The Wanna Be #13 Tying Up Loose Ends"

The Wanna Be “Tying Up Loose Ends”
By Jack Spencer, Jr.

Foreword:

With this episode I’ve abandoned numbering the articles. I’ve found it a bit distracting, didn’t you? In either case, It has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that this would’ve been #13. Really.

I’m also taking a bit of a break from Starfaring. That is, I’m still working on it, but this article has little to do with it. Funny isn’t it? After all the hype over design-a-game-in-a-column columns it turns out to not be a very good concept for a column.

At least it’s a difficult concept to pull off. Essentially, you have to write your game and then go back and write about what you’ve written or write a column and then try to incorporate it into the finished game so it doesn’t feel like a collection of weekly articles. It’s akin to giving birth to the same baby twice. Worse, it’s not always interesting which makes for a lousy column.

In any case, while I’ll try to focus on Starfaring, I’m not going to be able to write about it every week. I might as well get you used to that now.

This week, I want to talk about the importance of tying up loose ends or, more accurately, finishing what you’ve started. A little background on this may be necessary.

Ever read It by Stephan King? I liked the TV movie better. Tim Curry is god. However, in the novel there is a young man who was working on a novel for a long time. Shortly before the clown killed him, he had decided to go off to a cabin or something similar and finally finish his book. The sentiment I am echoing here is “It may be a piece of crap, but at least it will be a finished piece of crap.”

Stop. Shift gears.

Are you sick of Orkworld? I am. I bought it shortly after it went on sale from Wizard’s Attic. I got it early enough to get the limited signed poster of the cover. While I do not regret the purchase, my enthusiasm for the game has diminished. In the end, it just wasn’t a game I could bring myself to play.

Before this apathy set in, I was very enthusiastic for the game. I founded a Yahoo Club for the game. I created a board game that was combination traditional board game a la checkers that the Orks themselves played with unrealized plans to make it a way to resolve mass combat without the typical miniature wargame. And, most import to this article, I came up with the concept of The Lost and started a short story based on that.

You see, when young Orks comes of age, they are taken down into a cave and told they must find their way out. If they make it back to the surface, they are now thrakas, Ork warriors. If they do not, they are lunch for Gorlam, a giant toad who lives in the afterlife to devour the souls of the Orks.

As written, it seemed that there were only these two options for the young Orks. From this, I came up with the concept of The Lost. Not all Orks were immediately eaten up by the Great Toad. Some lived down in the darkness, eventually going insane, living in a state between life and death.

A beautiful concept, if I do say so myself. I even cobbled up part one of a three part “epic” called “Toad Fire” and posted it in the Orkworld forum. (It’s still there. Buried under discussion on the hunting rules and “What happened to John?” stuff.)

Unfortunately, I lost interest before I wrote the next two parts. It was just another project I had started by lacked the discipline to finish.

Well, that’s all changed. I have finished it. It’s a piece of crap if I do say so myself. This is just a first draft, so it could be better. But it’s more important that I’ve actually put this all down on paper than I waste time polishing it, time better spent on my own projects like Starfaring.

It may be a piece of crap, but at least it’s a finished piece of crap.

So, without further ado, here’s “Toad Fire” a tale of The Lost in three parts. Enjoy.

Toad Fire
Part I: “Between Misery and Desperation”
by Jack Spencer Jr.

When Staan awoke he found Kyal weeping as he often was ever since they were brought down into this cave. To complete the rite of passage to become thrakas-- warriors of the Ork clan, they must work together to find their way back to the surface keeping their fire burning.

It was Kenni who had suggested they keep only two torches burning. Only two to conserve the four torches they have, but two, in case one went out. Kenni was always thinking of clever things like that. This annoyed Arik who thought of himself as clever as well as their leader.

They had been walking for what seemed like days- although it was impossible to tell. Famished and exhausted, they decided to stop and rest. Kenni had them set up a watch, partially to watch for monsters who's moaning they sometimes hear echoing through the tunnels, but mostly to keep an eye on the fire.

"He was here."

Staan sat up, peering about into the inky blackness. "Who was here?"

"Gorlam. He stayed just outside the light. He spoke to me-- discouraging, terrible things. You can see the eyes of those he had eaten peering out of his mouth when he talks." Kyal broke down into fresh sobs. Staan sat next to him and put his arm around him.

Arik stirred and scowled at the weeping Kyal. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he stood and kicked the sleeping Kenni roughly in the stomach. "Get up! We are leaving." Kenni stood slowly, smiling that smile of his like he knows something. Arik ignored him, took a torch and led them down the tunnel.

* * * *

They trudge along, fatigue draining their muscles, but fear spurring them on. They would sometimes hear the wail of some creatures. It sounded animal yet, somehow, was not. Soon they came to a place where the tunnel forked off in four directions.

"Which way?" said Kyal, looking from one to another, then back again.

Arik peered into the blackness. "This way."

Staan also peered. "How do you know?"

Arik became irritable. "Does it matter? We pick one and hope the Goddess smiles on us. Otherwise well sit here the rest of our lives choosing."

Kenni licked his palms and felt the air around each opening. "I feel a draft coming from this one."

They all felt the air around the opening by Kenni. "I feel nothing," grumbled Arik.

"It's very slight, near the floor. Wet your fingers to make them more sensitive."

"Yes, yes! I think I feel something." Kyal was getting excited. The thought of finally getting out put a spark back in his eye. "That means we're close, doesn't it? It means we'll soon get out?"

Arik felt around a little more, he stepped back and stood with his arms folded. Staan looked at him and Arik shook his head. He didn't feel anything. Staan wet his fingers and felt again. Neither did he. He knew Kyal was desperate enough to get out that he would believe he felt a draft, even if he felt nothing. But Kenni, for all the years he's know Kenni he had never steered them wrong.

"Yes," said Staan, "I feel something. Let's go this way."

Kyal took a torch and charged ahead, Staan followed, then Kenni with the second torch.

Arik brought up the rear, muttering to himself. It was always like this between him and Kenni. Kenni was always showing off how much smarter he was. Arik thought about when they were growing up spending the long months in the clan's winter home playing Wan Pak. Kenni would talk about things while they played.

"Wasn't the deer meat last night wonderful? I understand it was due to a particular herd they used to season it. However, I am told they have run out of that herd and won't have any more until spring. What a shame. To have to wait so long for such a wonderful taste again."

Before Arik knew it, he would have lost half his stones. This would make him angry and the anger would cloud his judgement. Very soon the rest of his stones would be taken or trapped and he'd have to Kooma or yield. Kenni would then just collect the stones he'd won, smiling that smile like he knows something. This made Arik even angrier.

Kyal was walking very quickly. With each step he believed on his next he'd see sunlight. The draft was growing stronger and Kyal swore he could smell the grass and wild flowers.

The others were warier. They knew they weren't out yet. They still heard strange sounds all around them and they couldn't smell anything in the draft. But Kyal's spirits were finally up. Even Arik agreed it was better to leave him be.

"Look!" shouted Kyal, "up ahead! I think I see light coming from around that bend! We made it! We're out!" Before the others could stop him, Kyal rushed forward and darted around the corner.

They raced after him, shouting his name. When they rounded the bend the found the tunnel ended abruptly in a sharp drop. Kyal was kneeling on the edge. The light from his torch didn't touch the bottom. "I could smell the wild flowers," he murmured, "I really could."

Arik regarded the precipice and turned to Kenni. "Perfect, yellow brain! We've been wasting our time! Now we're going to go back and taking the passage I say."

Kenni was staring out over the drop. This turn of events has left him a little shaken, but his sharp mind quickly recovers. "Wait, there is a way out here. Maybe we can climb up."

"Enough of that! We've stumbled around in the dark long enough! You brought us here. But I'll get us out!"

His nerves frayed from the darkness, hunger and sleeplessness, Kenni actually hostilely stepped up to the larger Ork. "You're yellow brained! You rely on your luck instead of actually thinking things through, you son of an elven slave!"

Arik bellowed in reply and pushed Kenni with all his might. Kenni screamed as he tumbled off the ledge. His torch flew from his hand went out.

Staan and Kyal watched, dumbstruck. "By Keethdwogma's bosom!" breathed Kyal.

"You killed Kenni!!" Staan lunged but Arik backhanded him with a meaty fist, knocking him back. Staan's head hit the wall. He crumpled to the floor and lie still.

Arik was still huffing and puffing in his rage, but it was wearing off and the reality of what happened was slowly sinking in. Kyal was staring wide-eyed at Arik. Arik pulled Kyal to his feel, snatching the torch from his hand. "We Are Leaving, Now!"

"What about Staan?"

"Leave him." He stormed off. Agitated, but with a sense of purpose.

Kyal gave Staan a last, furtive glace and the hurried after Arik.

* * * * *

When Staan came to he opened his eyes, but he wasn't sure he had. The darkness was complete. He put his fingers on his eyelids. Yes, his eyes were open. He just couldn't see anything. They had left him.

Fear froze his heart like ice, chilling his breath. He thought of all the sounds they had heard down here. Of all the unknown things moaning in the darkness. Of Gorlam, the great toad.

But so far, nothing had molested with him. Perhaps he could somehow find his way out by feeling the walls? It was slim, but was choice did he have? He sat up and the pain in his head rang like a copper bell, forcing a low moan past his lips.

"....meat stirs...?"

He froze.

Silence.

"Who's there?"

"...meat speaks...! meat no then...where come you from...?" It was like someone who could still remember most of the words, but had completely forgotten how to form sentences out of them properly.

"I come from the Turtle Clan. I'm lost."

"...ahhhh,... thraka become to you were...i also... here too lost..."

Staan drew in a breath. So this was a Ork like himself. Someone who had been brought here to become a thraka, but had gotten lost. "What is your name?"

"???name???..." This seemed to puzzle him a bit. He took a long time to answer. "...pip...no....name me no...someone else...me name forgotten...pip name good...pip i..."

"How long have you been down here, Pip?"

"...long long times...passage much time since first come i..."

Staan frowned. Long enough to forget how to talk. Long enough to forget his own name.

"...come....find food good eat yum...."

"I lost my fire. I can't see."

"...fire...?...see ...?..." Pip pondered these for a moment. "...make fire i...remember Toad Fire to make how..."

Staan was suddenly blinded by the bright glare. His eyes gradually became used to it and he could see that the light was a ball of bright bluish green flame. As his eyes continued to adjust, he saw that the flame was held in a gnarled, twisted claw of a hand. Behind the hand he saw the face, the horrible face! Bent and scarred, blanched almost yellow. The mouth was stretched in a wide, toothy grin. The eyes were squinting against the light, but between the lids Staan could see they were blacker than black. They were the color of blindness, of death.

He ran.

The light went out and he soon stumbled and fell. He rolled down a steep incline which seemed to go forever, but finally did. He sat there among the rocks. He could feel the dull pain of the many cuts and bruises he had sustained from the fall. A tiny avalanche of rocks and pebbles and Staan knew Pip was back. He did not care anymore.

"...run you why...?..."

"I don't know." He began to weep. Pip shift his weight back and forth. He seemed unsure of what to do next.

"...name you what...?"

"Staan."

"Staaaan..." Pip seemed to relish this. "...Staaan...cry you why...?"

Staan snuffled back the tears for a moment. "Because I'm lost. I don't know where I am."

Pip processed this for a moment. "...between Misery and Desperation...better places...happier places to be...come..."

Pip touched him in the dark and Staan took his hand. "...careful must be we...are other....friendly not they...."

"Pip, why are you helping me?"

He seemed to take a long time in answering. It seemed that words were failing to fit what he felt.

"...been long here...down here...so long very....but...forgotten no...miss yes still having...a friend..."

Toad Fire
Part II: “Courting the Toad”
by Jack Spencer Jr.

Staan sat in the large cavern which Pip called "tranquillity" watching the bats flutter about on the ceiling. Occasionally one would fall from its perch and dart through the air until it found a new one. Staan decided he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life, this living ceiling.

Of course he couldn't actually see it since there was no light in the cavern. He could Dream See it. It was the first thing Pip had taught him: how to enter into a state between asleep and awake. This was how they dream about the things around themselves and see them in a way. Pip had been living in the Dream for years. It was as natural as breathing to him. Staan still had to concentrate to be able to Dream See.

It was a very difficult form of concentration since the harder he tried, the less likely he was to enter the Dream. He had to just let go and sort of fall into the dream. With practice, he had gotten better at it. His biggest obstacle was sleep. While dreaming, he tended to fall asleep. Pip never slept, but Staan still did. Pip assured him he wouldn't sleep anymore in time.

Staan shuddered at the though. He remembered the twisted creature that was Pip, last time he really saw him when they first met. Someday Staan may look like that. Hands like twisted claws. Skin yellowed and warty. And the eyes, the terrible eyes, dyed black as death by the Dream.

Pip had been only too happy to have someone to teach all of his secrets to. His unmasked joy at having someone to talk to. To save him from falling into the Dream completely.

Staan had learned of the others, lost like themselves who had completely fallen into the Dream. Wretched creatures who neither lived in this world nor the next, but caught in between. Pip had told him of other dark creatures who live in these caverns, like the Bogies, who were like demented children who’s laugher sometimes echoed, but there was something sinister in their glee. No one who had encountered the Bogies had ever lived to tell about it.

But most importantly Pip had prepared Staan for when Great Gorlam would come. When Staan would have to, as Pip called it, court the Toad. Gorlam would come to swallow Staan, as he did all Orks. Only the most clever could escape the great Toad, but the extremely clever could also court him, using the Dream to thwak one of the many secrets the Toad held.

But that seemed very far away to Staan now as he sat and watch the fluttering carpet on the roof of the cave. Everything felt very far away, his home, his mother, his brothers and sisters. All there was now was the cool, damp air he drew into his lungs, the sqeking squirming bats and an overwhelming feeling of calm.

In the shadows, something shuffled.

Staan stood up with a start, his feeling of peace now shattered. Before him he could see the Great Toad. He came closer although his legs never moved. It is unlikely his legs could have moved his great bulk. Gorlam was also part of the Dream. He floated there, ignoring the physical world, the walls of the cavern.

What a tasty little fly, said the Great Toad. His lips moved when he spoke and in that backness Staan could see eyes; hundreds, thousands of eyes looking out at him.

Golran tongue shot out from the gapping maw. Staan jumped out of the way. The Toad was fast.

The tongue shot out again and caught Staan by the ankle. Slowly Staan was being dragged back towards the mouth.

Do not struggle, little fly. Great Gorlam shall keep you safe and warm in his belly.

Inside the Toad’s belly, the eyes glittered expectantly. Staan pulled against the tongue, straining with his nails for a grip on the rock. It was no use, the Toad continued to drag him.

Stan reached out with his hand at the tongue and a gout of green flame lashed out. The Toad screamed and the tongue released him.

My tongue! My poor tongue! You wicked, wicked fly! Now it will blister and peel!

Staan stood, green flames kindled in his palms. This was the secret Pip had thwaked, the secret of the Toad Fire.

A clever fly! A fly with a secret sting. How did you get my Toad Fire, fly? It was one of them, was it not? One of the others who hide beneath the world and steal from the Great Gorlam? It does not matter. In the end, all flies will rest in my belly.

Staan reached out to the Toad. He searched for a secret. The Toad felt his probing.

You seek a secret, clever fly? Save your strength and I shall tell you. The Great Toad has plans and they cannot be changed, even by a clever little fly like you.

Staan looked into the Toads mind and saw Arik, older now and a mighty warrior. Suddenly a shadow struck him down.

A smile played on the Great Toads lips, showing rows of tiny needle-like teeth.

You see it? You friend will be struck down.

Staan was stunned. “But why?”

It is prophecised that a hero will slay me, Gorlam the Great Toad and free all the flies in my belly.

“So Arik is the hero?”

No. But he could be, should he live his life and become the mighty warrior he may be. I have sent an assassin to cut him down before his flower fully blooms. Before he is ready to face the Great Gorlam and slay me.

He has been blessed by Bashthraka and has lived a charmed life, but soon the Trouble he has made for himself will catch up with him and Bashthraka’s spear cannot fight it nor his shield defend him anymore.

The Great Toad chuckled.

So now you know. Events are set in motion and you will not be able to stop it.

Farewell. You will meet me again, clever little fly.

The visage of the Great toad faded into the distance and was gone. Staan collapsed to the ground trembling. The secret he had learned was far more important than he could have imagined. Gorlam was placed in the afterlife by the jealous other races to keep the Orks out of paradise. Arik may finally free the Ork peoples from that great injustice. But how could he stop the Toad’s assassin? He couldn’t even find his way out.

Staan awoke to Pip’s claw gentle caressing him. “Staan. Wake up.” Pips language had markedly improved since he’d met Staan. “you court the toad?”

Staan rubbed his eyes. “Yes. He showed me he means to kill my friend. And I can’t stop him. I can’t even get out of this cave.”

“Out? Know the way I. Come. Show you will I.”

Toad Fire
Part III: “Cheated Bluff”
by Jack Spencer Jr.

Staan followed Pip through the darkness. They picked their way carefully, Dream seeing, sensing the world around themselves in a state between asleep and awake. They were making their way out, to the surface. Staan never imagined Pip knew how to get out before.

“Pip, you’ve known how to get out all this time?”

“yes”

“Why didn’t you ever leave?”

“When I found way out,..too late...could not leave.”

“Why not.”

“the sun...hurts...”

“Oh. Why didn’t you show me the way out?”

To this Pip grunted softly but didn’t say anything. Staan could guess what he would have said. Because he was lonely. Because if Pip had shown Staan the way out Staan would have left and Pip would be alone in the dark again with no company except his thoughts, the bats, and the other things lurking in the shadows. Staan honestly didn’t know what to think about that.

The trudged on, always sloping up, Staan noticed. He began to feel cool breezes. Air. Fresh air. It had never smelt so sweet.

Pip stopped suddenly. “Why have we stopped?” asked Staan.

“We are out.”

Staan looked around. They were on a rocky outcropping next to a clump of trees. They were out. It was night. The sky was overcast, not a star in the sky. Staan was a little disappointed. He had hoped to see the sun.

“Welcome, thraka.” Out of the shadows stepped old Barruga, the clan Tala or bard. “I’ve waited a long time for you.” The Tala hobbled on the one leg that had never healed from an old injury. “The boodalay told me you would come and that you had important secrets.”

“Where’s Arik?”

“Arik? Ah he is now known as Beethrone. Come he is here.”

They followed the Tala who took them across the scene of a fierce battle. Bodies of Orks and Men were everywhere. The grass felt moist, as if from morning dew.

“What happened here?”

“A great battle. The Manoo attacked from the hills without warning. Cowardly. Our warriors fought valiantly, but the Manoo army was strong. Our champion fell. All seemed lost but Beethrone took the household spear and led the clan to victory.”

“He is blessed by Bashthraka. Destined for great things. If we are not too late.”

Beethrone stood on a bluff overlooking the battlefield. One of his lieutenants had had brought him the news that Krotone was dead and he had asked to be left alone for a while.

Krotone had been his childhood friend Kyal. They had gone into the cave together and come out thrakas together. The only two of the four. Naturally he would weep for the loss of so close a friend.

But they couldn’t be more wrong. Beethrone was glad Krotone was dead. Coming out into the sunlight, surviving the deep, dark cave had changed the Ork he had known as Kyal, the cowardly crybaby. He had gain an extra helping of courage, manly courage. Beethrone wondered if Krotone would ever tell what had happened down in the cave. Krotone never gave any indication that he would, but Beethrone could never be certain.

Now that he was dead, Beethrone felt like a heavy weight was lifted. Now no one would ever know. He would rise in power in the clan. Already there was whisperings that he will lead the warriors in spite of his youth.

Beethrone watched the Orks on the battlefield, digging trenches, burying the men with hot coats while wrapping the fallen Orks with blankets and taking them to prepare them for Dracha, the swallowing where they eat the thraka who have fallen in battle to prevent them from passing to Gorlam. Since they thought he was close to Krotone, he would be given his the part of his choice.

He won’t eat the heart. Krotone may have gained courage, but it still must be yellow. Perhaps the eyes. After all the crying they must be sufficiently salty now.

He laughed quietly at his own joke. He didn’t see the tree behind him suddenly sit up on its roots and move aside, revealing a hole. A shadow slithered out of the hole and crept toward the Ork.

“Arik!” it hissed.

Beethrone spun around grabbing the household spear. The shadow lashed out and the spearhead fell. Beethrone backed away. The shadow stalked forward.

“It has been a long time, Arik.”

“What are you? Where did you hear that name?”

Letting its cloak fall, the shadow revealed a twisted creature underneath, pale and warty. Arms grown to ridiculous lengths. Hands curled into talons with razor sharp claws.

“Don’t you recognize me?”

He stared at the misshapen creature, the moist and slippery skin, the twisted face. But in the monster was something familiar.

“Kenni?”

”You pushed me, Arik. You tried killed me.”

Beethrone backed away in horror. “What happened to you?”

“Gorlam. He saved me. He gave me power, kept me alive. Look at me. It’s all your fault!”

Beethrone was stunned. “You shouldn’t have shown off,” he murmured, “you always had to be so smart.”

Kenni smiled at his former friend. ”Oh, did I make you feel dumb? You tried to kill me. I’ve come to repay the favor.” Kenni lurched forward, claws reaching for Beethrone’s throat.

“Stop”

The twisted horror paused. Staan, the old Tala and Pip were several feet away. Too far to reach Kenni in time.

“Don’t do it, Kenni. It’s not worth it.”

Kenny slipped behind Beethrone, his claws inches from the Ork’s neck.

“Look, Arik, it’s our old friend Staan. How nice to see you, Staan. Aren’t you glad to see him, Arik?”

“Think what you’re doing, boy!” shouted the Tala. “You are doing the Toad’s work! Have you not considered why the Toad wants him dead? He will kill Gorlam and free the Orks and allow us to all enter paradise!”

“You speak falsely, old man.”

“Don’t be a fool! Don’t let your thirst for revenge blind you!”

“Please, Kenni.” Staan held out his hand. “Don’t”

Kenni smiled that knowing smile of his. He stoked Beeethrone gently with his claws. Quickly he snatched up the larger Ork and dove off the bluff. Beethrone screamed all the way down.

The three Orks on the bluff looked down at the broken bodies on the rocks below. They had fallen into each other’s arms like lovers.

Pip put a hand on Staan’s shoulder. “Sorry.”

“He was right. Gorlam was right. There was nothing we could have done.”

“His scream. Strange. Not fear, but anger.”

Staan nodded. “Like he was being cheated.”

“We all were, “ whispered the Tala.

“Staan. I go now. The sun comes soon”

“Why don’t you stay here with me, with my clan?”

“Can’t. The sun hurts. The Dream I live in. Sun burns dreams away.”

Staan put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. There was much to say, but he just couldn’t find the words. On some level, he knew it wasn’t necessary.

Pip climbed into the hole Kenni had came out of. He looked at Staan for a moment. “Good bye.” With that he disappeared into darkness and the tree got up and settled back into the hole.

Staan chose his new name, Gorlpyra, which means “toad fire.” He studied under old Barruga to be the new Tala when he finally left this world. Gorlpyra spend much of his time with the boodalay or Shaman who wished to learn as much of the secrets he had learned under the world.

Arik, also known as Beethrone, found himself before the Great Toad Gorlam, the very monster he may have slain. But he was not ready yet. All he could do is tremble.

The toad opened his mouth and a hand reached out. It was Kenni. Not the pale monstrosity, but what he was before. His old friend with whom he had spent many hours by the winter fires and played hunting games. Kenni smiled that knowing smile of his and beckoned.

With tears in his eyes, Arik clasped the hand of his friend and accepted his fate.

Afterword:

Yes, the ending is a bit of a let down. Sorry about that. I was more concerned with finishing it rather than making it literature.

Actually, thanks to a suggestion for M.J. Young on the forums, this sort of thing is probably how I’ll handle metaplots. Set up a prophesied hero, create a character or group of characters who may be this hero(es) and have them fail. This is beautiful since my character might have been the heroes, they just screwed up somewhere, leaving the possibility open for the player characters.

In the final analysis, I’m glad I finally finished this piece. It means I can indeed finish something I’ve started. This bodes well for Starfaring.