If you go down to the woods today…
- Enekos
- Aug 15, 2023
- 9 min read
The sands of time rush forward as the crew of the Behemoth find a balance between love and hate. Some leave, never to return, others disappear on personal quests. New faces come aboard – some looking for passage, others merely to take advantage, and some to make this their home. As the crew evolves there are two constants that haunt the mind of Jean Flint. The artifact and the owner of his flint knife, known only by the letters J.F.
The sands of time rush forward and eventually they reach the moment when Mr Leaf says: “Well my dear Arcturus, I have a little job for you in the Forest of Daphun.”
Once beyond the range of the crow’s nest, Arcturus took a moment to gather his thoughts. Happy that he was completely alone, save for the odd scurrying creatures, he invoked a simple thought and took to the sky.
Pirates are known to change their names occasionally. They even change their appearance, simple modifications such as a new hair colour or dressing as the opposing gender. Sometimes the city watch or mercenaries get too close for comfort and they need to change.
Arcturus was a little different and as he flew between the trees, across fields and hills, this became evermore apparent. Arcturus did more than change his name so often that even his friends lost track of who he was. He did more than change his appearance too. He changed his species. You see, dear reader, Arcturus was a a rare shape shifter and currently occupied the form of a bat. It made sense to traverse the long distance to the Forest of Daphun and was an exhilarating way to travel, so long as you didn’t mind eating grubs.
Before morning he’d reached a small village on the edge of the Daphun, dropped down behind a large oak tree and emerged once again looking a little worse for wear. The side effects of shape shifting left his body in need of nutrition and, for now, he looked like the undead. He’d also changed his name mid-flight and decided he wished to be known as the High Lord Timbum.
The High Lord decided that, in his current form, it was best to avoid any confrontation with the villagers. He guessed they’d be unfamiliar with the undead or magical creatures and he simply didn’t have the energy to change into something more human.
Mr Leaf had been vague, giving him some directions through the forest until he reached a small clearing where a cottage could be found. He was to approach the door carefully, knock and take three steps backwards. Large steps. Quickly. And don’t move. No matter what happens DO NOT MOVE.
He found the clearing as the early sun cast dappled light through the trees and fresh dew nestled on the grass. The cottage was there, looking quaint, with brightly coloured flowers that attracting butterflies and bees. The cottage was encircled by a stone wall and a gravel path lead to an ancient wooden door. He knocked and then took 3 large steps backwards as a snake shot from the door handle and came within moments of his face. It seemed to hang there momentarily before its forked tongue touched the edge of his nose. He wanted to move, but Mr Leaf’s words echoed in his mind. Do not move.
An eternity can last a few seconds given the circumstances and before his complex life flashed before him the snake gave him a quizzical look, and slowly retraced its path back to the door. The door slowly unlocked, and creaked open. A hooded woman looked at him. “Yes?”
“A winter can never throw stones in the summer,” he replied. Mr Leaf had told him only to say this. Nothing else. Make no comments about the wildlife, the cottage, the trees, the journey, the flowers. Just say the line and wait and accept whatever was given to him, nod, turn and leave.
“You’re new. I hope you don’t die easily,” she didn’t really care if he died there and then. She studied him. Normally Mr Leaf sent people – real people, but this one… well this one was already dead, so her comment was misguided. She let the thought simmer for a moment. There was magic here – and not just her own. She could taste it the air.
She reached inside her cloak and offered the High Lord a small chest. She smiled and closed the door. The High Lord Timbum heard another snake, turned and retraced his steps…
Veraku: Dead-end City
From the trees, Balder Grimm would describe the scene as a zombie which ambled up to the front door of a cottage, knocked and limped 3 steps back as a length of wire shot forward…. He squinted: was it a wire? No, no it can’t be. Ok it’s moving now, and a little tongue just shot out. Or another piece of wire? He wished he were closer, but heard a hiss and was happy to be where he was. The cottage door opened, and a hooded figure emerged. Words were exchanged and the hooded figure handed over a small chest, shot a look over to the treeline, sending a shiver down his spine, then closed the door. The zombie turned around and ambled back into the forest.
Balder Grimm waited, as per Mr Leaf’s instructions. Of course, those instructions hadn’t mentioned a zombie, but an armour-clad Norseman who had recently arrived on the ship. Mr Leaf was thorough and ensured that every important job needed a failsafe and Mr Grimm was here to ensure that Mr zombie could be trusted.
Again, the astute reader will remember that the zombie was previously a bat and bats fly faster and more direct than people. A determined bat could outpace a horse. So, you might wonder how it was that Balder Grimm was already here. Waiting.
Mr Leaf doesn’t take any chances – especially with new people and by new people he meant Arcturus. Every detail is meticulously predetermined right down to sending Balder Grimm to a clearing in a forest three days before the arrival of a visitor who would knock on the door of a cottage, take 3 steps back, wait for the door to open and then say: “A winter can never throw stones in the summer.”
Satisfied that all these events had taken place Balder Grimm returned to his camp, opened his writing case, scrawled a quick note, rolled the parchment, and placed it carefully into a pod that was tied around the leg of a bird. The owner of the leg said “Honk!!” and tried to bite Mr. Grimm who reached into his pocket and took out a selection of grasses and leaves and fed them to the goose. “Now take this back to the ship, Godfrey.”
The goose ate his supper and waddled around, honking some more before spreading his wings and awkwardly became airborne.
There are several ways our story could go. We could follow Godfrey as he flies south towards the city of Veraku and marvel, if geese ever take notice, at how closely the houses are packed together to such an extent that it’s easy to think you’re taking a shortcut to Mrs Lacombe’s Shortbread Shop only to discover the town planner had seen fit to Ms Appletart’s Bakehouse in your path. Godfrey made a tight circle and allowed the updraft to lift him higher into the night sky, before swooping down to the black ship moored in the Veraku harbour.
We could follow the story of Mr Leaf’s reaction at discovering that Arcturus had somehow reached the cottage of the hooded snake woman a lot quicker that he imagined, but was now an ambling corpse and who knew how long this would take?
We could amuse ourselves with the story of the shapeshifter who was now unable to change into a more sociable form. As a zombie, he would be shunned by all villages, chased with pitchforks, and chastised by small children as they threw stones. He grew fearful that somehow his encounter in the Forest of Daphun had interfered with his link to the ethereal flux and while it would be fun to follow him, his story was one of sleeping in caves during the day and only travelling only at night.
So, this leaves us with two choices: a peek inside the cottage at the hooded woman and her snakes, or back to Balder Grimm as he writes in his journal with the words “Stadsplanerarens aneckningar” embossed on the brown leather cover…
We slowly approach the cottage; a sense of foreboding overwhelms us. Perhaps it’s the way the crescent moon breaks through the leafless trees. Maybe it’s the wretched-looking garden that hasn’t seen a spring for a dozen years; branches greyed and twisted that seem to reach out towards us. How the air seems still, while the mud seems to climb towards our knees. How weary we feel. And then there’s the hissing... OK, that’s enough of that: let’s go see Balder Grimm instead.
As his small campfire flickered, small clouds formed in the far west. A crescent moon gave Balder Grimm enough light to flick though his journal. Each page revealed a new memory from the sketch of the dour-faced Lord Fittlepot who insisted Balder Grimm, move the ancient Veraku observatory to allow natural light to filter onto his prized mulberry bush.
A frustrated Balder Grimm headed to the local tavern and drank wine with his dearest and oldest friend, Herr Burger – the owner of renowned Rivière des Hamburgers, so called for its proximity to the Veraku river. They lamented on the need to travel beyond the gates of Veraku and how much they needed to take time to see the wonders beyond the Menavariyam.
As the night wore on, they found themselves in a card game that saw them lose heavily to a hooded stranger and the beginning of a crazy adventure.
It had begun with a hastily written note to say he was attending a symposium in Ghenu for the adequate use of sewers in an expanding city – something no one would check upon – that he pinned it to the door of his 3rd floor office. And, for anyone watching, he would leave by a side door, carrying a heavy case, and find his way to the Veraku Carriage company (Est 1472) and board the carriage marked Ghenu. They would have him sit beside a hooded stranger.
Anyone reading the Veraku Times in the following days would know that the Ghenu carriage had been ambushed by the nomadic warriors known as Vikings who seemed to divide their time between drinking a deep, rich mead and fighting – often with each other. Not known for their mercy, it was feared every traveller had perished, but those reporting in the Veraku Times hadn’t considered that while a nomadic tribe had no reason keep a Stadsplanerarens alive, this one was Balder Grimm and where there’s a town or city, there is always a planning mistake – a weakness to be exploited, and Balder Grimm was quite convincing – enough for him to become a man of brief legend.
Balder Grimm turned more pages.
He stopped briefly at a letter from the wife of renowned owner of the Rivière des Hamburgers and gave a silent moment to reflect on his old friend. One day he would return to Veraku and pay his respects.
Balder Grimm turned more pages and reached a sketch of the Tavern du Amanshi, where friendly banter between Vikings at the had turned deadly and in their desire to leave the scene of swinging axes, Mr Grimm and the hooded stranger had found themselves heading along a narrow corridor with various doors, down a flight of stone steps and into a room with a circle of robed figures, chanting. The hooded stranger made a quick U-turn and headed through the door, back up the stone steps, made a quick right turn, through a door and over the side of a railing, a moment of freefall and an icy splash, whereupon he passed out and the water took him away.
Balder Grimm had also attempted to leave the assembly but had turned too far and stumbled through an assortment of plant pots. He heard the unsheathing of swords and cried out “Jag är en stadsplanerare” which always made people – even those in robes with swords – stop and ask questions: everyone had some kind of problem with whichever city they were in. A lady pushed herself forward, removed her hood and smiled. “Hello. I’m Mia and you sound just like the person we’re looking for.”
This was shadow group, a secret society of business owners, bankers, and senior officers of the Queen’s Guard, who now sheathed their swords and looked upon the unexpected visitor with disdain. Mia had laid out her ideas which included the acquisition of an artifact from the Ghenu Ministry of Curiosity. Balder Grimm would use his status to acquire relevant blueprints, determine the best way into the building from a small boat and then obtain the artifact. Balder agreed on the basis they help find his friend: the hooded stranger – who would help him and that’s where they were sat several weeks later – deep into the night next, sat in a boat next to a cargo net that was slung over the side of a very dark ship. The ship, itself was moored next to the Ghenu Ministry of Curiosity, so the plan had changed a little. They would climb the cargo net, silently cross the ship, jump down the other side and make their way into the Ghenu Ministry of Curiosity, reach the seventh floor, find both keys, descend the steps to reach the vault in the basement, open the vault, find the artifact, leave by the sewer system and re-emerge four hundred paces to the east along the coast. It was a good plan and worked perfectly right up to the moment they reached the top of the cargo net, climbed over and Balder Grimm stepped on a rope. The rope moved violently and whatever it was connected to let out a pained scream, while claws and heavy paws searched frantically for traction: Balder watched as pots and a candle were sent crashing before the owner of the rope turned once again, letting out a cute roar and leapt at the two men who fell backwards. Balder heard a drunken cry of, “Snuggles is that you?” before hearing the all-too familiar sound of swords being drawn. Mr Grimm took a deep breath and sighed “Jag är en stadsplanerare.”
Balder Grimm closed his journal and his eyes...
Comments