Difference between revisions of "User:TripleU/The Journal of Fiery Dweevil"

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(→‎February: 18th, a sword!!!)
(March 2 - I join the French and witness three murders.)
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The swamp is rather crowded with about seven of eight people, so I have fellows to talk to, but there are spirits here that continuously haunt us.
 
The swamp is rather crowded with about seven of eight people, so I have fellows to talk to, but there are spirits here that continuously haunt us.
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== March ==
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=== March 2 ===
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[[Image:Baron Robert Surcouf.jpg|right|thumb|Robert Surcouf, fellow treasure hunter and leader of the French]] Searching for swords is quite a dull business, but does have it's moments. For example, I found a second heavy sword. Now my prices have gone down to 800 gold coins each, still a rip off, but if I spend so long looking for them, there's no problem with spending longer selling them.
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But much more goes on in these swamps. There must be about a dozen people looking in the swamp at any time, and such activity attracts the attention of more than just spirits. There is a serial murderer, surely psychopathic, by the name of {{profile|1259|Jessalin}}, who attacked me. Luckily I was able to flee his blade as he was stuck in the mire, and I reached the safety of a larger group. I told them of the attack, and {{profile|7282|Baron Robert Surcouf}} shot him down. On a separate occasion, Jessalin attacked and killed {{profile|17537|Nouveauk}}, a fellow sword searcher, but Surcouf shot him while he ran. Now both bodies rot in the mud, yet we can't smell them, as the rotting plants have numbed our noses.
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I've taken it upon myself to join [[The French]], as my mother was of the race and I feel vulnerable being in no clan. They own three ruined huts near the Derby Swamp, not far from the road to York by the name of Port [[Parchment_Pages#Port_Breton|Brenton]]. The area has a casino where I may sell slim chances to win my heavy swords.

Revision as of 05:12, 3 March 2009

This is the journal of Fiery Dweevil.

Pre-journal

I came to this island when I saw a poster in a local shop. It promised this place would hold easy living- huts readily shared, wondrous weather, and exotic life. Being a botanist, I decided to take the trip. I arrived in a town called Derby, which as I was told on the boat, was run by the Eastern Federation. It was of little surprise when I saw the town striped of plants. So I decided to head out when I could. I searched for supplies and strengthened my legs for the journey I was to take. While I did this, I heard many things about this island. These include:

  • Even if you die, you can be brought back to life by one of the native magic-men. I discounted this as propaganda to get me to join the Federation or similar force. If one thinks death is alright, then they would be more likely to fight. I have no interest in war.
  • The island is really a giant crab-turtle-lobster-thing. Possible, but unlikely.
  • There are many tigers waiting to tear me to pieces. Why would they do this? I got a few extra machetes anyway.
  • Jungle growth is not affected by the presence of jungle. This seemed interesting. Could the flora here be so different? Perhaps all growing from bulbs that cannot easily be removed? I had found something to test.

So I headed West to test this thought on jungle. I would reach a small peninsula and clear cut half of it. How would the jungle retake this land? All at once? Or from the North, where there already is jungle? The answer would surely prove whether or not there was sense in thick pathways.

January

January 1

An innocent victim who owes me money.

Yesterday I cleared the peninsula. I woke to the face of Jack W Spalding. He said he was in the South Shartak Trading Company, and offered me any supplies I could pay for. I gave him six gold coins- my only savings- for wood for signs. I wrote on the sand and trees to not chop here, for fear that passerby may ruin my data. When I returned, Jack was dead. Just lying there on the beach, blood everywhere. It was horrible! I'd been here not even a week, and already, someone died. Since I'll need to stay here until my research ends, I'll need to search the jungle to replace whatever supplies runs out. I hope for more traders to come by.

January 3

A fierce opponent.

Yesterday I took down my first bit of data, so far nothing of use. I was well supplied, so I headed out to hunt. I found a tiger. It tried, as I had heared it would, to tear me to peices. After a day of fighting it, I retreated, badley wounded, but ready to heal myself. I returned to find half of the jungle I was observing chopped to peices. I passed out. I woke to Batman healing my tiger-wounds. I send word to Derby offering 50 first aid kits to anyone who could find out who had done this. I considered becoming a hermit and living at [-70.518,+26.447]. One man gets murdered and onother ruins my data...

January 4

Mail travels fast around here.

I got a reply to my letter. testingthelimits said, "I am willing to offer my assistance in your situation. More details, as well as where I can pick up the trail, will be needed." I replied by elaborating on my research and his role in it;

Well, I was innocently observing how the jungle would regrow in an area chopped at the same time, mostly about how nearby jungle would affect it. This data would show if there was sense in making paths thicker than one space.(Other than dodging the thick areas.) I believe jungle grows independently from it's neighbors, but wanted to get evidence of it. However, when I returned from a (unsuccessful) fight with a tiger, half of the nearby jungle was gone. I hadn't gone far along with the experiment, but the peninsula was the best spot available. To repeat it I'd have to go some where else, make a much larger clearing, and collect much more data. This is were you come in. I'll be at the peninsula, with the first 10 FAKs. Then you'd just follow the trail wherever it takes you, until it takes you to either (as I'll call him for now) Mr. Evilface, untrackable terrain, or a location were you cannot safely assume which trail is Mr. Evilface's. Just tell me his name. I require no animosity. As for the last 40 FAKs, they could be delivered wherever is convenient (for both of us).

He replied by saying, "I'm heading there immediately. I'm also interested in helping you with this project. Since the decline in activity with the derby rangers, I'd love to take some time to watch jungle grow. Do you have room for another?" I eagerly accepted. But ,now that I had set aside 50 FAKs for him, I had only about 12 for myself. So, when a tiger came by, I was not in a good spot. I couldn't fight it, for the wounds would take all my FAKs. I couldn't run, for then testingthelimits couldn't find me, which would slow down his reaching the trail and lessen the chance of him finding Mr. Evilface. I ran as far as I felt I should have, and looked around for some fruit. I found a mango. Then I took a nap. I woke to find that my face was missing, as well as that I was dead. I was a tad disappointed, but very intrigued. I was dead... but, I wasn't dead. A confounding situation. My consciousness was trapped in a lifeless body. I began to believe the rumors about the magic men of this island. So, with a huge mental strain, I try to contact one of them. As my spirit was whisked across the island, everything went dark. Your surroundings came back into view and I found that magically I had been brought back to life by Skulu. some how, my face had been reattached... This is one crazy island. Or am I the only crazy one? Perhaps I'm just horribly wounded by the tiger, and I'm just hallucinating. Either way, I was to tiered to stand, and fear that my new friend may have to start work before I can give him his advance pay.

January 7

Typical findings.

I've beaten death. Now that Skulu has revived me, I feel absolutely fine. I spent Jan. 6 traveling back to my little peninsula, but didn't quite make it all the way there. Yesterday I arrived, And greeted testingthelimits. We decided that Mr. Evilface was not worth the effort, mostly due to the age of the trail. we also agreed to do the next attempt at our experiment around [-70.518,+26.447], were I had considered being a hermit. being rarely traveled and treeful, we could hold out a long time. We plan to depart soon. Since I returned I've been using my energy searching jungle. I spent more than a day so far looking around. I found:

  • an empty rifle
  • a blow pipe and darts
  • a banana
  • a knife
  • an herb
  • lots of mangoes
  • a parrot feather that seems to give off a strange vibe

I've also been given a book by Skulu, which I've been studying, and I'm thus less able to write in my journal.


January 9

The first native I've seen.

I left yesterday, using an old, overgrown trail rather than the beach, for, as I've mentioned before, I haven't had the best experiences with the other residents of the island. Were I came to a path of thick jungle, I cut it down to size. Today, I continued on my trip to our future experiment, when I saw a native. I was curious, but frightened. I approached him, and offered him one of my many mangoes. he gave me a look and I walked off. All he did was look at me and I was to scared to stay... Why? Surely the tales I've heard of cannibalism are false. And there is no way that I'm going to safely get to passed Dalpok, a curios village on my way, if every native looks at me and thinks I against them. Which they will, if I am like this. But I digress. As I went on, I came across a hut, and as I approached, I saw the most humorous thing. There was a sign, saying that it was the home of Santa Clause, and the inside there was wonderful festive decorations hanging on the walls and from the ceiling. I decided to sleep in it.


January 14

A substitute bandage.

I warned you that I'd be "less able to write in my journal." Anyway, I took off from the hut I was in, and in a few days I was close to the site (The Lab), so I stopped to hunt and heal. I took a few swings at a dodgy parrot (who was "(unintentionally) ridiculous") and slept. I woke to find a parrot and two wild boars had attacked me, so I did in the parrot and a boar, and fled to a nearby banana tree. Here I ate my fill, saving my FAKs for when I would really need them. Now I'm at a mango tree closer to The Lab.

January 17

This thing tore my leg off!

testingthelimits and I began the experiment. He chopped the jungle, unfortunately in two chunks, but cleared it all the same. Before I could take a look and watch it grow, I was killed by a large stag! I only stabbed it a little, and it killed me. It kicked me down and trampled on me so I couldn't get my machete. While I was laying there crippled, it gnawed my left leg clear off! Like when I was killed by a tiger, I contacted the nearest shaman, this time Jidram. This put me halfway into the Durham peninsula, quite a distance. I got to the end of the peninsula and slept on the Northern shore, near Gnocchi Machitty.

January 20

The Lab as seen from space.

I can't understand why, but someone taught a parrot to say "Come 'ere you little bird!" And I found myself wondering if that parrot was taught it or a different one was and it was spread around the parrot community. Perhaps I'll test it sometime. In other news, the growth experiment is going according to plans. I took down two observations so far, I plan to do two a day. (I wouldn't want testingthelimits to have all the fun.) In still other news, I feel I'm almost ready to found Researcher's Guild, as I've been planning for some time. As the name suggests it shall be a guild, rather than an actual team. That means no obligations as a member, despite a lack of teamwork. I feel that there is a shortage of good research clans. True, there is the Parrotologists Society, but they are few and uninspired.

January 31

Me

If you're wondering why I haven't written in 11 days, it's quite simple. I've only had enough interesting stuff happen in 11 days to fill one entry. Tlotzin killed me with a blood stained machete to the back of the neck. Like when the tiger and stag got me, It took a few painful minutes to actually leave my body. However, rather than contact a local magic-man to return to life, I decided to stay this way for awhile. I must say, while dying is not something one gets used to, being dead is. With out fear of wildlife and wild murderers, I'm able to keep a good watch on the experiment. So far the whole place has at least some ground-cover in the form of small plants.

February

February 9

It's so lonely out here...

A short while after my last entry, I gave in and called a shaman. I can't remember which, but it landed me rather Northerly of the lab. I had heard tales of pirates in the area, so quickly set of for the return. I was able to reach the lab by the end of the day. Since then, I've been hunting small and medium game, and buffed up so I won't be taken down as quickly next time. I haven't seen testingthelimits in a while... But at this point all that's left to collect is numbers, such as how long it takes for completely cleared ground to regrow a thin layer of plants, and the likelihood that and particular level of foliage will drop. So I only need his help to keep me company. I must have chosen all to good of a spot, as I haven't seen a single face since I was killed.

February 15

My new home.

Well, like I said, there wasn't much left to record in the lab, so I gave up, and went home. (I was killed by a large stag, again.) I haven't yet decided what to research next, so I'm searching the swamps near Derby, I heard upon my return that it was a major economical factor to find heavy swords here. I can't imagine why there would be swords in a swamp, but there's sure a lot of people looking around for them. If I do find and sell one, I'll be able to use the money to employ more help. Some of the ideas I've considered, such as obliterating a patch of Grassland or tracking parrots island wide, would require a fair amount of help, and thus funds, so sword searching isn't a bad idea.

February 18

I found one!

Yesterday I found a heavy sword just lying in the muck. I'm not going to give it away for anything less than 900 gold coins, until I find more. It's not that I need it, just that they usually sell for 250 gold coins, and I want to sell in bulk. hopefully someone will buy when I have eight, I don't want to sell for just 100 gold coins each.

The swamp is rather crowded with about seven of eight people, so I have fellows to talk to, but there are spirits here that continuously haunt us.

March

March 2

Robert Surcouf, fellow treasure hunter and leader of the French

Searching for swords is quite a dull business, but does have it's moments. For example, I found a second heavy sword. Now my prices have gone down to 800 gold coins each, still a rip off, but if I spend so long looking for them, there's no problem with spending longer selling them.

But much more goes on in these swamps. There must be about a dozen people looking in the swamp at any time, and such activity attracts the attention of more than just spirits. There is a serial murderer, surely psychopathic, by the name of Jessalin, who attacked me. Luckily I was able to flee his blade as he was stuck in the mire, and I reached the safety of a larger group. I told them of the attack, and Baron Robert Surcouf shot him down. On a separate occasion, Jessalin attacked and killed Nouveauk, a fellow sword searcher, but Surcouf shot him while he ran. Now both bodies rot in the mud, yet we can't smell them, as the rotting plants have numbed our noses.

I've taken it upon myself to join The French, as my mother was of the race and I feel vulnerable being in no clan. They own three ruined huts near the Derby Swamp, not far from the road to York by the name of Port Brenton. The area has a casino where I may sell slim chances to win my heavy swords.