Private Tales The Old Man and the...Owl?

[Volker]

Volker was settled quietly onto a small shaft of dry land. He had built a decent bed from sticks, and had dried moss by his fire to make sure it was soft and dry. He laid in it like a dog with a bed, his chin settled on the edge. An oilcloth was pulled over his head and the nest, keeping him dry while he watched rain pound the swampy water around him.

The Cortosi Coast was known for small inlets, but the salt marshes gave way to freshwater only a few miles inland. From there it was deep peat bog as far as the eye could see. Volker only liked it because Oor hated it. Volker could appreciate the soft roar of the rain, the sound keeping his wraith master far away from him.

In the distance he could see huge shapes moving through the water. Occasionally they would bend down, dredging deep into the wet water and emerging with crawfish, toads, mushrooms and fresh plant life. One in particular had huge tusks, longer than Volker was tall, and was plunging them deep into the water. He brought up salt and mineral rich clay from the sea up to the surface for himself and the women around him. Volker made a note to check the area when they were done. The trolls avoided him, and he they.

The fire helped equalize them. Trolls were simultaneously able to rip his body in two, and succumb to a burn within minutes. As long as he had the fire they would peacefully watch the other. The male troll lifted his tusks to him, raising them so he could see. Volker didn’t move. He well understood the threat.

Kikwi

 

[Kikwi]

On the other side of the fire, two large yellow eyes peered out into the rain from beneath not one, not two, but three thick blankets. The pupils were open wide against the darkness, and he could see the trolls in reasonable clarity despite their distance. The eyes blinked slowly, with heavy, feather-lashed lids. It was late.

Kikwi yawned and clicked his tiny beak a few times. He wanted nothing more than to continue watching the big, betusked creatures, but he was so sleepy. It had been a tiring trip to the marshes, and while Volker had done the majority of the walking after the mud became too deep for Kikwi to wade through, it wasn't all easy clinging to the man's shoulders for hours.

It was a mercy that the little kenku could not smell. The peat bogs were not known for their pleasing aromas.

 

[Volker]

Volker wasn’t so much afraid of the trolls. He respected them, but they wouldn’t attack out of nowhere. It was the breeding season, with all the wet, and bull trolls would begin to fight each other for women. Ambitious bachelors would attempt to woo away the daughters of such harems to start their own. Even in such a miserable place life was all around them. Even, it seemed, in their own camp.

Volker heard a noise and slowly turned his head. A small figure was holding a leaf sprig above its little head, and staring at them. About the height of a palm, the mushroom was clearly some sort of morel. The tiny eyes just below the membranous hat made the darkened tip look more like an extravagant hat. Volker saw the little fellow hold his leaf umbrella, and move to inspect Kikwi.

The little owl was tired, and didn’t seem to want to crawl into Volker’s nest where it was warm and dry. It also meant the myconid was able to get quite close. Volker saw it peer under a fold in the blankets, reach out and pet a feather with a tiny hand. Then it grasped the feather, and yanked sharply.

Volker didn’t say a thing. Myconids were fairly harmless, and the little morel set the cushiony down feather by the fire. It sat on its improvised pillow, and watched them. Volker blinked at it. Hopefully it hadn’t plucked anything important.

Kikwi

 

[Kikwi]

Kikwi was exhausted, to the point that not even his sensitive ears picked out the tiny footsteps amidst the pattering rain. He was still doing his best to watch the trolls and commit their images to memory. It was too risky to try and make sketches now, the rain could ruin his notebook if he wasn't careful.

"EEP!" Kikwi jumped up to a sitting position, dislodging some of the blankets from his head. His head whirled around in surprise, sure that something sinister had bitten him. It took him three sweeps before he realized that the small mushroom in front of him had not been there before, and that it was holding his feather.

His beak open wide in a silent gasp of astonishment, Kikwi was frozen with the joy of a new discovery. "Volker!" he whispered with hoarse excitement. "Look look look!"

His head was steadily getting wetter, and his feathers were starting to mat down and reveal the true shape of his small head (mostly eyes, honestly), but Kikwi didn't notice. He was too busy seeing what the myconid would do with his feather.

 

[Volker]

Rheinhard cracked open an eye and looked at the myconid fluffing the little down feather and taking a seat next to the fire. “Myconid.” He grunted. “Can’t hurt you. They’re friendly to anything that doesn’t eat mushrooms. That’s just one. There will be more.” Volker yawned, and made an unusual squeaking noise between his lips. He sounded as though he was attempting to imitate a baby bird, or kitten squeal.

The myconid fired back with a series of undulating squeaks and flatulent noises, and peered at Kikwi. Another myconid, of similar height and build, came to warm himself by the fire. And another, smaller group with wide flat caps. There were about a dozen near the firelight, holding leaves to keep the wet away and looking at Kikwi and Volker.

One of them produced a tiny pink vial and offered it to Volker. Volker made a low fluttering flatulent noise, which was clearly a denial. The mushroom, miffed, wandered to Kikwi and held it up for him.

“Pink Slipper. They make it. He’s offering it in return for the warmth.” Volker explained without opening his eyes. Another mushroom wandered to Kikwi and offered him a tiny blue mushroom. Volker, however, was drifting off to sleep.

If Kikwi ate the mushroom, he’d soon find himself the same height as the myconids. If he drank the liquor, it was strong, tasting faintly of berries and lemon, and came with powerful body high effects.

Kikwi

 

[Kikwi]

"My...co...nid," Kikwi sounded out as he took the small vial daintily. He was overjoyed to see a second appear, and it took him a moment to regain his composure, pull the blanket back over his soggy head, and speak fully.

"Where do they procure the glass?" he wondered aloud to himself. "Perhaps it is found discarded. If they are fungal, surely they could not survive the heat of a furnace..." He often did this, speaking his thoughts to no one in particular.

"You are most welcome to join us," he said more clearly to the small creatures, indicating the fire and the semi-warm and lit area around it. He did not drink the mixture, however. Ever since a short series of events after coming to Elbion, Kikwi had made it a policy to analyze all unknown substances before ingesting them. He was already making a list of alchemists and professors that may be willing to help him.

Suddenly, he realized that Volker had spoken to them. "Where... how did you learn to speak to them? How did you know about these myconids at all?"

Following tradition, Kikwi's questions were blunt and tactless when he was truly curious. His mother had tried to instill a few manners into him but... well sometimes his mind came up with questions faster than he could control them.

 

[Volker]

He wasn’t about to get any rest under the onslaught of Kikwi’s curiosity, was he? He sat up properly and yawned, stretching his arms along the bottom of his nest like a cat. He settled his cloth around his shoulders and made sure that the nest wasn’t going to get dirty. The myconids offered him another slimy blue mushroom, and he took it in hand with a nod. If he felt like being their size, he would.

They seemed satisfied with the answer and laid the other mushroom at Kikwi’s feet. “I was raised in the Silent Court of the fae. My master is a wraith, and a mesial lord there. Myconids are citizens there, and produce liquor like that Pink Slipper coal you have. Since liquor is one of the few things the undead can ingest with impunity, they’re welcome there. I’d wager that is where they got the glass.” He explained.

Volker held up the mushroom. “If you want to speak to them properly and see them up close, you have to eat this. They are too small for us to hear them effectively, and our voices are booming.” He stood up and stepped out of his nest, making sure the oilcloth would keep it dry. He snorted, shaking his head and blinking away rain. The myconids looked up at him expectantly, and Volker knelt in front of them. He made a few noises.

The myconids chattered, and produced two small segments of pink mushroom. Volker gave Kikwi one. “To return to your normal size. Do not step on me.” Volker said sharply, and popped the blue mushroom into his mouth.

The world fell away, and the nest behind him became a giant dam of sticks and moss. Kikwi, a roc of inn-like proportions. The myconids were at his height now, and he at theirs. Volker nodded to them, and pocketed the pink segment of mushroom.

Kikwi

 

[Kikwi]

Kikwi leaned down a bit to look at his friend's new shape. His eye was easily half Volker's new height. He set aside his questions about the Silent Court, those would have to wait for a separate question-and-answer session with the man.

He looked at the mushrooms he now possessed. Volker seemed healthy enough after his transformation, and Kikwi did want to be able to speak to these creatures. He pocketed the pink mushroom securely and then, with a gulp and a hefty sigh, ate the blue one.

It tasted terrible, and Kikwi's face puckered so fiercely that by the time he managed to wrench open his eyes he was looking up at two very large mushrooms and a normal-sized Volker. He was also lying on a truly massive expanse of cloth. Mercifully, Kikwi's clothing and items seemed to have shrunk with him.

He hopped up and dusted himself off before remembering his manners. "H-hello! My name is Kikwi. Um, thank you for inviting me... down here." Clumsy, but it conveyed what he wanted to convey.

 

[Volker]

The myconids clapped as Kikwi and Volker became their size. They held leaves, now easily the size of wagon wheels, over their heads. Around them, the rain had turned from thick to thunderous, and one wondered just how in hell travel was possible this small. Volker cleared his throat, and nodded at Kikwi. “He is a researcher. He was curious about you. We came here to see the trolls.” He clarified.

One of the mushrooms bowed to them both with a smile. “We greatly appreciate the shelter and warmth.” He said in perfect Common. “We came here for the trolls too. They’re waiting for us. We just wanted the rain to stop. We can’t swim, and there are very big fish.”

Volker thought back to some of the bass in deeper ponds, and the catfish lurking along muddy banks. Not to forget the pike as well, with their ferocious teeth and endless appetites. The myconids’ fears were well-placed. Volker settled near the fire, and gestured to Kikwi. If he had questions, now was the time to ask them. The myconids tittered a bit; they thought the owl’s appearance a bit silly, clearly.

“Are you from the College of Elbion, or the University of Volta? We don’t meet people from far away very often.” A morel asked Kikwi with a friendly smile.

Kikwi

 

[Kikwi]

“Um, College of Elbion,” he answered. He did have many questions for them. So many, in fact, that they were all struggling to get out at once, and much like when too many people try to rush through a doorway at the same time, his thoughts had gotten rather stuck.

”Ah! Yes, there are very big fish here,” he suddenly realized the perils of becoming so much smaller, “But... what are you doing with the trolls? Do you know them? Do you see them often?” Through previous observation it was already clear that the trolls lived in almost symbiosis with much of the vegetation in the area, living so closely with it.

“And... I must ask what that lovely potion was that has allowed me to, er, ‘visit’ you?” Surely such a thing must be magical in nature, as he could not think of anything purely natural that would produce such effects. He resolved to try and save some, if the myconids would permit it, for experimentation upon his return.