Private Tales Bodies in the bog

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Bog Woman

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Cold air hung over the bog. Patches of mist moved slowly over this flat area. People used to live around here. As seen by the presence of pieces of wood and planks sticking here, and there. Sometimes set up as a safe path through the bog. The bog, where a patch of moss is a fake safety and with a step on it you would immediately sink into the mud below. Some might have suffered that fate. But others were thrown in after betrayal by a companion.
Fact is that many beings have lost their lives in these lands. These lands that have already existed since a time long gone. But to lose life in one certain pool was different. A ritual with lost lives as it's fuel has been ongoing for ages. As just one more life passes as it reaches its bottom, something stirs awake, to life.
Crawling its way out of the pool it sits down. Covered in mud and grime, you could hardly tell what it was. And it thought, if thinking was something a thing like this could do.
To move, accomplished.
To change, this is already a change?
To live? How does one live?
Its movement costs it its time.
But the one behind the ritual is long gone. And with them the guidance this was supposed to receive.

It sat there, in the near-empty bog.
 

Grayhorn

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Humans had told Grayhorn of a place of mud and water and treasure! Great treasure. Treasure for a komodi. It was exciting news. He was sure to thank his new friends who had told him and made his way off to this treasure mud bog. Perhaps he could find what he was looking for there. At the least he would find treasure!

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After all of that traveling Grayhorn had made it to the bog. But he was cold. It was cold here. He didn't mind the mud or the water or the bugs trying to bite through his scales (which they couldn't manage). The komodi was use to being covered in mud and ash and leaves after all. But he didn't like the cold. He liked it warm. He liked fire. Hopefully he found fire soon.

It was during his hunt for warmth that Grayhorn stumbled into the ruins of a town. He could tell the sticks use to belong to buildings. It had been cut, a bit sloppily, against the grain and then treated, very thoroughly, to delay rot. But there was no one in this lost town..... Or so he had thought.

The komodi spotted someone in the mud. A smile crossed his toothy mouth. With eager steps he trundled his way through the mud to his newest friend. As he did he began to wave at them and yell, "Hello new friend! You have fire?"

Bog Woman
 

Bog Woman

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It sat, for a long, long while already when the komodi came up to it. What were those noises? Fire?

The mud and grime-covered thing tilted its head. The movement makes a bit of mud fall off, and with it a piece of gold from an earring that came loose from its soft chain.

Grayhorn
 

Grayhorn

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The komodi had reached his new friend fairly quickly. Then he just stood by them and waited. She seemed busy. Best not to bother them. But he could help if they needed it. Yes. He would help if they asked or looked like they needed it.

Eventually his friend moved and a bit of their mud cover fell off, along with their earring. Grayhorn bent down and picked up both. He gently put their mud back on their head and then went about trying to get the earring back in place.

As he did this the komodi said, "Helping friend. Stand still. Done soon."

Grayhorn even gave them another toothy smile as if that would make any normal person feel more at ease.

Bog Woman
 

Bog Woman

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Stand still, Stand still the komodi said to the thing that didn't even breathe. It stood still as the komodi put back on the mud, and the earring. And it thought.

And it attempted to smile back, the lips moving unaturally, to reveal the not stained ivorybellow, mimicking a similar shape to the komodi friend. And then it took some of the mud from the ground and gently put it on the komodi's horn.

Grayhorn
 

Grayhorn

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Grayhorn's new friend smiled to him! He had done it! They were feeling better now. They also put mud on one of his horns. It must be a local tradition for friendship and thanks. He must be respectful and do the same for them.

So the komodi smiled to his new friend while he gathered up some mud. Then he placed some of it on them and smoothed it out. After doing this he said, "Friend."

Then the komodi pointed to himself. "Grayhorn." He pointed to them. "You?"

Grayhorn was proud of himself. He was following local customs and had made a new friend. They were even having a conversation. This was a good day. Perhaps they would have time for him too. Most of his new friends were so busy and needed him to go away after his hello.

Oh no! Perhaps he was taking up this new friend's time and they were being too polite to let him know.

No, no. New friends always let him know they were too busy for him. It was okay. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

Bog Woman
 

Bog Woman

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It formed its mouth back to its original state, it is simpler like this, easier. And the komodi put more mud on its head, so it was about to do the same again, when the komodi spoke.

I thought for a while. And then it pointed at itself, and then at the komodi. Words to it still felt so distant to it, not fully understanding them, but actions for now felt more concrete.

Is this more change?

Grayhorn
 
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Grayhorn

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New friend began to point. At them self. At Grayhorn. No words though. Seemed like new friend didn't walk much. That was fine. Some people were not talkers. Grayhorn didn't talk much. But he also didn't have anyone to talk to most of the time.

Was that new friends problem? They didn't have anyone to talk to?

Then the komodi came to a realization! His new friend was playing a game. They wanted him to try and guess their name. It was like a riddle. He loved riddles. Riddles was how he got his sword and key, his most prized and only possessions. Outside his clothes. But clothes were just so friends didn't scream and run from him. It upset them for some reason when he was naked.

So the komodi began to try and figure out his new friend's name. He got his serious thinking face on and everything. His eyes wandered around the place. Mud. Mud. Plank. Mud. Not many hints. He looked to new friend for clues. Mud. Clothes. Shiny things. Mud. Nothing there either.

Then another realization struck him. New friend wasn't asking him to guess their name. They were asking for his real name. His komodi name.

Grayhorn's eyes widened and his brows rose. How did they know?

How rude of him! He gave new friend the wrong name.

The komodi pointed to his new friend and then to himself the way they had. As he did he said, "Farrah."

Good. Now new friend wouldn't be upset with him for being rude.

The komodi smiled.

Bog Woman
 

Bog Woman

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The pointing was done, and now it just stared at the komodi.

There was quite a bit of silence. Where the sounds that the komodi was making important? Was it supposed to also make a sound?
As that thought went by the komodi made a face. the sounds were probably an important part.

The komodi again pointed at the new friend, and then at itself, making a sound again.

So, it pointed at the komodi. Then at itself, while opening it's mouth.

CRACK

the audible sound of bone breaking was the only thing that came out.

Good, it made a sound.

Grayhorn
 
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Grayhorn

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New friend responded!

Grayhorn smiled his sharp toothed smile at them still. They were smiling back so he should not stop.

But what did new friend's actions mean? They didn't speak to him when he gave his name. Had he done something wrong? Were they not giving him their name because he was bad?

Smiles meant good. Smiles meant happy. Yes, new friend was happy with Grayhorn not mad. Smiles meant they weren't sad. No mad. No sad. Only glad. He was doing right and good.

Then it struck him. New friend was also named Farrah! That was it. They didn't say anything because they shared a name. Strange new muddy human friend had a komodi name. But Grayhorn had a human name. The short humans named him Grayhorn. Why could muddy human friend not also have komodi name too?

"Farrah." Grayhorn said to his new friend. "Our name good."

So the komodi bend over and embraced his new friend and lifted them up into the air in a big, scaly, unasked for hug.

Bog Woman