The Diary of Gonzo Mallard

Part 1

War and gribbles in Eagle County

Waterday, Stasisweek, Stormseason, 601 TA – evening

I know I should feel honoured, an initiate of not even a year’s seniority chosen to represent my race at the coming discussions in Wheatley. But my first reaction was to quote the great Duck philosopher, Confusion – “Er… What?” I can only assume my Elders have scant interest in the talks but want someone there to ensure we Ducks are represented, even though Wheatley is far, far from the banks of the Desperada river and all things Duckish.

So I find myself, with credentials, in Wheatley, where the Senate has decided the talks will be hosted by Lord Harpyja, who it seems has a vested interest. People ask, “Are you with the Eidertown delegation”, I reply, “I am the Eidertown delegation”. Thanks to Lord Harpyja, the accommodations are most comfortable and the Great Hall of his manor house is magnificent.

I find my name at my place on a table in the corner. There’s going to be a big feast this evening, before the talks start tomorrow. The other delegates at my table introduce themselves as they take their seats. First is an extremely dangerous, three-armed gentleman with a disturbingly skinless face, Hannibal Letcher, a Phoenician. He introduces his master, Sir Piers Fletcher, who seems a bit of a clod but is with Lord Bustard’s delegation.

Another Phoenician in a white scarf with metallic skin and eagle legs introduces himself as Biggles of House Lancaster, which sounds very grand. Biggles serves our host, Lord Harpyja.

Corporal Sergei Kerensky is batman to Lord Flashheart, the delegate from the Mithras temple in The Eyrie, because the regiments expect to be serving in any offensive. Sergei is in full uniform, of course, and bears a red/green jewel in his forehead and has splendid tattoos on his forearms.

Finally, Deganawith, with no obvious Chaos features, is an Eagle barbarian with the Iroquois contingent. He seems very excited to be here, talking a lot about the ‘advances in lifestyle’ that ‘proper farming’ offers.

So the feast begins with the soup course. It seems reasonable but Hannibal fishes a spider out of his bowl. Then I’m distracted by an idiot behind me, at an adjacent table, who persistently asks what I think about various passages of The Ravings – I have no idea, of course but, attempting to be friendly, I try to draw parallels from Lunar Philosophy but somehow we just don’t have a meeting of minds. However, I do learn that he’s a Selenite settler, who arrived with the caravan from Helvetia last year. Thankfully, he’s shut up by the arrival of the main course.

Once the waiters clear the main course away (I thoroughly enjoyed the fish), Hannibal is coaxed, with considerable reluctance, to tell a surprisingly gripping tale about how he helped kill a gang of Tuskriders, last year.

Another waiter at the table behind trips over a chair leg and cuts himself badly on a plate that smashes when it hits the floor but Biggles dashingly springs to his aid and binds his wound.

Then our desert course arrives, but Sergei is nowhere to be found – someone mentions that he went off with a waitress. He gets back when everyone else is nearly finished, arriving just in time to stop his bowl being taken away but seems in very good humour despite this.

Shortly after, as drinks are being served and everyone is in a mellow mood, Lord Harpyja, as our host, rises and makes a short speech to introduce the subject of the talks, formally starting tomorrow, which are about forcefully annexing the lands of two Broo tribes (which he seems to take for granted) and the Scorpionman lands beyond, where the soil is deemed particularly fertile, ideal for cultivation. He receives warm applause and bids us a good night.

And so to bed!

Clayday, Stasisweek, Stormseason, 601 TA

So, after breakfast, we’re back in the Great Hall for the talks to start in earnest. Chief Hiawatha of the Iroquois opens with a review of recent history…

The last year or so has seen two events of note. First was the arrival of the caravan bringing Selenites and Mataris fleeing persecution in Helvetia, hundreds of miles to the west, after trekking through the Chaos Zone. They were settled on some sparsely populated land and the Mataris set to doing what they do best, growing crops and raising livestock. This is what Deganawith is so excited about last night, because the Iroquois want to settle and do the same. (That they never were so inspired by our Duckweed farmers I put down to prejudice.)

Chief Hiawatha goes on to mention the second event – the plague of Chaos rats that came out of the Chaos Zone. We all know they took a lot of extermination but the Bentnose and Smoky Broo tribes were decimated by the rats, to the extent that the Broo must fall to a northward attack by capable troops, supported by plentiful healers, just in case. He also thinks it a fine opportunity to eradicate the Scorpionmen out to the Petrified Forest.

Chief Hiawatha proposes an expansion into these territories coupled with an exchange of lands. Currently the Iroquois’ lands are split by Lord Harpyja’s. Chief Hiawatha wants the Bentnose lands plus he proposes giving his tribe’s western lands to Lord Harpyja in exchange for his northern estates, centred around Woodview. His people will then settle down and learn how to farm. (I have no idea what Chief Eaglefella will think of that – it sounds like the god is going to lose a lot of worshippers to Matar over the next generation.)

Lord Harpyja immediately responds, cheerfully supporting Chief Hiawatha’s proposal. Lord Harpyja stands to remove the threats of Broo and Scorpionmen from his northern borders and exchange a barely settled, heavily wooded, stretch of territory in the north for much better lands to the west.

Then Sir Gerard North, the ‘captain’ of the Helvetia caravan and a Selenite, offers his services in exchange for becoming first vassal to Chief Hiawatha or any other noble in the new territories.

Sir William Osprey, another caravanner, states he will gladly exchange his people’s current lands in Chrysaetos (which he feels is too close to Transylvania) for new estates further north.

Sir Philip Nairn, Lord Harpyja’s captain of arms, offers to work with Sir William and Sir Gerard to coordinate forces.

Then representatives from Audax and Bald (Lady Sela Bluesky and Sir Barnaby Buzzard, respectively) laud the decision to purge the Scorpionmen but observe this will be a much more difficult proposition than the Broo.

Alan Egret of Albicilla, Arthur Martel of Pomerania and Amara Greywing of Chrysaetos have no objections to losing the caravanners. Being adjacent to The Ridge mountains and Transylvania means they get few Scorpionmen raids but it does happen. They would like to see them purged but again express doubt as to how.

A few others speak: Centurion Flashheart pledges crack Mithras troops if the price is right. Oswald Zartoff (claiming to trade in information) supports the notion. A Matari priestess, Margaret Fieldwise, speaks for her congregation – more and better lands.

So it’s down to thrashing out the details – how to achieve the objectives? Stunningly, everyone wants this done almost instantly, before the end of next Seaseason! This is because that’s when this year’s eggs hatch.

They believe the Broo will be a formality – they will either run away or be annihilated. Elite troops (referred to as the ‘brute squad’) will be held in reserve – their target will be the Scorpion Queen, who they expect to be a much tougher target, surrounded by Scorpionlords. However, with the death of the Queen, all her minions will become mindless.

Of course, the ‘brute squad’ will need to be supported by lesser troops, scouts and logistics. It’s also recognised that, even mindless, the surviving Scorpionmen will need to be mopped up and that will not be a formality. Everyone recognises that Scorpionmen are formidable – there will be casualties.

Having viewed the maps passed to each table, Sergei asks how the Cheyenne and Alaska tribes will feel about being surrounded by Eagle County territory. Chief Hiawatha claims he’s spoken to the Cheyenne chief and he believes they will welcome the purging of the Scorpionmen (since they suffer the most from their raids) and will grant free access to travellers provided no one hunts in Cheyenne lands.

Biggles points out that the Mithras legionaries will need paying and he is assured they will be paid in cash. (Interesting that this was not asked by Sergei or Centurion Flashheart – I suspect that neither would be here if they weren’t assured of pay beforehand.)

The intention is to begin the assault on the Scorpionmen in Deathweek, Seaseason, next, ideally via Cheyenne lands – but the latter has to be confirmed since they do not have a delegate here.

There is surprisingly little dissent and the operation gets a near unanimous vote. Now I just have to report back home…

Freezeday, Deathweek, Seaseason, 602 TA

The Elders seemed as disinterested as expected when I made my report. They gave me a pat on the back, ‘very well done’ and all that, but it was clear they weren’t about to actually do anything. Despite being very leery about the prospect of battling Scorpionmen (or diseased Broo, for that matter), I pointed out that there must be watercourses in the new lands and if Ducks are to have any prospects, it might be an idea to send some volunteers, to show willing – ‘put a toe in the water’ (quoting Confusion, again). They mutter to each other, ‘may have a point’ and ‘long way away’ are the only words I catch; then they nod to each other and congratulate me for being the first volunteer – though they make it clear I’m not going to be in command (which is a relief).

So, here I am back in Wheatley, where the troops are mustering. Including me, there are just six Ducks – we’ll be split up to serve as scouts for the flanking contingents, tasked with dealing with the outlying Scorpionmen to ensure the more elite troops have a clear path to assault the Scorpion Queen’s lair. At least I’ve been leant some cuir-boulli for my limbs.

I’m placed with familiar faces: Biggles and Sergei are here and Hannibal turns up with a personal friend, a Walktapus named Eddie Lizard, who wields an harpoon as a Natterjack worshipper. I can’t help blurting out about poisonous miasmas. Eddie, who seems very affable (and very dim) assures me he can breathe poison but never on friends. Like Biggles, he’s got metallic skin and his head, hands and feet are all reptilian.

We’re given two vials of scorpion antivenom…

The plan is to march northeast directly for the Scorpion lands. Flanking forces on the west will deal with the Broo while we’ll be on the east flank, facing Scorpionmen! Off we go!

Fireday, Deathweek, Seaseason, 602 TA

Despite being referred to as a ‘scout’, most of the actual scouting is done by were-eagles – surprise, surprise! We’re directed out from the main force to a position to ambush a squad of approaching Scorpionmen – then the were-eagle flies off!

We’ve got an intermittent line of low rocks. I try to camouflage the position but there’s not enough plants available so we just hide. I’m split a few yards to the right, behind my own rock. The other four are crouched behind a line of slightly larger rocks, all facing south. The Scorpionmen are approaching from the east, angling in towards us. I count six of them, plus a couple of scorpion ‘pets’, somewhat smaller than the Scorpionmen but still sporting tales with stings and nasty-looking pincers.

The plan is to shower them with missiles and wait for them to attack us. I have my bow – one day, when I initiate, Hawkeye will gift me with Speedart, but for the moment, Eddie, very generously, casts Speedart on two of my arrows for free. Hannibal offers Protection but I can’t afford to spare the Power after casting Ironhand and Mobility.

At a nod from Hannibal, we let fly our first volleys – Hannibal hits his target in a leg, of course. My two Speedarted arrows get one in an arm and another in the leg. Biggles gets another arm. Sergei, whose only missile is his pilum, Disrupts his Scorpionman.

The Scorpionmen howl and scream as they charge for our position. We have time for one more volley of arrows then it will be hand-to-hand (which I’m not looking forward to). Hannibal scores a hit; my shot (without Speedart) hits a Scorpionmen in the head – it’s hurt, but unfortunately not stopped. Biggles hits another leg (they have so many of them). Sergei Disrupts again, and then his pilum disables his target’s arm. Then Eddie gets in the action as his harpoon takes out a Scorpionman’s club-arm.

Now it gets nasty! One Scorpionman comes for me, the others swarm my friends. Sergei finds himself facing two: one misses Sergei, who takes out its leg, then he dodges both stings. Biggles is hit in the arm by a club, but his armour saves him. Then the sting misses Biggles and he misses the Scorpionman.

Hannibal ducks aside from a gaze attack and dodges a spear thrust. He blocks the sting with his scimitar but the force of the thrust drives the sting into his chest – Hannibal is poisoned! But Hannibal hits his opponent in the chest and it dies!

Eddie is hit in the arm by a club but he’s wearing armour and has thick hide. The sting misses and Eddie stabs the Scorpionman in the chest with his trident – that’s another dead!

My Scorpionman misses me with its club, then I dodge its sting and peck it in the thorax.

With both their Scorpionmen dead, Eddie moved to help Sergei while Hannibal attacks my Scorpionman from behind. I notice those ‘pet’ scorpions are moving closer.

A Scorpionman sort of coughs at Eddie and a puff of smoke comes out its mouth – now that’s a weird Chaos feature! Eddie gets hit in the leg, which must hurt. Eddie parries its sting with his trident.

Sergei Disrupts his Scorpionman in the leg and the sting misses him before Sergei misses his own attack.

A Scorpionman takes a massive swing at Biggles, misses and strikes a rock, causing his club to shatter. A splinter, either from the club or that rock, pierces its chest and that’s another one down.

I see Hannibal approaching and opt to play safe and just defend. Unfortunately, my wing parry fails to stop the club hitting my leg but I dodge its sting. Then Hannibal brutally decapitates it from behind.

So four out of six Scorpionmen are dead but now the two ‘pet’ scorpions get in on the action, one of which comes for me and Hannibal.

A Scorpionman breathes fire at Eddie but misses (that smoky cough before must have been a misfire). Its club hits Eddie’s leg but he’s already regenerating. The sting misses but so does Eddie.

Sergei Disrupts a Scorpionman in the chest, parries its sting and spears it in the head and it’s dead. Biggles takes on a pet scorpion and they trade misses.

Facing a pet, I hurt it’s pincer with my parry but its sting gets me in the guts, despite my dodge, and I feel a cold, burning sensation from the poison. But then Hannibal sends its head, spinning, over the rock.

We all swarm the last little scorpion and it’s quickly over.

But as we celebrate our victory, suddenly I feel the coldness of my belly wound surge up to my heart and the World spins into darkness…

Suddenly it no longer hurts. I realise I’m dead… or dying… I cry, “Webweaver, save me!”

Then a dim, silvery-purple light radiates from a Purpleheart Duck in lacquered silver armour. It chuckles and murmurs, “I like you, so live, child!

And suddenly I’m back on my feet – the poison and both wounds are gone! Webweaver be praised!

We search the bodies: a few bits of leather harness, which I am sure my Nimblewing cousins could work with; fifteen shillings in cash – and two gems, both looking fine to my, untrained eye. My friends value them at 200 and over 600 shillings!

That evening we hear word that the Brute Squad have done their bit and the Scorpion Queen is dead. We stay around for a few days, mopping up mindless Scorpionmen. The army leaves an occupying force but the rest of us return to Wheatley.

In the aftermath, two new lordships are created: Pandion and Spizaetus, the latter under Hiawatha. Hannibal becomes Sir Hannibal with a new estate called Flayton. Biggles is also knighted and becomes lord of Lancton, though both villages are just crosses on the map for the moment.

The military operations are declared over Waterday, Stasisweek, Seaseason, 602 TA. I spend my earnings on buying cuir boulli for my wings, since I have to return the cuir boulli leant to me.

Meanwhile, there’s some serious settling going on, though we see little of this in Eidertown.

Clayday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

More than a season later, I meet up with my friends yet again, in Hinckley, just west of Eidertown. They’ve been tasked with escorting three, relatively defenceless, people north to Woodview. All that shenanigans in Seaseason has given me a taste for action so I happily join in – and we’re to be paid, as well!

Our charges are: Angela Ragwort, an apothecary; Sister Amelia Goodkey, dressed all in white, who happily tells us she’s a Luciferan healer; and Peter Writewell, a young scribe, from a whole family of scribes.

Someone says something decrying my appearance – I blame my plumage. Amelia rummages in her bag and gifts me with an ointment, which she guarantees will improve the gloss of my feathers. That is really nice of her – I hope it works.

That evening we stop in a tiny, nameless hamlet. Before we can even book a room, there’s a hullbaloo about a missing child – it takes just half an hour to follow some tracks and restore the little boy to the bosom of his family.

Windsday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

We reach Trumpton, where Sir Hannibal’s connections gets us put up by the local lord (Lord Trumpton, of course). Sergei mentions he knows of a pool of rich Chaos slime nearby. I am sorely tempted, with all my friends being so well-blessed by Chaos, but Sir Hannibal advises me not to, since the Desperada river spirit, a child of Poseidon, would be unlikely to accept it and I would forever be a ‘Duck out of water’ (Confusion again).

Fireday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

We stop in Wheatley, where Sir Biggles introduces us to his sister, Daphne. At first I think he’s about to suggest we stay with her but then we move on to the inn in the town square.

Outside the inn is a huge wagon with what I can only describe as a chimney! It seems locked up but standing outside, as if on guard, are a sheepdog and two very strange things looking like people made of metal. They’re obviously something created by Dwarf magics, two mechanicals with axes! Biggles asks a passerby and learns that all this belongs to a human trader travelling with a Dwarven smith, who are inside the pub.

Inside are a dozen locals and three people who are not local: a Dwarf with a silvery beard and full iron armour, head to toe; a gentleman in florid robes, carrying a quarterstaff; and a young woman. The man does most of the talking, giving his name as Cyrano Jones and introduces the Dwarf as Feldspar Trollbane. Cyrano doesn’t introduce the woman and she says nothing, so I assume she’s a servant.

Cyrano is very affable, smiling for everyone, but Feldspar is gruff, wearing a permanent scowl. Cyrano is a salesman, offering metal wares to all and sundry. When he sees me, he immediately offers me vambraces. I tell him they have to be in my tribal colours, displaying my blue, black and white wing flashes. Cyrano doesn’t bat an eyelash and says that’s no problem. I ask how much and Cyrano pretends to think about it before quoting 180 shillings, which is a 10% discount on the usual price, so I accept. Without even a glance at me or Cyrano, the Dwarf leaves and shortly we hear banging noises outside.

All this doesn’t stop Cyrano’s spiel and he’s trying to sell us crystals when Feldspar comes back with a pair of bronze vambraces lacquered in my colours. I put them on and they look just like my natural colours, only in metal, and they fit perfectly. I happily hand over the cash.

Feldspar gruffly offers us canned food, “grey or green?” But it doesn’t take the cook shaking his head vigorously to make us refuse. Sir Hannibal buys a round for the entire house before we book rooms for the night.

I’m very happy with my new vambraces – now I shall execute wing parries with utter fearlessness.

Moonday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

We reach Raston, where Sir Hannibal and Sir Biggles indulge in falconry. We hear that Cyrano and Feldspar had been here a few days before, selling toys, among other things.

Godsday, Illusionweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

We safely deliver our charges to Woodview, earning 18 shillings. The town is growing, with new houses and shops springing up since we were last here, just a season ago. That evening I take a bath and use the lotion Amelia gave me and it does improve the gloss of my plumage a little bit. Tomorrow we head back home.

Freezeday, Truthweek, Fireseason, 602 TA

It just two days since we passed through Raston but we return to find it in uproar: shouting, screaming, general panic, and over all of it a strange chirping, cooing noise, which a couple of the others recall from the wagon of Cyrano and Feldspar (though I don’t recall it).

A woman comes running toward us, brandishing a skillet, in great distress. For a second I think she’s going to assault us in her terror, but she collapses sobbing at our feet. “The things are attacking people!”

She claims her sister bought her niece a pet from Cyrano – a cute little furball he called a ‘gribble’. He said she mustn’t feed it when the Moon is in the sky or let it get wet. But her niece did both those things – it turned into a small monster and spawned a horde of more monsters, which are now ravaging the village. Some of the locals are trying to save the village.

Raston needs saving so we charge in fearlessly. I cast Mobility followed by Ironhand. As we run into the street we see dozens of small, furry critters but with viciously sharp teeth and nasty expressions.

They’re very small – much smaller than me – and I’m not sure my archery is up to it but there’s so many of them I think I have to risk a shot. But I’m too hasty and drop my bow before I can get a shot off. One is attacking someone lying on the ground and I head straight for him. Sir Hannibal Ignites that gribble, which starts glowing. Sir Biggles takes a lone gribble on my right. Sergei, the consummate soldier, attacks a group to the left. Sergei Disrupts one and kills another with his pilum.

Sir Hannibal takes a similar group to the right. One of them says, in fluent Eagletongue, “Leave us alone – we’re about to eat the villagers!” Sir Hannibal kills the talker dead, with a single cut of his scimitar. None of them bite him.

Sir Biggles misses his gribble but his armour saves him from its bite. Mine is glowing from Sir Hannibal’s Ignite – I miss it with my beak and it misses me with its bite. Sergei hits one but it survives. Several bite him but can’t breach his armour.

More gribbles are coming over to help mine while many others are trying to gnaw through doors to get at the villagers inside.

Sir Hannibal kills another gribble but one of the survivors Demoralises him! He parries one and the others miss him. Sir Biggles exchanges misses with his gribble – in fact Sir Biggles misses twice, neglecting to parry. I miss my gribble (they’re very small and hard to hit). It bites me in the belly but can’t get through my leathers. Sergei kills a gribble – he gets bitten in return but his armour saves him.

Two more gribbles attack me, one of them has snakes for hair! Another attacks Sir Biggles and two start moving toward Sir Hannibal. He misses his attack but parries one gribble only for another to bite into his leg – even through armour. Sir Hannibal is left limping.

Sir Biggles kills one of his two gribbles, his armour saves him from the other’s bite and then he kills that one too. I dodge one snakebite but another sinks its fangs in my leg! Aargh! Poison again! A gribble bite clangs off my helm but my beak misses its target. Sergei Disrupts one of his gribbles, which explodes – Sergei is hurt a little but all his remaining gribbles are slain in the blast.

Three more gribbles attack Sir Biggles; others are moving to attack us.

Sir Hannibal and his gribbles all miss. Sir Biggles misses and a gribble sprays acid over his tummy armour. The others miss and Sir Biggles kills another gribble. Despairing of my beak, I punch and kill snake-head, his snakes missing, but another gribble bites me in the tummy, through armour – I’m in danger of being nibbled to death! Sergei misses a new gribble but blocks its bite with his shield.

Up the street, two gribbles chew through a door. Yet another gribble replaces snake-head so I’m still fighting three.

Sir Hannibal misses. His armour saves him from a bite and then he hits a gribble in the head, but without killing it. Sir Biggles kills a gribble and his armour saves him from another’s bite. I miss with my beak – again – a gribble bites my arm (which clangs off my new vambrace) and another my leg (which hurts). Sergei misses but his armour saves him from the bites.

One of the gribbles up the street is splatted by a quarterstaff. Sir Hannibal kills one gribble; Sir Biggles kills his last gribble and moves over to help me. I finally peck a gribble to death but then my helm is knocked askew and I can barely see. Luckily the other two gribbles both miss. Sergei Disrupts his last gribble and kills it.

With Sir Biggles taking on my gribbles, I set my helmet straight and in short order we mop up the remaining vermin. The snake venom does its thing but this time I shrug it off. Some of the villagers have Xenohealing and many have Healing so they are happy to heal us up, out of gratitude for our help.

It could have been worse; even so, three villagers died!

That evening we hear the full tale. Cyrano’s warning about the gribble didn’t mention the consequences. It’s a shame, I had thought very highly of those two and I’m very happy with my new vambraces. We unanimously decide to find their caravan and stop their sale of gribbles.

Clayday, Disorderweek, Earthseason, 602 TA

It takes a lot of chasing, all the way to Eidertown, then back through Albert’s Dock and we only catch them up at the Mahatman Temple in Flightpath. The wagon is shut up, as usual, but Cyrano’s apprentice and the two automatons sit up top. Now I know what to listen for, I can hear chirping and cooing from inside.

The Mahatmans are happy to put us up for the night for free – they have a thing about hospitality. We find Cyrano in the refectory and Sir Biggles breaks the bad news about Raston. Sir Hannibal makes it clear we want the remaining gribbles killed.

Cyrano freely offers not to sell his six remaining gribbles but, of course, none of us trust him – he’s just too glib. We find Feldspar outside and ask him to enforce Cyrano’s word but he flatly refuses. He suggests we buy them off Cyrano and kill them ourselves. Feldspar checks inside the wagon and finds there are six left.

Back in the refectory, Cyrano offers the six remaining gribbles to us at 10 shillings each! Half an hour of haggling gets us nowhere and Sir Hannibal and Sergei wind up buying three each. Sir Hannibal promptly kills his three but incredibly Sergei decides to hang to his – I’ve no idea how he will keep them dry.

We all return home – I must admit the cooing of the (non-monstrous) gribbles is kind of soothing. Back in Eidertown, I sell my (almost new) cuir boulli vambraces and buy cuir boulli greaves.