Author note: Heya, dearest readers! Ready for some more Jan craziness? This time, there's homage to a worldwide famous horror novelist.
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When the men reached the river, Ulric split from the group without a word, walking upstream, while Griff took the path leading downstream. Sarevok frowned "Where are they going?". "Both of them have taken to bathing alone these last months", Swire replied with a shrug, "I have no idea why. If they bathed together, I could take a guess, but as it is, your guess is as good as mine".
"Maybe they just value their privacy", Jan said, "My third-removed cousin H. P. Jansencraft, who was quite the famous writer by the way, you know? He wrote a lot of horror stories about an ancient pink rabbit-like monster named Cthurnip that has two heads, one of an orange and green griffin and the second of a blue-skinned boar with the whiskers of a hamster and the tentacled mouth of an Illithid, which makes people go mad and dislike turnips by obsessively repeating the words 'ph'ngnose moglw'nether Cthurnip R'ygriffin wgah'nagarden fhtagnome' and lives in...".
"Jan". "Yes, Binky?". "Can you please get to the point before we all die of old age?". "Of course, of course. As I was saying, he loved his privacy, maybe a bit too much, since he became a sort of hermit who lived in a house made entirely of turnip peels and had a guard-griffin...". "A what?", Swire asked, baffled.
"Why, a guard-griffin! It's a griffin trained to be a guard-dog and trust me when I say it's much more effective against thieves than a common dog, apart from the little inconvenience of its habit to poop while on flight which can be quite annoying if you happen to be right under it at the worst time, but really, it's a great way to keep your belongings and your life safe, at least if you're not a Gnome, because unfortunately griffins seem to find Gnome meat extremely appetizing and so, poor H. P. ended up being eaten by his pet. Such a shame", Jan concluded, shaking his head sadly.
Anomen chuckled as he saw the pained look on Swire's face, "You asked". "I did", the other man nodded and judging from his grimace, he deeply regretted his mistake.
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Griff took off his clothes, starting with his boots and going upwards, but he hesitated before taking off his shirt: last time he had accidentally touched his neck, the shot of pain had nearly brought him to his knees. He inhaled deeply, closed his eyes, steeled himself and unbuttoned the collar, which brushed against his skin... And his eyes flew open in surprise as he felt nothing, "What...?", he tentatively touched the side of his neck, expecting to find the swollen bubo, the unmistakable sign that he had contracted the plague, but his fingers found only smooth skin.
His heart hammering in his chest, he quickly took a small mirror out of his pack and checked his reflection, desperately wanting to believe but still afraid of being proven wrong, but there was no mistaking what he saw on the polished surface: the bubo was gone. There was no trace it had even been there to being with, no blisters, no bruises, nothing.
Griff took a trembling breath and fell to his knees, tears of joy running down his face, "Thank you", he whispered happily, "Thank you, thank you, thank you...". He didn't know how, but he didn't care. He was safe and that was all that mattered.
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Ulric stripped quickly, moved until he was waist-deep into the cold water of the stream and began washing himself with a rag, but when his hand approached his left side, he hesitated for a brief moment: he knew all too well what was there and how much it would hurt to touch it, even lightly.
He pursed his lips with stubborn determination and brushed the rag on the skin, bracing himself for the inevitable pain that always came from that accursed black bubo, but all that he felt was the roughness of the cloth. His forehead creased in a puzzled frown, he bent his head to look at that spot...
And his eyebrows shot up as he saw that there was no bubo at all.
He blinked once, twice, half-expecting it to reappear before his eyes at any moment, but his skin remained unblemished. "A miracle", he breathed, awed. In his opinion, it could be nothing else: God had obviously wanted to test his faith by having him contract the deadly plague and since he had never wavered, the Lord had rewarded his loyalty by lifting the curse.
"I will be worthy of Your mercy", the knight promised solemnly, looking up at the sky as a single tear of relief and gratitude trailed down his cheek, "I will never disappoint You, my Lord, this I swear". The sunlight seemed to intensify for a fleeting moment and a small, happy smile curved Ulric's lips, "I am Your humble servant", he said, bowing his head, then he resumed his bath, a renewed sense of purpose filling him: his Lord had granted him life and he would not squander that gift.
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The men returned to the campsite and found the ladies chatting and giggling like schoolgirls, though they fell silent as soon as they spotted the guys. "You weren't gossiping about us, were you, beloved?", Anomen asked good-naturedly and his wife shook her head. "No, honey, we were just sharing old stories of our childhood", she answered sincerely, "Sekhmet told us a very interesting tale concerning a stuffed rabbit, some rope, pepper, molasses and a hive of bees...", she shared a look with Imoen and Sekhmet and all three of them burst out laughing again.
Jan beamed like sunshine, "So you're a storyteller as well, Sammy?", he asked eagerly, sitting down at the Thayan's side, "Care to share? Come on, don't leave me hanging!". "I for one would be quite happy to leave you hanging, Gnome", Sarevok commented, though his amused grin took away the bite from his words, "Preferably by your neck and from a very high tree". The illusionist didn't even bat an eyelid at that, "Oh, you say so, but I know that deep down you're fond of me, Binky", he replied and the Deathbringer rolled his eyes. "Keep on telling yourself that".
Sekhmet shrugged, "Oh, it's just an old prank we - Edwin and I - pulled on a noble guy whose House was in a rivalry with our own. You see, his daughter was an obnoxious little spoiled bitch and we'd just had a fight over a toy: she insisted on claiming it was her own, when in truth it was Edwin's and of course her useless simian of a father took her side and stole it from my sweetie, so we decided to take vengeance on him, that's all".
The Gnome frowned, "That's all? But dear girl, this is not how you tell a story! You need to catch the audience's attention and...". "Jan, please, I don't think this is the right moment for such tales. I promise I'll share it with you as soon as we're back home, okay? Now I just want to resume our journey, I've had enough of sitting around idly", she gently cut him off, standing and stretching in a very sensual way and out of the corner of her eye, she caught most of the terrestrial men staring at her and smiled to herself.
Her good humor vanished as soon as she realized that Dalywag was staring at her as well, with a lewd glint in those beady eyes of his and a disturbing smile on his lips: that guy was definitely going to be a pain in the arse at some point. A wistful sigh escaped her at the thought that, were they in her homeland, a well-placed fireball would have been enough to solve the problem for good and nobody would have so much as blinked, given her status both as a noblewoman and a high priestess of Kossuth.
"You have a beautiful pendant", Griff's voice startled her. The Thayan smiled and brushed the firestone gem with gentle reverence, "Well, thank you, but it's not just a shiny trinket: I wear it as a symbol of my devotion to my Lord". "Then we have something in common", Ulric said, "I too wear a symbol to mark me as the bishop's envoy and a servant of the Church", he added, slipping a hand inside the front of his shirt and taking out of it a chain, from which hung a small iron pendant: it was circular and had a small cross with a black outline engraved in the centre, surrounded by an outer ring of black drops.
"It's lovely", she commented, moving very close to him and bending slightly forward under the pretence to better see the pendant, "A simple yet sharp design, not garish at all, but charming and radiating a sense of strength...Just like the man who wears it", she added, shooting him a small yet warm smile, "It's really a nice work".
There was a moment of silence, then Imoen spoke up, eyes wide, "Is that all? No long-winded speech on how much better Thayan goldsmiths are? Not even a little mention of the undeniable superiority of Thay?", she asked, surprised and the Firewalker shrugged with an amused smile. "Thayan goldsmiths are excellent, that's for sure, but I can't deny that there are capable artisans also in other countries", she replied.
"Wow. This is…Wow", the pink-haired thief shook her head in disbelief, "If this is the effect the climate of this place has on you, ya'd better move in permanently, Sek". Sekhmet blushed slightly and shot a quick look at Ulric, "Well…I, uhm, I'll think on it. Let's just go now, shall we?", she said, then she walked forward at a fast pace, the others following suit.
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The reference is to Howard P. Lovecraft and his stories about the monster Cthulhu. The words in bold in the chapter are a mockery of the original words from his novel "The call of Chtulhu", which are: «ph'nglui mglw'nafh Chtulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn»