5.31

My name is Cantor Ovric, follower of the light, healer of wounds, and dabbler in fine tapestries. On this day, apparently the twelfth of a month I've never heard (Olagth--perhaps made up), I am recording a story dictated to me by a good friend.
Calcicor, self-styled as "the magnificent," set out from us at least a week ago. His mission was simple: to find a puppy. After a series of scrapes and bumps, he has returned, though his success is debatable. This is his story.

I tell this story to Mister Cantor because he is nice enough to sit down for as long as I can talk. Also, he knows of my like for all small creatures that are cute and won't stick knives in me. Puppies are my favorite. When I was small, I had a puppy and his name was The Magnificent. When he died, I tooked his name for me. So you see, I do love puppies a lot. Good.
We have done a lot of killing and running, but we finally slowed down. Things are good. The Gob [Here the speaker stopped and coughed as of choking] Dirty Ygath is good and everyone is readying for the next bug bad thing to do. So I said Hey Guys I Want To Go Become A Man and they looked at me funny but I did not. I left the Ygath and went to the armorer. I got him to fix up my axe good and make it sharp sharp. It is a good axe and it is my favorite weapon I have. I went to the market and I asked the meat man for some meat. He brought a chunk as big as my fist. I did not want a fist meat. I put it in his pants. He brought me a chunk as big as me. I took it and put money in his pants. I do not think he liked me.
I left town and walked for two days until I got to my momma's shack in the woods.
Mister Cantor, I do not think you know my mother. Have you met her? I will describe her. She is big and beautiful and she is my mother. [At this juncture, I ask some questions about Cal's mother.] What? What color is momma's hair? You don't understand. Momma has no hair. Huh? No. I forgive you, because you are not orc, but momma loved my pa and so shaved off all her hair to look more beautiful to him. What? [At this point, I am ashamed to admit I was laughing rather heartily. Calcicor looked confused at first, but then joined my laughter. He undoubtedly was completely lost, but Cal always loves a good laugh.]
Ok, where was we? Oh, right. So, momma looked at me funny that I was back, but I needed to become a man. You see, all Orc are man at births. They are given sword cribs and knife toys. This is natural. But I am not Orc. I am soft womanly half-Orc. I must prove manness before can be man. I must go into woods and survive the trials of the forest. This is the way it has been and the way it always will be.
So, I walk off into woods of darkness and trial. I take axe and meat. I take me. Me is all the tools I will need.
Have you ever seen a spinner bug? Not a spider. No. Everyone knows spider. Have you seen a spinnerbug? I will explain. Spinnerbug makes an elaborate trap, slowly funneling prey into nest, and then [here Cal yelled vigorously and pounded the table] snap! The bug eats man or horse or deer. Whatever is dumb enough to walk into nest. Well, I was like spinnerbug. I tooked meats and cut off a piece. Just a piece big enough for meal. I laid this in a clearing and tried to leave no scents. I come back next day and meats is gone! Good for step one. You raise eyebrow at me. [I ask Cal what took the meat.] Is surprise. I do again. I am less careful with my scents. I keep doing this. Five days and I am rolling in dusts near meats, and still, meats is gone in the morning. Good. So I take meats. All of it. All the rest of it. I put it in clearing and I hide in the bushes. I set aside my favorite knives. I bury my favorite axe in tree. I take off favorite armors. I strip until it is just me, soft womanly half-orc, and I wait. I wait. I wait. I will make it more realistic. You wait.

[Cal just walked out of the room. Am I supposed to follow him?]

* * * * *

This is the thirteenth of the probably fictitious month Olgath. My name is Cantor Ovric, and I am apparently here to finish the story of my friend Calcicor the Magnificent.

You did not wait. [I admit this to him.] You make terrible orc. I am good orc. I proved it. I wait. I can hear the sounds in the bushes, but I cannot see yet. It is dark, but my eyes can see. It is windy, but my scents are normal. It is cold, but I can't care. Slowly, it enters clearing. It looks cautious; this is good. No one wants idiot for company. [I do not point out the irony of his statement and our friendship.] It walks up and buries snout in meat. Yum it is good. I can see the joy on face. I wait. It eats. You see, I am light and fast, but not so fast as it. I wait for it to be so fat from meats. [He holds up his hands about two feet apart. I assume this is the size of the belly of whatever creature he is telling me about.] Then! I run. Right out at it and I tackle it down to the ground. I lay it flat on floor and I sit on head. It thrashes and tries to run, but I do not let go. I am good warrior. Momma told me how. [I interrupt here and ask what on earth he is wrestling. He doesn't notice.] I grab it good around the neck and thump it against the ground. It yells at me but I thump again. Then! Like lightning it is out and gone. I run, it runs. I jump right for it and grab it, but I can't grab good. It slips out and bites me on the leg. I grab with hand. It bites hand.
[I apologize for that scrawl on the parchment. I normally pride myself on my scribing, but Cal almost punched me in the head with his hand. The two last fingers on his hand are entirely missing with a great deal of the palm to the wrist. As a cleric, it pains me to see how poorly his hand is bandaged. If it weren't Cal, I would expect a wound like that to rot the entire arm, but Cal seems resistant to much of the infection of human kind. I offered to heal his hand, but he claims that a wound received in honor is no woud at all. In any case, he has ceased ranting about the room and sat down. I will resume taking notes.]
I wrestle down and pin it. You see these hands? They hold it down. You see this mouth? I bite! I bite in the flank and I draw blood. Now we share blood. It has tasted me. I have tasted it. We are kin. I pull off and she whimper at me and then we howl together, there in the woods of my homeland. I walk back to the meats, and she follows. I cook the meats and she waits. I give meats and she eats, you see? For everything she waits for me. For everything, I must care for her. We are now family, and I am now an Orc like my father and his before.
[I ask how this made him a man. He stands up and towers over me.]
An grown Orc is power, raw and overpowering. But Orc must know when the power should be used. If I smash this table, I am power, but I am not wise. If I kill you, I am power but I am not wise. I must be wise. I must have an creature to share blood with. I must be responsible. I must be strong. These things are wise. You know what I found in the woods that day?
[Cal looks sad. So sad, right down to his bones.]
I found myself in those woods. I found what I am: power with no responsibility. I wrestled it down and fought it and won, I did. I made a blood bond with myself and I know now that I can be wise with my power. All I did lost was my fingers. I see this as fair.
[I pause and ask Cal what he found in the woods, really. He looks at me like I'm stupid and walks to the door, but]

* * * * *

[He threw the door open and a beast the size of a pony waited beyond, slavering and chomping. You can't imagine something so astonishing. Apparently these creatures are native to the woods where Calcicor lives, which actually explains a lot about him. The immense size of it makes me question how large the adults--but no. If I allow myself to wonder that, I might have nightmares. No, better to get on good terms with Cal's puppy before it takes MY arm off. I don't think I would be able to wrestle it down. This has been Cantor Ovric, believer in light and wanderer on tortuous paths. If you know what dire wolves like to eat, be sure to let me know.]