OOC: Is it just whoever wants to tell a story?
OOC: Yes indeed, as long as they haven’t had a turn yet this round.
OOC: Oh dear I’m sorry! I must admit I have lost track of time. I do that a lot, my brain goes flimsy. Should I still respond to Lydia’s Wager?
edited by Audrey Shae on 1/2/2012
OOC: May as well; the point of moving on isn’t to cut you off or anything, just to make certain the game keeps moving.
OOC:…so if nobody’s posted by midnight tomorrow, that’s the end of the round, at least by the rules in the OP. Which would be rather anticlimactic.
OOC: Midnight in what timezone? I’m trying to get something together…
OOC: Call it 24 hours from my previous post? It’s a loose guideline; if you have something almost ready, it’d be silly to call the end of the round.
James ponders the silence left in the wake of the question, before deciding to save the poor girl from being unable to answer.
The Second Story: James’ tale of the one that got away
"You know, I’m reminded of one of my own recent trips to the Americas. Outside of a small debackle at the border of the neath involving two buckets of prisoner’s honey, my best belt, and a few appalling secrets, my trip to the surface and subsequently to the colonies was more or less uneventful. There, I boarded a train to the Northwest, where the land was still untamed, and secrets were hidden.
It was while I was exploring the forests that I stumbled across a tribe of natives. They were a friendly enough sort, understood english enough for me to talk their spearpoints away from me, and before long I was priveliged with living among them, learning of their ways. These natives still lived in harmony with nature, and had many elaborate dances and rituals to appease the spirits. There was the fertility ritual for new mothers, that their children may grow up stout and strong. There was the other fertility ritual for crops, that they me bountiful and free of disease. They had a ritual dance before battles to entice the raccoons, small little striped critters with spiritual magic of their own, to sabotage the enemy. But most important of all, so important that they had a shaman just for it, was the ritual for the rain.
To the natives of the Northwest Americas, rain is very sacred to them. They rely on it to feed their crops and their people, and all their other rituals make use of rain water that they collect in barrels. The Rain Maiden herself was the most beautiful person I had every seen, both above and below the surface. She was only slightly younger than I, with fair, lightly tanned skin and long black hair that came down to her waist. I knew the moment I saw her, that she had to be mine.
She was, fortunately, very curious about outsiders, and we spent many moons together talking of devils, honey dreams, artificial stars, and all the other matters of the Neath boring to us, but exotic to this young virgin girl. Oh how I wept when that last detail came to light, that this perfect girl might have matured so without knowing the companionship of another. I vowed that such a tragedy should continue no longer, that I would fix it that very night. Already enticed by the mysteries I had offered, she was eager to experience all I had to offer, and we made love.
Or, we would have if some of the other natives had not been eavesdropping. I was dragged naked from the tent, and tied up in the middle of their camp. Apparently, the Rain Maiden was supposed to be a virgin, and “defiling” her would cause the rains to turn white and kill their crops. Unfortunately for me, they knew a few things: That devils are bad people from a place underground who tempt people to do evil things, and that I was from a place underground and had attempted to tempt their Rain Maiden. So, I could see their point when they piled kindling around me to roast me alive and send me back to hell. It’s not like I could do much to protest anyway, bound and gagged as I was.
As they lit the fire, I was sure it was going to be the end for me, that I would die and never see the surface again. However, as luck would have it, a storm rolled in over the horizon, and a sudden shower drenched the camp. The kindling was soon too wet to burn, and off in the distance was the Rain Maiden, dancing naked in the moonlit rain.
I chastely apologized to the girl, for almost ruining her position in her tribe. The people were somewhat understanding after she had saved me, but I knew things would always be awkward between us, and it was for the best that the Maiden and I never tempted each other again. So, I bid my farewell, and returned home."
edited by Urthdigger on 1/4/2012
“An altogether edifying and stimulating story,” Aspasia says with an inquisitive look, “but I should be inclined to doubt that the tribe forgave you so easily as all that! I’ll wager that the Maiden’s relations took a deal of persuading that you must be glossing over. Please, do tell us more!”
OOC: Wager 1 Echo.
James smiles and elaborates on the detail "When I said they were understanding, I did not mean they were entirely forgiving. It was the same sort of understanding I had with them when they were about to light me on fire: A displeasure tempered by the knowledge of why it was done.
After saving me, the Rain Maiden came to my defense. She protested to the other members of the tribe that she had never felt more alive than she did when I was there. She loved me, truly and honestly, and I admit that what had started as another conquest turned into a genuine love for me as well. She was fiery and spirited, intelligent and cunning. She knew the other tribesman suspected me of luring her, so she had crafted a tale telling just the opposite: That it was she who had seduced me. By the end of her tale, it may as well have been true.
We remained in each other’s company but a day more, but there was no way we could stay together. We both loved each other very much, and it was inevitable where things would go. The tribe respected her immensely, but if we were to consummate our passions, they would consider it as proof that neither of us cared about the damage to their camp, and we would likely both be burned. As romantic as that would be, I wasn’t in any rush to die, and I especially did not want any harm to befall her. So I left before I made things worse."
OOC: Only the one question? I left a few things intentionally vague…
“Hmm.” Lydia ponders James’s tale for a moment. “But what brought you to the Northwest in the first place? I’d wager you must have had some reason for such a long expedition - or did you set out for the surface specifically to tempt innocent young Rain Maidens?” She chuckles.
OOC: Wagering one echo.
With an uproarious laugh, Falstaff digs two Echoes from his sweat-stained silken purse.
“‘Two buckets of prisoner’s honey and my best belt?’ Well, this I have to hear…”
OOC: I’ll try to get a post up soon, I have not been sleeping lately, and my creativity suffered a tad from my tiredness.
OOC: Again, sorry for the delay, the past several days have not been kind to me.
James ponders on the question, then ponders some more "It’s hard to put into words my reasons for going there in particular. Adventure, the thrill of going someplace new, that was my driving force behind exploring in the first place, but WHY the Northwest? That, I’m afraid, has to do with a mild weakness of mine.
You see, while I am excited at the prospect of exploring a new land, I am far more accustomed to the adventures to be had in the city: Of navigating my way through social circles, charming those I can and flirting with scandal when neccessary. As a result, I was not inclined to journey so remotely away from civilization that it would take weeks or months to return. I prefer my problems to be ones that I can talk my way out of, or talk others into assisting me with. Starving to death while lost in the wilds is not one of those options.
So, with that in mind, a frontier made perfect sense. The recent gold rush had brought plenty of settlers to the western coast, giving me a place to stay and purchase supplies while I planned my adventure. However, these towns were filled with merchants and miners, not explorers, so it was only a few days travel from any given settlement to arrive in uncharted territory."
James wraps up his explanation, and gives a grin to Falstaff "Ah, you’re forgetting one thing: It cost me two buckets of prisoner’s honey, my best belt, AND a few appaling secrets.
When I had reached the top of the spire and was ready to make my crossing, the border control were greedy, as usual, and demanded to see my supplies for “inspection”. It would take me days before I could get through with my supplies, if I still had any left after their confiscations, so I made up a lie on the spot.
I presented them with some prisoners honey that I had brought along for some amusement on my journey. I mentioned that I was taking it to Paris to share with some friends of mine, and that it was the only thing of value I had on me. Luckily, they believed me, and confiscated it all for inspection.
Now, my story about Paris had another meaning behind it. Within the story, I dropped several appaling secrets. Each was carefully selected to not be immediately obvious, until one considered it for a while. The result was that when they took my honey, they would not think anything was up, but as the honey opened their minds, made it wander, it would undoubtedly linger on my tale. Make them think about the details until realization struck far too late, and trapped them within a nightmare for a good long while.
For added insurance, I took my most durable belt, and used it to attach the door to a torch sconce, essentially locking it shut. It was rather cruel of me to do so, but I have little mercy for daylight robbery."
“I see,” Lydia smiles. “Well, I can hardly consider a love for cities to be a fault. I’m sure the frontier brought its own particular variety of thrill.” She pushes an echo across the table, towards James.
OOC: Wager resolved! +1 Echo to James.
Falstaff frowns for a moment. “That’s hardly sporting, sir. Damn clever, though.”
The tolling of a bell, solemn and slightly sad, cuts him off as he opens his mouth to speak. “Goodness! That time already? Then, ladies and gentleman, I suppose it’s time to select the evening’s winner!”
With a melodramatic flourish, he tosses his purse onto the table before Audrey
[quote=Out-of-character] Wager resolved. Two echoes for James.
Also, as it’s been rather more than twenty-four hours, that concludes the first round of tales. Time to cast your vote for the best story!
The contenders:
The First Tale: How the Viscount Falstaff became the Personal Dancing Instructor of the King of Siam (0 Echoes Won)
–A Garden of Dragons? or How the King knew the Viscount’s reasons to visit Siam, and why he did not accost the Viscount until it was too late for the palace
–How the Viscount Falstaff acquired passage to the Surface, at the cost of a red velvet gown
–False-stars and Mirrors
–A most extraordinary tonic! or How the Pillar-Spies of Siam Stood to their Posts Indefinitely
The Second Tale: How Audrey Shae served an Unspecified Archduke tea on her first adventure (and met her husband in the process) (9 Echoes Won)
–How a Certain Bovine resurfaced Somewhere Else Entirely, and not Tibet at all
–Why an ox, brother? Why not an axe?
The Third Tale: James’ tale of the one that got away (0 Echoes won)
–How the Rain Maiden told a little white lie
–The Great Frontier!
–‘Two buckets of prisoner’s honey, some appalling secrets, and my best belt?’[/quote]
I’m going to cast my vote for the first tale.
My vote’s for the second tale.
[quote=Out-of-character]If I’ve counted purses correctly, James had eleven echoes and Lydia had 7, which means:
The First Tale (11 Echoes won)
The Second Tale (16 Echoes won)
The Third Tale (0 Echoes won) [/quote]
I rather enjoyed the second story.