YS1:Turn18

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Arcoscephale

Early fall.

The other night I dreamt of home. It was early evening on the docks, and I was watching the sails turn orange. A cool breeze blew, carrying the smell of distant rain, and I turned slightly to see Thymbre standing next to me. I knew that she had actually never been to Pagasae, having left her tiny mountainous village as a small child to serve in the temple at Delphi, and then to join the great campaign, but we stood together and watched the ships glow for a while, then fade to dark. There was no moon that evening, and gradually everything disappeared except for the distant stars. She never spoke.

When I awoke, it was hot and muggy, as it has been every morning for months, and swamp-stench filled the air, along with the sounds of soldiers banging out their armor and preparing for battle. Thymbre was gone, of course, further from reach even than distant Pagasae which I doubt I shall ever see again. Perhaps while I have been away fighting wars in lands I care nothing for it too has disappeared forever, and that is why I dreamt of them both.

The battle that morning reminded me so much of that other terrible day of cold, hard death: fearless women with spears, some mounted upon strange beasts (lizards this time; I am getting so sick of swamps and their lizards and snakes and other scaly beasts), led by sorceresses who dabbled in unnatural forces, and a sickly evil feeling to the land. Our few light troops fell almost at once to the advancing lizard-warriors, or scattered, and the first volleys between the magicians on both sides traded ineffectual beams of light for useless sparks of fire, as a dozen riders bore down upon us. I felt an odd queasy sensation, as if the world were about to turn very wrong again.

But my silver shields have been through much, and were not about to fail this time; the death of some only emboldened the rest to fight harder. I had joined my men at this point (I could not stand at the rear, not this time), and I saw many strange things brought against us, like vines rising from the ground to entangle our feet. But what really made my blood boil was when I heard the cries of the small figures in white at the far end of the battle field, and saw the bloody knives being taken to them, and I realized then what great evil I had been sensing. At this point, Amshula unexpectedly did something incredibly useful, killing several enemy foot soldiers with a giant ball of flame, and I silently apologized for wishing such a bloody fate upon her.

It was a bloody battle -- over half of my silver shields lay dead on the ground -- but we prevailed, and the enemy turned and fled. I made sure that neither of the evil women in charge left that field, though sadly many of the innocent sacrificial victims were also killed in the retreat. The rest begged us to kill them, claiming that if we let them go they would only be caught again by the dread kingdom to the north, where even more unspeakably evil things would be done to them. I plan to send them back toward Thymbre's temple, where perhaps they will have a chance to heal.

When I saw Amshula afterwards, I thanked her and her brother for helping in the fight, particularly for stunning the fleeing enemy mages so that we could catch up with them, and gave her permission to go off and look for her magic sites (as if forbidding her would have stopped her, but it felt good to pretend). She replied, cryptically, "I was only following what is written." When I looked at her quizzically, she said, "Try reading your book for a change, perhaps it will keep you from being so confused all the time," and strode off.

The only book I had was the silly one Thymbre had given me, The Collected Sayings of Pandokos the Prophet... but sure enough, on page 3, it contained a conversation I had had with my quartermaster in a tavern in Oast Hills years ago. I had said -- sorry, let me just quote it here, for I am, if anything, even more confused:

"And Pandokos of the odd smell of horse spoke thusly, saying: 'And you know what would be great? If giant balls of flame poured down from the sky and killed everyone, so we didn't have to risk getting our armor dented.' And the men did laugh, but Balachandra, first of the wise, came to the elders, and said: 'Let us make it so.' And they set to work..."

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Machaka

Cetewayo returned to the surface with some relief. He would never admit it to anyone, in fact he barely admitted it to himself, but after being trapped in his own tomb for such a long time he had something of an aVersion to tombs and mausoleums in general. It was ironic, but it would remain a private irony. He made his silent way back to the camp to resume his observations of the celebration. Morning would be soon enough to organize a party to excavate the newest cause for rejoicing.

Meanwhile, soon after Cetewayo left the tent to go on his private search, Karo the Machaka Hoplite acting as Cetewayo's chief body guard this evening noticed that the King was gone. "Not again!" he thought to himself. He was going to get into trouble again! It seemed like the King, blessed be his name, blah, blah, yada, yada was always sneaking away from his guards. Of course, Karo wasn't sure what he was supposed to protect the King from... he was already dead... sort of. Anyway, he had seen the King in battle and he knew that anything that would cause the King pause would destroy him and his men easily. That fact didn't change the fact he and his men had been ordered, along with the other guards, to maintain a constant guard on the King. The orders had come from the High Priests of all three Priestly Orders. It would not be a good thing for those very powerful men to decide that he had disobeyed their orders. Karo immediately passed the word for the guards to begin their search. Hopefully they would find the King before anyone else noticed his absence.

As Cetewayo approached the camp he noticed his "guards" resuming formation around him. He found their presence mildly amusing. Did they really think that they were guarding him? If so, against what? He was fairly certain that some, if not all, were in the employ of the High Priests. He was unsure of the High Priests' motivations. Especially after his recent "illness" he had his suspicions. Until he had significantly more than suspicions he would have to act as though they were above reproach.

Doing things himself had turned out well. Cetewayo decided to try it again. He would gather his army and lead it himself. He sank deep into a trance and communicated his commands to the priests in the capital as well as his prophet Babu. He emerged from the trance confident that his forces would meet him to prepare the invasion of the rich coastal province that had repulsed his armies once already.

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R'lyeh

Sometimes visions float into my head, unbidden; They love me in Shreveport, and I've never even shreved.

I saw a temple, twisted in form, dark in color, with a gaping, tortured hole at the center, raised up by a hundred peasant hands. On those sat the building itself, glistening in sweat and seaweed, and reflecting the light of a million dead stars. The locals danced and sang, and tried in vain to clap along with the music.

In the inner court, there stood a thousand foot statue of me: horrible sacrifices were offered into my tentacle and blood poured out and down over the bronze, forming a lake at my feet. Seven priests were in constant attendance, guarding the gate, polishing my bronze, and rendering fat for the thousand candles that flickered in the grotto. In the outer courts, throngs of waif-like worshipers, so caught up in their love of me they do not eat, pressed against one another and the razor-sharp lichens which infested the walls. In amongst them, merchants had set up stands, selling sacrificial animals, dark vials of spice, and the cutest little cthulhu plush dolls.

Ah... my people love me. For their spontaneous dedication of this temple to me, I shall award the good people of North Hengewood the privilege to be the first of my subjects eaten when I am grown large enough to devour the world.

For my part, this month saw yet another battle. A score of crossbow bolts flittered in the air and then I was upon them, and it was all sucking and little splotches of blood. Next month will be an exciting one. My army from the south will secure the bridge of crows, I will move north towards the lake, and I shall control all points of access to the lands between the Red River and the setting sun.

Construction of my coastal fortress continues apace. Soon my dedicated scholars will have their own offices (with windows) in which to contemplate the ways of the world. Work faster sages of time! Mmmm... sage and thyme.

My tummy is all growly. Off to eat something...

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