Untold Stories Of The Eye Of Anubis!

Fiction about Ravenloft or Gothic Earth
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DocBeard
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Untold Stories Of The Eye Of Anubis!

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(Hey. This is a story I wrote set in Indivia. Disclaimer: The characters in this story are property of their respective owners and used with permission. I am not making any money off of using the Ravenloft setting or characters that are the property of Wizards of the Coast.)

It was the middle of a long, boring afternoon; the sun shamelessly shone, persistantly driving away muck, gloom, and shadowy figures of all shapes and siezes. The Indivian woods were disarmingly idyllic in the daytime, sunshine dappling through spring foilage to highlight the worn form of Tomas Eisenwald: sandy blond hair, thick Lamordian build, and electric blue eyes were the most obvious points of interest. Tomas had a kind face that melted his otherwise severe features, and the long coat and jeff cap he wore over his steel breastplate and heavy Barovian style shield continued this philosophy of looking more like a porter than the heir apparent to the Uffington style of swordsmanship. Not that Tomas saw himself as emulating the civily shrouded hazards of the afternoon woods; he'd be shocked and hurt at any accusation of subterfuge, and insist that he was just more comfortable dressing and acting in his particular way.

Lighting his blue pipe, Tomas chewed on the handle. He really wished he had talked one of the others into coming with him, but for the most part the looming deadline over the heads of his companions overrided their normal charitable motives. Graduate student or no, though, Tomas reasoned that you could not just say no to a terrified young couple who's factory foreman would not let them look for their own child until after the night shift. It Was Not Proper. Ducking a branch, Tomas shouted out, "Hallo!", wishing his Balok was not so rusty.

"Whoo?!" The voice bellowed.

"Tomas Eisenwald!" Tomas called back out of sheer instinct, politeness having been drilled into his head as a child. He groped to the left, carefully scanning for a sign of movement. This was roughly when the owl panicked, screeching and flying right into Tomas's face! Letting out a startled yelp, Tomas swung his arms wildly, choking on feathers and his own blood until finally there was an ugly thump. Shield arm, the swordsman in Tomas's soul whispered. "Eugh." He groaned, wiping his face as another part of him mentioned that, golly, that sure was an especially fatal-sounding thump, you big jerk. Eisenwald held out for a whole five seconds before looking at the sad, still form on the forest floor. "Oh no." Tomas moaned softly to himself, getting down on one knee and gently touching the owl's neck. "I hadn't ment to...to...ow!"

Snapping his hand back, Tomas sucked at the finger the sudden spark burned, feeling a little pathetic. Stupid wool socks, was the thought, and then, gosh! This was on account of the bird getting up, rolling its shoulders, and flapping upwards. Looping around Tomas one time, it landed on an old wooden sign. Happy in spite of himself, Tomas smiled at the bird, then looked down. "Captain Fararri's Fabulous Fun Fair!", it proclaimed in bright red paint, pointing to the west and proudly baring the smiling mug of what Tomas very much hoped was supposed to be a mildly frightening clown. Suddenly sure of where a sad little girl would want to be if not at home, Tomas tipped his hat at the owl in gratitude before rushing off after the sign. Golly, Tomas thought to himself, if I didn't know better, I'd swear that owl winked at me.

---

Liability Mourneswaithe and Charles Martel were a study in opposites, as far as appearance was concerned. Lia, as she preferred to be called, was pretty in a pallid sort of way; gray skin, claw like fingers, a set of fangs and blood red eyes all gave away her diabolical heritage, the mark of the tiefling. While she kept the plain black dress she brought from her homeland of Mordent, a pair of fingerless gloves, cream colored underskirt, and a colorful hooded shawl filled with mystic charms and bat toys all hinted at a significant victory in the battle against the shame of her origins that has dominated so much of her life. To put it plainly, Lia was still getting used to showing her face in public, and her body language tended to either overcompensate or subtly give her fears away, depending on the mood in a given situation.

A rosy fingered dawn piercing the gloom of Lia's dusk, Charles Martel looked like someone had tried to dress up as la Marshal Homme, hero of penny dreadfuls and recruitment poasters all over the Four Towers alliance. Blonde hair, a prim mustache and narrow goatee, and a classically handsome build made it easy for Charles to be as noticable or otherwise as he desired, while his navy blue 'uniform' contained enough baggage, ruffs, fluffs, and hidden pouches as to appear almost stereotypically foppish, ultimately leading to a very strong visual impression that told you absolutely nothing about Mister Martel other than that he could carry off a pair of tight leather pants.

This explained, the significance of their sharing precisely the same expression of shock, exasperation, and contempt at the inability to foresee what should have been obvious becomes much more impressive.

"You've got to respect the alliteration." Charles pointed out, subtly tensed as though he were speaking to a loaded musket instead of a shy young woman.

"Do I?!" Said musket snapped anyway, slapping her face into her palm and pacing a little. "Oh this is just like him-how could he possibly think that this is going to be a productive use of our time?! It's, it's, it's a..."

"A fair." Charles agreed, clasping his hands behind his back so as to make them harder for Liability to scratch, "And aren't you overreacting a little, Lia? I mean, sure, this does seem childish, even for Tomas, but..."

Well, he couldn't help but feel a little childish himself. There was such a something about the stale stank of stale peanuts, 'fruit punch' that did not contain any actual fruit, sausages that were more sand than anything and the squeals of overstimulated young people that Charles couldn't help but wax nostalgic a little. There were rows of cheap wooden stands offering any variety of anything, bundles of baloons coloring the whole of the ground, a few cages that, judging by the smell, held some of the wonders of the natural world, and at the center a great massive wheel that slowly turned around and around, filled with hanging bucket seats, gleeful children and even a few bemused or frightened parents. A ferris wheel!

"We could be out there looking for that little girl so we can leave this wretched country." Liability continued, being one of those unfortunate people whom cannot stop to appreciate a ferris wheel in the middle of a mildly haunted forrest. "But that...that..."

"Irresponsible."

"Yes! Thank you." Lia tapped off, not entierly noticing that it was not Charles who was speaking, "Irresponsible, addle-minded, easily distractable..."

"Uncomfortably dashing?"

"...uncomfortably dashi." The look on the witch's face, Charles would later decide, was worth the entire trip. She turned around with a snap of her cloak and pointed a finger in the man behind her's face, a feat that required use of tip-toes and a bit of slouching on his part. "Eisenwald! If you are quite done playing this little joke on us, I think it's time to are you even listening to me?!"

"No." Tomas replied cheerfully, shoving a large stuffed chicken into her arms. "I won this for you, though. Charles, I was thinking..."

"Yeah, I know." Charles spoke quickly enough, turning around so as not to laugh at the flabbergasted look on Lia's face. In a way, he felt bad for the tiefling, who honestly did not seem to understand why a child might sneak off to the fair. Shaking his head at bastard fathers everywhere, Martel nodded to Eisenwald and motioned for him to lead the way. Tipping his hat at the shadowy math student, Tomas did as much, whistling to himself as he navigated through the small but expanding crowd of people, vendors, and carnival hazards best left undescribed.

---

The reluctant trio eventually came to the side of the great wheel itself, which looked far less cheerful up close; the entire thing was shaped vaguely like the maw of some great beast-man, complete with curvy ram horns on the top and little paper mache teeth on all of the baskets. There was a moment or two where a basket would be in total darkness, 'consumed' by the beast, only to come out of the top of its mouth again!

"I think this is where it's happening." Tomas mentioned, after a moment or two. Scratching his nose, Eisenwald proceeded to get in line for a ticket, ignoring the snickers of the older children and the incredulous looks of his companions. Knowing full well that Tomas wasn't about to share more information than he absolutely had to at any given time, Charles gently tugged Lia's sleeve and got in behind the burly Lamordian. Bells jingled and safety bars were moved, and slowly but surely the machine began to rise; Tomas could not resist giving out a little, "Whee!", shamelessly enjoying the looks on his friends's faces. Finally, they entered the maw of the beast itself, and this signaled that it was time for Tomas to start throwing his weight around, rocking the basket!

"Eisenwald if this is all some excuse to try and scare me, I swear to..." Lia was cut off by a sudden bumping noise, a brief feeling of vertigo, and a sudden, sliding sensation. All three friends let out yelps of shock as they helplessly slid down, down into the depths of the earth, only to land, head first, in a pile at the end of a twisted slide painted vaguely like someone's exposed guts. Charles heard it first, but the knife that popped into his hand was hard to use without risking cutting someone he did not want to be bleeding profusely, and besides, just how many layers of fat did he want to saw through to try and get to something painful on that tree trunk of a leg that was coming towards him!

"Bugger dee dee, bugger dee dork," The voice, as crude and impacting as a stone axe, sang out as the massive form lumbered towards the pile, "Bad little boys, they gets put to work! Haw haw haw, we got us a big catcha fish this time..." The ogre leaned down, gently(which is to say 'without breaking his neck') picking Charles up by the head. "Little old, little worn, and this one needsa shine..." The humming ogre motioned behind him, and Tomas and Lia were horrified to see three more of the massive brutes backing their companion up! "...but you ain't gotta be pretty, whot to dig, tunnel, and mine...!"

Captured by underground ogres?! Will our heroes be able to escape? What is the terrible secret Tomas is keeping from his friends?! And what of the fate of the sweet little girl? Find out next time, and until then, be sure to drink your Ovaltine and hold on to your Eye of Anubis secret decoder rings-you never know when Professor Andre will need to sneak a message past the evil Mister Cavendish to get the help of all you boys and girls out there in radioland!
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