picked up the cauldron and shoved it in the pack. "And the Boiling Sea!" And she picked up the fire and shoved it in. "And Hell itself!"

And Sir Galien said, "Hnrg," and staggered towards the crossing.

"And if you break your heart's vow, good knight, I'll have your soul too and carry YOU away in my pack," roared the Devil, for it was he. "And your nameless***** servants, too!"

"Hkrng," said Sir Galien. "Well, lads, we are for it now. Yet I must do what I must! Stand back! I shall need your prayers and your encouragement now, if ever I have needed them."

*Borrin, Dobblin and Culhwch
**Father Culhwch
***Sirrah Dobblin
****Borin
*****Borrin, Dobblin and Culhwch
OOC

[Drakeburn]

Borin was frozen in fear with what he had witnessed. He hoped that the rabbit stew he made for Sir Galien earlier might give him the strength he needs to succeed.

Spoiler: Keep Head Down

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Cookery: (1d6)[5] (1d6)[3]

[Curbludgeon]

Culwhch, reflecting on their lackadaisical studies, attempts to identify the demon before them.

[Drakeburn]

"Hnrg." Sir Galien said with each step he took across the river while he carried the pack.
"Nothing to it."

The Devil watched as Sir Galien slowly made his way through the river with sinister glee. Then Sir Galien suddenly stopped when he got to the middle, making the Devil's smile bigger. Then suddenly, bubbles came out directly from behind Sir Galien, followed by an odd odor.

"Um... That wasn't me." Sir Galien said before continuing the slow trek across the river, with the Devil letting out a soft chuckle.

Then at last, Sir Galien steps out onto the land on the other side of the river.

"Curses!" The Devil hisses as he appears on the other side and snatches his pack back before disappearing in a burst of flames.

"Like I said, nothing to it." Sir Galien said to his servants.
"To think that you were all worried for nothing! Now let's head onward, my subjects!"

[TriciaOso]

Brooding and furious, the Devil went out from that place and threw a prodigious tantrum; calves were born with two hands, meteors streaked across the sky, and tremors were felt throughout the land.

But the next morning, the Devil slipped around to his favorite satirist and mentioned this event. The Devil works fast, they say, but Gossip works harder, and soon throughout the land Sir Galien's tale was retold--reshaped to emphasize the most embarrassing point. Many a smirking peasant said, "So that's why they call him a Cloud Lord," or "Pardon me, Mary, that one was worthy of Sir Galien!" and similar jests.

So the Devil was some little satisfied, but not entirely, and as the journey of Sir Galien and his nameless* attendants continued, one morn they came across a milkmaid. She was a comely lass, with tawny skin and red hair and crimson eyes that might have warned anyone not distracted by the low cut of her bodice enough to meet them. Her buckets were set down by the road-side and she leaned forward against a fence rail, reaching behind her and looking over her shoulder, and it might seem to have a man of cunning that either his timing was extraordinary or she had been lying in wait.

She was, in fact, a perfect picture of temptation, and she crowned it by cooing in a voice, "Oh, good Sir! I fear my garter has come untied, and I cannot manage it! Would thee help me?"

Sir Galien cleared his throat and thrust out his arms before his servants. "I'll handle this, lads," he said meaningfully. "Perhaps you may busy yourselves gathering herbs or some such in the woods nearby."

This was the second temptation of Sir Galien!

Spoiler

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To be clear--consider this the equivalent of Bugs Bunny putting on a dress to confuddle Elmer Fudd. If Sir Galien fails to make Progress here he will lose time on his journey as he moons about lovesick; if he takes a token he should perhaps be seen by a passing coach and his virtue impugned, or slapped so hard it does permanent damage. But there shouldn't be any shenanigans beyond the PG.

*Borrin, Dobblin and Culhwch

[Curbludgeon]

"M'lord, I would note that this is Dydd Santes Dwynwen, the feast day of our saint of love not always attainable. I'd be remiss if I didn't have the required obeisance acknowledged. If you but tamp down your ardor for a moment I might help your pitched woo's aim."

"Simply look this woman deeply in the eyes, and dwell upon our saint Dwynwen and her beloved. It is passing strange, M'Lord, but note you her crimson aspect? While the lovers of perdition have... a certain charm, a convivial relation with a lady of the pit on this of all days is most inauspicious. Steel your resolve, and reject this infernal temptress!"

[TriciaOso]

Sir Galien looks startled to be addressed, and then turns towards you. "Ahem! Padre, you are surely mistaken if you believe that I looked up on this innocent maiden with the eyes of lust... Obviously I meant nothing but a good turn to the young lady, and--"

There is a stench of brimstone as the young lady vanishes the moment his head is turned; when he looks back, he's even more furious.

"God's Wounds, Colman, you've frightened her off with your importunity! Harrumph. Onward, men!" With a last, narrow look at the priest, Sir Galien rides off.

************************************************** ********

At long last Sir Galien and his entourage arrive at the Tower of the Enchanter Zazzlebrax, finding another knight camped in the plain before the Tower as they arrive. He introduces himself as Sir Natas Reficul of the Kingdom far away--"South, very far South", and names his titles as the Exquisite, Primeval Warmage, Mythical Flame Master and Knight of Five Realms. His shield is burnished and blazing, depicting a knight riding down a devil with a lance in a manner that is somehow disturbingly sensual, and his blade is six inches longer than Sir Galien's, and engraved most cunningly:

"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate."

His entourage carries with him an entourage, consisting of a defrocked priest--for he is a worldly man--a playwright--for he is a tragic man--and a manservant--for he is a masterly man--none of whom have any names at all.

Sir Galien is instantly and furiously beset with jealousy, especially as Sir Natas recognizes his name from a tavern bawd's rhyme. "Ah, yes, the Notorious Fart Lord Sir Galien. Hail and wellmet."

As Sir Galien seethes, the foreign knight proposes a minor competition. "For I see that you look up on my arms with longing, make far beyond the means of this Northern land, and if you would overcome me I should let you have them both, sword and shield."

"And if I lose," Sir Galien says, "what be my forfeit?"

The other knight laughs. "My dear Sir, what do you suppose you have that I want?"

Sir Galien's face turns red. "I have my good name, Sir, and my salvation, and there is nothing, no, not all the riches of the South, more valuable to a man."

Sir Natas grins, wide and sharp, and says, "Then let that be your forfeit."

It is completely obvious to literally everyone that this is the Devil again. Except for Sir Galien, who accepts the challenge.

"You may choose the battlefield, good Sir."

"Very well..." Sir Galien ponders. And ponders. And ponders.




And ponders.

[bladescape]

"I challenge you to a battle of wits!" Sir Galien suddenly spoke up, his voice filled with renewed vim and vigor, for he had recalled the previous nights where he had been astounded by that jangly attendant of his and his words. He didn't think that follower had a name.*

"Of wits you say! Good sir, you haven't a wit about you."

"But I have of wits learnt."

"Then I shall face you."

The two stared at each other for moments to pass as they sized up the other's wit, and then Sir Galien began to speak, repeating words he'd heard from that one attendant.**

"I have of branch, but yet no trunk,
I am a place where much is sunk,
I am to keep what you can get,
Borrow much and you face debt. What am I?"

The devil thought for a moment, his eyes crossing in contemplation. "Is it a bog?"

"No, a bank, but not a sea bank."

"Must be from West Athasea. Curse their Atheism."

Sir Galien was of thoughtful enough mind that he didn't mention he had no idea what it was either.

"Then you shall get my sword." Still eager, Sir Galien didn't notice the wide grin on the devil's face, splitting the poor disguise almost in two with the jagged maw. But in his jealous excitement he merely grabbed the handle.

"That's hot." His first response was perhaps the largest understatement as the fiery heat of the handle of the six-inch-longer sword sat in his palm, eating its way through his second-favourite set of gloves. (His favourite being reserved for courting.) Then with a sudden heave and cry of pain, he threw the sword down, burns on the palms of his hands.

He had bested the devil, but still lost gloves and burnt his hands for his envy.

* It was Sirrah Dobblin
** Still Dobblin

Spoiler: ooc

Show

Progress Token + No Embarrassment

Taken a weariness token.

[TriciaOso]

When Sir Galien raised his head from tending his wounds, the Devil had vanished once again. There was a quiet, a sweet smell on the air that suggested this trial had passed. Freshly bandaged and without a word of thanks to his attendants, Sir Galien entered the Tower of Zazzlebrax the Enchanter.

--------------------------------------

Chapter 2: The Tower of Zazzlebrax the Enchanter

At the ground floor* of the Tower, they were met by the wizard's major domo, a wizened goblin with a beard down to his knees.

"Welcome, travelers, to the mighty and mercurial enchanted Tower of Zazzlebrax! You will find my master on the fifth floor." He gestured towards some stairs.

"Each floor of the Tower is... unique, for it changes day by day, by the moods of my master. I am afraid to report that he is.... vexed today, for he has heard dreadful reports of the discourtesy some varlet has done to his brother-in-law, the Devil. You may find the Tower somewhat trying. But I am sure a brave knight such as yourself will find your way to the top..."

Unfortunately, Sir Galien, not a man to listen to servants, had walked right past him and up the stairs.

--------------------------------------

The First Story

On the first story, Sir Galien found himself in a dazzling and witty party. Everyone was beautifully dressed and telling clever, effervescent anecdotes that one forgot as soon as they were heard but left a memory of how clever and slightly unkind the teller was. They were all tall, beautiful folks with starry eyes and long, pointed ears and hair the color of dawn and skin the color of memory and slightly too sharp teeth.

Sir Galien hitched up his belt and began to ask, rather directly, how to get to the next flight of stairs. This will never do.

How will you help him navigate the fae cocktail party? This might be an occasion for Pageantry, or Livery, or if Sir Galien loses his temper and begins to knock them down, Armoury, perhaps? Or perhaps some other solution...

[bladescape]

Sir Oglethrope was about to go and ask the way to the stairs when he caught sight of the jangling attendant of his. It took all of five moments to recall he was a jester, and all the jokes he'd heard about people interacting with people who were too pretty for their own good.

He tried really hard to recall how the people in those stories should have acted, and upon using his prodigious memory - something only overshadowed by his prodigious skill with all else - Galien began to dance the dance of court.

With two steps per move, hand gently resting on his hip, he looked the very image of courtly grace as he did his howdoyoudos and his introductions, trailed by the three hapless attendants of his.

He was doing amazingly, and could not help but feel impressed by himself as he plied his way through social encounter after social encounter. He was so amusing that every interaction left the wonderful folk whose names he forgot the moment he looked away from them tittering. Tittering at his jokes of course.

It was barely three hours through the ball when he finally located the stairs, progressing with haste up them. Any longer and he might have to make another round!

He did not hear the laughter behind him.

"Did you see that funny knight? He kept wobbling his head whenever he spoke!"

"Looked more like a court jester than a night. Maybe that's where he got trained!"

"If'n I put 'im in a bell he'd ring on the hour I thinks."

[TriciaOso]

The Devil is fast; gossip is faster; the gossip of the fae folk is faster still. It seems to move through the world like ripples in a pond, without the need for anything so mundane as someone to repeat it or carry it.

Soon the two stories conflate. The play where Sir Galien meets the Queen of May, bows, and farts hugely sells out immediately. (Sir Galien is accompanied, in this scene, by three comic attendants with no names and no lines, but they do get some huge laughs with their slapstick overreactions. One of them faints.) The Enchanter Zazzlebrax views this antic through his crystal ball, peering into the future where it is a smash hit, and he chuckles to himself.

---

The Second Story

At the top of the stairs to the second story, there are... beasts. Donkeys predominate, followed by sheep, but beasts of all sorts are present--rats and bats and cats and dogs and frogs and toads and efts and snakes and badgers and moles and one cantankerous-looking lion up on a central dais, with a court of wolves and leopards around it.

They seem be willing to let the Knight pass, although not particularly helpful, and the footing is not what one might have hoped for. Large crowds of nervous animals often do this. Sir Galien is almost through the door to the next flight of stairs when the lion leaps. It pins Sir Galien to the ground.

"If my fellow men be beasts, it growls, and it wrong to eat them, then surely a man must be no more than a beast, and fit for my supper," it reasons unsoundly. But the other carnivores seem to agree.

Sir Galien's eyes widen.

Spoiler: OOC

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If he were to try and FIGHT the beasts, that would be Armoury. To try and SOOTHE the beasts would be HOSTLERY. Theology or Augury might help him to that these are less fortunate survivors of the fae cocktail party, transformed into beasts. And one could also risk Effrontery to drag him from the jaws!

[Drakeburn]

"Hey hey hey, none of that now." Sir Galien said in a soft tone, gently petting the lion.
"There is no need for that."
The lion looked baffled as Sir Galien slowly pulled himself out from under the lion while still petting it.
Borin couldn't help but to stare in fear. He didn't believe that what he taught Sir Galien about how to calm a horse could have the same effect on a lion.
"We're all friends here, so how about we all take it easy here," Sir Galien says as he gets back up on his two feet.
"Just relax, and me and my servants will be on our way." He says as he slowly stops petting the lion and slowly goes up the stairs backwards as he faces the lion.
The lions bewilderment didn't last however, as it growls angrily as it starts to follow Sir Galien.
"Woah there, none of that now? Easy now, easy..." Sir Galien said as he tries to calm the lion while backing away.
Sir Galien started to sweat as he was still being followed by the lion, then he tried to make a run for it.
The lion gave chase, catching a hold of something before it tore off.
"My trousers!" Sir Galien cried out.

[TriciaOso]

On the Fifth Story, the Enchanter laughs himself sick. His ire against this silly knight is well on the way to being assauged.

His wife--the Queen of May, goddess of the fae and sister of the Devil--is not at all amused, however. As more ripples of ignominy spread through the world, she shoves her husband away from the crystal. "Stop toying with this wretched mortal." Her wrath spreads down the Tower, casting shadows over the Third Story....

---

The Third Story

The Third Story, compared to the last two, is quiet. Ominously quiet, and dark, and strangely foggy. As Sir Lucien and his nameless attendants grope through the shadows, they come across stone slabs and funereal niches and ossuary walls of bones. They seem to have entered a crypt!

They are perhaps halfway across--but who can tell?--when they begin to hear noises. The lids of tombs, scraping. Bones, skittering and scraping and rearranging themselves. The mournful moans and tinkling chains of spirits.

"I have a plan," Sir Galien whispers. "We shall pretend to be among the dead already. They will not disturb us if they believe us to be their compatriots." Thrusting out his arms in front of him, Sir Galien begins to do a creditable imitation of a zombie.

[Curbludgeon]

Galien, having clearly well remembered Culhwch's lecture "Remedial Reanimation and You", allows the retainers to parrot his movements such that they bypass the crypt.

[TriciaOso]

The Enchanter Zazzlebrax, displaced from his glass, broods irritably in the corner as the fuming Queen of May begins to weave a dreadful recursive curse of recursion...

---

The Fourth Story

As Sir Galien ascends to the Fourth Story, he finds the flagstones underfoot beginning to spring up grass and saplings. Cracks open in the ceiling overhead, and before long Sir Galien and his servants find themselvesselves wandering not through a tower, but through a forest path under a clear sky.

And when they come to the crossing of the River Pring, Sir Galien espies an old woman a-sitting by the riverside, boiling her dinner in a cauldron, with her pack a-lying beside her, and he drew up beside on his horse, and said:

"Absolutely not, I'm not doing this again. I'll just cut off his head from the start this time!"

And he drew out, not his own sword, but the scorching hot blade won from the Devil, held gingerly in potholders from Cookie's pack.

[Curbludgeon]

"M'lord, even against so... craven an opponent one must look their best, and those potholders will simply not do. Let me retrieve the spare set of gloves in my pack" In Culwych's haste to be of use they, rather than set their pack down twist about to reach within, and inexplicably became entangled. Pitching forward Culwych falls against a Galien, their face pressed against the searing blade, and the two stumble point-first into the old woman.

Later, running his finger within the cauldron's lip to judge his contents while the nearby smoldering remains of his "foe" release a greasy black smoke, Galien blithely rebukes Culwych. "See what vanity gets you? Mayhap in addition to spare gloves you can dig a mask from your pack, just in case I can ever regain my appetite."

[TriciaOso]

And so Sir Galien and his nameless attendants, and Culwych who was on thin ice, made it to the fifth story of the Tower of the Enchanter Zazzlebrax, and delivered the embassy of the King.

Chapter 3: The Beasts of the May Queen

Yet while Sir Galien and the Enchanter were in cabinet, the Devil's sister stormed down to the Second Story, and working all her fae magic on the many beasts captured there, transformed them into monstrous and unimaginable hybrids. Then she threw open the gates of the Tower and set these five dreadful beasts loose on the countryside, and so did she satisfy her wrath against Sir Galien and his people.

And so when Sir Galien descended from the Tower and set out for the castle, he came across a small town being ravaged by a dreadful Opermish.



It was dangling by its tail from the church steeple, and the villagers were terrified.

"Never fear!" bellowed Sir Galien, and drew his sword. Yet as he advanced, menacingly, on the beast, it doubled in size and looked around wildly for a palm tree to climb. Sir Galien quailed at the even-more colossal beast, and rethought his approach.

[Drakeburn]

Sir Galien was worried before a moment, then suddenly he had a brilliant idea.
"Quick!" He shouts to Borrin.
"Toss to me my snack!"
Borrin nodded as he pulled out a big meaty drumstick and threw it to the knight.
Sir Galien caught it and waved it at the Opermish, leading it away from the town and threw it down a steep hill. The Opermish gave chase to the meaty morsel, but not before it accidentally knocked Sir Galien aside, making him hit his back against a large stone.

[TriciaOso]

Having defeated, or at least waylaid, the beast, Sir Galien returned to his journey home, all unsuspecting of the monsters that still remained.

And so as they came to the river, that self-same river he had crossed earlier with the devil on his back, did an Allossullar burst from the waters and, seizing Sir Galien, drag him into the raging waters below the ford!



His nameless attendants, and that uppity Culhwch, stood aghast on the shore.

"Never fear!" shouted Sir Galien, as his head burst above the water intermittently. "I think I can--"

Glub.

[bladescape]

As he thrashed around 'neath the waves, fortitude built from hardship holding firm as the mighty Sir Galien fought to hold his breath, the canny cloud lord combed over his memories. He had, of course, a wealth of experience to call upon the find a way to beat this dastardly beast.

Suddenly stumbling upon a moment of revelation, Sir Galien called forth to mind his meandering servant's quibbling rhyme that he'd heard not three nights past. He couldn't quite recall the name of the man, insofar as much that he wasn't that bothersome Culwch, but he did remember the little jingle.

"And when you find yourself a drowning,
Do not waste time afrowning,
Twist your hips, shimmy slip,
Hands above your head, then slap your hip!

Kick your feet, back and forth,
Do it quick, run its course,
Break the surface, breath in quick,
Do it again and make it stick!"

The ditty ran through his head as he struggled in the mouth of the mighty Allossullar and Galien followed these wise words. As he twisted, the blade still burning on his hip managed to lie against the tongue inside the maw of the mighty beast!

With a mighty cry, it suddenly let go of its grip on the might Sir Galien, and surging forther he broke the surface, shaking himself off as he confidently stood, ignoring the brief markings on his armour showing his mighty fight. A fight he once again had conquered with the vim and vigour befitting his stature!

Somewhere in the deep water below, the poor Allossullar nursed its burnt tongue, vowing never to try eating metal humans again.

[TriciaOso]

As Sir Galien and his attendants continued down the road, they begin to hear a persistent hum.

Humming.

Humming.

And suddenly they found themselves in a stampede of Wohoopaz!

They hover in the air, suspended as though by some enchanted power; 7 feet tall and galloping at 30 miles an hour. Vast numbers of them zoom and zip all around the knight, and some other people were there. At any moment one of beasts might crash into the group with deadly results.



Waiting for his moment, Sir Galien leapt on the back of a wohoopaz and attempted to ride it to safety, fighting the bucking creature every step of the way.

[Drakeburn]

"Woah!" Sir Galien as he tried to steer the wohoopaz while holding on.
The wohoopaz flew erratically to try to get Sir Galien off of it.
But then, Sir Galien managed to steer his wohoopaz so that it corralled all the other wohoopaz and led them away from the group.
But unfortunately for Sir Galien, the wohoopaz he was riding managed to buck him off before disappearing with the others. Borrin watched as Sir Galien fell into several tree branches before landing face first into a puddle of mud.

[TriciaOso]

Limping and much less glorious than when he set out, Sir Galien limps back in to the capitol. The rumors about him have spread, and his filthy return certainly doesn't help matters. As he staggers through the streets, whispers spread once more, and all his servants can tell their Lord is looking incredibly down-hearted. He mutters to himself about chucking it all and becoming a hermit.

The city, like everywhere else, is beset with monsters. Nasty little beetles with shimmering wings and hideous faces are gnawing everywhere in the warm sunlight. They seem to be especially ravishing the vendors in the Nut Quarter, who clamor for someone to help. Beetles hover and flit through the air every where, up and down Cashew Street.



"What's the use?" Sir Galien mutters to himself.

[bladescape]

In the darkest of moments is when the uncertainties come to the fore of all minds. Sirrah Dobblin, fool as he was, knew this best of all. For it was his own darkest moments that brought him to follow this giant of a man, this cloud lord. For all that he was of impetuous thought and presumptuous carriage, he was also a man of stature. A man of power. And a man of many many many feats.

This man being brought low was of great disturbance to the balance that made Dobblin jingle along as he would every day. Each moment of capricious laughter brought forth with assurance of safety, of brevity, and of true companionship, albeit as servant to master. Dobblin watched his master slump, casting his quick wit that made many a man laugh with the joviality befitting the jester's profession.

He thought.

"Good sir Galien, we know you to be a man of stature."

"Short it is these days."

"And a man of many mighty feats."

"Only two left to carry me onwards."

"But above all, you are a man of mental acuity befitting he who should rightfully be before the king's force as a renowned and veritable giant of true ardour and honour."

"Brought low by rivers and laughter."

"What if you did not have to best this plague of insects? As they are, of course, beneath your mighty feet."

"You like talking about my feet I see. But what of it? If I cannot save these people, who can? They do not think me worthy."

Dobblin paused, a smile of some magnitude upon his face. With a wink he tapped his nose, intimating the knowledge of some path that the mighty Sir Galien had yet to fathom.

"The people worship you as they should, but if they should not, why not work a way to use them anyway? For they are chaff before the scythe, and this challenge another to defeat."

"There you are going on about feet again." Sir Galien responded, despondancy flittering into the realm of discontent.

"But perhaps, if you were to offer coin, you could have some of the more enterprising of the folk around help catch these horrible bugs. Give them nets and have them do the work."

"But what then of my own coffers?" The Knight responded, aghast at such an idea of draining his coin. The hurt in his eyes only suffused Sirrah Dobblin's wicked smile.

"Sell the shells after, you should make a timely profit should your records be hit in the process of benevolance."

"By golly, Sirrah Dobblin you've just inspired my prodigious intellect. What if I were to offer a bounty for the shells, and then I'll sell them to the markets once they're done! Or maybe the whole bug." Having suitably taken the idea for himself, Sir Galien found the materials to forge some Gateevipaz-resistant nets, and rallying the clamouring people and handing these out, offering rewards to those that brought properly secured of the bugs, the mighty Cloud Lord could sit back and reap the benefits of his perspicacious idea.

Reminded once again of his brilliance, the doom and gloom was shaken away, helped along by the sudden influx of coin to alleviate all concern he had at the dangers of his plan.

Heading onwards, he couldn't help but marvel at how in his darkest moments he'd been able to machinate such a devious and brillaint plan!

[TriciaOso]

And so the journey of Sir Galien and his nameless cook, and that meddling Culhwch and impertinent Dobblin--damn the man, chattering away at him while Sir Galien was formulating his brilliant plan for the defeat of the cateevipaz--arrived back at the court of the King.

"Welcome back, Sir Goolium," said the King. "Was your embassy to the Enchanter a success?"

"A towering success!" Sir Galien said, giving the King an expectant look at the pun. But the King had forgotten, if he ever knew, where the Enchanter lived, and it fell flat.

"Ah, jolly. Look here, man. Look at this adorable creature we discovered in the garden." The other knights of the court, from behind the King's back, give Sir Galien wide-eyed grimaces of warning.

From beneath his cloak, the King brought forth a little box of glass, the inner sides slick with condensation. Inside was a tiny creature, horribly reminiscent of the creatures fought along the way, with the shell and claws of the Opermish, and the powerful jaws of the Allossullar. But very small.



Marry, it is an engaging creature," Sir Galien said, sweating. "But perhaps... dangerous, my lord?"

"Dangerous? What nonsense are you talking, Sir Gaulimfray? It's a bitty thing. Perhaps your misadventures in foreign parts have left you a bit shy? I heard the most delightful song about it the other day, how did it go, Sir Ramrod?" Sir Roderick looked pained and said nothing.

Sir Galien turned to his men. "Lads," he said. "The King is a proud man, and does not care to listen to his subordinates--not a man of the people like me. Yet I cannot leave him to be devoured by that beast. What shall I do?"

As usual, you suspect Sir Galien is speaking outloud as an aid to think, not actually addressing you. But if you think your advice in the past will not be sufficient, you could speak up. As one, your eyes turn to Culhwch, as the expert in all things supernatural and strange.

Meanwhile, the King begins to sing one of the popular minstrel songs about the foibles of Sir Galien; Sir Galien winces.

[Curbludgeon]

Culwych gasped audibly. They had only performed the preparatory rites as detailed in Squamous' Adequatiary out of a desire to avoid being conscripted into some other, less indolent task, and not out of any sense of belief. As they dropped to their knees, the priest covered their eyes out of what they hoped was a passing impression of utmost dread, so as to conceal the glint stemming from an unexpected windfall.

"The Devourer is nigh! Lo, good souls, you bear witness not to some idle curiosity but rapacity incarnate! All thanks to the agents of our heretofore vaguely defined faith that the abomination was contained before the Ravening was upon us!"

"Speak plainly for once, fried Friar" Sir Galien mocked. "My cockles now abut my hackles, and I'd only just forgotten about your ruin of a face enough to demand Borin's victuals."

"Though this beast appears small now, m'lord, should it be granted the right purchase its growth cannot be curtailed. What's more, as it outgrows its shell it takes up residence in things scarcely imaginable. By my estimate within a fortnight this monster could hollow out a man and wear their carcass as a skinsuit, and a horse's but days later."

"Zounds!" said Sir Galien.

"******** yeah zounds... m'lord. Forgive my impertinence, for I have never been so shaken, and I have yet to divulge the worst of it. As detailed in Cletus' Treatise of Beastus the Dread Allermit soon feels too confined by shells of matter, and moves to take residence in things more abstract, ruining our very concepts in its growth. One day the kingdom would simply forget the idea of breakfast, the next joy, and soon enough the very notion of political legitimacy of a monarchy upon which we all rely!"

"That. Will. Not. Do." the king intoned. Sirs Ramshackle, Gordianknot, slay the beast immediately!"

"Wait! Your Excellency, violence but accelerates the process! Letting the Allermit move into the notion of being stomped only gives it home improvement suggestions, and soon we wouldn't even conceive of how to kill anything, even those enemies you so wisely decide deserve it in our totally fair and in no way arbitrary system of justice." said Culwych, slowly rising to their feet.

"My divine right to rule will not be called into question! How, then, do we dispatch this monster?" the King demanded.

"I have prepared for this contingency, my liege, as I have for any number of threats to the kingdom. The Allermit, it is said, can be forced to remain small if they stay deep enough in their cups. To the east there is a palm grove maintained by members of my order, whose fruit is grown under glass and used to steep a coconut brandy with eldritch properties. I can take the foul thing there and suitably pickle the punk. It is fortuitous that you had the regal insight to place the Allermit within a glass terrarium similar to its eventual prison, or we all might have forgotten by now who's in charge."

"Then I leave at once!" bellowed Sir Galien.

"M'lord, I dearly wish you could take on this challenge, but the more minds near the beast the sooner it begins to devour thoughts. Even now we can witness its hunger at work."

"Still yourself, brave Sir Goofus. Take your place by Sir Rondoallaturca and let's hear the whole of this." the King said consolingly.

"My liege, grant me a pair of horses and a small cart filled with wines from the cellar with which to keep the thing temporarily at abeyance, and I will take the beast to my order's grove. I have been trained in techniques to empty the mind, and will grant the monster no residence within my thoughts. I remain your humble servant."



Later, as Culwych mulled over both a mulled wine and just how far to the east they must travel before changing direction so as to avoid suspicion, they decided that while their budding "Folklore in Miniature" exhibit needed a good flea circus, gluing antlers to the wee Allermit might be a tad gauche.