Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Ubiq]

"Pride goes before the fall." It has often been said and was the primary thing running through my mind as I fell down into oblivion. The thought immediately after that was annoyance that my last thoughts might have been a pun and self-loathing at such an obvious one. Fortunately, that pool of water that broke my fall also broke this train of thought. The cold water shocked me out of my despair and into action.

To date, that action has been wandering around in the dark. Not for the first time, I curse the circumstances that resulted in my current situation. I was meandering along in the darkness, minding my own business, and was suddenly, and utterly without warrant I tell you, assaulted by a creature that seemed to be comprised of nothing more than legs and an outsized maw. I suffered no injury at the hand... rather, multitudinous feet of this abomination, but stepped disdainfully aside to avoid its clumsy, ungainly charge and stepped off into oblivion.

For a time, I remained where I had landed in the hopes of being assisted by one of my friends from the footrest or even one of the less incompetent digbeards, but I fear that I have been utterly forgotten in the excitement. If that is how it is to be, then I would find my own way through the darkness without their measily excuses for assistance.

So I now find myself in the darkest depths of this unholy digbeard realm. Not for the first time do I curse that odious monstrosity that forced me off the ledge; I wholeheartedly consign it to whatever hells its kind possess along with, on general principle, all digbeards. My speculation is that digbeard hell involves them living rational, orderly lives where they never harm another living soul or plague the souls of their social betters with their neverending idiocy.

I have acquired a companion, so to speak. More a follower or hanger-on to be precise. He is another of the benighted batmen that wander these caverns though of a much, much more friendly variety. He is reputedly a bit of an outcast amongst his own kind and has been ever since felling a rampaging creature that was threatening his tribe. From what I can understand, it was a great black and white bird of steam that promptly dissolved when gently tapped with the shaft of his trusty nightcap spear. Since then, he's been an outsider from his clan. No gratitude amongst the deep classes, it seems.

I pondered for a moment what kind of mocking gods would create so many fragile monsters to throw at the world, but then I recalled that the selfsame gods also created digbeards. This is a malicious world created by malicious beings. At any rate, he seems intent on following me around though he is theoretically supposed to be showing me the way out. If nothing else, at least I have something else to talk to. My rapier wit and scintillating conversational skills are wasted on myself alone and, once you get past the "My Old Chum" every other sentence, he is an interesting fellow to talk to.

He is also proving useful at the current time. We have encountered some creatures that seem to be ambulatory mushrooms that I have an utter inability to understand. My colleague seems able to comprehend the series of pantomime that they communicate with and is endeavouring to see if they can show me a way back to or merely towards the surface.

The news is mixed, it seems that there is an area nearby that leads upwards, but the natives wish some in exchange. Apparently, they have a problem that they feel only I can resolve. Nothing is ever easy in this world.

Next time: There are more things under the earth than dreamt of in your philosophies, Reggie or Eight Four.

[monk12]

Cheers for additional Reginald!

Jeers for that atrocious pun. Thank heavens that was not his actual last thought.

[Phenixmirage]

Hurrah for more Reginald! I was beginning to fear we'd never see his noble trunk again.

[Conan]

Ha-ha!

Quite the excellent story, I do wish for more.

[Ubiq]

It seems that these ambulatory mushroom creatures have recently had a problem with one of the local abominations. The problem stems from the fact that the beast in question has decided to take up residence in one of the passageways that the mushrooms use to migrate throughout the local cavern systems. The creature resolutely refuses to remove himself from said location long enough for the mushrooms to pass through. As such, they are unable to migrate as they need to; furthermore, from what I understand of my erstwhile comrade's translation, one of their more important leaders is trapped on the other side of the creature.

As such, there has been a bit of a schism within the ranks. Some want to remain where they are or even find a new migration route while others wish to maintain their traditions. Either way, they lack an individual with the necessary authority to decide either way and have simply stood around waiting for something to happen.

Honestly, I'm not sure how I feel about this exactly. On the one foot, they seem incapable of taking decisive action on their own behalfs. On the other foot, I suspect that this is because they're ambulatory mushrooms and decisive action is simply not in them. Mushrooms are not known for their initiative after all.

At any rate, it is entirely too dank down for my liking and it seems that the locals will assist me in my trip towards the surface if I help them in exchange. What choice do I have? From what I have seen, creatures of this unwholesome variety are not to be feared as they are roughly as tenuous as a digbeard's sanity; a swift poke of the tusks ought to serve for it.

So my colleague and I moved towards the ill-reputed creature with the intent of assisting those poor fools. This required heading down a gentle slope into a much larger passage way that narrows towards the end and then vanishes into darkness. My sense of direction is not as accurate as it usually is thanks the winding caverns and darkness, but I believe that we are somewhere beneath the center of the footrest. In particular, one of the regions where the tusksticks work at bashing their sticks against the earth. If I concentrate, I can hear ever-so-faintly the clinking of shiny rock against the cavern walls far above. More likely, it is simply my imagination or even wishful thinking at this point. While the digbeards are nigh intolerable, at least I can visit the surface while in their company. I'd welcome even the sight of a walloon over this dark abyss at this point.

As I speak, the target of this missions is looming in the distance. I do not think that it has spotted us, but I have gotten a great deal more than I intended in this bargain. Imagine a vast, spiked turtle that moves aimlessly in a small patch of ground, breathes fire, and appears to be made out of some sort of shiny rock, confound it. It could not be a wisp of a creature like the one my sidekick destroyed or a self-destructive one like the flaming moth. No, it had a be a great lump of fire-breathing stone with a heavily armored shell because I was the one to do with it. Malicious indeed.

Next time: Reginald's Ascent or Fortune Favors the Fallen Fool!

[monk12]

Imagine a vast, spiked turtle that moves aimlessly in a small patch of ground, breathes fire, and appears to be made out of some sort of shiny rock, confound it.

Mecha-Bowser? Oh shi-

[Theodolus]

I can't believe I missed this for as long as I have. Reginald is most certainly a character, and a delightful one to read. Keep up the good work!

[monk12]

Just thought I'd mention, this thread is nominated in The Hall of Legends. Rock the vote, people!

[Ubiq]

I am not a religious creature by nature. I believe that I have said that before and so reiterate it now. However, sometimes one most simply rely on faith. Not faith in the theological sense here, of course, but a more concrete, worldly faith. Put simply, the faith in the utter imbecility of the digbeard species.

Despite my long and arduous association with the digbeards, I find that I am no closer to understanding their heathen language than I ever was. At best, I have learned to make minor connections between some of their more vituperative exclamations and certain events. There are two words or phrases, I cannot be sure which, that I have learned to fear beyond all others when they spring from the mouths of these miserable wretches. More on that in a moment.

Speaking of digbeards, I became utterly certain that I heard them at labor somewhere up above me. So close to relative salvation and yet so very, very far. During my unfortunate, forced association, I have also recognized certain sounds of their activities. These vast, magnificient ears of mine are not merely objects of beauteous art, but are remarkably effective at their designated task. They reveal to me no less than three digbeards involved in the same activity. This activity would serve quite nicely.

I turned to my colleague, Xogaksumspa, means Sunset from what I understand. How a creature that lives in perpetual darkness wound up with a name like that is beyond me. I just now realized that I never properly introduced the poor fellow, so apologies to that worthy individual. I turned to Xogak and request the momentary loan of his spear, which is kindly granted.

I pause dfor a moment to make sure that my suspicions are correct, which I am quite certain that they are. I steadied myself and ventured out in the cavern. "Ho there, I say. Good day to you, sirrah! Might I have a word, old boy?" I twirled the speak in my trunk in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner. The great creature turned and announced in a thunderous voice. "FOOL! You seek your death at the hands of Osmust Sedanustmusm? I shall grant your request!"

"Actually, it's because of a request that I am now here. You have become a bit of a bother to the neighborhood from I understand and I respectfully ask that you move along and face the consequences." "CONSEQUENCES? How amusing! What powers do you possibily have that can contend with those of my own? A shell of thickest armor? Flames that would render the greatest hero a shrieking cinder? A body made of the finest steel?"

"Steel? What is steel exactly? It is obviously a fine material, but I must admit to being unfamiliar with it." I was stalling for time, of course, but I think I know how to handle this sort. Osmust affected a dignified pose "The Prince of Metals! Iron purified into an alloy of the greatest sharpness and strength..." It was rude, I freely admit, rude to interrupt, but I did so here.  "An alloy? So you mean to tell me that a creature has spontaneously came into this world made of a material that has to be subjected to any number of alchemical processes first? How is that even possible?"

"I admit to having wondered about that myself from time to time," said Osmust slowly and with the slightest hint of melancholy. This faded away as he continued. "At any rate, you do not seem to possess any such actual strengths of your own and I think that I shall delight in killing you. Then I'll go and eat some of the Plump Helmet Men as I strongly suspect that they are behind this would-be assassination... are you listening?"

"Beg pardon," said I as I had been studying the roof of the cavern while listening. I turned my afull ttention back to Osmust before continuing.  "I am delighted to inform you that your assessment is premature and a great slight. I possess two great powers. Knowledge and observation. Allow me to demonstrate." I stepped a few paces to the left used the spear to draw a smallish circle in the mud of the cavern. "Do you see this?"

"Is this some sort of trick?" demanded Osmust. "Of course. Are you afraid?" "I fear nothing that you or any of your friends can accomplish!" snapped the creature, who stormed over to the circle and leaned forward to examine it. "What about the accomplishments of, well, not exactly an enemy, but not a friend either?" Osmust straightened hurriedly and glared at me. "What is that supposed to mean?" "I expect it means goodbye."

Just before I said that, I had heard up above me something that gladdened my heart for the first and likely last time ever. It was what I have somewhat tongue-in-cheek dubbed the mating call of the Wild Tuskstick. I believe it goes something like "oops." And with that, a massive hunk of stone shot down from above through the cavern ceiling and hit Osmust center on. It seems to have reduced him to his fundamenal particles. I must admit to be slightly offput. The circle was about a footlength away from where the boulder actually landed. Had Osmust been smaller, this might have been a calamity.

Another first occurs shortly after as I see the bebearded face of a tuskstick peering down through the hole recently made by their carelessness and am actually gladdened by the sight. He or she, whichever, seemed surprised to see me and vanished before returning with another of the breed. I hope that they are trying to figure out to rescue me, but we will soon see.

Next time: Once more amongst the surface living or A Grand Project is Begun.

[Karnewarrior]

"Hey Titan!"
"WHAT?!"
"Bonk!" *crunch*
"Ooh hoo hoo, I do believe that was the best thing ever!"

[BloodBeard]

Just finished reading it all, a great story deserving of more attention then it has.

Don't be off-put by the lack of pretty screenshots or sometimes hard to read ye olde talk, give it a go.

[Indricotherium]

So glad to see/read updates again!

[monk12]

Just dropping by to say, this thread is officially legendary. Congratulations.

[Ubiq]

The tuskstick and his colleague spent what seemed like an eternity jabbering away in their digbeard fashion before vanishing once again. After a time, they were replaced by a whiteclad who peered down at me for a moment and then vanished for another moment before returning. Have you ever watched someone construct a stairwell while hanging upside down? Until recently, I had not and it is far more disconcerting than I expected.

The process goes as follows: the digbeard fastens his facial hair to whatever sturdy object is in the vicinity and then walks backward until he steps off into the abyss. He then pushes backwards until his feet come into contact with the ceiling nearby and he is standing upside down facing towards the area where he is to go to work. He somehow attaches the stairwell without so much as any sticky mud or beeswax before swing himself back up to do it again. This is usually accomplished with a single block or stone.

I am quite certain that all of this is quite impossible, but I have become accustomed to such things over my time here. I am unaware of how their beards are even strong enough for this sort of thing to begin with though it may simply be the amount of dirt involved. That or all the fleas link claws and hang on for dear life. On an unrelated sidenote, they fish with their beards as well. A darkblueclad will take up position over a likely spot, drag out an unsuspecting victim with their hands, and then bludgeon it to death with their beards.

After a long time, the stairway to hell from hell is completed and I haved made my illustrious return to the greater comforts of relative civilization. Xogaksumspa has accompanied me and has settled into a comfortable existence in the dining hall. My voyage has apparently prompted an entirely new interest in my image as my pet Blueclad has taken to crafting images in my likeness. If it is not my imagination, it seems that my legend has grown or my name has at any rate as the odd scratchings that always seem to accompany my image have added several new figures. I shall have to see if Luto can read their heathen language and explain things to me in a quiet moment.

There have been few of those lately. The entire footrest seems to be in a constant state of activity and the number of tusksticks has increased vastly. Redclads as well. There is a constant stream of them towards the bottom of the footrest and as many other digbeards returning with cages bearing local abominations, vast numbers of cave plants, and what seems like hundreds of logs from whatever passes for trees down there. They seem to be stripping the entire cavern system down. I followed my Blueclad down there once for what was apparently a particularly attractive bit of blue rock and it seemed that they have been digging a network of tunnels down there that willl soon render the entire region hollow. The heat below a certain point becomes unbearable and the digging downwards ceases at that point and switches to the horizontal.

At this rate, it will only be a few seasons before all that remains is a single great tower of rock and stairways that is hundreds of elephants tall. I have no idea as to the intent of this, but it cannot be good.

Next time: Flashback Backtrack or The Dragon's Tell.

[monk12]

Oh boy, pretty blue metal. A pleasure to read as always.