Taryb of Family Bacchus

Taryb of Family Bacchus  

All that is deserving of a name:
Bands of Iris - circlets of a golden-hued metal worn on the ends of each of the four major limbs. They allow the wearer the gracefulness of purple, the strength of black, the elation of yellow and the power of red.
The Ville of a Thousand Delights - The raucous and joyous city over which the family of Bacchus ruled before their abdication and where Taryb lives and loves still.
Coins of a Thousand Faces - Monetary mementos of Taryb's deeds and misdeeds across the continent, bearing the faces of a thousand different kings, chieftains and gods.
The Rusted Lock - a salt-encrusted relic from the gods of sea and slumber. Irremovably affixed to a kelp-green sash buried amongst Taryb's more finely colored ones. Its key may be inside the gullet of a twin-snake-headed vulture god of the frog people.

Feats Heroic
Jovial - Taryb bursts into song, stirring the hearts of all who hear her to her cause and rattling the stuff of reality with her raucously booming voice.
Glum -   

Trick
Locus - The Ville of a Thousand delights is never far from Taryb's mind, nor her body. She may call upon this trick to have a scene set in the town of her birth.

Tales of Taryb
8-10-14 Taryb, Umsa and Grost stubble upon the funeral rites celebrating the death of the Iron Lord. Seventeen urns were placed upon the black sand beach to be cast into the salty sea. An assortment of motley colored tents stood upon the sands and a menagerie of motley colored birds sang their songs to Taryb, along with a warning to not toss the Iron Lord's urns into the dark water. When this warning was not heeded, all at the funeral where put at risk and our roguish trio had much work to do to save them. Umsa and Grost fought off the reconstituted Iron Lord who was now part maritime monstrosity while Taryb saved the citizens from a pit of agonizingly slow quicksand.

8-17-14 Taryb makes an unlikely pairing with Lord Maltivar (who himself bears no little resemblance to the Iron Lord). The duo head for a rendezvous with the Duke of Woodriff's war band, but find themselves separated from their goal by a chasm. On the other side prowl hellhounds attracted by the scent of sin and at the bottom arise driftwood-boned spectres bearing the likeness of the dead kings, chieftains and gods that adorn the coinage Taryb had earned on her previous exploits. Taryb pulled Lord Multivar from a watery pocket dimension and found herself riding a bucking hellhound. Lord Multivar grabbed his neon green and with the rousing strains of Metal Opera echoing his black plate, drove for the heart of a terrifying giant wood-and-stone ogre that followed our heroes out of the pocket dimension. He arched through the air, leading a wave of hellhounds who were hot on the scent of the sin of his pride, including the hellhound Taryb herself still clung to tightly. AND SCENE.

9-7-14 Taryb, Grost, The Scythian, Arah and Dario found themselves on a treasure laden ship borne upon a storm tossed sea. Huge, menacing forms glared out from beneath the waves with their doom-lit eyes. Propelled by these creatures, a huge column of water shot the collapsing vessel aloft. Taryb enclosed the rogues in a bubble of color drawn down from a slim rainbow as the boat finally fell apart. The five shipwrecked rogues stumbled toward the city of Eevesdown where Quince, captain of the Thieves’ Guild, awaited his cut of the treasure that now rested on the ocean floor.  Quince is not known for his compassion towards those in his debt. Fortunately, The Scythian discovered that the rogues had something else of worth – their stories. The Eldritch Elder who dwelled in the top of the tallest tower would compensate those who came to him for the power of their tales. Taryb, for the sheer joy of it, decided to trade in a lie: the story of how the rogues defeated the glowing eyed forms beneath the waves. The Eldritch Elder said that all spoken in his chamber was truth, so this story must become truth as well. The shadowy forms emerged from the corners of his tower room as seawater poured in from none knew where. Thinking quickly, Dario the bard began recounting a new story of how the rogues defeated the threat and as he narrated it, it came to pass. All the rogues traded in stories to the weird merchant – all except Grost who discovered he could not part with his memories of Lennay. He also discovered the reason for this and for why he was spared the destruction that befell the rest of his homeland: he was to re-form it.  Arah looked into the mind of the Eldritch Elder and discovered that he was one with the God of Sea & Slumber, who wished to see our rogues give up their vibrant ways and achieve calmness beneath the waves. And though she descended below the sea’s surface, Taryb did not find calmness. In fact, she found nothing. Taryb managed to spend every coin she earned by tale telling to launch an expedition to recoup the coins lost to the sea bottom, yet failed to find a single one. Oh, the life of a rogue is such.

9-14-14 (Michael Miller's words as I forgot to record this one) The PVC scrap raft, laden with rowers. The grapples and raiders in the sail-powered aircraft carrier. Curved weapons and anchors. The polygon of levitation drawn on the water’s surface by The Scythian and Oshala. Umsa claiming a curved coral spear of the frogmen—which bites its weilder. Oshala challenging the storm spirit, and losing! Eyes bloodshot with crimson lightning. Cast to the depths through the eye of the maelstrom. Ocean as undulating ceiling. Becoming agents of the ancient, bone-spurred wizard-whales. Working with Taryb to cast down the prophet from the unblinking nuclear-powered lighthouse. The short-lived gratitude of long-lived wizard-whales. Umsa weilding the lighthouse itself to bat away the lightning. The Scythian soothing the storm with song while Taryb becalmed the sea with blood, sinking into the waves to join the gods of sea and slumber. 

1-4-15 Taryb, a pawn in the scheme of the gods of sea and slumber, is offered up as a sacrifice to the frog people's twin-snake-headed vulture god to usher in the new year. She is imprisoned in a gilded cage that the frog people carry up a pole to the moon and their waiting god. The Sythian and Gammora attend the raucous festivities. While Gammon attempts to teach the frog people the True Song of the Moon, the Scythian scales the pole to free Taryb. Taryb hears Gammon’s song, and while it is a true song of the moon, the moon has two true songs - waxing and waning. Taryb takes out her pipe and plays the song of the waning moon. All who hear it slowly slump into slumber: frog people reveling, the Scythian scaling, and the god Vultwin attempting to devour Taryb from both ends. The monstrosity descends into slumber and topples from its pole, tearing the gilded cage asunder as it falls and freeing Taryb as she finishes her song.

We rejoin our heroes in a caravan, the twisted cage used as payment to Abra, the caravan’s stout and curly-haired headmistress. The Scythian observes her carefully and realizes she is an agent of the frogs and merely using Taryb as protection from the Vultwin, whose shadow cuts across the full moon. Taryb, drunk on vermillion liquor, gazes at the constellations that seem foreign. How long was she below the waves? And didn’t the moon previously move the opposite direction? 

Gammon finds himself among riches untold, among which is a jewel-egg with a the shadow of baby Vultwin inside. The frogs try to seize it and it drops from Gammon’s grasp even as he tears apart his attacker in a shower of gore. A massive frogman emerges from the crowd seeking retribution. He, too, falls to Gammon.

At the head of the caravan, Abra whispers forlorn words into Taryb’s ears and brandishes a salt-encrusted key. Could this open the lock affixed to the kelp-green sash? And if so, what would happen? Taryb does not wait to find out and instead of offering up the lock, wraps the sash it is attached to around Abra’s neck and pulls slowly and inexorably. The Scythian tries to persuade Taryb to disengage, but it is too late; the trio is lifted into the air by the Vultiwn. The heads chomp and all three are encompassed in the venom-drench mouth. Abra’s hand opens and the key slides down the gullet. Taryb dives down, tethered by the kelp-green sash. The Scythian hauls her upward and tired of soothing words, slices the Vultwin’s head off clean from the inside. The severed husk falls to the ground with Taryb and the Scythian cradled in its concavity. The powerful venom, separated from its system, melts the flesh from the skull and the duo find themselves sitting in an inverted cage of bone. Taryb regards her hands, empty.

1-18-14 (Many words borrowed from Michael Miller) The traveling wizard’s tower, closed for the night. A single light in an upper window. Dario boosting Gammon’s impossible leap to the roof. The rogues down the chimney. A serpent, scaled in crimson and gold, writhing and throwing heat in the hearth. Dario soothing the beast with his ocarina.

Flashback: Taryb in the marketplace. It is outdoors, but covered by so many ad-hoc roofs that they blot out the sun and the moon.  She is trying to sell a mysterious bag of untold treasure to each merchant. They shake their heads and she moves on, and, on, and on until she finds herself in the desert beside the wizardarium. The horned wizard buys it from her.

In the wizard’s tower, patrolled by lynxes that stalk the walls and ceilings. The upper greenhouse, resplendent with greenery. Taryb finds a pool carved of rock from the ocean floor. Within is the treasure she sold the wizard, a pearl the size of a bowling ball inscribed with events of the Wizarding Whales which cannot be sung of. Her hand dipped into the water. A finger-length eel with angelfish fins slips seamlessly under Taryb’s skin.

Months later our rogues clinging to a decaying steel building frame. The girders covered with flowering vines. Gator-apes in bronze age armor howling and throwing spears chasing them up. A hurled spear hitting a flower. An explosion of color and seed-shrapnel. The building’s creak. A sheet of green vines peeling off with a rogue hanging out like a fruit.

From one building to the next, but those are not vines – they are eels. Rogues ferried to the mother eel, a gaping maw of darkness inside the swirling morass of eels.
The eel inside Taryb, grown to enormous lengths, leaps from her throat to protect its host.

The rogues covered in eel-gore. The numberless dark eels cannot sense them. Gammon mesmerizes the eels with dance, finding the moves to part their sea.

Outside, the horned wizard and his tower. “The pearl can never return to you, Taryb.” “I have something to return to you, horned one.” Wrist clasped to wrist. The too, too long angelfish-finned eel writhing out of her wrist into his. The horned wizard receiving all the numberless dark eels into his modest carpetbag.

Dario, certain the gator-apes want only the other building, ignoring their attentions. Their armor glinting in the starlight as they carry him off.

Taryb, weakened and uncoordinated, leaning on Gammon. “This was just another long game of the wizard-whales, wasn’t it, my friend?” “What isn’t?” Lifting Dario’s dropped ocarina. “We don’t dance to their tune.” A single high-pitched note. The greenhouse windows growing bright. Flames consuming the top floor of the wizard tower, the crimson and gold serpent writhing within.

Days later A discarded snake skin. A charred ruin of the oceanic pool. A soot-stained pearl, unseen amidst the rubble.

A year later Dario’s ballad of the gator-apes, sung from the lips of everyone.

1-25-15 The blood-veined map, the serpents of lava, He Who Was Small but Ambitious, and the treasures that raised a sunken city.
https://plus.google.com/117516100985204134844/posts/BHa5CzaxPHS

2-8-15 The Neon Knights and a Wizard Whale Trap https://plus.google.com/u/0/+MichaelMiller1000/posts/bHDsdYZWwXw?cfem=1