It's early morning

I realize I am conscious of my surroundings when I reach around and taste more stone dust. It’s gross. It’s not the most pleasant wake-up I’ve ever had, but who is to say I actually slept at all? Pulling myself together, I think over the oddly specific meeting I just had.

Apparently I should expect an envoy. Well, if two goddesses sent them, I should expect them any moment. I surely don’t want to meet them in a cave. It might be inconvenient for them if it’s dark. Also, I might find it inconvenient to not know the time. I pick up my book and head up the stairs to the antechamber with the large doors and stone pillars. A little bit of sunshine beams down into the room. I detect the early morning sunshine by peeking outside. Now I take a moment to cast “see in darkness” or, as I like to call it, “see at all”.

My spell takes only a moment to cast. I’m all alone with the comforting, chalky ghost-images in my mind. Nothing new sticks out to me with my sight. There’s not much to do. I'm not even particularly hungry, so there’s no point grabbing a bite. I could sit and daydream about my spells a little more. In the end though, I end up pacing around. It’s a little entertaining, as I get to practice some climbing. I find I can scale one of the carved pillars by pressing myself into it, almost flowing up it like a climbing snake. It gets tedious after a while.

The tedium itself continues until just before noon. By then I’m coiling around one of the pillars in the antechamber, experimenting with how weird it feels to let my body melt and squish together into a solid ring before I pull myself once again into a wormlike form. It’s really trippy, but I’m snapped out of my reverie by the sound of footsteps. I tuck myself away into one of the darker corners as the sound of soft-soled shoes descends the stairs.

The instigator shuffles into the room. They have a floppy sun hat and wear a heavy, flowy vest. They take off a pair of grass-stained gloves and store them in a duffel bag hanging on their slouched shoulders. The bag’s contents shuffle noisily as he lopes his way across the room. This probably isn’t an elf, at least not a healthy one. Their knees are a bit too unsure, and their shoulders too broad.

He stares at the open doors as he approaches them. His wariness makes me nervous. If he knows those are supposed to be closed, he might look for me, sitting just behind him. Of course, this could be the messenger, or envoy or whatever. How can I be sure though?

Seeming satisfied with his inspection of the surroundings, he fishes something out of his bag and continues in. Moving as quietly as I can, I follow him. I hear the shuffle of paper and the crackle of dried herbs as the man makes a bee line for the far side of the chamber. The journey is much quicker when you don’t crawl along the sides of the room. He finds a comfortable piece of rubble and sits down. After a few moments fiddling around in the dark, he lights a match and brings it up to a large pipe. Sitting in the dark, he begins to smoke.

He sits without a care in the world as the smoke builds and billows around him. He makes some impressive pulls, and the smell of something a little funkier than tobacco begins to fill the room. I can tell this guy smokes a lot. It reminds me of something from my dream. Carnachius had said ‘you don’t usually go for anything stronger than mary jane’. Supposedly whoever I was looking for had something stronger than the cannabis this guy was on, but I don’t think anyone else was likely to take a stroll down here.

“Well,” the smoker speaks abruptly. His voice isn’t terribly shot, but it’s still quite gravelly. “I know my trips aren’t the most reliable source of information. Still, if there really is anyone here, I’m here to pick you up. Uh, I’m to offer you a shelter. Nothing was said about food. I kind of forget the rest. Something about hot bitches…” He trails off, starting to mumble a bit more as he takes a few more big puffs from his pipe.

I’ll admit, this situation is a little disarming. This guy seems quite seedy. Still, he knew I was here, kind of, and he didn’t seem to be harmful. I suppose if I ever wanted to stop living in the woods I had to trust someone eventually. Why not trust someone supposedly sent here for my benefit?

Straightening up and stretching out, I assume my humanoid form, if only for ease of speaking. It’s the one I’m most familiar making a voice with. Staying back as far as I can, I strike up a little conversation.

“Who are you looking for, old man?” I think I’m getting pretty good at this whole talking thing.

“Bitchin’ beavers, what kind of demon are you?” He replies, sounding surprised. “You have the worst smoker’s lung I’ve ever heard!”

“I’m mildly insulted, but I feel we have better things to talk about. I need to know I can trust you before I go waltzing off into the woods with you. Who sent you?”

The old man throws his hands up in exasperation. “Look, I’m sorry for being rude. Honestly, no one sent me. I snorted some Phernic Root and dreamed up some girls telling me to come here. The fact that I’m talking to you tells me I’m still high, more than anything else.”

His hesitance makes me feel really awkward. He’s probably the one Carnachius and Melanoche sent, but this stoner doesn’t seem to know any more than I do. I flex, trying to relieve some of the tension I feel. Damn it, who’s in charge here? “You don’t seem especially competent,” I say curtly. “I’m sure you’re here for me, but I’m not feeling particularly social. If you don’t have anything to offer besides weed and conversation I think we’re done here.”

After staring blankly for a few seconds, the man starts to get up and leave. Walking towards the door, he turns to look where I’m hiding for just a moment. Then, there at the threshold, he stops. He fidgets and taps his foot. “If you’ll humor me for just a moment, I have something to ask. You don’t need to answer, I’m just curious.” He stops to take another hit off his blunt. “What are you doing after this? Are you heading somewhere?”

His question surprises me almost as much as his willingness to leave. His nonchalance gives the impression of him needing to do something. I feel bad keeping him waiting. I don’t have anything special to do when he leaves. I just sat here for who knows how long. “I… don’t know where I would go.” I tell him honestly. I’m lost out here, and he’s probably my best bet of knowing anything about where I’m going.

He answers with a dry chortle as he turns to face into the room again. “Hehehe, kid, I’ve seen a lot of people like you. I don’t know if there’s much I can do for you, but I know one thing at least. You need to get out of this dump.” He starts to tap out and put away his pipe. “I’ll tell you what. Just a little northeast of here there’s a little hut that I live in. If you ever change your mind, just go find me there.”

This sucks. I don’t like this. “No, wait.” I slide out of where I’m hiding, then begin a bit of an awkward shuffle over towards him. For some reason I find it difficult to walk like an ordinary human. Because I can manipulate my limbs freely I have no need of knees, so I either glide like some sort of alien or hobble along as if I’ve been crippled. Eventually though, I manage to walk out where this man can see me. “I changed my mind. Take me with you.”