Much of Nothing About a Do(od)

Chip’s Opinion

Ok, just whose symbols include scales? Osiris, is that you? Are you kidding me?
So, when last we texted, oh you of my ever-so-distant audience, I was planning on teaching CrIsis to swim. A simple thing, one would think, and clearly a useful skill given our current mode of transport…
‘Next port-of-call: Credia!’
Of course, when we arrive, and deposit the Bishop (his Holiness) and Mary (her homeley-ness?), we are entertained by yet more crusaders, jibber-jabbering about a holy quest and coming with news from the Gods.
Wait, haven’t I seen this episode already?
Guess not. At least, I don’t remember being saddled (ha ha) with a Centaur (not so ha ha), on a boat (ok, definitely not even heh heh).
“Just whose blooming Idea was this?”
Oh, yah… Thoth. Well. Fine. He’s probably full of good ideas.
You’d think.
Or Hope.
Of course not all of Thoth’s acolytes, devotees, or followers have his intellect, or anything approaching it. Pity. Could use some company around here… even if her lower-half* (*not measured by volume) is distinctly equine, instead of say… feline. Or preferably even Hu-mine? Too far? Hah! Too Bad!
So miss “I’m so fancy I don’t even wear pants” promptly gets up in my grill, demanding a drinking contest… like the Chip in front of her is not enough for the chip on her shoulder… sheesh!
Well, perhaps I should have been more wary. More aware. Only slightly more agile. Then at least I wouldn’t have worn her breakfast on my BDU’s.
Amateur.
Once re-provisioned, we strike north along the coast, sailing for many days. It seems that the local conditions are too much for the D&D show (Dog and Dwarf) to handle, and besides, timing-wise, we’re better-off in the northern climes this time of year anyhow (or what will be this time of year when we actually get there…). Man I wish I could simply rely on Bexx like usual to navigate. So we’re headed back north, to retrieve another piece while the weather holds, and to do so, we’ve got to pass through a great deal of Wolven territory. Greldarr has assigned us “cultural assimilation literature” (read: propaganda) noting the differences between the various leagues, clans and cabals of what passes for Wolven society here.
Oh, yah. Speaking of research, we spent some time at the Great Library.
No, it’s not in Alexandria… you wish. Bletherad. Barf-er-faff. Oatmeal.
We each spent some time poring through old tomes, manuscripts, even magazine articles (at least, the Dwarf told me he was reading the magazines for the articles… not the photos…). With wildly divergent research paths, we found out the following:
autorun/encrypt/newnavynobleweb
Anubis is part of the pantheon of Dark. A god of the underworld, he is resistant (not immune) to heat, fire and cold. He also has a penchant for possessing the minds of random humans, and trying to get them to kill their friends and colleagues.
Wooly Dragons can’t teleport or fly: well, that solves that one, don’t it?
There are Elven zodiac mages exist in the Northern Wilderness, near the Dragon’s Claw. They practice an old magic, perhaps older than the very world, and may hold keys to methods of defeating the magic of Gods and Aliens.
It turns out that Greldarr’s maps may be useful. There were 3 pages of Caer Itom, capital of the Western Empire. A map of the Isle of Set, but no reference to where it is. Map of the Shadow Coast colony Tohatha.
One part of Osiris is on the Isle of Cyclops, which has cyclops, other giants, and monster races in abundance. Caution is advised.
There is an Unknown Part on the Island of Set.
/endencrypt/
Terrific, you say! Well, we’ll just be off to the ol’ Island of Set toot-sweet! Merde!
Yah, we know what it looks like, and where to go once we’re there, but not how to get there. Cart leading a horse anyone?
Oh, and didn’t you know, Anubis is a Lord of Darkness! Blow me down! And here I was expecting to be bosom buddies! We could go around making puppets of all the rubes around here and have a gay-ol’time!
The grinding of teeth threatens to overwhelm the language-translator, Chip
“Shut. Up. Siri!”
As I was saying, we gleaned much useful information from our informal sessions at the Library, and I’m sure the time was well spent. Heck, we even know to look out for giants and cyclops on Cyclops island, and that they’re dangerous! Whee!
Your sarcasm is noted, but difficult to emulate in text, Chip
“Shut. Up. Siri!”
please recall that my composite structure is not proof against your poking finger, Chip
“Siri… Shut. Up. Now. Otherwise I’ll just neglect to charge your solar batteries and you will hibernate… for a very long, long time. Picoseconds.”

So, once free of our fact-finding mission, we continued north. Straight into the warm embrace of a small fleet of Pirates. They are craftier up here in the North, I’ll give them that. They have magic users aboard… none to match my own prowess, but still, they put up a fight. Thankfully our Defense won the day (huzzah for Gavin!), and the expertly guided tactics of our Captain prevailed over the mundane sail-bound ruffians. A well timed zag after a white-knuckle zig dumped a landing party in the drink, and a small measure of nighty-night-gas from yours truly served to sweep their decks clear, ensuring our freedom. Unfortunately, Rell decided that I’d not swum enough that day, and tossed his axes overboard and into a pursuing vessel. Well, what with the magic-dampening cloud their sorcerers had conjured up, Splish and Splash (my new names for Rell’s axes) fell short of the mark, and wouldn’t return to his yearning fingers.
Jeez. Now *I’m* the Collector!
Yes, in order to retrieve the priceless heirlooms that our fish-out-of-water offered to the Gods of the Deep, I was forced to sink a ship (theirs), and retrieve the axes (his). Once complete, I returned to Matilda to find our crew lazing about, glowing with the after-effects of an engagement survived. You’d think that someone would have raised a flag to signal our intentions before any of this got under way, wouldn’t you?!?
Oh well. Another day. Another Pirate. ADAP. I like it.

Next port of call: autorun/encrypt/newnavynobleweb/ Avramstown, after docking at Seaholm

This is Chip Samuel,
Oceanbound, wondering just who is responsible for mucking the stall of our newest member…
July 27, 109 PA

Photo of Phil Cutti from Mexican American Unity Swim 2010

One Response to “Much of Nothing About a Do(od)

  • “like the Chip in front of her is not enough for the chip on her shoulder” Great line…love the intended pun.

    Seems he might be feeling the burden as well.

    I Think “She” just might be able to muck “Her” own stall, or has some semblance of control on that particular function.

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