In honor of Malign Portents, I will be attempting to publish a short work of fiction that ties into the story line every day until the first event on February 10th. That’s 10 days of writing! The stories will vary in length, but the first is something I’ve been plugging away at for awhile now:
The Carnival of Vomittongue the Magnificent
The celebration was jubilant. The travelers could hear the din of music and the cheers of a crowd as they trudged along a well worn game trail in one of the endless forests that dominate Ghyran’s landscape. Cheers, applause, the booming voice of a ring master, this deep in the forest such things were incredibly odd, so they headed toward the sound to investigate what sort of uncharted landmark they’d discovered.
They were, best they could tell, still a week’s journey from Novum, a free city that had been plagued with trouble and put out the call for adventurers to seek their fortune. With rough terrain between their origin and destination, it was unlikely the warrants for their arrest would reach the city any time soon. Even then, there wasn’t much reciprocity for the enforcement of laws across the free cities, so unless someone back home was willing to hire bounty hunters, they should be safe to continue their mercenary work, at least until one of their blades found the wrong person and they found themselves on the road again.
As they got closer to the encampment, the forest seemed to close in behind them, driving them forward toward the music and commotion. Roots burst from the ground, limbs swung down, tearing at their tunics and cutting exposed flesh. Startled by the sudden animation from the forest, they sprinted toward the sound, now apparent that it was coming from a clearing. A burst of fire lit up the tree canopy and singed a tree branch, leading to a raucous laugh. The fire spitter was an enormous man, corpulent and covered in brightly colored robes, they could just make out him performing a bow and leaving the proceedings.
As the travelers reached the edge of the encampment, they were struck by the pungent aroma of rot, but they stepped into the encampment anyway, as the wild forest behind them continued to overgrow, closing up the game trail.
The men and women in the encampment were adorned in bright red and yellow robes, a train of wagons was parked amongst the trees, and they had erected bleachers around a performing area. A small band of horn players and drummers sat to the side, and a group of acrobats was setting up in the center. The 4 men all appeared to be in poor health, their skin pale and bodies emaciated, but despite any ailment they showed remarkable skill, launching themselves into incredible flips and rolls, climbing each other. Suddenly, ropes fell from the treetops above, and they began to scale and swing, showing a fearlessness that was either a mark of great skill or great foolishness.
As they gaped at the performance, one of the revelers noticed them, approaching slowly, clearly suffering from a series of maladies that made walking difficult.
“Aye travelers, you must be a tough lot, traveling through the woods without a caravan” said the bald man before them, his face half covered in boils, painful to look at.
“We…yes, we’re no stranger to the forest and it’s dangers. What is this?” The leader, a tall man with a jet black beard responded.
“This?” The man pointed back at the makeshift stage and cracked a grin, the most swollen of his many boils weeping puss, “Why, this is the great carnival, we’re travelers bringing merriment to the 9 realms, but for us, Ghyran is home. We practice our acts here before we go back out on tour”
“Nine realms?” Said one of the travelers, from her attire and armament it was clear she was a ranger of some sort, confidently carrying a heavy bow.
“Aye, we’ve traveled to all 9, there’s narry sight to be seen one of us ain’t witnessed.”
“You’ve…you’ve been to the realm of chaos…” her voice seemed to drop to a whisper and trail off.
“Don’t worry nothing of it lass, this company is no threat to you travelers, we tour where the realmgates take us, and yes sometimes that even means the realms of chaos. Thank our luck we’ve made it out each time.”
“So where is your company headed” interrupted the leader, clearly less concerned about these travelers than his companion.
“Why don’t you come sit down, it ain’t my place to be talking about that with strangers.”
Gesturing toward the bleachers, the man led them to open seats. The acrobats we’re finishing their routine with an incredible jump between ropes that defied death, and as they cleared the stage, the band picked up with a tune and many rose to start dancing. The travelers stayed in their seats, less interested in dancing than a moment’s respite. All bore the uneasy expression of a weary traveler gripped by paranoia. Still, they tried to enjoy themselves as the show went on, featuring a magic show, a beast tamer, even knife throwing.
As the performances wrapped up, a cloaked man approached, his robes the same vibrant red and yellow as his fellow travelers, and like most he was somewhat dirty and stank horribly.
“Travelers, welcome to our humble performance, I am Gorlug, emissary of his Magnificence, the master of this troupe. I am here to bid you welcome, surely you are tired and could use a night of lodging. We have a spare tent, you could even join us for our feast.”
The party discussed this and agreed that the strange gathering’s hospitality was a safer bet than another night on guard in the forest. They followed the emissary to the dinner tent, and where horrified at the stench inside. While all the circus folk bore a strong aroma, the tent magnified the smell to a point where it was nearly unbearable. Not wanting to offend their hosts, they stifled their gags and took seats near a roast of what appeared to be some sort of roast of an unholy union of wild boar and octopus. Despite the unappealing appearance, the food was passable, the sensation of it on their taste buds a welcome relief from the noxious odor of the room. Throughout the meal, the performers regaled each other with retellings of feats and adventures past, and the party were struck by the kinship and love these odd men and women, misshapen and ugly though they were, felt for each other.
As they finished their meal, the emissary appeared again. “Friends, we’ve sat and dined at the same table, tonight, you shall have a place to sleep. But tomorrow, our trains will set forth on a journey. A quest. Our off season is at an end and this is the last night of revelry. You are free to continue on your way, but know that my lord sees fit to extend you the invitation to travel with us. He’s fickle about new companions, but he sees great potential in you.”
“Where are you lot going? We have business in Novum” said the ranger.
“Ah, nowhere near that shithole. It’s overrun with tzaangors now, you see. The pestigors that lived in those forests kept a delicate balance, but the foolish scions of the god of change have bedeviled the city and its surrounding county for weeks. I wouldn’t be going there. Before long, those damned Knights Excelsior will be burning men alive to stop the spread of Tzeentch’s malign influence.”
“How do we know what you say is true?” The leader interrupted.
“Well, lad, I don’t have much reason to lie. To answer your companion’s question, we head for a realmgate, we’re going to the docks of the blighted duchy to take a boat to shyish.”
“Shyish, God’s why? There’s nothing there but sadness and death” interjected another of the party.
“Aye, the dead are a poor audience. But the call is strong. Our lord, he hears the song. ‘Merry children, dance along, the river beds and form a throng, march until the river breaks, and board the ships, to Shyish take. We haven’t long, the dead defy me, come and form into my army.’ We follow the fates, and they say our greatest performance concludes in Shyish.”
“Who…who calls you?” The leader asked tentatively, realizing as he said it that he didn’t really want to know the answer.
“Why, the god of forgiveness and hospitality; the lord of life and joy and song. Grandfather Nurgle.”
With horror, one of their party screamed, and began to back away from the emissary. Their leader spoke to him “Darius, wait! If these men meant us harm, they’d have done so already. We know we can’t go back where we came, and our destination is under siege. If they’ll let those of us who don’t worship their god eat their meat and drink their ale, sleep in their tents, what reason have we to say no? What’s Sigmar done for us that we should be so pious as to reject hospitality when it’s offered?”
Grinning, the emissary said simply “What you do is your concern, but my lord is serious in his offer. Make up your minds by morning when we depart. Fair warning, the wards that keep this encampment clear will fade once we are gone, and the forest will again overtake this place.”
The travelers made their way to the offered tent and settled in to a long discussion of their options. As they came to the conclusion that they must go with on this journey. Their leader extinguished the lantern and they settled in for sleep. Coughing audibly, Darius groaned in pain as he tried to settle into sleep. The night seemed to close in around him as he plunged into darkness.
Occupy Terra 