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Dagda and the Great Pumpkin

Discussion in 'UO Catskills Role Play' started by Roberto, Oct 12, 2018.

  1. Roberto

    Roberto Visitor

    Joined:
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    It was dark and rainy. It was about noon and as dark as dusk. The occasional stab of bright light as lightning arced across the sky followed by rolling thunder marked the minutes.

    I paced up and down the great hall. Inaction wasn’t foreign to me. But three days of this weather had me itching to go. With a growl I threw on my cloak and summoned my steed. I flew out of the gates of House Roberto, Past Daenyra’s, the Mole Hill tavern, Devin’s, and to the Moon gate. I briefly looked up the steps of the Royal City where gargoyles stood or sat with their great wings making umbrellas. They looked totally miserable and drenched. I smiled in sympathy and the knowledge it wasn’t just me being miserable.

    I arrived at the Moon gate just south of Britain. If anything the weather was worse. I went as quickly as I could to Britain as the blinding rain would allow. Soon the hollow booms of my steed’s hooves on the great western bridge of Britain resounded in the air. The stench of the city was diminished in the rain, but not altogether gone. I noted the taverns were full but quiet.

    I arrived at the mint and went inside. I paid several bills one for an alchemy table ordered by hammers… what was he up to? I saw a note about a request for an investigator. I crumpled it up and threw it in the trash. And a last note in spidery crawl. Please see me Dickens. Dickens… oh yes the Dickens were a family of farmers near the mountains west of Britain. There had been an incident. A bridge, a troll, and several of their goats. Why ask for me rather than the town constable I did not know.

    I turned about and ran into Dagda Cadfael. Or rather my chest ran into her nose. She’s not very tall and as dark as midnight with glowing turquoise eyes. The first smile to cross my lips in a week spread wide. She was soaked, her elvish robe plastered and form fitting, and I had not even pushed her in a stream.

    “Hello Dagda a fine day it is”
    She smiled a smile that made my heart skip a beat. “Siyo d’anthe… for ducks maybe”
    “What are you up to?” she asked.

    What was I up to besides bored? I remembered the note in my hand. “Hmm I have a note from a family friend. They live near the mountains west of town. I was going to go see what the issue was.” I looked at Dagda and the weather outside. “Want to come along my dear friend?”

    Dagda looked outside at the weather, then looked at me and frowned.
    “Please, ‘chev abbil?” I knew talking to her in her own elven dialect would pull on a few extra strings.
    She squinted and looked at me and tilted her head. She sighed. “Siyo d’anthe”

    We mounted up and rode out of town back across the western bridge. We took the many branching road further and further west. We arrived at the Dickens farm just as true darkness fell, it was pitch black except for a light coming from the house. We were soaked to our skins as we dismounted and knocked on the door.

    The door opened a crack and then swung open wide. Charles was standing there along with his red haired step son Tim. Both had pitchforks in hand.

    “Roberto! I am glad that you came” and he gestured for me to come in.
    Dagda stepped aside and they saw her for the first time.
    “This is my dear friend Dagda, she volunteered to come out in this with me”

    I went and stood by the fire until I started to steam. I glanced over at Dagda who was doing the same. I am not sure what she was getting ready to say but I was saved by the arrival of Mrs. Dickens and Mother Dickens with dinner. Fresh turkey, apple casserole, bread stuffing, corn, peas a delicious meal. The only thing missing was their famous pumpkin pie.
    “No Pie?”
    “No” said Charles “that’s what I asked help for”
    “Pie?” I looked thoroughly confused I can’t even boil water.
    “No, no, no, Roberto the pumpkins, there is something wrong with the pumpkin patch”
    Dagda spoke up “Do you find all the pumpkins piled up and giant carved pumpkins with drag marks all around?”
    “Yes” said Charles “How did you know?”
    I looked at Dagda “yes how did you know?”
    Her grin was that of those who dwell in books and know only what they know. “They are called Grimm and they have taken over your pumpkin patch. There is discussion of if they are demons or some kind of Fey pestilence. They die, but they are tough.”
    I looked at Dagda as if she had grown a second head. Grimm? Fey? … Niamh! Her sister was knowledgeable in many arts and mysteries. “so what do we do?”
    “Tomorrow when its light we go find it and kill it”
    Charles nodded. “Yes thank you, thank you!”
    We sat down to drink, play cards, and of course gossip.


    When it was time for bed we were offered furs and blankets by the fire or up in the haylofts in the barn. I chose the hayloft. I asked Dagda if she would be going out too?
    “Ha!” She cried and buried herself in blankets by the fire.
    Mother Dickens gave me the eye. And Mrs. Dickens shook her head.


    I woke up it was still very dark. Why was I awake? I didn’t move. Then someone kicked my foot a second time. “Get up Roberto”. I cracked an eye lid there stood some demon goddess arrived from some nether hell to torment me for all eternity. Dagda.
    I mumbled “it’s the middle of the night let me be” and rolled over in my cape. The sky was darker yet and the rain was a downpour
    Dagda kicked me again less gently this time. “You dragged me out here its mid-morning”
    I got up I looked to the house. “Eat later, let’s get this done”
    “Siyo ‘chev abbil” I grumbled not meaning a single word.

    I was surprised at the size of the pumpkin it was almost as tall as Dagda. A jack-o-lantern cut face that sat facing south and did not move. I got up close to it and still nothing. I kicked it once.

    “Careful” said Dagda from ten paces away. I looked back at her as I shrugged and kicked the pumpkin again. With a mighty Roar and a cloud of blue smoke a giant face leapt out like a huge jack in the box. I jumped and fell backwards half my body length startled. I tried pulling my shield around and pulling my kryss out all at the same time and failed to do anything but backpedal on my back side another three feet.

    “Can you run? I think not” said the creepiest voice I’d heard in a long time. Its mouth opened wider and wider like a snake as it dove toward me. Just as suddenly as it appeared it sprouted an arrow from its’ left eye.

    “Kill it! Don’t talk to it” yelled Dagda. I rolled left. The Grimm went for my right. I kicked its face and pulled out my kryss. Another two arrows punched into it. I rose swinging my shield from my back to my arm. How fortunate it was looking at Dagda who was tormenting it. I drove the kryss into the elongated neck coming out of the pumpkin and pulled up. I was engulfed in fire that didn’t burn and laughter.

    Dagda came by my side and picked up arrows. The thing was gone, just the pumpkin left behind. That was when I noticed a second, then a third and finally a fourth giant pumpkin in the field. I will not bore you with the details but we spent all that day clearing the pumpkin patch and nearby neighbors of this pestilence.

    As we killed the Grimm, the rain lightened up, and the sun broke through. At day end beams or sunshine from the far west lit the field. We went back to the Dickens. Dagda had one huge pumpkin on her mount balancing it as she rode. I asked but only got a smile. She asked me to help bring it into the Dickens house.

    Dagda pulled a dagger out twirled it around her forefinger three times and stabbed it into the pumpkin. She sang as she worked carving runes and symbols around a gruesome face. When she was done there was a truly magnificent jack-o-lantern on the table.

    “Put this out in your field and they should not return” Said Dagda.

    And that is why Dagda Carved the Great Pumpkin
     
    Wyld Celtic Rose likes this.