[another narration-by-vanquished-opponent]
From the ebon abyss of Hell’s waters came I, Lobata, avenging mistress of the broken necklace, born fatherless of Deep Mother, Lady of the Dripping Pool. Born into anger, eager to break the oppressor when called forth from my lair by people of land or water who knew the ancient rites, and who suffered at the hands of those who did not respect nature. I was just a small storm of seething vengeance when the Darkness brought me up to the surface with the others. I hid away from the grimacing light of big father Yelm at the Dawn, wrapping myself in Iphara’s cloak of fog. Many men came. Froalar, Arkat, Yomili, Rokar and more, I heard their calls but I scoffed at them from my deep abode. For centuries, only the merfolk could coax me forth to bring doom to their foes. But a new tribe came from a southern land where some still knew the ways of the spirit realm; still held firm to the bonds of their ancestors and pledges inscribed in the runes of Darkness, Water and Beast. To the Kennutois, then, I chose allegiance. Those I deemed worthy did not drown in the Shattering, but I chose some to feed upon as my twisting tendrils pulled them sputtering beneath the surging waves. That was my price. A family is forged from suffering, and my family was growing.
I did not like the peace that centuries brought Kennutwaki. Seldom could I blast forth in my wailing storm and drag sailors to their screaming deaths at the beckoning of my family, but sometimes I still did it unheeded because I liked it. It was not the same, though, as coming in service of my family. And so when I felt the suffering of the Kennutois, heard the cries of spirits of water and earth and beast, felt the waters polluted with a new presence that I had not seen since the Shattering, I found a way back in. The shamaness Apika knew me from her spirit-dancing but didn’t understand she had opened the ways for me to return in our family’s defense. Our family’s anger, the disorder of the island, and the menace of the Vadeli were all I needed. Every night, then, I rejoiced to wreathe the island in my cloak and search its waters for ships to pluck prey from. I could feel the bonds of family and these passions were the most delicious to me to consume as their energies fractured.
The cold-hearted Malkioni of Kennutwaki would learn to fear me, and their souls entered the maelstrom of my body to issue forth as spectres to continue the misery on land. Soon, I could feel their desperation. They began turning back toward the ways of their ancestors, calling back to the departed, vainly trying to assuage their tormented dead. But there was no hope, no Solace, for them while they served me, Lobata. Even the living would serve me by bringing their souls willingly to the slaughter, gone mad from my misty breath. I felt my power growing, even as my Kennutois family waned. Perhaps I did not need them anymore, or Kennutwaki. Perhaps I could go elsewhere. These strange new Vadeli visitors had entreaties that began to entice me.
But new strangers came. I felt that sea-hero Ahappi first, and his taste in my waters was like none I’d had in centuries. I must have it. Like others, he soon came to me, but I let him leave with a choice. Here was a new chance for Lobata, to break free from Kennutwaki with him, and break his family to forge a new one; closer to my ancestry with the sea. But there must be suffering to fuel that. I wanted to feed.
I had hoped to feed on them that night, and gain my freedom with Ahappi’s new bond to me, abandoning that impotent sea-wretch Ouwashilombiss. But they chose to rest and study their new findings.
Ahappi had crushed his foes of the Red Vadeli and their meek pawn; his former ally Ciddar Blacksail. I tasted their blood in my waters, thirsting ever more for the souls it heralded. He was to bring me a ship- this one, The Perk, would do. His band rested and searched their small galley with the timid surviving crew, who soon offered their foolish loyalty to their new masters. Ahappi and his servants had found what they sought—abundant evidence of the cruel dealings of the Vadeli and Ciddar in the trade of Ouori pelts along these coasts, and that Zridge the Tart, Brown Vadeli toadie to Skrimton Nodeal, was the keystone in this affair. While Kennutwaki was only beginning to trade in the furs the Vadeli proffered, the hub of trade was at a small port on the southwest extreme of the Orninior coast; just to the west of the Giraine island chain that Ahappi’s servants had recently come from. It took much study through the ship’s cargo, maps, documents and their knowledge for Ahappi’s band to learn the truth.
The place was the Strait of Tibol-Korrin; a twin settlement born of discord, and well placed by a barren isle where some Ouori mothers came to birth their pups; including those of the Trenchward tribe, whom the Brown Vadeli had most specifically targeted. Not long ago, that trade had gone through New Arvonesse on Giraine, but the Vadeli of the Ever-Loving Rainbow Chums Guild had moved and expanded their affairs. They were emboldened and defended by the return of the Red Vadeli, who had agreed to aid Ciddar in return for the bloody, unspeakable sacrifice of some of his original crew; joining The Perk to come to Kennutwaki and try to enslave ME!
Ahappi and friends caught the same vile scent I had: what they called the curse of the Yellowskin of the Vadeli, on the slowly stirring body of captive Ciddar. He had been enslaved, but still bore the guilt of willing allegiance with the Brown Vadeli at the outset, from which he’d gained power to be promoted to a Horali caste and gain his ship from unfortunate former owners… Ahappi interrogated Ciddar at length, giving him options to speak truth about his dealings, to die mercifully at Magasta’s agent’s hand, or to be turned over to the brutal justice of the Ouori. It was a long struggle, back and forth between Ahappi’s determination and the evil enchantment of the Yellowskin. But at last, Ciddar collapsed vomiting forth some of the latest physical component of the curse; and the cabin had to be cleared and cleaned. The crew was at work cleaning the vessel to be ready to be offered to me as a trophy, and unwittingly their souls as my meal. I waited.
After dawn and their interrogations and research, Ahappi and his follower Boamund left The Perk, with Boamund’s leg having been healed by some worthless Fonritian on board that ugly ship The Shadow. They went into town and I lost their essence, only feeling a presence amongst the many dead spirits I let wander the place in daytime, unable to manifest until darkness neared but still felt on the napes of townspeoples’ necks. They visited Lady Gretchen Vankmeer, whose family I sundered to much joy. They fed her Uz guards some fish and spoke to the Talar, who worried for her family’s business and welfare but smartly saw the future lay in aiding Ahappi’s goals, not the poor way things had been heading for some seasons. She committed two of her Horali in service to the foolish mission to slay me, even knowing that their deaths would leave their families miserable- but not abandoned by the Vankmeers, she swore. Maybe she knew that I could not be defeated by mortal means, but she saw reason in community. I curse her.
Then Ahappi and Boamund visited that old witch Apika, who no longer did me any good. Apika didn’t want to believe how she’d let me bring such destruction to Kennutwaki, but she said she had helped me keep the Vadeli curse at bay, and I now wonder if she did. She was right, though, I was never corrupted by them, as Ahappi thought. I was just me. I still am. No one can change Lobata!
Kapule the Kennutois youth offered himself, at Apika’s dismay, to aid Ahappi and he won that argument. He was ready to become one with me, and leave his ancestors behind as I consumed him. Very well. Boamund the odd one, who tasted familiar to me, maybe even with some Kennutois in him, went to the little Hoggle family at the Lighthouse—the mother Debbin there was strong, she had resisted my call to come to my dark embrace and be eaten. I thought I would have her soon enough. She could not send anyone to aid Boamund or Ahappi but gave him a little jar of light-making— damn her to the abyss!
Ahappi did what I did not want, as I learned. That Zzaburi named Hargan Saltbeard had been inspired by the madness that I brought him, but defended by his communion with the sea spirits and his faith in Makan and Malkion. Damn him, too. Damn him eternally. He had been busy in secret, and my fogs had never brought understanding of this to me or anyone. It was my undoing. He would not come to face me, no, that was not his role in the great formula of the Invisible God, he claimed. He had fashioned an enchanted harpoon, gleaming with layers of sorcerous inscriptions. Ironically, Ahappi could not wield this, but his ally Boamund could. And that was pivotal. Damn that Boamund. I will find a way to get my revenge on him…
The two returned to the harbour and Ahappi gave a boastful speech to the Shrouded Mistress people of his mission and his call for heroes to fight Lobata with him, but no one stepped forth. He was running out of allies, and my fog was coming. From the little wisps of fog that began to condense, I sent forth the soul of Merywne Holland, a scrumptious Talar-soul who had thought herself a brave sailor-warrior but fell into my mad geas and service. She screamed of her doom and fought Ahappi bitterly with her spirit-harpoon, bleeding forth his soul, some drops of which spashed into my waters—ahh, it was a delightful feast! But he fought back, stunning her and beating her down. He was a tough opponent and I could begin to feel a threat in him. She came screaming back into my fogs to serve me some other time. I will put her to good use.
Time was running out as my fog approached, so soon the little band was aboard The Perk and coming to me swiftly, navigating the edges of my fog outside the island and speeding to my black storm of vengeance. I issued forth onto this plane to have my feast at last! The crew of the perk was sent screaming in terror, some overboard, but Kapule the Kennutois stood firm with Ahappi and his other servants. Ahappi dove into my watery body and we began struggling; and the snake-headed one Fraud also joined him. I had plenty of tentacles for them all, but that cunning little Kennutois used a seal-spirit to hasten Ahappi, making him more able to fend off my tendrils that would have pulled him helplessly into me if I’d ever gripped him.
But I failed to feed on anyone that baleful night. I felt the burning touch of the enchanted harpoon of Hargan when Boamund blocked my tentacles with it, and one tentacle took form as lead-like material that Miguel, the small man of Beast rune affiliation, slashed apart now that his sword, inexplicably to me, could harm my form. I tried and tried to grasp them all and bring them into me for consumption, but they fought better than any foes I’d faced in centuries. It was that harpoon! I had been tricked! And it was Ahappi’s doing in the end. He called upon Magasta’s power and commanded me to leave Kennutwaki forever, breaking my family there and my curse. I had not felt so weak since the Dawn. I could not avail against this true hero of the sea! He was right, I had to leave and return to the only family I had left: Deep Mother, Lady of the Dripping Pool, and my original abode in Hell. And so I curled up into my infant form and descended, feeling my centuries of power disconnected, and dragging my robes of fog with me into the deep. Lobata the undefeatable was defeated. Yet if again my family was threatened, if nature’s ways were violated, I would be ready to be summoned forth. I would find a way. I would bring terror back to the waves and to the lands of men. The Hero Wars were my time. There were so many souls for the taking. [party luck pts = 3!!] -John
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