The Lost Art of Roleplaying

A long time, what seems like ages, I played the part in my geeky side and played Dungeons & Dragons. When traveling or even having the luxury of a gaming group that met face to face became impossible, I learned the art of gaming online. Not WoW, mind you. I’m talking chat-based. It had its good points and bad but all in all, I got to know some great people. Doing my gaming online opened another world altogether. I had an outlet for my writing. Granted, being as submitting your stories from your D&D game is about the stupidest thing to try to get published, most of what I wrote will never be anything but enjoyment (or torment) reading for some.

Still, I’m impressed at the progression of my writing. Horrid tense issues, missing words and just shitty writing melted away the more I pushed the envelope. I dread looking in a folder box I have in a dark corner of my basement. My earliest writing dates back to middle school. They’re disgusting pieces of an over-active imagination on crack. You dream big at that age and your world has no rules or any type of reality check. Anyone who would pull this time period of their life out and think it had any viable chance in the world of writing needs intense therapy. If it does get published, someone needs to test the editor for illegal substance abuse. Pieces from this period are nothing more than cute little pieces that caused your parents pat you on the head and tell you what a great storyteller you are. Little white lies our parents dish out to lift us up.

Now to the piece I present to you. It is something I put together for a campaign I ran. I dabbled in html and created a website, placing snippet stories to give the world life. I also used it to move the campaigns along setting the scene with chapters containing five parts each. This is one of those parts.

Enjoy or Google search me to fling rotten tomatoes at my house.

Fahahi breathed in the incense as he closed his eyes. The smoke billowed out the natural funnel sweeping up in the ceiling of the cave. The spirits called to him and him alone. A rift in the Undying One’s realm had sent shock waves through the bhuka community. The slight tremor from the naming of Hakushe’s Chosen had almost cut off their connection to their own God. The elders were angry, calling off the truce with whatever Sedah tribe this new dog of Hakushe came from but the ability to sense where the Chosen had vanished. Many fought for the honor of the hunt but only Fahahi survived the beast within the sacred chamber. His journey began soon.

Not the strongest magic man in the village, Fahahi used the cunning abilities he possessed to eliminate his adversaries. More than anything, he located the ominous cave where the Chosen took his place by Evil Eye. Bones of a Sedah long dead, the obvious stab of a dagger through the spine by the marks, lay by an old fire pit. How Fahahi rejoiced at his findings. The Undying One’s blessing showed him the way.

He sat by the fire in the only thing allowed for his expedition. His belt with beads to tie him to the spirit he must capture. Each bead a knuckle bone from an ancestor of his lineage strung on the tough strands of the gak plant. Only with this could Fahahi attempt to summon the cuda. Hakushe’s Banished. Taking his mixing bowl, Fahahi spat into the dried blood he scraped from a pile of rocks in the corner. Whomever the remains belonged to would be his guide and he added one bit of bone to his mixture along with ashes from the fire. He ground it to dust, adding spit until the dull gray mixture took on a pasty texture.

He spread his creation over his body in a distinct pattern, murmuring under his breath for the Undying One’s guidance. The smoldering fire shimmered, rocks popping out of the dying flames. Sluggish, a black form rose from the wispy smoke fighting to linger in his home in the afterlife. Large talons screeched across the rocks and burning eyes bore into Fahahi. Far more massive than the small bhuka, he towered over the little man in a menacing manner but Fahahi showed no fear.

He clapped once and lowered his palms down to the floor. The beast in the fire followed with a deep bow. Chanting, Fahahi moved his arms in a series of patterns and the creature obeyed his command always. Closing his fist, the magic man of the bhuka sucked the black fog into his hand where it vanished. Smiling at his success, Bhuka left the cave and began to run across the desert. Through the blood he could track the Chosen for it belonged to him. Through the spirit now attached to his own, Fahahi would kill him. The elders stressed patience, the unknown too much of a risk and so in his second season of searching Fahahi had found this cave. With nothing but his god to nourish him, he plodded on.

Like a ghost he would strike against the Chosen. The further north Fahahi traveled, the more the symbols drawn into his skin burned with a vengeance. Faster and faster his feet went, Hakushe’s Banished pounding on the walls of his soul begging to be set free. Not to return to the placid world of the dead but to share in the glory of killing that which murdered him. Only when the head of his victim rested on a pike at the edge of their lands in the desert could Fahahi return to his home. Then he would feast for days. Then he would know honor beyond compare. With everlasting reverence only a few moments away, Fahahi glided among the reeds in water as the sun set like he’d never seen. The glow of a fire lay ahead and the one who must die for his sins to the Undying One. Fahahi released Hakushe’s Banished and began his chants of dominance. Soon both their souls would know true freedom and glory forever.