The Home of the Babakoto |
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The immense trees and strange plants choke the narrow trail, making it very difficult to follow.
Strange noises surround you, rustling bushes, the doleful sound of something howling mournfully... It is
quite eerie.
Suddenly a loud noise explodes from the air directly above you, a loud whooping call, as if from some huge and fearsome
creature. In terror, you whirl, staring upwards and find youself staring into the golden eyes of some type of jungle beast.
Seeing you, it clambers down, and stares at you through its golden eyes. It looks somewhat like a monkey, but
has a more pointed muzzle and great tufted ears.
"What you looking at?" It asks, in passable human-speak.
"What are you?" You manage to stutter out.
"I Frynkaloina, of Babakoto, who might you be?"
You introduce yourself. "What are the Babakoto?" You ask.
"We is one of faery folk," it replies, "and this be our home you intrude upon. But we are
not unwelcoming lot. Come, meet with us."
You agree, and the large creature, which you see now is clad in naught but the most rudimentary of loinclothes
and a humble belt pouch, complete with a rather finely made knife, drops to the ground, leading you from the main trail and
into a clearing. Thinking perhaps this was not the best of ideas, you follow it anyway.
And enter the most extrodinary clearing.
Light shines through the thick foliage, leaving dappled light patterns on the ground. But there is not much to see here,
for it is when you look up that you see the real marvels.
Platforms have been constructed against the thick trunks of the mighty, ancient trees. Hanging around them is
strange, thick parasitic vines, and odd, violet flowers and other flowers that are white but almost seem to grow. It is amazing. Above you, the loud whooping comes
again, and you look up, seeing many more of these big black and white creatures sitting on the tree branches and on the platforms.
Some have their head's back and are calling.
"What's going on?" You ask Frynkaloina.
"It be foodtime, call kits in from far away."
After a moment, the Babakoto gives you a funny look.
"What you wait for? Climb tree." It says.
You glance up the tree, it is very thick, with the occasional protuding branch that perhaps you could grasp
with a hand or foot, but it does not look very much fun. Frynkaloina leaps up the trunk in easy bounds and turns its
golden gaze back down at you. It quirks its head on one side.
With a deep, despairing sigh, you take a firm grip on the branches and heave yourself up the thick trunk. The bark is dry and flaky,
clumps of it drift to the ground like snow or dandruff.
After an almighty struggle, and several brand new scrapes and bruises, you reach the first platform.
Another Babakoto hurries up to you, bowing in what appears to be the most unusual fashion.
"Something eat?" It asks you.
You ponder a moment before answering, but your stomach rumbling gives you away. "Yes please," you reply.
Moments later a platter of food is placed in front of you. The "bowl" is actually just a piece
of bark, scooped out to form a makeshift platter. The food is mostly fruit, strange fruit that you have never seen before.
It is quite delicious.
More Babakoto gather around you, begging you to tell them a story. You do your best, giving them a variant of
"Little Red Riding Hood," that they seem to enjoy. Then one of them crouches on a branch overhanging the platform, and begins a tale
of its won. The Babakoto speaking is older than the others, for its black fur is greyish-silver and it is wearing a cape
which seems to be constructed entirely from the pelts of various jungle animals.
"One time," it begins, in fairly fluent common-speak, plainly for you to listen to,
"there be a Babakoto womam who was with child. She did find herself in labour, segregated away from the rest
of her troop. It be an accident that leave her alone, for she did get lost, while searching for the rich fruit
that she did crave. It was a painful labour, but whilst she lay there, groaning and birthing a child, a human did walk
by, and did stop to help. And then, miracle of miracles, not one child was born, but two.
Now, the mother could see that the smallest of the child did ail, and it was not like to live in her world, so she
did say to the human, "you have helped me, but one of my children will die, unless you help it. I would like you to take child, raise
it as own, and perhaps there will be a kinship between our people.
The human pondered this for a moment, and gazed upon the tiny, weak Babakoto child. Finally she agreed to take the child. So the
young Babakoto was taken from the forest, where it was raised as a human child, and grew to be little different from one. For it be inner
appearances that matter, not outer. And since then, the Babakoto have been very grateful to the humans, for they did help us in the past
and we shall make them welcome whenever we can." He stopped, and his companions whooped and hollered, clapping their black hands together.
There is more story-telling, and some singing (if you can call their howls, "singing"), but eventually, and much to their disappointment, you
bid them "farewell" and set upon your way. Before you depart however, you ask them what lies in the other directions.
"To the south-east be a Faerie Mound, very important place for us faeries, and to the east live Fakaki, the mad bird.
He be quite insane and we no go there often, but you be human to, so perhaps he no be so bad to you, who know?"
After having enjoyed some time with the Babakoto, you may now go:
East or
South-East
or back west
