On the Island: Ceremony and Escape

[bringmethatnpc]

The sound of thunder rumbles through the air, heralding an approaching storm--

--no, wait.

That's not thunder; that's the beating of drums.

It's a beautiful clear day on the island, just perfect for a ceremony and celebration, as the tribe prepares to send their chief to the gods.

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[pirate_jack]

With great solemnity, the firebearer approaches the pyre and bends to touch the sacred flame to the wood, while Jack eyes it grimly.

He hesitates, though, at the sound of footbeats pounding down the path. Everyone turns to look at whoever the fool might be who dares disrupt this most holy of ceremonies.

It's the guard from the cliff, whose panicked flight was made partly in determination not to be blamed for this. This is far more serious than a parrot's escape, after all.

He shrieks a warning of the prisoners' escape, and in horrified silence everyone turns to the chief for guidance.

In the quiet, Jack's stern order is very clear.

"Well, go on, go get them!" A beat. "Pe-la-la!"

[bringmethatnpc]

"Pe-la-la! Pe-la-la!"

Grabbing for spears, the group pounds after the guard, racing towards the cliffs. There's no time to designate someone to watch over the chief, and no real need to worry; even if he forgets his sacred duty to the tribe again, those ropes are nice and tight.

It's unfortunate, then, that the firebearer dropped his torch in the furor. On bare ground, yes, but not on level ground.

And doubly unfortunate that, when the torch rolls into the pyre, the kindling catches.

[pirate_jack]

He's unnerved when the torch hits the ground so close to him, calling out, "Wait! No no!", but it's a little half-hearted, considering the situation as a whole.

As he's left alone in the clearing, Jack watches a spark fall into the straw, igniting it.

"Not good--"

He blows on it, attempting to blow it out or back away from the rest of the tinder.

Unfortunately, as Will Turner the blacksmith's apprentice could have told him, air on smoldering tinder causes it to burst into brighter flame. It's the entire point of a bellows, after all.

His efforts get more desperate as the fire rises.

[bringmethatnpc]

Any of the tribe would hastily smother the flame, if they were nearby. They want the god to be freed from his madman's flesh, after all, but not before the proper time. These things need to be done properly, for good luck and divine favor.

Unfortunately, they're all off chasing a bunch of escaping prisoners.

Whoops.

[pirate_jack]

Jack looks around wildly for assistance, or failing that, inspiration--

Bugger bugger bugger bugger... a-HA!

-- or perhaps it's all just a matter of the proper leverage.

He begins to fling his weight wildly back and forth, causing the strong green branch of the spit to bend and flex more and more as he bounces, up and down and up and down-- and finally up, as the spit bounces all the way out of its holder.

Jack falls to the side, rolling clear of the pyre, and manages to kick his legs free of the rope.

That'll do -- there's no time to lose waiting about here for the tribe to return. Arms still bound to his side and spit still attached to his back, Jack goes running across the bridge, out of camp.

[bringmethatnpc]

The whole tribe didn't go chasing the prisoners. Very nearly, but there are still a few who were in the middle of other necessary tasks, and didn't or couldn't drop what they were doing to go recapture the escaping food.

And then there are a few who are young enough to be distractable, and have a hard time keeping up with charging adults anyway.

Like this boy, who stopped by the bridge to examine his knife and fork with pride. They're his, and brand new, and also his legs are tired from running. So this is much more gratifying.

Except here's the chief, still tied to his spit, and by all appearances shaming himself horribly by trying to run away. The boy just stares.

[pirate_jack]

Sometimes, there's really just no good way to explain things.

Jack flashes a quick smile, then hops sideways down the small hill until he's at the same level as this lad. With a quick sideways scuttle, almost like a crab, he's in range-- and snatches the knife from the boy's hand.

Pirate.

As the boy flees, Jack begins to saw hurriedly at the ropes over his chest.

[bringmethatnpc]

Remember those tribesmen engaged in other necessary tasks?

Yeah.

Here are two of them.

They're large, and armed with rather sharper knives, and holding bowls of fruits and vegetables intended for the ceremonial feast. And they are deeply unimpressed with Jack's current activities.

[pirate_jack]

There's a rather impressive silence for several seconds, while they stare at the chief and Jack stares back at them.

And then--

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

Jack charges, running at the two of them as fast as he can and bending low so that the spit behaves as an odd sort of lance.

[bringmethatnpc]

The two tribesmen do the sensible thing, when faced with a charging, yodeling madman wielding a giant stick tied to his body.

That is to say: they sidestep.

[pirate_jack]

He goes hurtling past them with far too much momentum to stop, so it's really a lucky thing that there's a pile of coconuts directly ahead.

CRASH!

Staggering a bit, Jack backs up. One of the coconuts comes with him, pierced through the end of the spit.

Without a moment's hesitation, he spins around, sending it flying back across the clearing as a rather effective projectile weapon.

[bringmethatnpc]

One native catches the coconut directly in front of his face. Both hands.

Smack, is the sound it makes.

Very slowly, he lowers it.

And... my, that's an impressive glower.

And then an impressive snarl.

[bringmethatnpc]

They don't want to hurt the chief. He might take it amiss, later, when he's a god again, and the last thing the tribe wants is to give itself a god with a grudge against them.

On the other hand, he's clearly trying to escape his own feast.

The man not holding the coconut waves in an agony of indecision. (There's a reason he and his friend aren't high-status hunters, and it's that they're not really all that bright. Carrying fruit around is widely deemed to be the best occupation for them.)

And then he has a Brilliant Idea.

He grabs a mango from his bowl, and flings it at Jack.

[pirate_jack]

It's hard to duck when you're attached to a big wooden spit with heavy ropes, Jack finds-- not that he doesn't try. His beaded braids swing wildly as he jerks to his right and down a little--

"Hey!"

--and the mango makes a rather wet sound as it's impaled on the pole, coming to rest not far from his face.

[bringmethatnpc]

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a man in possession of a quantity of squishy fruit must be in want of a good food-fight.

Also, as previously mentioned, neither of these fellows is precisely a tactical genius. Fruit-throwing seems to both of them to be as good a strategy as any for chastising and retrieving the chief.

Both men, shouting, launch volley after volley at Jack, and the air is full of flying fruit and spattering pulp.

[pirate_jack]

He spins back and forth, batting at fruit and vegetables with his hands and with the pole on his back, until finally--

"STOP IT!"

The two men freeze, melons and mangoes in hand, staring at their chief, who is teetering back and forth slightly in an effort to keep his balance against the weight of the now food-loaded spit.

Jack turns his head sideways, giving them a look of disbelief.

[bringmethatnpc]

...

...

The two men stare at each other, and then back at Jack.

...Come to think of it, maybe this wasn't the best use of their food supplies after all.

[pirate_jack]

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!"

He takes advantage of their indecision to charge again, but this time, Jack bends forward as he reaches the rocky coconut pile.

The end of the spit braces firmly in the ground, flinging him up and through the air in a soaring end-over-end arc as he vaults across the abyss to the other side. Jack lands solidly on his feet, and his sudden grin is bright and wicked.

A second later, it turns to a look of alarm, as the weight of the food on the lower end of the spit overbalances him backward into the chasm.

Yelling at the top of his lungs, Jack falls.

[bringmethatnpc]

...Nobody but the god-possessed is this mad. Even these two can tell that.

Also, nobody but the god-possessed has that kind of luck. No one else could have made that vault, or would have ever thought to attempt it.

The two tribesmen lean over the edge of the ravine, watching Jack plummet.

The god inside him will save him, they're sure of that. And they have got to see what happens next.

[pirate_jack]

It's a long drop from the top of the cliff to the ground below, and Jack's wild shouts have plenty of time to echo loudly from the walls of the chasm as it narrows-- right up until the spit bridges the gap.

The pole bends oddly under the force of Jack's weight, but the strong green wood remains intact instead of breaking. Moss and plants go flying from stone walls as the spit scrapes along them, slowing and eventually coming to a stop.

Jack's heavier than the pole, however, and he tips to the side-- falling past the spit as the force of gravity unspins him from the rope like a child's toy.

Eventually, he's left dangling upside down in midair, with one loop of rope around his ankle still attached to the spit above.

[bringmethatnpc]

Nicely retrievable. And, they judge, nicely stuck there, for the moment.

Which means they really should go inform the others. The shaman and the warriors will want the duty of fetching the chief -- and, they both know even if they won't admit it, that little episode back there with the fruit is perhaps evidence of why the shaman and the warriors really ought to be the ones to get that duty.

"Ah-nee-nee," one says, resignedly.

"Aboogi," his friend replies, and together they head off.

[pirate_jack]

Leaving Jack hanging there still, but not for much longer. The pole may be strong throughout, but the ends are splintering against the rock. It jerks once, then a second time, sending a shiver down the rope.

Very distinctly, Jack says,

"Bugger."

There's a creak from above, and the pole gives way.




"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!"

He goes tumbling through the air, flailing wildly. There's a loud crash as he hits the first bridge, and another as he hits the second-- echoed by a thud from above as the pole hits the first bridge behind him, disgorging its fruit as neatly as though it had been picked clean.

A third bridge, then the fourth, and the fifth-- and by the time Jack hits the ground, he's slowed enough to only have the wind knocked out of him. Lying there, he looks up to see the pole falling at him like a spear-- and it rather acts like one as well, piercing the ground beside his head.

Jack stares up at the sky as a rain of melons scatters around him, and then all is quiet.

"Well, that was interesting."