Mibby went to the Saymon's old cabin on the shore of the Lake of Cards. The Saymons had owned this two bedroom cabin on the shore for decades before they either died or moved on. No one knows for sure what happened to them. Said to be a friendly family who would lend helping hands to neighbors. There is something special, magical about this lake. The local lore has it that the family would go there for the weekends, or just the father and his friends. Or the son and his party buddies. A weekend of beer and fishing and playing cards after sunset. When they would go home they would always cast the cards they used for the weekend into the lake off the deck of they're cabin. Whatever happened the lake has tens of thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of cards floating in it. The lake is always still. The waters always clear. Good to drink, folks normally bring a pitcher of it back home for medicinal needs. Cards wash ashore after moon lit nights. But there's always cards in the water like stars in the sky. Mibby used to stay here for the weekend sometimes with his older brother when he was a kid. He would walk along the beaches picking up cards. All sorts of different decks, some of them where naked lady decks! What a turn on, he would try to keep those cards secret from his religious brother. His brother was of the strict Thou-Shalts sect. He would make card houses with the cards but his brother would never let him take them home. Its bad luck he would say, bad form.
It was the cold rainy days before spring. Mibby liked coming here for a few days, sometimes even a couple weeks. He didn't have a job. He would bring some food and beer. Keep the brews perfectly chilled in the water. He likes to hang out burning wood and hard dense dry plants he gathered to keep warm. Often times there would be plenty of chopped wood or gathered up drift wood and debris to start a fire. People would leave things after staying here for themselves if they return or for who ever comes here next. Mibby has found beer and wine waiting for him, dried meats, packs of potato chips. This time Mibby brought a big block of cheese. Mibby had some Murple berries he had gathered from the woods. There's lots of things to eat around here is you spend enough time looking. They have a acidic tartness to them. A sweet slap in the mouth. He would fish every day but so far he has only caught a nearly clear fish with bright blue gills. The fish the length of this thumb, a little fatter. he cooked it with the gear that is always here. Make a fire, prepare fish with knife, grease the pan with some mostly dried MaMooska fat somebuddy kindly left. The fish has a natural peppery taste. Not very filling so Mibby has a chunk of cheese with it. Its raining outside a cold rain and a moaning haunting wind. The wind gets through the many holes and cracks in the cabin. Someone tossed rocks threw most of the windows since the last time he was here. Fists of cold comes through the hole in the spider webbed glass.
When the morning comes and a little warmth returns Mibby goes outside to fish some more. Fishing is a form of meditation for him somehow. The gentle rippling sounds of water that never seems to move. He found a Elvin arrowhead on the shore. A beautiful red one with glistening mineral coated green lines making random etched looking patterns. Ornately carved. A real work of art.
Omrow shivered when the cold rain began soaking though his clothes. Looks like its going to rain really hard, the sky a cob web of crackling flashes. A minutes walk ahead lightning struck a tree leaving it scorched and blackened, sagging at a precarious angle. He knew about the Cabin that was not far from here, he just had to follow the rain puddled road, walking around the gathering pools. Down the road till he sees that tall burial mound. Another sign of the Elvin lands taking by force a couple generations ago. It probably won't be long before the mound is cleared away for a food market or a race track. The trees here are constant but never too thick. It's easy to walk around the small clusters. Panties, empty cigarette paper packs, crushed beer cans here and there almost like a path to the cabin. Lots of kids party here. Too bad people don't treat the place with the respect they used to. Omrow is not from Arloban, the territory where this lake is in. He is from South Field. But people from all over know about the place. It has sheltered many a traveler.
Farson was a hunter from Terreck. With shotgun, bow and trusty knife he would walk the lands. Some times when he is up on cash he drives his four wheeler. He loves drunken night hunting. He sells fresh meat to the folks of Arloban and South Field. Farson has hunted and killed people before. He even killed an old Elf he encountered in the woods. She was probably the last one within a few hundred miles. Farson was wasted on a sour home made whiskey. Most people can't drink it because it eats away the stomach lining. But Farson has the constitution of a goat. The stuff is cheap, he likes it when he has money. He can put a big heavy jug on it on the four wheeler and drive around shooting whatever moves in the fields and woods and grass lands. But now he is on to some special game. Maybe the best thing that could ever happen to him! He caught sight of a Spirit Deer! A almost mythical animal thought to be extinct. The Elves revered them and they never hunted the Spirit Deer. But the pelt of such an animal could fetch him twenty five thousand dollars! The pelts have healing anti-aging properties. He saw the animal drinking from the river. He didn't have his shotgun ready because he was busy unscrewing his flask for another long pull of sour whiskey. When he brought this cup down he saw the deer! Plump, thick perfect succulence and strong. A faint yellow glow from its body, brighter almost orange around its horns. The Spirit deer raised its head and look at Farson with KNOWING eyes. It turned and ran. Farson is fast with his gun, he spun it around on his shoulder strap, flicked the safety and opened fire. But the two shots he got in only grazed it. He found drops of a blue dew like blood going off in the woods near the Aroban border and he pursued it. The animal's hoof prints are larger then a deer's and they are heart shaped. He was able to follow the strange tracks for miles before losing them on a long sandy stretch where dust devils rise and moan the songs of the long dead. A track of sand that is ever expanding, it shall in the far future/distant past be known as The Moaning Desert. The non stop moaning winds that seem to have voices and sometimes you seem to catch words or whole phrases in weird melodies like a forgotten musical language.
Farson knows beyond this is the Lake of Cards. Surrounded by lush woods and swampy grasslands full of colorful snakes. Farson thinks that's where the Spirit deer is bound. But there's a storm coming. He can tell from the scent its going to be a rough one. The winds are picking up and the air feels moist. He decides to wait it out at the Cabin. He has spent up to a couple months in the cabin. He can make a deer stand a comfy home so the cabin is like luxury to him.
Its going to be time to move on soon, thinks Mibby. He stays here at the cabin often. Sometimes his stay is interrupted by others who have arrived to stay here. He has met a lot of interesting folks here. Mibbs likes to stay here until his food runs out. He is a three hour walk from home. When he gets hungry enough he leaves. But the Murple berries are running low. He eats a couple has he counts the remaining. So good! You got to make a face with each tart sweet bite. The juice is like a dusty candy from another age. He has fourteen berries left. He shall eat these by the end of tomorrow morning. Then he shall move on. Lightning flashes through the windows and the wind is picking up. Looks like a storm is fixing to hit. Mibby puts the rest of the drift wood on the fire to warm the place up. It will probably get pretty chilly over night. At least Mibby will leave some lamp oil behind. Its always good to leave something for the next person if you take something that was left by a earlier traveler. The wind is really picking up now. The air wet with mist. Farson walks a little faster. Soon rain begins pelting down hard and relentless. Thunder shaking the earth and lightning searing the sky. Miserable cold rain, making his clothes adhere to him. Along the way Farson finds a hard barked Nut apple. The only one left on a great tree fixing to come to life for spring and produce them anew. This one is the size on his fist. He stands under a thick branched tree for enough rain block to get his knife out and cut and peel away the thorny hard bark. Witches make medicinal with the bark. But Farson just throws the bits on the ground till the Nut apple is cleared. It has a hard chewy smoky taste. It the center is a soft nut with a jelly like liquor in its center. This is good stuff! He likes these fruits. By early summer the trees are thick with them. Farson has arrived at the cabin. He sees smoke rising from the chimney. He eats the hard fruit a little faster as he approaches to peer into one of the windows. He sees a lean young man writing in a note book by oil lamp light. Farson steps out of site from the window to finish the fruit free of the pelting rain and free of this man seeing the fruit. No need to risk being asked to share. Farson is still really hungry. He has ignored other game chasing that damn Spirit Deer. Maybe this fellow has some grub on him. Maybe he has other things of value that Farson might just want to have for himself.
Farson cleans his fruit colored fingers by holding his hands cupped to gather rain and then drying wiping them on his shirt. Farson opens the cabin door with a loud slam and yells "Hey Hey!". Mibby jumps up with a start dropping his book. He looks at the wild looking man all soaking wet. Big floppy leather hat on his head, camo hunting outfit and blood and mud caked deer leather boots. "You startled the hell out of me". Mibby says.
"What the fuck do you think your doing trespassing in my fishing cabin!", Farson barks while taking his hat off to shake the rain off. His head is clean shaven. Mibby has long yellow hair braided into two long tails.
"I knew the people who owned this place. After they where no longer around its been a place where people from all over stay to fish or rest from their travels. No one owns this place". Mibby tells the big scruffy redneck.
The hunter laughs as he plops down in one of the wooden chairs. "yeah, I was just fucking with ya". Farson's eyes fall on the Murple berries that Mibby has on the table. "Man, I'm hungry, You mind if I have a berry?", He asks as he puts on in his mouth.
Omrow was hurrying now, feet nearly slipping out from under him in the muddy path. The soon to leaf branches bending back from the intense rain. He saw the cabin ahead. Beyond it, that mystic lake, the cards like a frosting of snow on top. He knocked at the door. Mibby looked at farson, who just shook his head and grinned as if to say, "Hey its your place I'm just a guest here". Mibb's carved stone braids clicked like a tiny windchime as he got up to open the door. Omrow smiled and bowed, shaking as much wetness off in the doorway before coming in. Mibby went back to the table. he noticed that there are only nine berry's left now and Farson appears to have two in his mouth as we speak. Three strangers sat facing each other. "Hello, my name is Onrow. I am traveling back to my home in South Field the rain has driven me here for shelter.".
"I'm Mibby, I live a few miles north of here. I've been camping out here since I was a little boy". They shook hands. Onrow was shaven headed like Farson, but he had long long black oiled pony tail that nearly touched the back of his knees. He wore a road stained white robe with spiritual symbols on it. He must be of the Gowlolo faith.
"Man, I'm starved!", Farson announced as he reached for another helping of berries. But Mibby pulled them away. "Since Mibbs over here is getting all selfish have you got anything to eat holy man?", Farson grinned to Omrow.
"I do have something, but I think we should have contribute what little we have". Omrow pulled out a hard piece of bread, condensed for sustenance while traveling. It has good nutritional value but its hard and bland. But the seven inch wedge with its edges baked black and its deep brown root cellar like scent appealed to all three of them right now. Three stomachs churning with desire.
"I have a few berries left, most having disapeared down this Farson cat's belly without him happening to ask it he may have em", Mibby said jokingly but his anger showed through.
"I ain't got nothing myself or I would put it on the table. Well anyway, lets eat!". Farson reached for a berry.
"Wait a minute man", Onrow faces Farson with a calm detached but amused face, "I smell thunderjerky on you".
"Oh that, well I um, I forgot I had it on me". Farson seems put out as he brings out a Yellow bird. This bird was struck by lightning as it sat on a tree branch. Cooked and transformed into jerky. These electricity prepared meals are sometimes found after a storm. The bird smells savory on the table next to the berries and bread.
"O k, now before we go eating high speed gets the most lets divide everything up equally so no one gets less then the other". Mibby nods his head in agreement but Farson protests that they are trying to cheat him out of "His fair share". Finally its agreed on and the small meals are divided equally. Omrow reaches into a pocket. He pulls out a small bright green bottle. It is the length of his thumb. Very fancy looking. "This is Elvin wine". Omrow tells them. He pours them each one drop. The green drop in each cup gives off a robust fruity scent.
"What the fuck is this shit?". You think we can get a buzz off a rain drop there holy man?", Farson asks in outrage.
"This is Elvin wine", Omrow repeats. "do you not know of the properties of liquors made by Elves?".
"I guess not there, Saint", Farson said, glancing at Mibbie who seems completely absorbed by the drop, he is sniffing the bowl of the cup to savor that fruity essence.
"How do you drink this stuff, just tip it back?", He asks.
"No, It is very strongly concentrated. You fill the cup with clear cold lake water from that pitcher and it will mix itself". Mibby poured his cup full and the drop expands to a beautiful green shaded wine. He sipped it. Sweet! So fruity and pungent, like sucking the juice out of the fruits of Eden. "If you want to one up that then drop one of your Murple's into the drink". Farson drops a murple berry into the green wine. The wine froths and turns white and milky. Then it recedes and the berry is completely dissolved. Strong berry odar, savory. Farson downs half the cup and licks his lips.
"Holy hell that's a great tasting drink!", He says in joy. Mibby drops a berry into his wine and they watch it rapidly get broken down into a rich flavor to savor savor.
Not long after that everyone's got a strong buzz. Farson is talking loud. Gesturing with his hands. "So what brings you to the cabin Omrow?", Mibby asked.
"I am of the Gowlolo Faith. We roam the lands and try to take in, understand everything. We observe and record what we see. Spirit scribes. I went to The Wild Lands to observe a religious festival there. I barely escaped alive." He poured everyone another drop of his Elvin wine.
"How many drops you got left in there?", Farson asked greedily.
"What happened at the Festival?", Mibbs asked.
"A lot of drinking. Whooping. Dancing in sinister masks. Drinking blood of sacrificial victims. This was on Tekor island. Still inhabited by a hostile savage Man/Elf hybrid. They would have killed me if not for the fact that I have a little elf heredity myself. These are a people who have never used a gun or heard a electric guitar. The Nisquiki tribe. Once a powerful and brutal nation. Now its down to a couple hundred or less living on that island. They have a reddish orange skin that is believed to be a medical cure for cancer and people sometimes try to hunt them to this day. Most who try die. The festival went for for three days and nights. Getting wilder and wilder. Playing drums and human bones, howling convulsing. open sex. Naked bodies all over. I had a lot of sex that night. That and the cups of a green/black broth they where passing around. The stuff was a stimulant with hallucinatory effects. The last night was like a fever. I saw people killed. They where killing prisoners. Captives from Terreck and the Wild Lands. They where killing each other. When one of them suddenly tackled me with a snarl it was like a feeding frenzy! I was off islander and they wanted to rip me apart. Some of these savage festers where friends of mine hours ago. I fought free of the biting kicking man and I ran. Spears flying around me. But I didn't give them time to get to their arrows. They where all really fucked up at this point. Many of them could hardly walk let alone run. It was not too hard to get away. I'll never go back there again."
[missing audio: The Cursed Lands.mp33]
"Are you still planning on hunting the Spirit Deer?", Mibby asked Farson. Everyone was pleasantly buzzed off a couple drops of the Elvin wine. Mibby felt good. A little drunk but energized. The perfect drink to share while talking through a raining evening.
"Yeah, I'm going to get it. Even if I have to follow it another three months!", Farson said. "Then I'll be rich and famous and you all can kiss-my-Ass!". With that he got up and he started foraging around for something else to eat. Mibbie explained to him that he had already searched the place high and low for food but Farson kept at it. He returned to the table with a salt and pepper shaker. He mixed a tiny pile of it in his hand and licked it up. "Not bad, its something", He explained. Lightning lit up Omrow's face as he said, "That deer is a sacred animal. If you do get a chance and I'm around I won't let you kill it". His calm voice after the crack of thunder.
"Bring it on preacher Monk!", Farson challenged, thrusting his hips vulgarly while grabbing his crotch.
"What other strange or scarce animals have you all seen?", Mibby asked trying to deflate a potential fight. He did not trust that Farson a bit. So a conversation started about strange animals.
"Hell, I live three doors down from a Dwarf! Not that I'm home very often", Farson said. Mibby and Omrow sparked up with interest. "Yep the little bastard comes about up to me belly button, or my dick when its full up", Farson brags. Mibby had the feeling he was not exaggerating abut any of this current round. He wears this crazy floppy leather hood with little silver bells surrounding it. But he's good people. He can drink most folks under the table and keep on going. I've never lost a drinking contest to anyone, even if I ended blacking out as a result. But Gelvurdi, the drawf beats me every single time. I once saw he suck a fresh keg dry without taking the tap from his mouth. Granted he did throw up that night but still."
"Dwarves are a on the way to extinction", Omrow said. "Drink and greasy fatty foods. Donuts by the barrel full. So much drinking that some resort to stealing to keep the drunk going. Their was thousands of them just three hundred years ago. Now the population is down to a estimated 700. And most the dwarf men have lost interest in breeding with dwarf maidens and they want human chicks instead. No births can result from this kind of union. Unlike Elves who can freely interbreed with men".
"I'm one Eighth Elf", Mibby chimed in. Farson gave him a distasteful look. This led of a short and heated debate on whether or not non-Human's are or are not "animals". To get the conversation more neutral again Mibby asked. What other odd creatures of things have you all seen?".
"Most people go their whole lives without seeing a MaMooska. I have seen a few and I even hunted and killed one. Not good eating, those things are too gassy. Those low fuckers are hard to kill too. I shot the one I hunted 12 times with my shotgun. Then I began using my long jagged knife to cut up its internal organs that circle it's low round furry bulk. It took about forty five minutes of slashing to bring the creature down. All that work for greasy methane meat".