[Sierra] Mages in the Jungle - Sidethread - Motley

[Motley]

As Morgan and Becca greeted one another, Motley found himself in the unenviable position of having a different kind of nature calling. His trip through the portal had scrambled his innards and now with the soothing melody of music and the relaxation of not being late or last to the party, he suddenly found himself in the grips of the powerful urge to empty his bladder.

Not wanting to be too much of a burden, he snatched up his things with thoughts of returning as quickly as possible, so they could begin as soon as Morgan thought was prudent.

"If you will excuse me. I'll be right back."

He said to both of them, slightly embarrassed because he was certain they would know why he was leaving, and would wonder why he didn't take care of such a detail beforehand.

He stalked off into the jungle in no particular direction and with no real purpose other than a little privacy. After about a few hundred of his shorter than normal steps, he stopped and looked around. He could not see the Explorer's Guild hut any longer, and saw no one else around either. He unlaced his breeches and began to relieve himself on the leeward side of a tree, whistling a jaunty tune as he did so.

[Brytan]

Luckily for Motley, the jungle was not too far off, and finding a spot out of sight of the people going about their daily routine in Réalt was equally easy. To get from the University to the town, one would have to trek down a path which had been cut out by the mages and the inhabitants of the little expedition village in order to facilitate commerce. To both sides of that path was jungle, which was different from actually being immersed in it.

Even the short distance in, Motley already felt different. He could sense the jungle wrapping itself around him like a living entity embracing who ever ventured amidst it's vibrant branches. Réalt was only a few steps away, yet out of sight it might as well have been two or three days removed. The crushing heat of the rising sun never left the confines of the jungle as the dense foliage and massive humidity weighed down on the little man even as he relieved himself.

Motley was about finished when he shifted his footing to tie his breeches closed again. A distinct "click" could be heard as he set down his left foot.

A shifting of stone could be heard somewhat further into the forest. At that same moment, Motley heard a voice. It spoke to him, singing a song in a language he could not understand. The melody sounded foreign, the words a mixture of adhiel-esque grammar and something he had never heard before.

[Motley]

As he was completing his little pit stop, Motley both felt and heard something beneath his left foot. He tied his breeches quickly and then kneeled down to examine what it was. The grating rasp of stone could be heard further and deeper into the jungle, and as he was pondering this, he heard the voice.

It was liquid and fluid and unlike anything he had heard before, which was saying something considering all the time he had spent with music in his life. Motley found himself utterly entranced by the singing. The expedition with Morgan and Becca and the shifting stone beneath his feet both went forgotten for the time being. Right now he wanted to hear the song and see it's singer.

His mismatched eyes scanned and searched the jungle for any sign of who or what was making that magical sound.

[Brytan]

Gi lahn, cogem tah.
Cku reth, menar triten dogul.
Zho nu kri ten vior dra.
Behlan to kri ul.

The melody rustled along the leaves of the forest, a sound carried to Motley's mind rather than his ears. The tones were friendly, refined and soft. They kept on being repeated for a while, before subsiding into the background noises the jungle provided.

There was no apparent singer to the voice. Nor was there any specific location the sound appeared to have come from. Not that there was a lot of time to think about it, because at the exact flicker the song subsided, a man dashed into Motley, toppling him off his feet, making him land in the soft underbrush. A tingling sensation passed through his shoulder, the one he had been struck in. It quickly subsided.

Looking up, there was no one to be seen.

[Motley]

Motley tried his best to follow the tone and timbre of the music. Being experienced with melody and form, it was easy to discern he had never heard anything like this before.

Gee lann cojim taa...

He tried to remember the words and mimic the way the song and melody went.

Coo rith menna triton dogel...

The foreign and alien words were difficult to speak in his mouth. They were using vowels and consonants in different order and combination, and the tongue was tiring and difficult.

Zo new kree ten vee orr drah...

A part of his brain wondered where it was coming from. There was no sign of a singer. No presence other than the song itself. The lyrics and melody played in his mind, but it seemed nowhere else.

Bee lann too kree uhl...

As they repeated, he repeated it along with them. Over and over until the song began to fade.

Belan too kree ul...

He was closer to being accurate and repeating the song when it disappeared and he could no longer hear it. He closed his eyes for a heartbeat and suddenly found himself sprawling in a soft carpet of green, leafy branches. The impact seemed to have centered on his shoulder, and he rubbed the tingling sensation in confused and startled silence.

His mismatched eyes searched further for signs of attack. The ugly little man was not much of a fighter in the martial sense, but if further assaults were forthcoming, he needed to do something to defend himself. Frightened, he searched the jungle around him, and found nothing. Not a soul.

His mind began to fight through the fear and anxiety he felt from being knocked over. His agile mind began to reason again, the cryptic and elusive words were forgotten in exchange for ways and means to survive, and determine what was happening.

Accident or intentional? Camouflage or invisible? Physical or energy?

Still sprawling in the undergrowth, he crawled over to the nearest tree and huddled against it. As he continued to scan the jungle for signs of what had bowled him over, he continued to work the problem.

"MORGAN!" "BECCA!" He shouted for his companions. They were still close and waiting for him, and reinforcements would be a welcome sight.

Then he tried to calm himself. Taking a few deep breaths to center his thoughts and concentration as he had learned from the very pair of mages he was hoping to see coming to his aid, he did his best to compose himself and regain his center. If whoever or whatever it was, was using magic to hide itself, then perhaps some magic could be used to see it.

With a focused effort of concentration, he attempted to connect his vision aetherically in the hopes that he might be able to see what was happening. It was something he was only beginning to understand and practice, but here in the jungle alone with some mysterious entity or force, it seemed like it was time to learn, and learn quickly. His very survival may depend on it.

[Brytan]

Just as Motley shifted his eyes to glance upon the Aetherial version of the world, he was struck again with some force, this time from the back, knocking him over into a shrub. Turning he could see a shape of some sort, a mist of golden whites, drifting on the edge of his vision as he yet again received a shove which urged his small body through the shrub.

And into a rather deep hole.

The next thing Motley knew, he was sliding rapidly on his backside through a moist and very dark tunnel, downwards. The narrow tunnel propelling him underground like a slide in an aqua park. He managed to bump his head badly a few times before being propelled out and into a larger space which was equally dark and probably just as damp, landing him on a bed of soggy mosses and fungi, judging from the scent and the texture. Visibility was almost zero.

[Motley]

Force. Impact. Falling. Silence.

Pain.

Motley scrubbed at his eyes and face with the back of his sleeve, trying to clear his vision and his head. He touched his head and neck gingerly, probing for cuts and scrapes that he was certain he felt the pain from.

Darkness.

He tried to stand, groggily lurching to his feet. There was a hole in the knee of his leggings, and one of his boots was off and missing somewhere. The soggy moss beneath him squishing slippery between his toes was proof enough of that.

He looked up, trying to discern if there was light from above and if there was, how he could get back to it. Motley was more fearful of a difficult climb than being down in the dark. Night and dark had always been kind to the ugly little bard. He held no trepidation of it, and in a way actually revered it. There was some fear of the creatures of this unknown place that dwelt down here, but he was far more interested in trying to get back up at this moment.

Silence.

"Hello?" He called out softly. Not yelling. Not in a panic. Not yet anyway.

He let his head drop until his chin rested against his chest. He stood, listening for anything that would give him a clue about the size of the space around him, while at the same time giving the golden white being a chance to answer.

[Brytan]

Something skittered away in the darkness, a swift pitter patter of tiny feet as Motley rose from the soggy floor. There was little light in this room, hall, corridor, whatever it was. As he called out, his words echo'ed off the walls very quickly, giving the impression that it wasn't a very large space he found himself in.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, it became possible to discern a little more of his surroundings. A little light came in through narrow cracks in the ceiling, which was roughly a meter above him. The tunnel he had come in through behind him was a perfectly round opening in the wall of what appeared to be a square room. On the opposite end of the room was another such tunnel. The ceiling seemed to be a bit elevated in the middle, but it was impossible to see.

What also did not help was the awful smell that lingered here. Every move he made released an odor of rotting plants and vile smelling fungi and molds which seemed to thrive in the thick layer of compost which seemed to have accumulated on the floor of the room.

His calls received no answer however, his senses picking up nothing outside of what his mundane senses presented him with.

He was alone.

In a stinky tunnel.

[Motley]

Rat..?

What ever it was that skittered away, Motley found himself glad he could not see it. The horrors he could conjure in his imagination could be turned off, shut down and away as he concentrated on other things, but he could say the the same of whatever it was. Unlike his imagination, it was real, and could not be denied in such a fashion. The fact that it was gone or had at least gone away was actually comforting in a way.

As he began to make out details of the chamber he found himself in, his senses began to return, and with the odors of the tunnel now assailing his nostrils, he wished they would have stayed away a little longer. He gagged, retching a few dry heaves from the putrid odors. he hawked and spat and went on with the business of figuring out how to proceed, doing his best to use his mind to think of how to escape this rancid place instead of how bad it smelled.

Looking up, he quickly deduced there was no way he could make it to the cracks of light above him. There was no escape there. The tunnels on both ends seemed to offer twin promises of freedom, but after Motley's ride through the slippery chute down here, he seriously doubted his ability to climb back up through the ascending tunnel. The opening of the other black maw seemed the most obvious choice. He crunched over to it, trying hard to fool himself that the horrific odor that rose up from his movements actually smelled like fresh cut grass, or baking pies, or anything else he could think of.

He tried to peer inside the other opening in an attempt to see if it could lead him somewhere else. The thought of some sort of magical light crossed his thoughts, but he felt at this point it was still better to not see.

[Brytan]

How ever much he tried, it was very difficult to block out the smell which assaulted his nostrils. He managed to some extent to block it out, keeping his mind relatively clear in order to formulate thoughts. A lesser mind would have spent another mark being very, very sick most likely.

The other tunnel seemed to be of a similar size to the one he had come in through. His own size seemed to suit it quite well. A taller man would have had to crouch down in order to get through it. Motley could likely walk normally. It was dark in that tunnel. Too dark to make anything out beyond it's size and apparent direction for the first few meters. It seemed to extend in a straight line beneath what he might guess was the jungle, and as far as he could see, it did not go down but rather stayed pretty much level for at least the start of the tunnel.

[Motley]

Having little other option, Motley began took a few steps into the tunnel before he paused. He retched a few times, overcome by the foul odors and for the first time, perhaps the only time in his life, he was grateful for being hungry and having a largely empty stomach. His portal trip to the island had relieved him from the burden of having too much in his stomach, so his intense dry heaves were pretty much the only offering he could muster.

Once he mastered himself again, he tried to distract himself further by choosing light over dark. On one hand, blindly following a dark tunnel further into blackness seemed foolhardy. On the other, he was certain that he did not want to see what was in the tunnel and that ignorance was likely bliss in this case. He stood in the tunnel motionless for a few flickers, listening to his own heartbeat as he decided on his next course of action. In the end, he decided on light. There was no telling what lay ahead of him in the tunnel, but falling down a deep shaft to never be heard from again was his primary concern, so light won out.

In his practicing with Morgan and Becca, one of their exercises was to summon a ball of light and play catch back and forth with it. He had always done poorly in the exchange part of the game, but he felt confident he could summon a bit of light. He turned back to face the main chamber, looking for the dim light from above and then tried to weave that hopeful bit of trickling sun into something he could carry. He tried to make a ball about the size of a fist. If he was successful, he would turn back to the tunnel, to see what lay before him.

[Brytan]

He managed.

Even though the stench made it hard to focus, he managed to create a small orb of light which would suffice in lighting the way through the narrow passage. As it sparked, more skittering of little animals could be heard in the darkness.

The tunnel ahead proved to be mostly similar to the earlier one. Though this one did not drop down at any point. As he walked through it, having to make his way every now and then through piled up heaps of garbage and decaying plant life, he found it to mostly be just a very boring circular tube.

Walking through it he felt like the floor at some point sloped up a little. Eventually Motley thought he saw the tunnel widen ahead of him. He found himself in a square room like the one he had been in before. Though this one appeared to be a lot cleaner. Even if Motley no longer was. He must have walked for a few marks at least, since his legs felt like they were going to drop out from under him at any time now.

The flicker he stepped into the room, the orb of light doused and a voice entered his mind.

Gri'jholan Prekut ni'ger! Dri'on poract!

[Motley]

He followed the tube anything was better than staying in that chamber with the rotting, putrid garbage and refuse. As he walked, he pondered over which direction it lead him. He could be traveling under the town, deeper into the jungle, or even out to sea. The last gave him a moment's pause and he studied the rounded ceiling of the tube carefully, worried of a collapse and drowning. Yet for some reason he almost welcomed a wash of water.

It would be quite nice to dive into the sea and get this smell off me.

Yet the tunnel showed no signs of collapsing, nor any signs of the ocean could be felt or heard. So he just walked.

Could I summon water the same way I wove light? Could I bring enough water in here to wash away this foul stench and still remain undrowned in this tunnel? Better smelly and alive than clean and dead.

The tunnel wore on and on, and the ugly little man's patience grew shorter and shorter, as did his energy. He did console himself that his light was lasting so long.

Morgan would be proud. I'll have to tell him that I'm getting better when I get out of here.

Then he could see the tube widen a little and suddenly he could see another room ahead. In a brief flicker he saw that it was a lot cleaner and then in a flash it was dark.

Gri'jholan Prekut ni'ger! Dri'on poract!

A sudden stab of fear dropped through him. He had seen nothing, but his view of the room had been so brief. He tried to calm himself by reason.

It sounds like the language in the song. What we're those words...?

"Gee lann cojim taa..."
"Coo rith menna triton dogel..."
"Zo new kree ten vee orr drah..."
"Bee lann too kree uhl..."

He knew he couldn't be pronouncing them exactly right, but he hoped that he was close enough where whoever it was might pause and give him a chance.

Unless you just told him something rather rude and insulting...

"Uh... hello? I mean no harm. I'm just passing through, trying to make my way back to my friends..."

He stayed the instinct to summon the light again. If whoever it was preferred darkness, he would meet that wish. His own mind screamed for light to see who it was, but he heard nothing else in the way of footprints or steps toward him, so he stayed motionless, still hovering in his last step.

[Brytan]

There was silence for a flicker...two flickers...three.

Then a grinding of stone overhead nearly blinded Motley, as daylight washed in on the short man. His orb of light had been dim, and apparently the sun still had enough strength left in it to cast a powerful beam directly into his face.

"Gro'jahn. Priok detra koluth. Priagh neder dogen dra."

[Motley]

The words he heard meant nothing to him, they were unfamiliar and alien as the rest, although he thought he was beginning to hear similarities between phrases. Given enough time and exposure, he could likely begin to piece together the phrases and begin to put meaning to them, but the grinding noise threw him off mental balance and for a few flickers, he was caught up in the terror of a strange noise after it being so quiet he could practically hear his own heartbeat.

These thoughts were lost as the ugly little man squinted against the sudden, surprising and blinding light. After his short marks underground, the light was warm and somehow refreshing, although if it was more nourishing to his eyes or his spirit he could not tell. As his vision began to adjust and compensate, he looked around, hoping to spy some sort of way out, or more importantly, up.

Motley spoke out loud to no one in particular. He still had yet to see whatever brought him down here, or whatever seemed to be helping him now.

"Uh... Thank you!"

He blinked a few more times against the brightness.

"Is there someway I can help you? Perhaps I can sing you a song, or give you something as payment?"

[Tristam]

Motley heard nothing more from the voice as his eyes adjusted to the new light. Looking up Motley could see that the light came from a round hole in the ceiling above him. Around the hole was smooth stone unlike the rough earth and stone of the walls and the rest of the ceiling. Suspended over the hole was a tripod like affair and dangling from it on a rope was a bucket. It was currently out of his reach but there looked to be enough rope up there reach down to Motley.

[Motley]

Well then... A well it is...

Motley looked down at his feet.

Not precisely a well, or I would perhaps be drowning at this moment...

The ugly little man examined the stone and earth above him, trying to gauge the distance from where he stood, to the rim of the opening above him.

What does it matter anyway? It's not as if you're going to climb out... Not without a little help...

His mismatched eyes focused on the tripod contraption and the rope and bucket above. The means of his escape were now right there in sight, yet were out of reach. For a few flickers he pondered over simply shouting for help.

I can yell until someone comes, and once they see me, they might help pull me up. But something knocked me down here in the first place, perhaps whomever it was intended for me to be stuck down here with the rest of the rubbish... Probably better to make my own way out and find my way home without a fuss...

If I can't reach the rope, perhaps the rope can reach me...

Motley let his head drop, then stood still and quiet. He concentrated on the noise above him, listening to whatever sound made it down to him. He imagined the wind blowing in from the sea, across the sandy beach and into the trees above him. He imagined touching that power and being able to guide the breeze to where he needed it. He gathered his magic within him, allowing the imagined breeze to fill him up like wave washing over him.

He opened his eyes, and looked up, flinging his gathered strength towards the bucket and rope above him, trying intently to pull that rope down into the hole and towards him.

[Tristam]

Gathering the strands of air that flowed all about him was an easy task. They were plentiful and though they do not like to be held in place by a magician's hands, it was easy enough to grab and gather a double handful.

However, the difficulty came in asking the forces of air to pull. They push very well. His first blast knocked the bucket so that it rocked wildly on its rope.

OOC: I am making an assumption to speed things along for you. If there are any objections, we can rewind to this point.

Having learned the lesson, the second blast of wind was looped around to push the bucket downwards. At first it seemed to be a useless effort. Motley could feel the bucket straining against the rope but it didn't move. Concentrating, Motley shot forth a strong surge of wind and the bucket jerked downward. With slow steady effort, the bucket lowered down and landed in the muck with a wet plop.

[Motley]

OOC: Thank you! No rewind necessary.

IC:

It took a deal of concentration and effort, not to mention letting his first weave go completely before the ugly little man began to find success. Once he had figured out how he need to push and not pull, moving the bucket became a much easier process. When the bucket finally landed at his feet, he sighed with equal parts relief and satisfaction.

He took a moment and gathered his wits about him. Although much of Motley's strength was from his mind, he did have some experience with handstands, somersaults and other acrobatic moves. It had been a good long time since he had been tested like this physically, but unless he could summon enough wind to push him up and out of this pit, climbing this rope was his only way out without alerting whatever it was that drove him down here in the first place.

So with a deep breath and gritting of teeth in determination, Motley struggled and fought as he tried to climb the rope. The good news was, he was smaller and lighter than other men, and he hoped that this would give him some advantage. The bad news was, he had little experience in climbing of any kind, and this was bound to be a tremendous challenge for him.

Once he pulled himself up a ways on the rope, he tried to use his feet to wrap the rope around and under his foot like he had seen the acrobats do. If he managed to get a good loop around his foot, he could press his body weight into the loop with his leg, and take some of the pressure and weight off of his arms. It was a slow and painstaking process, but it was his only chance.

That and the rope holding him until he reached the top...

[Eyrekra da' Waelkyrige]

It took Motley a burn or two, but he finally managed to get the loop around his foot. He was able to shift his body weight, and give his arms a well deserved break. Motley looked up, and saw that he still had a long way to climb, he also notice that the light that was at the top had now gone dark.

"Te la co to. Te la co to."

The strange sing song language was back. Motley felt a gentle tug on the rope, and he quickly grip the rope with his hands. He could feel himself being pulled up. He estimated that he was being lifted three to four paces at a time. The pace was steady and even. As Motley approached three-quarters of the way up he could smell a strong musky order. He could now see that the light was not gone, but being blocked by someone or something huge.

[Motley]

Once he had finally got to a point where he could relax and ease the stress off his arms, something else happened where he was anything but relaxed.

Once again the strange language was heard, and the little man cringed. If whatever it was knocked him down here in the first place, it might want him to stay down in the dark. It wasn't fear of the dark that he was afraid of, but that this thing knew enough to know where he would try to emerge, and would try to keep him down. He just wanted to escape and be free of this place and rejoin his friends.

But instead of lowering him back down, the rope began to pull him upwards at a rather good and even pace. Motley hung on for the ride and gripped the rope tightly. Looking upwards, he could see something large blocking nearly the entire mouth of the opening. He took a deep breath and hoped that whatever it was, wasn't searching for a meal.

[Eyrekra da' Waelkyrige]

Motley closed his eyes as he got close to exiting the place of his temporary incarceration. He did not wanted to be blinded when he got out. Motley could feel the warmth of the sun as he was pulled out of the hole.

He opened his eyes and then quickly closed them again. He opened them again and could not believe what he saw. The being that had saved him looked to be hungry. It had a mouth with two rows of sharp teeth. It was Reptilian in nature, and stood around seven foot tall.

The creature sniffed Motley a couple of times and turned to speak to the other Lizard beings.

"Gut snort gala click click."

The other beings began to laugh, or that is what it looked like to Motley.

A small pale creature called scoldingly to the much larger one. The larger creature placed Motey gently on the ground, and backed away slowly, while keeping a low profile. Motley could see kindness in the smaller creatures face. He could also see that the creature had another being inside of it. The small creature started to speak to Motley.

"Ca La Ma To Shi Da Da To".

Motley stared at her blankly, and did not know how to reply. The small creature placed her hands over Motley's ears and gave him a kiss. As they kissed Motley could feel primal energies flowing into and out of his body. The small creature spoke again.

"Ga La Me Ta? Ga La Me Ta? Do La Me Ta? Do La under Ta? Do La understand? Do you understand?"

[Motley]

The creature that pulled him from the pit was horrifying, and Motley clamped his eyes closed as he prepared to be eaten. As a few flickers passed, he could feel the thing sniff and paw at him. Frightened and stunned, he lay there expecting the worst.

It said something in the strange language he had been hearing before, and then he swore he heard laughter. He peeked out through narrow slits to see what was happening, and found that there were more of these lizard creatures around him. The little one looked at him, and he opened his mismatched eyes wide to peer around at the others, blinking rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the light of the sun.

Dumbfounded and uncertain how to communicate with these things he began to stand, but the little thing came over to him and put its hands on his head. Scaly, reptilian lips touched his, and the warmth and call of magical energies coursed through his small, twisted body.

He heard words. Word he could understand. Words he could feel as well as hear. He looked around at the others, both fascinated and fearful.

"Y... Y.. Yes. I... I understand."

[Eyrekra da' Waelkyrige]

"Good I am glad that you can understand me. I have been trying to get you out of there for some time. My friend Motley we need to get you home, you are needed there. I know it is hard for you to believe, but when we traded magic energy I caught a vision of your future. Understand that you play a small but very important part in both our future, and the future of your daughter Angelica.

Please do not be afraid. I will touch you and share the possible future of what is to come if you do not intervene."

The little turtle like creature touched Motley on his head.

The energy starts to flow between them again. Visions played in the mind of the little man. He sees a blue parrot falling off a cliff and landing in the water. The water starts to churn, and boil, and then burst into flames. While all this is happening Motley can hear the voice of his daughter screaming in the background.

The strain on the little turtle girl was to much. She releases Motley from both her grip of of magic, and the horror of pending doom.

The little turtle called for the brute that Motley first meet when he got out of the hole. She give him instruction to get Motley to the human settlement before nightfall.

She motions Motley over. "Please take care of your daughter and yourself. We are all depending on you."

With that said the spirit that once inhabited the body of turtle girl was gone and so to its Magic.

[Motley]

"I don't... What?"

The information the turtle thing was giving him was both crucial and overwhelming. Visions of his future, and the part he played in it for himself, and these strange creatures didn't make any sense. He'd only just arrived. How could his future be tied in with someone he's never seen or met before this moment? He was baffled and confused to say the least.

The vision she shared with him was horrifying and chilled him to his bones. The falling parrot was nothing new, a parrot fell into the Mer every yahren, but the churning waters of the Mer and the flames were devastating to the ugly little man. Most disturbing and frightening of all were the screams of Angelica.

When she was finished sharing this vision with him, he sat there, dumbfounded and shivering, frightened beyond nearly anything else he had ever encountered.

"I need to get back there. I need to help her. But my friends..."

He glanced back towards the jungle, thinking of Morgan and Becca. He crawled to his feet slowly, trying to puzzle his way getting home as quickly as possible, and still letting Morgan know what was happening.

"I came here with others. Morgan and Becca. Can you tell them I am well and that I'm returning home? Their names are Morgan and Becca."

"Please take care of your daughter and yourself. We are all depending on you."

"I'll... uh... I'll do my best."

Motley followed the hulking brute thing, his mismatched eyes still darting around in confusion and fear.

Home... Have to get home...