Grekar 19, 23rd Year of Bafag
To Whom It May Concern:
It is with a heavy heart that I, Tyvernos Oriflamme, Herald of the Holy Wind – and not the flatulent kind – Bringer of the Breath of the Gods, and Vanquisher of the Lactating Flagon, pen these words to parchment. A crisis has befallen CrIsis. I fear for the sanctity of our holy group and fret for the lives we’ll forfeit should we fail. This quest for Osiris’ Anatomical Holy Grail has challenged us in ways we were never able to predict. As heroes we must never lose sight of what we hold dear. As heroes we must never lose sight of our quest. As heroes, alas, it is forever our fate to remain unsung as we selflessly persevere. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. The fate of the world is in my lap – astride Otto’s back.
Me’zfii Onh was never such a welcome sight. I tried my hand at Obaru domestication and failed miserably though I retained my hand. Otto has me convinced that by a miracle of divine animal husbandry he is descended directly from their pedigree. I am reluctant to endorse such a union but he does, indeed, hold Bennu’s counsel. I have since promised to take this under advisement. The rabble-rousing rover wagged and waxed an envious shade of green. In an attempt to dissuade Otto from his foolhardy phallic endeavors I chaperoned his night in the cathouse. Accompanied by both Overkill and Karma we soon learned that a night of never-ending ale and women is well worth the pittance of twenty gold. For my furry friend’s sake, however, I doubled her sum and Madame Butterfly produced a wanton, buxom lass of the overfed-double-stuffed genealogy; hearty stock and anything but bashful before the Bernard. She certainly earned her keep and the extra gold I parted with on Otto’s behalf. Sadly, I fear we’ve unerringly and inadvertently contributed to the establishment’s reputation for “ill-repute.” Anjeleena’s sagging standards were borne on the bedside manner of a St. Bernard and I urged Madame Tussaud to disench…er, disinfect the sheets.
Nevertheless, we endeavored to board the ship one-hundred and ten gold lighter and glowing with the cosmic satisfaction. Upon our arrival we were treated to an awesome display of friendship. Overcome with joy, Cava leapt from the crow’s nest to greet us with hugs and kisses; in the heat of the moment he must have forgotten his inability to fly. It was all I could do to deliver him from a wooden-planked watery-grave by invoking the Featherlight magic. The poor ranger was saved from plummeting to his light-hearted death. He can be so affectionate at times – it truly is heart-warming. A priest was summoned to tend to Otto’s confession and two-thousand gold bought his silence. I know now that the ranger is in league with Bennu. How else am I to explain such “happenstance?” I believe the boy is engaged in non-consensual activity with a woman twenty years his senior. Perhaps that was the truth behind the priest’s casual appearance. Tomorrow night I’ll offer him the voyeuristic companionship of the Bismarck to complete the ritual.
Robert and I headed back to Angelina’s to squeeze more information out of the Bizantine soldiers but we came away relatively empty-handed. We rendezvoused with CrIsis back at Stweeb’s and met Jaremy for the first time. What a pushover! I was tempted to saddle the lad and let Otto mount him. His father must be very proud. Ahhh! But I’m getting ahead of myself. Jaremy spoke of the Dread Pirate Jason and Gavin piped up with his memory of my mother’s prophetic vision. The pieces of the puzzle were beginning to align. We were off to obtain the parental permission-slip and our next piece of the organ-pie! It wasn’t until Overkill foolishly returned to Anjeleena’s for a trim from his brim and I for an untrimmed quim that we found ourselves in the fray of a festooned fracas. Only two pieces of information are worthy of note: Robert the Just is a puritanical misanthrope who denounces blowjobs and frowns upon all things unchaste and wonderful. Tyvernos Oriflamme is a Bizantine soldier-resurrecting hair-styling philanthropist who gladly parts with his hard-earned gold to extend the soldiers’ innocuous presence in the brothel.
Overkill escaped persecution with a book – delivered by a Rell who could miraculously Fly as the Eagle – and a personal voucher from Four Skulls. He had truly become a member of the Wolfen Race – if not a citizen of the Wolfen Empire. The dwarf was our official diplomatic envoy as we entered the territory of the Black Birch Tribe. I bequeathed my CrIsis Trucker Hat to the greedy dogs and parted ways with an eyeful of Otto. He had been cavorting behind our backs and secretly plots against us. He has the ear of Bennu so I must be patient for my revenge; it appears, now, as though it will have to wait until after we save the world.
It is at this point in my tale that the events begin to waver with the haze of foggy memory. A disembodied talking head voodoo glow skull bade us take its blade and use it in the manner of a divining rod to find the grave of dread pirate Jason and his fabled trove of treasure. Rell bravely undertook the onus and, fearing for his companions safety, bore the burden of the magical sword before anyone was the wiser. The ranger, having consorted with Otto, tag-teamed our companion with a boot-laced clothesline to Rell’s unprotected arse! The Bismarck offered me a four-to-one pool in favor of the ranger – having orchestrated the entire melee, he had stake in the outcome. I reluctantly accepted.
Needless to say Bennu is richer for having met me.
Picture by D & D Photography.