Echo Gorge |
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From up ahead you hear the gush of water, large quantities of it, an onrushing torrent. You pick your way across the muddy trail, trying not to slip over in the slick mud that adorns the path. Despite the fact that the gully ahead is deep, your face is still dampened by spray. Eventually the muddy path gives way to rock and the bushes and trees fall back, although the ground is covered in a lush coat of moss and lichen. Your entry startles a small deer, which bounds away. It was a small deer, with tan coloured, small white spots and short pointed horns. In the moss it leaves four perfect hoofprints which disappear slowly as the moss springs back into shape.
Ahead is the roar of the Cascade Falls and you know why this place is known as Echo Gorge. The sound is amplified, filling the air with a sound that suggests a torrent of water could sweep you away at any second. There is no point in talking, for there is no way anything could be heard over the swiftly flowing water. Small birds, some of them blue and resembling the kingfisher, dart amongst the spray, which hangs in the air, refracting the light in a glorious rainbow. It seems a beautiful, magickal place.
Picking your way to the edge of the gorge itself, getting dampened by the spray, you crouch over the edge and peer into its magickal depths. Cascade Falls feed the gorge, and it is a long, but oddly narrow waterfall, which releases all the spray into the air. The roar from below comes from the rapids, which are wild and white, and as you peer down there you see the body of a deer being swept crazily through them. Here, its antlers get tangled on a rock, there it catches on a piece of log lodged in the current. Oddly enough, there are creatures in the water, but you cannot identify them from this height, which is probably close to thirty, forty feet. You notice a steep stairway has been carved into the rock, and intrepid fool that you are, decide to follow it.
The rock is slick with moisture and several times you almost plummet from the narrow path into the broiling water below. Your heart is in your mouth and your head spins with vertigo. You never thought you were afraid of heights, now you realise that you are scared of depths. Clinging to the rock with one hand, you are about to terminate your climb and stagger back to the top, when you realise the staircase leads to a cave. It is a fairly cheeful looking cave, for some clothing dries outside (dries, well, wets more likely!) and smoke streams from within. You really are too curious for your own good, so you follow the path down to the cave.
Beneath the cave, an old man sits on a rock, a fishing line in his hand. It would have to be a pretty long fishing line to reach the water, but it is then that you realise he is not fishing at all, he is birding. For on the end of the line, flaps a large dragon-fly.
A swallow swoops past, an extremely largfe swallow if you're any judge, and snaps at the dragon-fly. Within seconds it is hooked and flapping crazily. The old man reels it is and bashes its head against a rock. He then sets it in a basket resting beside him, and takes another dragon-fly from
a burlap bag.
You cough, trying to get his attention, then realise that is utterly pointless. You doubt he would hear you even if you were right behind him, the roar of the water is just too loud. It is then that you notice he has
an animal curled up beside him, from here is appears to be some sort of cat, with weird black ears. It turns its head and sees you with its dark eyes. It opens its mouth, probably making some sort of noise you cannot hear, and nudges the old man with its nose.
He turns, and you find yourself staring at the most worn face you have ever seen. You raise your hand in greeting.
The man pats his furry pet on the head and reels in his dragonfly, placing the rod safely in a crevice, and begins to walk towards you. Since he doesn't look particularly dangerous, except perhaps to birds, you feel no need to run.
The small furry creature bounds up the rocks with amazing ease and butts its head against your leg.
"Chiiiirrr-karooo," it chirps.
Closer inspection reveals a creature a bit like a genet, with a bushy, black-tipped tail, small muzzle and sturdy looking jaws, rounded black ears, striped body and shaggy mane adorning its shoulders.
Actually, it looks just the slightest bit like a hyaena, if you were to put said hyaena in a more acceptable disguise.
The old man reaches you now, and you see that his face resembles that of a sailor's, dry, brown and leathery. His eyes, buried within crinkled folds of skin are dark brown and his clothing looks extremely piecemeal.
He appears to have taken all the acceptable forms of clothing, stitched them together and added fur, feathers, tails, bits of flotsom and all manner of bizaritees. He raises a hand to you in greeting and bows, somewhat stiffly.
"Chiiiirk!" Chirps the Hyaena-thing.
"Greetings," you say, "I have come far and saw you fishing, so I thought I would just bid you hello."
The old man gives you a bizarre look, shrugs, and points to his ear, covering it with one hand. You think he is either saying he is deaf, or that he cannot hear you here. He beckons you into the cave.
Curious, as always, you follow him.
The creature leaps from the floor and onto your shoulder in one easy bound, nudging you in the air.
The master does not understand you, a voice says in your head and you find yourself staring into eyes that are strangely human. He is stone deaf and a little bit crazy.
You're starting to think your crazy, after all, you're talking to a tree hyaena.
"Who are you?" You ask, knowing the man will not answer, but thinking the creature might.
He is Ichibod Evissen, of Algorieth, and I am his Familiar.
"Familiar? What's a Familiar? Why is he living here?"
The old man makes motions towards his mouth.
He wishes to know if you are hungry, the creature sends to you.
You nod, you're famished. Although, it suddenly occurs to you that you may be eating swallow, and your appetite dimishes somewhat, but not much.
He will make you up some stew. As for Familiars, we are animal companions and he and I share a soul. I communicate your questions to him, and then answer to him. This is not a skill attainable by many Familiars. And as for the question as to why we are here,
I am afraid my human was exiled for a little misunderstanding. It was plain that the tree hyaena had no intent on telling you more, so you sit and watch the old
man at work. He heats you up some stew (you have no intent on asking what's actually in it) and feeds you. It does not taste too bad, although you do find a small dark feather floating in your bowl.
After you have finished, he takes the bowl off you somewhat abruptly and makes waving motions.
He is sick of hospitality, it is time for you to go, the creature informs you, leaping off your shoulder and trying to clean out the bowl. Shrugging, you leave.
At least you are feeling full.
After clambering to the top of the gorge again, you realise that the only way to the east is across a narrow stone bridge that looks particularly hazhardes if you were to slip, for it has no railing.
Now that you have dined, do you wish to go:
West ,North-west,, or East
