IoK Session 9

It’s an unfamiliar feeling.  You know that what you are doing is innately wrong, while at the same time it is the most natural thing there is.  I find it amazing that I’ve never experienced this before. 

Well… that’s not entirely true.  I found a dead cat several years back.  The skinny thing looked as though it had been washed up from the city sewer and lived just long enough to drag its way to our back steps.  When I found it, the flies had already set upon the cat’s hide.  Horrid little things, but again… natural.  It’s what flies did, they ate the dead.  Their children, the little white maggots, they ate the dead as well.  I watched this cycle of life for a few mornings… checking on the cat each day before heading down to the wharf.  There was a peace to it, to watching the once living cat now nourish a lesser generation of life.  With one cat’s death, dozens of flies birthed hundreds of maggots.  If there had been enough time, I imagine the maggots could have grown, morphed to flies, and began the cycle again on the same dead cat. 

To the flies, this dead cat must have been the world.  The source of all their basic needs.  The center of their existence for the duration of their little lives.  They mined it for sustenance, they hid amongst its matted fur for shelter, and they protected it from other vermin much like nations warring over hills and fields.

Then one day, I grew bored.  While the sun was still low and the air still chill, I scooped the dead cat into a crate and walked it down to the wharf.  The flies buzzed angrily around my head.  The maggots clung to the cat’s fur in desperation.  Some dropped through the crate and onto the pier.  Exposed to the rising sun, they would shrivel and die without the protection of the stinking animal corpse.  I stood for a moment at the edge of dock, sea water gently lapping the wooden posts at my feet.  I stood long enough to watch the flies settle above the cat again.  To watch the maggots crawl from the crate back to the corpse.  Gave them just enough time to return to the gentle patterns of the meaningless existence, then I dumped the crate into the sea.

I watched as the fish devoured the maggots.  The cat floated for a bit, before some large fish snagged it dragged it under the waves and with it, the world of the flies.

I felt like a god.

Slaughtering the swine, I felt that same sensation of power and righteous judgment flow through me again.  It was more visceral this time, more ‘real’.  The blood made the knife slick, but it also felt warm.  The knife felt alive, like it had stolen the essence of the swine and taken some within itself.

I was a merciful god, and ended the swine quickly… though not that I wanted to.  The dwarven kitchen master was watching, judging me.  I wish he would have left me alone so I could have enjoyed the pig’s sacrifice.  It was an injustice to the animal not to appreciate its death.  Just as it would be a waste to feed this ‘world’ to those abominations returning from the forest.

This collection of man-beasts was a never ending source of amusement to the mountain folk.  The swapped stories while intoxicating themselves.  What a tedious existence… awaken just to drink yourself into a stupor.  Move this rock from here over to there… chop down this tree, split this wood, drag it to the pit, light it on fire.  Repeat.

Benjamin understood my frustration.  Perhaps it was because he also grew up on the docks… he knew what it was like to labor for others, gaining little but survival for yourself.  Knowing that your efforts were not your own, but to ensure that some fat merchant would be able to wipe his ass with the finest silks this evening.  All while you entertain yourself watching a dead cat rot.

The scouts returned and the camp rejoiced, and this pig died… just so that the dwarves could celebrate the ability of upright animals to successfully live in the forest.  Is that an actual deed for a man-wolf… is anyone surprised that the flatland savage didn’t die when he slept in the woods?  Maggots don’t die when they crawl about the cat’s flesh… they thrive.  Nobody threw a feast for the maggots though.

I threw the maggots in the water.  I threw them to the fish.  If the maggots and flies survived the fish, then they’ve earned a celebration.  I would slaughter a pig for the first maggot that crawled back from the sea and returned to my doorstep.

If the dwarves want something to celebrate, let’s throw them to the fish.  Cheer any who swim home.

 

 

Game note – The party has had 1 week of down time back at the miner’s camp.  This has allowed for full healing and anxiety reduction.  Also, the party received several rewards for a successful scouting mission.  After the week of down time, the camp has been packed up and the party is beginning to move to the cleared grid identified by the scouts.  Once there, they will reassemble camp and begin to survey the mountain side to identify a mining site.

At start of game, party will be in marching order moving through the previously scouted forest.