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Post By Manga Shoggoth Tue Feb 15, 2005 at 05:36:41 pm EST |
Subject
"Moving Day" - or - "Manga Shoggoth is Bored at Work Again" | |
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Close your eyes. Imagine that you can hear the sounds of the ocean around you. Relax.
Now, open your eyes. Above, as they fade into the approaching dawn, the stars proclaim you to be in the Indian Ocean (if you are proficient in Celestial Navigation). Around you, the sounds of the open sea. To the east, the dawn slowly breaks, bathing your surroundings with a red-orange hue, before...
Oh.
You don't appear to be standing on an island. Featureless ocean surrounds you. Perhaps we should this try again?
(ahem)
The sun slowly climbs into the sky. Palm trees cast long shadows across the beach, shortening as the day brightens. The waves sweep up the beach, the crashing of the waves mingling with the cry of the seagulls and the noises of the jungle.
At the head of the beach, above the high tide mark, a ship's lifeboat is partly inverted, supported by a few stout branches to form a crude shelter. A log forms a primitive seat inside this shelter, a stout penknife wedged into a crack at one end. Wood shavings litter the immediate area, mute evidence of a person with plenty of time to whittle.
You could be forgiven for assuming that this is the habitat of some lonely shipwrecked unfortunate, except for the footprints that litter the beach above the High Tide mark.
As the sun continues its rise, it starts to shine into a large clearing in the jungle. The clearing is littered with small huts, tents and shanties of varying ages seemingly dotted around at random. All the dwellings reflect different styles of building, and some even represent a mix of styles. There are the remains of small fires amongst the dwellings, and in the middle of the clearing a huge mass of wood has been piled up.
The clearing appears to be deserted. Almost. Between the two newest buildings - rather larger constructions made up of wattle hurdles with a thatched roof - a female figure is indulging with a little target practice. She is using a hide whip.
Blair Atholl, once of the good ship "Hatton Cross", unwitting slaver and now token white male, stirred. The morning sun was peeping through the chinks in the walls, and in the dim light he could see the dark shapes of five sleeping girls and one empty pallet. A repeated whistle and crack immediately told him where the other early riser in the group was, and indeed what she was doing.
He carefully rose and dressed - his roommates were light sleepers - and crept out of the hut. The recent occupant of the empty pallet was flicking her whip at small effigies suspended from a beam. He noted that despite the speed the effigies were spinning under the lash, not one shot was missed.
Underfoot, one of the effigies laid cleft in twain by a particularly vicious shot. Obviously he would be carving Mother Superiors again today.
"Morning Kathryn, Morning Blair. What are you two doing up so early?"
They both jumped, the interruption causing Kathryn to make her first miss of the day. Ebony had a tendency to move like a cat.
"Prime: Ablutions, Penance and Whip Practice; Terce: Penance and Breakfast.", Kathryn replied, punctuating her statement with further strikes of the whip.
"You aren't a Little Sister of Discipline any more. You don't have to do this."
"She has dropped the Penance.", noted Blair, "And not all discipline is bad."
"And I prefer to do my practice in the morning, before the others get up. Some of the older folk can get a little upset at the sight of a whip." added Kathryn. Another figurine joined its sister on the ground.
"The new girls arrive today." Ebony told Blair. "Are the accommodations ready?"
"Yup." replied Blair, patting the wall of the second, slightly bigger, wattle hut. "Room for nine and extra luggage space."
"Good. Mount these on the front." said Ebony, passing him a canvas sack containing three grapefruit-sized objects. "This is the Shoggoth's Vina Drea present."
Blair opened the sack, and immediately went pale.
"A spike through the topknot is probably the best way." She noted clinically.
The sun is high in the sky now. At least we assume so, but as our viewpoint is now outside a sunken Condo in Dullards Corner, and since the sky is dull and overcast, it is perhaps a little difficult to tell.
There are two groups of people.
The larger group is clustered around eight women, apparently engaged in some sort of farewell. The women in question are dressed identically in rather brief, well, bikinis. They have green skin, dark hair and - not surprisingly given the weather - appear to be very cold. Their names are Deeela, Sayaana, Philaana, Noona, Odoola, Losiira, Luuma, and Kaara. Miiri is unaccountably absent.
The second group consist of a male and female scientist (that's two separate scientists, not Yo thinking that (s)he is a scientist), a mechanic, a High Priestess and a blasphemous Elder Creature. They are clustered around a machine that looks as if it escaped from a Dr Who set, frantically escaped its pursuers by hiding in a Flash Gordon movie (the original, not the one with the Queen soundtrack) and finally posing for a drawing by Goldberg, a sketch by Robinson and a redesign by Emett.
Everyone is talking at once.
"Have you got everything?"
"Miiri! Where the hell have you been?"
"Perhaps if we try aligning the Quantum Resonator with the Aethereal Stabiliser?"
"To be looking after yourselves. And the Bunnies."
"Saying Goodbye and Thank You to Visionary."
"Please put that wrench down. Carefully."
"Of course you will be OK. Besides, have you seen the size of his Anime collection?"
"Hey! That's not fair! He never let us do that!"
"Isn't it supposed to be in the Pacific?"
(whispered, and unheard, except by Philaana) "Thank you for looking after Fake-o. I think he's going to miss you".
"Well, he isn't my master now."
You take care of your end, brief mortal, and I'll take care of mine.
"Awwwwww!"
"OK. Everyone whose travel plans don't include Lemuria off the staging area!"
"Goodbye!"
"Helsa and Farewell!"
"Someone pull CSFB! off there!"
FFFLLLLAAAAASSSSSSHHHHHHH........
From the point of view of nine Caphean slave-girls, the journey went something like this:
Bright Light; Impression of vast featureless ocean; Sheer terror; Oblivion.
It is difficult to describe how the girls felt when they regained conscienceness. Imagine, after being forced to live on a meagre diet of gruel for months, you have been dumped into the middle of a feast.
Deeela slowly opened her eyes. She felt...light. She felt full of energy and slightly light-headed. She could hear the characteristic noise of children playing in water in the distance. She slowly rose and looked around, swaying slightly.
There was sand beneath her feet. Hot, bright sand. There was a rather large, hunky Human male (hunkier than Master Visionary, nagged a treacherous thought), seated in some sort of shelter and hacking at a piece of wood with a knife. She managed to stagger towards him.
"HyeeimDeeeelaaCnBemyMastrAnytimmeeeeeeee..."
There was a thud. Fortunately, loose, dry sand tends to be soft.
Deeela's second awakening was a little less, well, embarrassing. She found herself in the shade of a lightweight bivouac made by weaving branches. She was on a beach facing out across a large lagoon, and she could now see as well as hear the children playing. The light-headedness had faded and, for the first time since leaving Caph IX, she felt completely healthy.
She could see her sisters in adversity gathered at the feet of the aforementioned hunk, obviously being lectured in their new roles.
"Sorry about that." said a voice behind her. "We underestimated the effect the sun would have on you. Ebony says you've had nothing worse than a sugar rush and should be OK soon. Just stay out of the Sun in the middle of the day until you acclimatise."
Deeela turned. The voice belonged to a rather plain ("poor girl", she thought) human female, who was wearing a light robe like Ebony's, but tied with a leather belt. Then she noticed the belt had a handle. Her reason took a lurch to the left...A slave-mistress?
"Errm...Did the...your... Master...hear what I said to him?" she asked, remembering her first words on the island. Not exactly the best way to make a first impression, she realised.
"He says it's the first time he has had a girl throw herself at his feet. I've told him not to get used to it. He, by the way, is Blair, and I am Kathryn, and he is not my Master. Welcome to The Refuge."
"You are his Mistress, then?" Deeela asked hesitantly, looking at the whip again. "It is a strange concept to us, but I had heard that some males of this planet were like that."
Kathryn noted the direction of her glance. "The whip? No, nothing like that. The whip is for hunting. Want to learn?"
Deeela smiled. "Perhaps I shall." she said. "It would be a change to be on the other end of the whip."
"Most of the animals on the island won't harm you unless you disturb them first. The Lagoon is safe to swim in, but don't go swimming alone. The small furry creatures with the black-and-white rings on their tails that you will see crossing the island are Lemurs and you are asked especially to leave them alone."
"Do they bite?" asked Losiira.
"No. Just migrating and we don't want their journey upset."
"So, what are our duties?" asked Losiira.
"Simply put," offered Kathryn, "Find out what you are good at, find out what you like doing, find out what is needed, and do it."
Kaara was only half-listening. Even in the shade the midday heat and light was affecting them, and she was having a little trouble keeping her mind on her duties. She was idly watching the children in the lagoon (and toying with the idea of a bathe later, if she was given permission).
To her horror, she could see black shapes in the water, and black fins breaking the surface. One of the strange things she had seen on this world was an entertainment - if you could call it that - called "Jaws". It had given her nightmares (which Master Visionary refused to dispel, although she had fun asking), and the ability to immediately identify...
"Sharks!"
One of the dark shapes sped towards the playing children, who seemed oblivious to the danger.
There was a splash, and the shape vanished. A moment later there was a thud as 5 feet of Bull Shark impacted on the beach, twitched and died.
"Oh Gods." muttered Blair. "Bloody Shark for tea again. Why can't C'thandra dump them out to sea?"
"It could be worse." reminded Kathryn. "The twins could be cooking."
"Right," continued Blair. "If you would like to step this way I will show you round the village and introduce you to your new home."
The girls were fascinated by the village. The racial mix was more diverse than they had imagined; Slavery was an old institution for mankind, so Negro mixed with Ancient Egyptian, Saxons rubbed noses (metaphorically) with Indian.
There were Bodgers and Toymakers, Cooks and Leatherworkers, Weavers and Spinners. A group of girls who appeared to be the same race as Blair and Kathryn were teaching classes and running a nursery. Everyone appeared to be living and working if not in harmony, at least in the right key.
Eventually, they came to their new home.
"It's very..." began Odoola uncertainly.
"Blair built it himself." noted Kathryn.
"...Rustic." completed Miiri. "Forgive us, Mast... Blair, but we.. well... are more used to..."
"It's lovely." exclaimed Sayaana, looking at the three shrunken heads fixed to the doorframe. "Isn't that D'ratsab of Clan Nailliv?"
After a few moments of identification and discussion, the Caphans agreed that their hut was more finely decorated than the greatest palaces of their homeland. Blair thought that they were exaggerating, but kept his opinion to himself.
"Right." He said. "Wander round, talk to people and we shall see where you fit in."
At which point, things started to go downhill.
The sun has set. The cooking files and the main bonfire have been lit, casting dancing shadows about the clearing. Although it is clear that preparations have been made for a festival, it is equally clear that the required festive spirit is absent.
There are two groups around the bonfire. One group consists of Caphans and the other consists of nearly everyone else. Around them, the children are playing some sort of game that involves running, shrieking and hiding, preferably all at once.
"The problem is, I think, that your people's idea of slavery is different from ours." Miiri was explaining to Ebony. "For us, it is part of our life. As our Master's slaves we were protected, guided and cherished. Our submission is natural. For you, slavery is a terrible thing, and your masters something to hate. I begin to understand why Mr Epitome felt our situation was an abomination."
"There must be some common ground." stated Ebony, with the sort of conviction that only the High Priestess of a Blasphemous Elder Creature could manage. "There must be some way for you to fit in. There must be somewhere we can build some understanding."
"All our training is for pleasuring our Masters." wailed Luuma. "The arts of Pleasuring, of Story Telling and..."
At this point she was interrupted by one of the passing children, who latched on to the magic word: "Story".
"Tell us a story. Pleeeese?"
The cry was quickly taken up by some of the other children. This had the effect of reducing Luuma to tears as she tried - incoherently - to explain to a group of children that her stories were of her people and not fit for her surroundings.
As this was going on, Miiri whispered something to Deeela, who drew herself up and began to declaim in a loud and authoritive voice quite unlike her normal submissive tones.
Listen well, you subjects of our Master, the Manga Shoggoth, under whose protection we thrive. Listen well whilst I tell you my tale.
Listen as I tell you of the treacheries of Clan of Nailliv, who sold the Jewels of Caph into slavery. Listen while I tell you of the Slavers of Frammistat Eight, who treated the fair flowers of Caph with scorn and despite.
Harken as I tell you of the heroes of your world, our rescuers: The Personification of Chaos, whose nimble antics confounded our persecutors; The Crusader of Hats, in whom Order allies with Chaos; The Arrogant Archer, whose skill with the bow was matched only by his opinion of his prowess; The Flying Courier, to whom strange dimensions are as nothing; Bry of the Golden Eyes, great in power but divided in Love; The Protector of the Parodyverse, of whose prowess all men know.
Marvel while I tell you of Master Visionary, whose hides his greatness as a treasure for those who seek it.
"Nice idea." commented Ebony, as first the children, then (more slowly) the adults gathered round to her the tale of the rescue of nine slave-girls by the Great Visionary and his servants.
"Deeela was always our best storyteller." Miiri noted.
The festival is over. The fires have burned low, and are little more than glowing embers. A full moon casts its silvery beams over the island, giving just enough light to see by. The people have returned to their huts, some discussing the events of the evening, some trying to persuade children that they do really need to sleep.
The Caphans have retired to their hut. Some of them are starting to view the coming day with hope. Some of them have already decided what they want to do. They are all trying to persuade Miiri to tell them "what Visionary was like".
The Village falls silent.
On the beach, two figures sit under an upturned boat. One whittles a piece of wood, the other leans against him, looking out at the Moon reflected on the water. Compline, and then to bed.
This tale is set after the (unwritten) "Vina Drea" story, which - if Visionary writes it - will detail what happens during the Vina Drea, when the Manga Shoggoth finally buys 9 Caphean Slave Girls from Visionary. This is not an attempt to make Visionary write the story. Honest.
Wattle hurdles are panels made from twigs (traditionally hazel or willow) woven basket-fashion. For an account of their construction, see this page from The Working Woodlands Trust (which will also tell you what a Bodger does). "Wattle and daub" buildings were made using a wattle wall plastered (literally) in mud, and were common in Saxon times. Wattle and Daub was in common use as recently as 100 years ago (My grandmother used to live in a Saxon timber-framed house with wattle and daub walls). These days wattle panels tend to be used in fences.
Blair and Kathryn first appeared in Prices and Favours and The Hand that Rocks the Cradle respectively. They are unusual residents in that neither - strictly speaking - were victims of slavery. Instead, they were drafted because their situations were hopeless and the Shoggoth rather liked their attitudes (Blair risked his life to rescue some slaves in a sinking ship, and Kathryn refused to kidnap Lisa's son Christopher). Blair is from Cornwall, England and Kathryn is from Paradopolis in the US.
Kathryn, once Sister Lasshe of the Little Sisters of Discipline, refers to Prime and Terce. These are two of the monastic offices, the full set (borrowed from here) being:
The Twins - also known as The Skuld Fan Club - whose cooking is so terrible (as in bad) have had cameo roles in other stories. Essentially, they personify the Manga/Anime characterisation of "Cute girl/Can't cook", which makes them a popular subject for the Evening Sacriface (which, despite the name, simply involves watching Anime with the Shoggoth for an hour or three).
The Writers Notes for the Manga Shoggoth has an entry on the subject of the non-existent Island of Lemuria.
For the interested, I found the following site on the internet that fills in a couple of dates for the "evolution" of Lemuria:
The lowly primate, the lemur, was named after ancient Roman mythological ghosts called 'lemures.' According to the Oxford Classical Dictionary, 1970, there was a Roman festival called 'Lemuria.' But the modern name of 'Lemuria' was named for the mammal lemur. In the mid-19th Century paleontologists coined the term 'Lemuria' to describe a hypothetical continent, bridging the Indian Ocean, which would have explained the migration of lemurs from Madagascar to India. Lemuria was a continent which submerged and was no longer to be seen. By the late 19th Century occult theories had developed, mostly through the theosophists, that the people of this lost continent of Lemuria were highly advanced beings. The location of the folklore 'Lemuria' changed over time to include much of the Pacific Ocean. In the 1880s a Siskiyou County, California, resident named Frederick Spencer Oliver wrote A Dweller on Two Planets, or, the Dividing of the Way which described a secret city inside of Mt. Shasta, and in passing mentioned Lemuria. Edgar Lucian Larkin, a writer and astronomer, wrote in 1913 an article in which he reviewed the Oliver book.
As is always the case with my writing, please feel free to comment.
I welcome both positive and negative criticism of my work, although I cannot promise to enjoy the negative. Both are essential.
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