The Lady Always gets a Spin - A Terrible Story by Caliope

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Droomi
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The Lady Always gets a Spin - A Terrible Story by Caliope

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Nothing is ever routine when fighting the Zartruss, especially on their home turf. Every step must be calculated. Every team member in sync on the task, and what to do when it goes to shit, in all the ways in which that can happen. We had it down. We knew when to push, when to hold, and when to split. We always knew who we were fighting and who was behind them. We never fought on our back foot. We pushed them onto theirs. An in-depth algorithm. When applied properly it wrought consistent victories. It became easy. We were good. But the Lady always gets a spin. 

...and that is exactly how I died.

     In Red Larch, Siren mentioned that some folks from the Adventurers' Guild were coming as well. Gael's been there with us before. He's solid. He knows the drill. Dorian can stay out of sight and knows how to play it safe. As long as he followed the team I wasn't worried. We head into the 'Garden. The full moon reflects off the tall grass through the sparse canopy lighting our way well enough. The night air is cold, but no colder than usual. A few steps in I spot what looks like a gopher nest. The group freezes as my arm snaps upwards with my fist high. I flag the nest and carefully move around it. As we near the stream it is quiet, but I know they're there. Then further west along the road I see him. A giant of a hobgoblin. Bigger than the rest. I signal his presence and move forward carefully. Each step moving through the swaying shadows of the branches above. Each foot falling in concert with the boughs creaking in the breeze. As I near, I find another. Another giant. This one bigger than the last. The whirling dire mace of one of these warriors is a test of anyone's mettle. Two of them at once is a death sentence. As I move back, the first one wanders closer to the others. He sees them. I signal Siren to fall back. She doesn't hear. The behemoth starts lobbing axes as arrows fly back at him. "Fall back, fall back" I say as loud as you can shout a whisper. The heat of battle drowns my words. As I rejoin the group I say "Fall back. There's another behind!" Too late. As the first rushes the second opens with the axes. We knew what to do. We didn't do it. However, we also know how to adapt. With a flurry of steel and spells for what could have lasted hours, the first warrior falls, and then the second. Despite half the team succumbing to their ground-shaking battlecries, we survived. In-depth algorithm. We are good. But the Lady always gets a spin.
     To the north there are others; archers, druids, footsoldiers. We scout, we engage, we fall back. Simple. As we circle back to the northern part of the stream, there's another big one. But this one has a mage with him. That could mean trouble. The mage wanders in our direction and spots our group. We know we can't rush without alerting the berserker. We won't trade spells with a caster at range. We know to fall back. In unison, we do. The algorithm. We are good. But the Lady always gets a spin. Now, we can't have a mage start unleashing spells from the treeline while we are in battle with the berserker. We need to deal with him. In the past, I've managed to sneak behind their lines and assassinate a mage with enough time to run out. My eyes narrow. I tell the group to wait deeper in the woods. I will draw the berserker out after I deal with the mage. One problem. The mage is invisible. Magic to see through arcane invisibility is always on hand. We are good. But the Lady always gets a spin. As I approach the berserker, I do not see the mage. Where is he? I creep through the woods closer to the berserker. Eventually, the mage appears. He's fallen back to the stream, several meters behind the berserker. In this moment, I could have realized that he was far enough back to engage the berserker alone. I realized only what I had come to do; kill this mage. With my eyes fixed on the translucent figure, I creep towards him with my daggers in hand. In-depth algorithm. We are good. But the Lady always gets a spin. As I near the stream, my courage potion wears off. If I drank one now, they'd hear me. I have other protections, it's not worth going back. Algorithm? Are we good? Did the Lady already spin? I stand on the edge of the stream ready to strike my quasi-invisible foe. Will he be harder to hit like this? Maybe, but I'm here now. It will go fine. I am good. But the Lady always gets a spin. 
     I burst from the shadows towards the mage with daggers swinging; swinging and missing. After a moment of concern, a dagger strikes true. Then another. My element of surprise is lost. Archers on the hill open fire. After several more strikes, the mage falls. That was close, but it all worked out. Now back to the group with this furious hobgoblin throwing axes at me. I am good....right? What did the Lady spin? He draws his gigantic dire mace with a flourish that betrays his oafish physique. I make eye contact. His eyes turn blood red as he unleashes a billowing shout. Each of his yellow teeth filed to a point. Rings and bones adorning his face and arms in places I never would have thought to pierce. The shout shook my bones. The world around me turned to an ethereal haze. All I could see was his face. All I could hear was his scream. He runs at me and bashes me with his giant cudgel. I see it smash into my body, but I feel nothing. Enraged, he swings again even harder. I hear my arm snap in several places as it's crushed by the steel ball on the end of his weapon. I feel nothing. As I look in horror at the bones protruding from my arm, my legs are swept from underneath me. All of the air is forced from my lungs as my back slams to the ground. My twisted and mangled body is laying there helpless. I wish I could feel. If I felt I could react. I felt nothing. This treacherous foe stands over me and lifts his dire mace over his head. Through the swirling echoes of screams and chaos, I hear a familiar voice. Barely audible, but I know it like my own name. "Caliope!" The faintly audible shout of the Siren envelopes me as the mace drops with lightning speed towards me. As the last syllable of Siren's shout reaches my ears the black steel ball gets bigger and blacks out the sky as it closes in on my face. 
Then....darkness.... I was good. But the Lady always gets a spin.
     Now, I've heard lots of people say lots of things about what they like to call "the crossing". I've sent more folks to their own crossing than I need to discuss in this story, but I've never considered what it'd be like to go myself. The darkness was like nothing I've ever known. Time stood still. There was no dreaming. There was nothing. When I woke, I was whole again. As bare as a newborn, but whole...on the outside at least. Below me was a river that gave off a chill that I could feel, but there was no breeze. The water was as black as night. Above me was a wall. A giant wall. Others are standing around, as naked as me. Some were searching aimlessly in a panic, others waiting patiently as though they were in a trance for a century. The moments before the darkness were still a complete haze, but my senses were regaining their acuity in this moment. As I analyzed my surroundings the answer became clear. I was dead. Here I stood in my own circle of dim light amidst a gray hazy desert that spanned as far as I could see. Many around me, in their own patches of light, were screaming in a desperate panic. Others wept and prayed to any who would listen. Although I stood among them as their peers in this nightmarish purgatory, they could not be more unrelatable. I searched my mind and heart for what I should be doing, but there was nothing to be found. My eyes narrowed as my cold stare scanned my surroundings. These people felt something that I did not. Whatever light fueled their actions, had clearly burnt out within me. I stood there like a snuffed torch with its last embers going dim. Was this it? Is this my new eternity? Would Our Smiling Lady come for me, or is this patch of dusty gray dirt the end of my story? As my eyes rose towards the top of the impossibly tall wall I realized another fate. While the bottom of the wall appeared to be solid stone, the top told a different story. Bodies being stacked like bricks with the lost and eerie nimbus of their souls the mortar. My neck craned back as I stared at the morbid assembling of this enormous structure. There was no panic. There was no pleading. Just an emotionless stare at inevitability. My Lady always gets a spin. 
     My bleak existence is interrupted with an unexpected and glorious burst of light. Glittery white clouds rise up around me weaving into each other in a beautiful dance. A smile slowly waxes onto a face that might've cracked like stone had it tried to grin only moments before. My Lady has come for me. I fall backwards, relenting to the swirling clouds of Tymora's embrace. Now this is an eternity I can live with. My eyes close again. This time not in darkness, but instead bathed in divine light. As I lay calmly for what could have been a century, I finally begin to stir. I shift my body on what feels like a cold slab of stone. Who cares? I am still content. My body is stiff. My limbs feel like they've been paved into a city street. I am unconcerned. I feel a warm hand against my cheek that could only be described as a celestial softness. As it gently caresses my face, I can hear voices. Kindly voices crying in both joy and sorrow. I try to open my eyes, but they do not open. As I let out a groan, I try to raise my hand to my face, but it does not move. My eternity is to be without sight? That too is fine. The angelic hand moves slowly beneath my head and gently lifts it. Soon after a wet cloth touches my face. The warm water is delightfully soothing. I squirm involuntarily as I smile. The cloth passes gently across my eyelids, freeing them from whatever was keeping them shut. I slowly open my eyes to a burst of bright light and dark images leisurely oscillating throughout it. In time, the images came into focus. The faces, the room, it looks like.... aww fuck! The rest of eternity looks exactly like the Tower of Luck???? My first disappointment in an otherwise flawless initiation to the afterlife. As l continue to appraise the situation around me, the Siren emerges from the crowd. Tears were streaking down her unshaven, and always disturbing in its irony, masculine face. I was not there. I was not with Lady Luck. I was back.
     After a barely acceptable performance of appearing as "back to life" as my status would indicate, Siren carried me out of the Tower and back home. I laid in my bed for days. I knew I had a commitment coming up, and I knew I was needed. I could get my physical form in shape, but what of the rest? The passion and raw fervor that would have me dragging groups of friends into ogres and leucrottas was nowhere to be found. The forge was no longer hot. The fire went out. I've learned, from then to now, to take the necessary actions to evade the deluge of concern that comes from such drastic changes in behavior. I can do what I have to do, but I have little desire to do much else. I am simply...what's left of me. The Lady got her spin, and it was not in my favor.
Current PCs: Caliope, Birdsong, Bjolan Agnarr, and Maximorticus Vanpewter Rubblebottom the Sixteenth.
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Droomi
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Posts: 19
Joined: Tue Jan 13, 2004 1:41 pm
Location: Fort Lauderdale, FL (GMT -5)

Re: The Lady Always gets a Spin - A Terrible Story by Caliope

Post by Droomi »

A post-death poem for all the "caterpillars": ((written in 5 minutes during an IG session))

You speak of fortune
You speak of fame
You speak of both, as though they're the same

You speak bravery and standing bold
And valiant quests  and troves of gold
You speak of luck as though you'll never die...

...but the caterpillar will never comprehend the butterfly
Current PCs: Caliope, Birdsong, Bjolan Agnarr, and Maximorticus Vanpewter Rubblebottom the Sixteenth.
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