[Vfw-times] Mk Winter Assault part 33 - Story time

[COkane8116 at aol.com]

Storytime.

The children are gathered around on the floor in front of the front counter 
in the bakery. They're seated in a semicircular fan arrangement, very close 
in so they can hear him (he will still have to whisper), yet still all 
positioned in a way such that they can all see the storyteller and whatever 
or whomever he might employ for assistance. This is all which occupies their 
focus (excepting, of course, the promise of pie, which reminds them to 
whisper only); there are no thoughts of Bad Guys, or the cold, or whatever 
else might interfere. After all, it's Storytime.

At the center of all these lines of sight is a Storyteller. Jono, of course. 
He's leaning easily against the counter, waiting for the focus to come 
completely on him, and also waiting to gather his thoughts together for the 
telling of the tale. He has to be sure he can tell the story absolutely 
right, so that it will inspire and invigorate rather than depress and 
disturb. But he knows what he's doing - he's done this hundreds upon hundreds 
of times before, and he's sure he can handle it.

He can also catch sights of the others around the place, watching through 
various spots to make sure that nothing interrupts. Thankfully, they didn't 
need to be convinced of the value of Storytime. The morale of their charges 
has to stay high. He's picked a story that he normally doesn't tell kids, but 
for these circumstances he thinks it very appropriate.

So here he is, preparing himself for the Story, turned mostly away from the 
kids, while the kids sit and watch, already transfixed. It's time to listen, 
for that's what you do when you have a Story.

Then Jono turns back around, and spreads his hands wide. He clears his 
throat, then speaks, his voice not quite at a whisper, but still largely 
quieted.

"It is said by many in this World that no matter what Story you Tell, you 
will always be telling a twice-told tale. What this means to say is that 
Whatever is happening to you" - he points a finger and sweeps it back and 
forth, indicating All of the children - "is almost certainly not unique; that 
it has happened to persons Before. Thus, if a person Knows of these tales, 
said person can apply them to their Own lives, and Learn from them!" He 
brings his paw up as he says this; this is a Lesson To Be Learned. "And, 
indeed, the situation we have before us has occurred before, long ago in a 
land far, far to the south of where we live here."

The children are still listening. Some of them are a bit puzzled; this isn't 
like the normal stories Uncle Jono tells! But most aren't caring - it's Uncle 
Jono, and he's telling a story! And it's a New one, which is going to be so 
very cool!"

Jono is currently facing a small challenge; he has to retell this story from 
a different perspective. The facts of what happened to Sarcomand are well 
known, but most of them aren't things he wants to dwell on. He's going to 
have to re-embellish so that things will involve the kids more. Fortunately, 
any good tavern bard can re-embellish.

"So, once upon this time, there was a village named Sarcomand, on the border 
of the Southern Midlands and Outer Midlands, in between Three Mighty and Fast 
Rivers!" He spreads his hands outward as he says the last - these are Big 
Things! They really Are big things; a child would easily be impressed to see 
it, but he has to Show it to them without actually going there.

A collection of "oooooh"s and looks of awe seem to communicate that he's 
gotten the message across.

"Now, Sarcomand was this amazing place to live. All the kids there got to do 
all sorts of things! Snow would come down from the mountains and so they 
could have snowball fights; the rivers were heated from hot springs and so 
you could swim when you were tired of snow, and all the Mommies and Daddies 
had things to do like farming, making bread, telling each other stories, all 
sorts of things!" Jono spreads his paws wide as he says this, to convey the 
awesome number of just Fun Stuff To Do. So many things!

One child asks quietly, "Did they get to play 'Tag'?"

Jono chuckles as softly as he can manage. "Of course they got to play 'Tag.' 
The place in general was nice and flat for running, and there were All sorts 
of good hiding places in the buildings and along the riverside." He grins 
widely, giving the child a conspiratorial wink. You could have the game of 
your *life* there! the wink seems to say. The child gets a very happy grin on 
her face.

"So, Sarcomand was a very neat and a very happy place, where Everyone got to 
do stuff they loved to do. But" - and he drops his voice lower; we're about 
to get bad stuff here - "not everyone liked things the way they were with 
Sarcomand."

One child blurts out "Bu-", then he catches himself and starts whispering 
again. "But why? Isn't there all that stuff to do?"

Jono smiles. "Ah, that is a Big and Complex thing, but I will tell you. You 
see, Sarcomand was a place that lived with all the other people of the 
Southern Midlands, much like how Lorland and Glen Avery and other villages 
here live with Metamor. And they liked it that way; they had all sorts of 
friends in Kelewair - those're the people in charge of Southern Midlands" he 
says quickly as one child starts to raise his hand; the hand goes down. "and 
they could go over to visit friends in Lanton nearby, where they could trade 
food and other things for wood and such to make more homes and more toys for 
the kids!"

Everyone's face brightens up at the prospect of more toys, and Jono smiles 
briefly, then drops his voice low. This is the bad part...

"But other people in the Outer Midlands wanted Sarcomand for themselves. They 
liked where it was, but they didn't want that spot to be with Southern 
Midlands. So they wanted to take it! Take it without asking, without doing 
any helpful chores to pay back!"

A collective series of gasps come from the children. That's means you're 
ALWAYS supposed to ask permission!

One of the younger children raises his hand. "Uncle Jono? Did they get in 
trouble with their moms and dads?"

Jono has to resist the urge to chuckle; he doesn't want this to go into their 
heads as something funny. Yet he can't resist smiling inwardly. "Ah, I'm 
afraid they didn't; that's a problem when you start working with whole 
Countries. You see" - he puts a hand back up now; this is another Lesson - 
"sometimes when someone gets to looking like they're grown up enough to be in 
charge of all those people, they start deciding they don't want to be grown 
up anymore, and start being like kids again. But since they look like they're 
grown up, their Mommies and Daddies are letting them live all by themselves. 
And so they can get in trouble, and the only people that can tell them No are 
other people who are in charge of other big groups of people who are deciding 
to stay grown up. And sometimes the not-grownup says he doesn't Want to, and 
then" - voice drops again - "Very, very bad things happen."

All of the children go quiet at that, and some tremble a little as their 
imaginations try to think up what kind of very, very, bad things might be 
happening.

Then another child - he realizes with a bit of a start that it's Jeremy - 
raises his hand. "Are those very, very bad things kinda like the bad things 
that are happening here?"

Kevin is suddenly looking immensely proud of his son. Jono is very much 
inclined towards the same opinion. "Exactly right!" he says, beaming. "With 
us right now, there's a big bad guy wizard called Nasoj" - everyone seems to 
look up or nod at the mention of that name; evidently they all know about him 
- "who wants to take the Keep without asking, and this is the sort of very, 
very bad things that happen when someone is being that way. With Sarcomand, 
there was a Big Bad Guy in Outer Midlands named Kelewin who was in charge of 
Outer Midlands at the time, and he wanted to take Sarcomand without asking. 
This is why you always have to ask for things!" He raises his paw again; he 
wants them to remember this very clearly. It seems to register in many of 
their eyes, thankfully.

"So, Kelewin decided one day he was going to just up and take Sarcomand. He 
didn't even think to ask the people in charge of Southern Midlands, he didn't 
even talk to Sarcomand people. He decided to be a bad guy and just take it." 
Emphasis on the last few words - it has to be absolutely clear that this is 
an Incredibly Bad Thing. There's a few nods from the children.

"So that day Kelewin gets a whole bunch of good guys and forces them to 
become bad guys, and makes them go over to either make Sarcomand belong to 
him, or" - he lowers his voice - "destroy it entirely."

There's a collection of gasps again. Now that's really bad.

One child, evidently confused, raises his hand. "But how could he force good 
guys to be bad guys?"

Oh dear. This is going to be a tough one... "Kelewin was a very, big bad guy, 
and so he was able to do things that made it such that people had to do what 
he said. He'd do things, like, threaten to send you to bed without supper, 
only much worse, and just because you were a good guy! So to keep from 
getting unfairly punished, the good guys had to do things that only bad guys 
would do, and so many people thought they were bad guys."

The children are looking very frightened now. Clearly the thought on their 
mind is what if I end up around a bad guy like that?

"So with the good guys doing bad guy things for him, Kelewin went over to try 
and take Sarcomand. But the folks at Sarcomand wanted to keep their homes. 
They liked their baking, and their snowball fields, and all the good hiding 
places in the river. And so they were going to fight back, and they did!"

"Di-" one kid starts to shout, but another puts his hand over his lips and 
says "Shh!" before removing the hand. The kid restarts, a little chastised, 
"Did they beat the big bad guy?"

Jono grins. This is the cool part. "Yes they did. They found out that what 
they thought were bad guys were actually good guys, and so they got those 
good guys to help them out!" He spreads his paws very, very wide; this is 
about to be a very big thing. "And when all the other good guys in the Outer 
Midlands found out about that, they Also decided to go help out Sarcomand, 
and pretty soon Kelewin wasn't able to be in charge anymore, because EVERYONE 
was now a good guy, and good guys don't do what bad guys tell them to!"

The kids manage not to cheer only because they're all still waiting for a 
slice of pie. The Sarcomand folks did win! The big bad guy who punished good 
guys unfairly got beat!

Kirk, all throughout the storytelling, is shaking his head in wonderment at 
Jono's ability. His first thought when he heard the name Sarcomand was along 
the lines of Oh dear Gods, Jono's gone insane. Sarcomand was one of the most 
horrifying events in Midlands history. Kelewin had been trying to get into 
the fertile river valleys that crisscrossed along the area, and he'd been 
petty enough to send in an army, and what had followed was the bloodiest 
massacre in the history of the Midlands, directly by Kelewin's orders. A few 
of the solders had had the morality to object to that, the villagers had 
pleaded with them, and before long a few small objections had grown to the 
point at which there was a full-on rebellion up and down the Outer Midlands. 
Kelewin had woken up that morning to find himself surrounded by mutineers 
whose kindest thought towards him would have been swift regicide. They'd 
tortured him for days, then dropped him somewhere in the middle of the Great 
Barrier Range, completely naked, and left him to die. Of course, there were 
rumors that he'd survived and become one of Nasoj's nobles, but nobody 
thought that likely.

And yet Jono was taking the story of a massacre and a resulting revolution, a 
story usually told as a lesson in defeating evil early to protect the weak, 
and had turned it into a story of the Good Underdogs beating the Big Bad Guy. 
And the kids were enthralled.

Kirk is simply amazed.

"And thus it came to pass that the people of Sarcomand did manage to stop a 
very, very bad guy and make him go away forever and thus preserve their home, 
and here this story ends." And with that Jono drops his paws to his sides, to 
show that the story is over.

Thirty seconds later the Lutins start trying to break down the door.


***
***

12/25 - 11am

"I still think this is a stupid idea."

Jacob grunted and pulled away another charred board. "What is it you soldiers 
say? If it works, then it's not a stupid idea?"

Snorting, Rickkter tossed his own board out of the way. "It still has to 
work."

"Are you always such a pessimist?" said Jacob as he hauled away another 
board. Finally they could see the frame of the door. Good, it was never 
sealed up properly. "Or is it just when you're trying to impress people 
you've just met?"

"I like being a pessimist," Rickkter told him as he kicked aside a crate. 
"You're either always being proven right or pleasantly surprised." Rick moved 
the last of the boards from in front of the door. Thankfully they didn't have 
to worry about breaking into the warehouse. The place was a smoking ruin when 
they found it. It must have been a hell of a blaze, too, reflected the 
raccoon, for the ruin was still mostly bare of snow. He just hoped that it 
would remain bare of Lutins as well. The door itself was made from thick oak 
boards with iron bands across them and a lock on the outside that looked 
somewhere close to fifteen years old. And, while it would probably stop a 
curious child, the mechanism sprang open with just a few hits from a stout 
piece of timber that Jacob had picked up. From there they just had to remove 
the lock and latch.

Jacob dropped the board and brushed some ashen snow from his muzzle. "Okay, 
let's get out of this miserable cold once and for all." That proved easier 
said than done, for when he tried to pull on the iron ring, the door refused 
to budge. Frowning, he tried again with both paws.

"Oh, no. You're kidding me!" Rickkter exclaimed. He shouldered his way beside 
the fox and added his own strength and paws to the stubborn door. Even with 
the two of them grunting and pulling, the door barely moved an inch. "Figures 
it would have to happen now," cursed the raccoon through his clenched muzzle 
as he added a foot to the doorframe for added leverage.

"Don't tell me you're bitching about the cold again," Jacob cursed, his own 
muzzle set in a snarl as the door moved about a half inch. Whether it was 
warped in the frame from years of neglect or just the metal hinges having 
rusted shut he couldn't say.

"No, I'm not bitching about the cold. I'm bitching about the rather large 
patrol of Lutins that are coming this way."

"You serious?"

"Very"

"Bloody hell!'

"Yup."

Jacob changed position, trying to wedge his shoulder between the door and 
frame and push outwards. He managed half his arm. "Are you sure they'll see 
us?"

"Do you want to risk it?"

"We'd better hurry then."

Rickkter grunted and strained against the iron ring while the blue fox 
attempted to force the thick door open further. The door cracked and 
shuddered under their combined efforts, eventually giving way.

It gave way in a method neither would have preferred, however. The entire 
handle assembly came free of the apparently rotted wood and pulled right out 
in Rick's paw, almost sending the raccoon down on his tail in the process.

"That's it, back up. We're doing this the easy way," growled the raccoon 
before whipping the now useless handle into a pile of rubble and backing up 
several paces. The expression on his face was one of pure murder and the fox 
quickly sought to remove himself from it. He had barely made it clear before 
Rickkter threw up his paws and sent a shimmering silver ball of magic 
hurtling at the door. What would not budge before for mortal hands shattered 
like fine crystal under a little magical coercion. Jacob looked back at the 
now gapping back doorway to the underworld of his childhood.

"Come on, let's get going," Rickkter said to him, slapping him on the back as 
he jogged past. The fox was quick to find his feet once more and follow.

At least the way down had not changed. The stone steps were frozen over 
slightly with their normal film of slimy water, so both had to be careful as 
they went down. At least the wall was of pretty uneven stone and provided 
something to grip. But of course the tunnel didn't provide any way to see. 
Night vision works at night, not in pitch darkness. He was just about to call 
that fact out to the raccoon ahead of him when a feather of witchlight burst 
into being above the mage's head. The sudden illumination was blinding, 
though, and almost caused the fox to lose his precarious balance on the 
slippery steps. At least it lessened to bearable levels when Rickkter moved 
past the first turn. Jacob stood in the weaker glow of the witchlight and 
tried to blink away the afterimages. And that was when he heard the first of 
the Lutin war cries echoing down the steps from above.

That got him moving again. "Rick, we got company coming!" He hit the flat 
level of the switchback and braved a look back. Sure enough, the silhouette 
of several Lutin warriors could be seen bounding down the steps. "Rick?" he 
called out again down the second flight while still watching the Lutins. No 
answer. "Rick?!" he yelled louder. The little green horrors were making 
excellent progress, getting far too close for his comfort. Plunging down what 
he long remembered to be the final flight, he saw Rickkter standing there 
under the unearthly halo of his witchlight. "Gods, what are you waiting for? 
They're right behind me!"

"I know they're right behind you! Now get out of my way!"

Jacob quickly skidded to a halt, his toe claws scraping the stone floor 
before he threw himself to the side. It was a rather ungraceful landing, a 
sharp corner from a stone poking him in the ribs as he rolled onto his side 
and looked back at the stairway. He was just in time to see the mage reach 
out and wave his paw in an arch mimicking the shape of the stairway roof. 
Then to see that roof collapsing in on itself and hear the death screams as 
the falling blocks caught the Lutin pursers. Well, all but one of them. The 
lone lead Lutin just cleared the falling stone before becoming engulfed in 
the ensuing dust cloud. Jacob was able to make out the silhouette of the 
Lutin against the glow of Rickkter's witchlight, and able to see that glow 
shift behind the Lutin, followed by a wet thunk. The Lutin silhouette 
promptly disappeared.

"Okay, what did you do?" Jacob demanded as he got to his feet after the dust 
had cleared.

"The only thing I could. We couldn't have fought them off, they were too 
many."

"So you sealed us in here?"

"Good motivation," Rickkter explained as he returned his drawn sword to its 
wooden scabbard. "Now we seriously need to find another way out of here. So 
which way?"

Jacob licked at some dust that had settled on his muzzle. "Left. That tunnel 
turns towards the Keep itself, it should take us where we want to go."

The mage nodded and headed off in that direction.

The blue fox started to follow, then paused to look at the Lutin corpse. Its 
head had been cleanly severed at the shoulders. "What is with you, Rickkter? 
Don't you have any qualms about killing someone?" 

Rickkter's reply was an eerie echo in the tunnels. "An entire person or just 
parts of a person?" He never broke his forward stride.

Jacob could only shake his head and draw his cloak tighter about himself, 
wondering just what kind of person he had met up with and when he was going 
to turn on him.

***
End part 33
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