This was my first participation in one of these sessions, so I was a wee bit nervous, but I think I got away with it... I was quite gratified by the reaction; must have been the beer the audience had consumed by then, plus the good mood brought on by Mike Cule's excellent winning tale (already seen in the Digest).
I've tried to reproduce it as I told it on the night, as best as I can remember. I think it works better aloud than in print, though; see if you agree...
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I have a story about a caravan, like the one Joh Mith brought here two seasons ago.
It was _like_ Joh Mith's, but not his; this one was run by a Desert Tracker of the Trader Princes. He was once a humble Etyries merchant in Corflu, but he came across a piece of the Dead God, and was forced to undertake a great quest into Genert's Waste to return it. He experienced many trials and tribulations and... But I digress - that is a story for another time - and perhaps for another teller.
Now as with Joh Mith's, this caravan carried a wide variety of items, ranging from fabulous gems and sacred holy scrolls to the more mundane, such as the tin piss-pots which you all have under your beds for use during the night.
Yes, yes - I know chief Take-Running-Water has a silver vessel for this purpose. And I quite believe you, BigStick-CrossWater, when you say you simply go out of the bedroom window - at least when you are not too drunk to open the shutters first - but remember, we are Orlanthi, are we not ? (*)
Where was I ? Oh yes, also like Joh Mith's caravan, this one sometimes carried passengers; travellers who wished to journey in so-called comfort, or possibly desired the security provided by a group; and who didn't mind paying for the privilege.
One day, as the caravan was travelling from the Redlands to Boldhome, it chanced that there were four such passengers in one of the wagons...
The first was an old Sartarite woman, who had been visiting her married sister and was returning home.
Next came a dashing young Lunar officer, who from his pristine new uniform and his nervous smile, was on his first posting (to a unit in Pavis) and still wet behind the ears.
Then there was a pretty young maid with red hair. From her clothes, and by the way she kept scowling at everything and muttering to herself, you might judge that she was a Vingan.
Last was a fairly nondescript man of middle years, who wore clothes which had once been of good quality, but now showed some signs of wear, being a little tattered and patched. He was an Orlanthi patriot.
As you can imagine, with such a mixed group there was a certain amount of tension in the wagon, and so the passengers travelled in silence, save for the incidental noises of the journey - the rumbling of the wheels, the cries of the beast handlers, and such.
And so the caravan came to a pass in the mountains - a deep gorge with walls so high that they seemed to meet overhead, and the rays of Yelm could not reach the bottom of the cleft where the road ran. Unfortunately, no one had thought to warn the passengers - or provide them with a lantern - and as the wagon entered the floor of the chasm it was rapidly plunged into darkness...
And in the darkness, there came the sound of a long, slow, passionate kiss; MmmmmmMMMMMmmmmm-pop... This was followed almost immediately by a loud SMACK ! and a gasp of pain.
The wagon trundled on; and when it emerged shortly afterwards into the afternoon sunlight, there was the young Lunar officer with a bright red face (which you might think appropriate), and a rapidly closing black eye.
Once more, all the passengers sat in stony silence, as the caravan continued on its way...
And the old Sartarite woman thought to herself :
"My my, how things have changed since I was a girl. I'm sure that if I
was that young Vingan maid I'd have been flattered to have been kissed by
such a handsome young man - even if he was a Lunar officer. I don't think
I'd have slapped him."
The dashing young Lunar officer thought to himself :
"What a lucky bastard that Orlanthi patriot is... He gives that beautiful
lass a real smoocher - and in the darkness, she hits _ME_ !"
The Vingan maid scowled even more furiously than before, and thought :
"How odd... How very, very odd. How strange, that the young Lunar officer
should kiss the old woman, and not me..."
And the Orlanthi patriot thought to himself :
"What a clever Orlanthi Trickster I am ! I kiss the back of my hand, punch
a Lunar officer in the face, and nobody says a word..."
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(*) At this point in the tale, with true audience participation, Nick Brooke
insisted to everyone that _his_ piss-pot was silver; and Greg Stafford stated that he just used the open window. I plead the Orlanthi "all"... (And the dreadful puns on their names were not used in the original.)
Cheers, Bob
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Bob Luckin voly_at_dadd.ti.com "Able was I ere I saw Corflu"
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