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I Want My Tears Back


RocketLord

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Lament

 

Lament was not over anmoured with marsh. 

 

My costume! Darlings! I cannot work like this! Where is my trailer?

 

Still, it seemed a neccesity despite the bruise to his ego. Nay, my art! But...then again....the true artist must at times wallow in the mud, must he not?

 

This seemed to stiffen his resolve, make the unpalatable palatable. 

 

The humming, yes, that must be the Bog Wife...wait! What is a bog wife? Is it somebody married to a bog? Or a bog that is married to someone?

 

There was only one way to find out, and he did not much fancy going forward unanounced. Besides, which, he found his normal tic of humming and tapping along to a tune was still quite evident. He started singing along, and proceeding forth!

 

 

 

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GM

 

It was easy to follow the hum, even in the heavy fog. Lament might not be able to see the path ahead, but he could hear it!

 

He continued through the fog, until, finally, he came to a bog. There was a woman standing near the edge, a heavy ladle held in her hands, which she moved in circles in a large cauldron. She was dressed in a ragged grey dress, her hair long and greying, though it had clearly once been an almost golden blonde. She was beautiful, but unlike the Elf, she was aged. There was something about her that made it easy to understand that she was ancient.

 

The fog that filled the area seemed to come from the cauldron. 

 

She continued humming for a moment, before turning to look at Lament, stopping with a smile on her er lips. "Greetings, traveller. It has been long since I last heard another hum this tune. It pleases me." She paused, focusing on her cauldron again for a moment, before looking up again. "What brings you here? I doubt you are here simply to visit an old woman."

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Lament

 

"Verily and forsooth, I come with greetings and felicitations" said Lament, bowing deeply. He missed his top hat, for he most assuredly would have doffed. it. 

 

"I come to ask a boon, towith, your wisdom" he started, wondering exactly who this woman was. But enough pondering! It distracts my muse! diverts my flow! my words must be like jazz!

 

"Although the tune was most pleasant too!" he added, a smile on his face. 

 

"To the point then, wise woman..." for she must be a woman, and she must be wise...ah! Archetypes, archetypes!

 

"...I come to seek a thief. Not just any thief, no. I talk not of shiny baubles, nor even of handsome princes stealing hearts. No, a most nefarious theft. A child-snatcher! Not but a few minutes ago, a score of children snatched from some theatrical event. Quite the event, too, I should add...."

 

He could not stop himself.

 

"...the performer really was outstanding!"

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GM

 

The bog wife chuckled, as she stirred her cauldron. "Oh, was he now? I suppose that you would know, would you not?" At least, it did not seem that Lament being pleased with himself did anything to harm his stance with the woman of the bog. She seemed to contemplate his words for a moment.

 

"Is that so, bard? Did someone steal the children that watched your performance?" She seemed to ponder her words carefully, even as she stirred her cauldron. A never ending motion, moving on and on, almost hypnotic. Only almost. "Do you fear for you reputation, if the mortals believed you to steal the children, now? Is that your purpose here, hmm?"

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Lament

 

Luther was too cool to blush externally, but he felt the flush internally. His face, however, was solid. 

 

Children stealing was beyond abhorrent, but...but yes, she did have a point. He really didn't want to be known in the history books for the bard of the great child theft scandal. It would eclipse him!

 

"I see that you are not only a woman, but wise" he said, bowing again. "My motives, like any mortal, are a soup of herbs and spices" he said, elegentally moving his hands in artistic expressions. 

 

"There are bitter flavours, certainly. There are sour smells, most assuredly. But nevertheless it is quite palatable if taken as a whole. I cannot...nay, will not...stand by to see such vile theft take place under my nose! We must take responsibility for our inaction as well as our actions!"

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GM

 

She chuckled again. There was something not quite human about the laugh. "You are a witty one, are you not, bard? Perhaps you will do."

 

She stirred the giant ladle. She was slowing down. The fog was lifting. "I know who took the children. And I know why, though it is not my place to tell." Another stir. "Your wit appear to be true. You might be able to handle the challenge to come." Yet another stir. "But how far are you willing to go? Will you risk more than just your reputation? More than just your life?" Yet another stir. Lament was beginning to see something in the fog. Or rather, of the fog. Faces in the white fog. They were twisted, in pain and agony. "How about your eternal soul? Will you risk that, to save the children of people you will never know?"

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Lament

 

That was a good question, and not one he could honestly answer. He could swallow a heroic sacrifice, as long as his heroicism would be remembered. Swallowing an eternity of pain and agony...now that was another matter. The whole universe would have to remember his heroicism for ever. 

 

"It depends on the risks, of course" he replied in a mix of bluff and honesty (in his experience, the best bluff was honest, the best honesty was bluff).

 

"I will risk much for much, and little for little..

But I cannot answer your riddle...

Till I caught 'twixt the middle...."

 

He said with another bow. 

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GM

 

The bog wife smiled. She stopped her brewing, even if just for a moment. A path started to clear through the fog. "I see. Perhaps you will do, bard. Perhaps you will do." The fog began to clear, just a little bit. But what was more important, and interesting to Lament, at least, were the lights that had begun to appear. Shining, light blue, stretching into the fog, farther than his vision would allow. "Follow the ghost lights. Do not stray from their path. It will do you no good." She resumed brewing, whirling the ladle in the cauldron.

 

"But beware, bard. Your path might be short, but your ordeals are far from over. Be true, and you might succeed." She stopped, tasting whatever was in her cauldron. "Actually, no. Do not just be true. Be great. Be awesomeThen, you will succeed! And beware. There are other things in the Commons, far worse than me."

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Lament

 

Oh I'll beware all right! This gig is crazier than a bucket of frogs in the Texan sun!

 

Nevertheless, he was rather proud that he had her approval. Ah! The artists toil is not for nought!

 

Wait...."will do"? Hph! Of course I will do...nay...more than do....Excel!

 

"I will be awesome, good lady, for it is my nature to be so, and I must be true to my nature!" he declared, giving another deep bow and wishing he still had his top hat. Not for the first time this evening, and, nay, not for the last he imagined. He would just have to make sure his bows were deeper and more magmanimous than ever! (and yet, was that possible?)

 

With a spin, he started off towards the ghost lights and the path they revealed!

 

 

 

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GM

 

The path through the fog was long, but at least the lights illuminated the path. The silence had lifted, just a bit. There were animals about now, as Lament was led towards a small forest. 

 

He heard a rustle, a stick that snapped. Something was coming closer. Something was near him now. Another snapped stick, to the left. He could make out a massive shape in the darkness, one that approached him slowly. How would he react? Another challenge on his way to Lament's quarry, perhaps? 

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Lament

 

Lo, some beast from yonder! came the thought. And, Luther being Luther, it was a suitably dramatic thought which meant that he could do nothing but pronounce it...who knows what audience of Gods or Men might be watching, aftert all?

 

"Lo! Some beast from Yonder!" he called out in a fully Shakespearian voice, turning to face the shape. 

 

"Be ye friend, or be ye foe? Or be ye just passing?" he inquired. 

 

He had no idea if the thing could speak English or not. Or if it could even speak. But, one had to start somewhere. 

 

Of course, his heart still bounded and he felt the adrenaline around his intestines, but one simply could not show fear!

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GM

 

The beast approached slowly, emerging from the mists. Somehow, Lament just knew: This was a troll. It was gigantic, with long, lanky limbs. From longer distance away, one might think its arm thin and frail, but this close, Lament could see its sinewy muscles. Its skin was light grey, its nose wide. Ears were long, stretching to the sides of its head. It was covered in a dark fur. Beneath its nose were a mouth with a strong underbite, a fang stretching out from the mouth to each side of its nose. Its eyes were small and dark. He could see no emotion in them. A long, hairy tail lashed behind it.

 

Behind him, he could see the lights that would guide him to his quarry were beginning to go out. It was a slow affair. A light disappearing every 20 seconds or so. It would reach him soon, however, and if he lost those lights, then he would surely lose his path. 

 

The troll saw the lights as well. It smiled. A cunning smile, a smile devoid of empathy. Then it set into a run, in the same direction that Lament had been heading.

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Lament

 

A troll! Well, this is Scandinavia. Probably....actually where am I now?

 

He had a fleeting wish that it was Valhalla. 

 

Wait...what was happening?

 

A race? Not again! Well, he had no sympathy for the troll. It seemed a most brutish and cunning beast, quite spiteful. Wicked, even. And it had smiled.

 

Well the Void was hungry, and this troll fellow seemed a suitable feast. He started after the Troll, but whilst he raced, he focussed the mindless Void and let it rip out through the fog, trying to feast on what limited joy the evil thing had...

 

 

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GM

 

The troll hurled forward, sometimes using its long arms to support its run, much like an ape or a gorilla would. There were no trees that could support its weight to swing from, however, and no billy goats or bridges inside, so it simply trampled down the path that the lights were showing.

 

It was a race, indeed: A race for a goal, for a price. A race for the children, it seemed. 

 

Then the Void appeared. It was as if the troll could sense it. Maybe a kindred spirit? While running, it turned to look at the oily black being that came hurling towards it. It pushed back against the Void, it would not be stopped so easily, and yet it stumbled, a single step, maybe two. Enough for Lament to get closer.

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Lament

 

Maybe he wasn't such a jolly troll after all!

 

He wracked his brains about trolls. What did he know? Not much. Norse, probably. Scared of lightning, perhaps. Lived under bridges. Bah! I don't know what is real myth and false myth....! he concluded to himself, in a nonsensical epiphany. 

 

What was clear was that he wasn't going to win in a race. His legs were much shorter. He would have to use brains, not brawn, to win this!

 

The psychic power of the void crept into his brain, and the ether around them. 

 

From the mist and fog ahead, in front of the troll, an illusion appeared. Tumbling out of the dark and obscured, a mound of dead trolls! Charred and burnt, contorted in agony, bodies distorted, faces fixed in abject fear!

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GM

 

The troll stopped at the sight, utterly paralyzed. Its kin, burnt to pieces. So many dead, all at once. It was at a complete stop, simply staring at the sight. It made a confused noise, slowly moving forward. Lament was catching up now. He could probably get past it, if he hurried while it was distracted. Reaching out, it touched the dead bodies... only to have its hand pass through.

 

That pissed it off. It roared loudly, turning to try and catch where Lament had gone. He would have passed it by now, if he had chosen to do so, and the lights were starting to go out behind him. The troll would have to hurry to catch him, but it might be able to, unless he did something!

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Lament

 

A small victory is better than no victory at all! Although, in truth, a total victory is better than a small one, most Verily!

 

Things could be worse. they could be better, too. Luther never really thought the glass was galf full, and never half full. He just wondered what delicious liquid was in the glass, and how much the glass sparkled deliciously. 

 

He was running, but that might not be enough! What other trick could I pull off! I am a MASTER SHOWMAN after all!

 

He inhaled deeply, forcing the parastic void into his lungs, and then breathed out. A cloud of oily blackness filled the air, intent on sucking out the wind from any that passed. He ran onwards, the blackness lingering in a malign cloud for a few moments...

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GM

 

Roar and scream as it might did, the troll was a living, breathing creature. It needed air, and the oily blackness that filled the air around quickly caught the beast in its grasp. Its roars quickly became inaudible, naught but a whimper, as it struggled in the cloud. It slowed down, falling to the ground and slowly starting to crawl forward, as it struggled to breathe. 

 

The Duke of Despair continued, as the Void held the beast back.

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Lament

 

"Lost for words! Breathless in anticipation! The crowd applauds!" said Lament to the universe, hands raised to acknowledge the Gods themselves thunderous accolades. He gave a mighty bow that threatened to snap his spine in two. 

 

Now, he did not want to kill the Troll. But still, he had a race to win, and the advantage was his! He kept the void bubbling inside the trolls lungs - for a moment at least - and turned to the road of lights. 

 

"The way forth be illuminated! Yonder, I venture!" he called to the heavens. 

 

And with that, he ran with full speed. 

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GM

 

The troll cursed and yelled as it struggled in the deep dark bubbling void that filled its lungs. A horrible feeling, for any thing. It seemed to pure lose its will to pursue the Sultan of Sorrow, as it struggled to just breathe, and to quell the feeling of the foreign object that now invaded its very lungs. To meet something much worse than itself in this night, where it had tried to follow the faerie lights.

 

The lights closed in behind Lament, soon leaving the troll behind in the fog. The Thane of Tears continued to run, following the lights, until he found their destination.

 

A great big tree, in the middle of a forest. It seemed quite different from the ones that surrounded it. While they reached above Lament, standing at least 10 meters tall or more, they were relatively thin, being roughly 30 cm in diameter, maybe half a meter at most. The majestic tree that stood above Lament stretched into the sky. He was not sure how high. It stretched into, and beyond the fog. It was wide. At least 3 meters in diameter, wholly unlike the other trees that surrounded him.

 

The lights ended at the root of the tree, at what appeared to be a great big hole that led under it. 

 

Would the Master of Melancholy dare to enter?

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Lament

 

Lament took at least some pity on the troll. It hd suffered enough, and the race was one. Mayhap the troll would chew on the bones of some unlucky fellow in the future and he would regret his decision; but for now, he dispelled the void in its lungs, allowing it to breathe once more. 

 

Now then...that was a tree!

 

Would he dare enter!

 

Of course! For fear would not stop him! Afraid he was, surely, but courage, dear fellow! COURAGE!

 

Besides, he could hardly stop the story at this point. 

 

And so, with some caution, he stepped into the tree to see what he might find...

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GM

 

What awaited the Giver of Gloom, but the sound of music! Flutes were played masterfully, accompanied by some string instrument, possibly a violin. A percussion instrument, some kind of drum, held the beat of a lively dance. There were no words, no other sounds. The music was alone, and yet, Lament could not help but feel that it was missing the lyrics.

 

He was met with a long, dark tunnel. Torches were held to the walls in seemingly random locations, with no rhyme or reason to their placement. The music clearly came from the other end of the tunnel. As he followed it, he would see the branches from the mighty tree stretch through the darkness, sometimes breaking through the walls of the tunnel itself. It was a marvelous work, stretching on and on, going further and further, going lower and lower below the ground.

 

At the end of the tunnel he would see light, the music now louder than ever.

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Lament

 

Doodoo-be doo doo dah duum! sang Lament in his head, trying to work out lyrics to the song as he tapped his foot, his mind wheeling through half remembered tales of voodoo, myth, legend, and elves. 

 

Wo-ven Fates By Moonlight Spun he concluded in his head. 

 

Wait!

 

"Wo-ven Fates By Moonlight Spun!" he had sang out loud down the hole. And more, for he had picked up a pair of broken roots and was bashing out a little rhythmn along with his tune. 

 

Ah well...'twas a most musical evening, and best not to cry over the free expression of the artistic soul!

 

Still singing along, playing his improvised drums, he strode as confidentally as he could manage onwards. 

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GM

 

The song played on, as the Arbiter of Anguish continued his trek through the tunnel. It led him on, it grew slowly louder, until finally, he found himself standing at the end of the tunnel, at the entrance of a great hall. The hall was lit by torches that adorned the walls. A large number of great tables filled the hall, and yet, they were all empty, but the source of the music was made clear: An orchestra, three Elven maid, almost identical to the one that Lament had encountered earlier. One played a violin, another a flute, and the third was beating the tune on a great big drum that he sat on.

 

But the Cheerleader of Cherlessness had little time to take in the hall, or see what else awaited him inside. A pair of spears were lowered from either side of the entrance, each held by an Elven man clad in a light tunic. They were white, they were beautiful. Their eyes were like daggers, however. "Halt! Who dares enter this hall univited?" The first one asked. "Who has shown you the path?" the second one followed.

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Lament

 

Elves, again!

 

Whom has shown me the path? A good question! Do I have a good answer? Of course I do! In that the answer will be delivered goodly and well, nay, resplendent! But will the answer be true....ah! Never mind that! Delivery is all!

 

"Verily and forsooth, I was not invited, but neither did any sign or voice tell me I was barred! Fool, man, and God....all may wander where they are univinted if they know not that invitation was requisite!" he said, bowing deeply. 

 

"The path was shown to me twofold! First, the lights of the mist, then, as I grow closer, by your marvelous melodies! Surely you must understand my ear could not ignore such harmony!" he said as graciously as he could muster. 

 

"And why do a tread this path? Why, I come in search of lost souls! Children gone missing, and I understand not why, nor whence, nor wither?" he said, hoping the delivery of his speech was better than its grammatical accuracy. 

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