The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#1

I make this journal to log my journey on The Quest To Eliminate Pumpkin Scat (from my lawn.)

Conversations from chat explaining my quest:
Dozus: Suzod turns into a pumpkin after midnight, so chatting beyond then is impossible/filled with pumpkin talk.
Strolen: Pumpkin scat?
Dozus: So much of it. Just so much.
MysticMoon: Any tips on keeping pumpkins out of the yard? My neighbor's pumpkin keeps leaving scat on mine while I'm at work. Stringy seeds all over the place. It's disgusting.
Dozus: On the midnight of a new moon, put a chicken in a burlap sack and strangle it. Bury the sack for three days. After the third day, dig up the sack. When you next see your neighbor, beat him with the sack and tell him to keep his damn pumpkins in his own damn yard.
MysticMoon: Choke the chicken on the 13th, beat neighbor to death on the 16th. Got it.
valadaar: lol
Murometz: you can speak things up by doing those in reverse
Murometz: speed things up
Chaosmark: And the bonus is, if you do it in reverse, you don't even have to dig up the chicken.
MysticMoon: Wait, I'm confused. How do I dig up the chicken before it's been buried?
Murometz: with Zen
Dozus: Find the tomb of Xbalanque, the legendary hero god of the Maya. Fashion a spade from his glorious skull.
Dozus: I'm also told a shovel will work.
MysticMoon: Just to be sure, I'll go for the skull of Xbalanque. I have a flight scheduled for Saturday morning and a map some guy off the internet sold me.
MysticMoon: If I get it and get back by late Monday, I can dig up the chicken, kill the neighbor and then bury it three days later on the new moon.
Chaosmark: Just remember, the tomb is non-Euclidean. It'll take you three circles around the central pillar before you find the true door to the inner sanctum.
MysticMoon: Hmm, I'd better print up those non-Euclidean subs to take with me. I can study them in more detail on the flight.
Murometz: and if you round enough corners, you'll meet yourself
Murometz: welcome aboard, Friendly Airlines, fight 666 to Xbalanque's Tomb. Please turn off your cell phones and laptops and keep any non-eucllidean reading material in an upright position, as the captain starts his chant.
MysticMoon: Meet myself?! I'd never survive!
MysticMoon: Can't stand that guy
MysticMoon: Wait, did those subs print up on non-euclidean paper? Dammit, how am I supposed to read it now?
Dozus: You need 5-dimensional toner.
MysticMoon: I think they sell some of that in that strange shop at the end of that alley in the bad part of town. I try to stay away from there because of all that strange chanting they do. Something like "Ph'nglui Mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn."
Wulfhere: 5-dimensional toner? My Office Supply place can't keep the stuff I already need instock!
MysticMoon: I just hope I can find some before my flight
Dozus: Office Depot sells a knock-off that's 4-dimensional.
MysticMoon: Think it'll work?
Dozus: Dunno. How do you feel about endless wailing madness?
MysticMoon: Pretty comfortable with it, actually
Dozus: I think you'll be good, then.
MysticMoon: Excellent

I shall document my journey as I am able.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#2

May fortune smile upon your journeys! Be sure to heed the dire warnings of the ghost jaguar when you arrive, and do not pay the extra five bucks for those headphones that only work on the plane!

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#3

I went looking for 5 (or at least 4) dimensional toner at the local Office Depot on my way home from work. It wasn't clearly visible and after wandering the store a bit, I finally asked one of the kids at the desk for directions. He was reticent at first until I mentioned Suzod's name and then he quickly showed me to a back corner I had somehow missed (I thought at first he had forgotten where it was because he walked in a curiously circuitous route a few times.)

They don't carry the 5-dimensional brand but they did have 4-dimensional toner. He said I could get the 4+ Premium for only $20 extra and that the screaming would subside quicker than with the regular 4.

Having made my purchase I left the store and went home. I don't recall what I ate for dinner as I was terribly excited to see if the new toner would work better than the last. I printed up parts 1 & 2 of the non-Euclidean geometry subs.

I don't remember reading them. Apparently I screamed and ranted about tentacles and how "it's so dark and cold" for about an hour (I usually only do that for a half-hour after a typical workday, so I didn't mind so much.)

Toner and documents, check!

Almost forgot to mention: my neighbor got another pumpkin today and laughed when he saw me cursing at the mess on the lawn. He won't be laughing in another week!

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#4

May fortune smile upon your journeys! Be sure to heed the dire warnings of the ghost jaguar when you arrive, and do not pay the extra five bucks for those headphones that only work on the plane!

Thank you for the jaguar warning. I've never poked through Mayan ruins before so I'm more than a little nervous!

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#5

Don't worry about it, MM -- it's not as hard as a lot of the so-called "industry experts" would have you believe. Once you've desecrated one ancient site of power, it actually becomes pretty routine. If you're still worried about it, I would recommend A Field Guide to Desecrating Ancient Mayan Ruins: 101 Rules, Guidelines, and Best Practices. If I recall correctly (the blackouts make it kinda difficult), it has a special section dedicated to common pitfalls with non-Euclidean geometry, as well. Can't remember the author's name off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure you can find it in the "special" section of Amazon.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#6

Don't speak the author's name here! It is deadly to human ears and mortal vision! Your single-tongued maw cannot speak it! It refuses to be expressed in your mundane letters!

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#7

You may be making an unsafe assumption here, good sir...

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#8

I've never poked through Mayan ruins before so I'm more than a little nervous!

1. Avoid cenotes

2. Do be careful of mosquito bites that just don't seem to be going away, and then become extraordinarily painful, especially between the hours of 4am-6am

3. Bring loads of Vaseline, rubbing alcohol and pliers

4. If offered a "fetish" or "talisman" by anyone, decline politely

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#9

1. Avoid cenotes

Don't be too hasty in avoiding cenotes. If you're looking for Xbalanque, you may have to enter Xibalba, the Maya underworld, where the dead dwell.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#10

Right. I meant avoid C-Notes! (If anyone with a jagged obsidian dagger tries to pass you one)

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#11

However, a well-sung B-flat should be fine, as far as notes go.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#12

I have had a grueling night, my friends.

I first looked for "A Field Guide to Desecrating Ancient Mayan Ruins: 101 Rules, Guidelines, and Best Practices" on Amazon. Unfortunately, the earliest it could be shipped to me was Saturday afternoon; too late for me to receive it in time before my flight at 9am. Distraught, I dug deeply into the dark recesses of the web and discovered a forum frequented by some of the more eclectic amateur archaeologists. A few members had certainly heard of this book. One user, a fellow who goes by MayanProphecy1979, even knew of a collector who would likely own a copy of that very manual, a recluse who, fortunately for me, happened to live less than an hour's drive from my own home.

I emailed the man, letting him know of my situation and how I had been directed to him for assistance. I stressed the urgency of my need for this book and how every part of my quest hinged upon a very short timeframe. Waiting for a response was quite vexing, as I had no other recourse. My attempts at locating an electronic copy via darknet were in vain; I heard only stories of mysterious fires and uncontrollable viruses whenever an attempt was made to scan it.

After a couple of grueling hours, I received a very terse email reply with rough directions to a house in the mountains. Encouraged, I wasted no time in heading out.

The drive was quite long and, I must admit, a bit hairier than I was expecting. I had to drive slowly through the narrow and winding paths. The recent rains had made large potholes in the old and cracked mountain roads. Eventually, even the pavement ended and the closer I got to my destination, the more I feared getting my poor car lodged in some deep, muddy pit.

Breathtaking is the word that describes the vista which greeted me at my journey's end. This recluse, whoever he may be, lives at the very top of a high ridge, with an excellent view of a darkly forested valley. It was late enough at that time for the moon to be up, casting its silvery glow upon the ranks of trees before me, reflected from the waters of a freshly engorged river. The air smelled of damp earth and pine trees.

And his house! A large and sturdy affair, made of great planks of wood expertly crafted and fitted. Redwood shingles adorned the roof. Split level, 3 stories, a stable, barn, and a large detached garage, all clearly illuminated in moonlight. Candlelight flickered through gauzy curtains from several windows.

I don't mind telling you that I stood in awe of it all for several minutes. Who is this man?, I wondered. I still wonder.

When I fixed my step toward the door, I noticed a quick flash of movement behind one of the curtains, poorly illuminated from the side. A cat, perhaps, chasing his flickering shadow? No matter, I thought.

I climbed the wooden steps up to the porch, hearing the loud creaking of old wood as I did so. I approached the door with uncertainty, hoping that my haste had not led me into danger this far from home. The air had chilled more than I expected and I could see my breath cloud before the faint light bleeding through the small windows to each side of the door. My nerves had begun to get the better of me, for when what I had taken to be a small piece of furniture inside one of those windows begin to turn, I gasped audibly. A curtain was flung aside and a face, certainly no more than 4' from the floor, looked up at me. I could see no features, only the rough outline of a head.

I hesitated, not sure if I should knock, since the occupants obviously knew of my arrival, but also seriously entertaining the idea of turning around, getting back in my nice familiar car, and driving away. But, no, I knew that I must see this through if I was ever to have peace at home again.

My courage thus steeled, I raised my fist and knocked upon the door. The face disappeared from the window. Seconds creeped by. Just as I began to wonder at the cold (my hands and nose were already turning numb) I heard a slow shuffling from inside and the door opened with barely a whisper.

The diminutive woman who stood before me must have been more than 100 years old. Her body was framed in a shapeless black dress, her ancient hands held onto a gnarled cane fashioned of driftwood, and her craggy face peered at mine. Her gray hair had been pulled back into a tight bun. I could see that her left eye was missing with the lid sunken over the empty socket. She looked me up and down. I could tell nothing from the severe line of her mouth as I suspected from the creases in her face that that expression was as permanent as could be.

"You are here for the book?" she asked me through an accent that sounded vaguely German.

"The book on the Mayans? Yes. By the way, I am-"

She cut me off with a curt wave of her cane. "It does not matter," she said. "Come in. I get Franz."

She led me down a short hallway to a small sitting room, pointed at a chair upholstered in red velvet, and left. I sat, poised on the edge, back straight. I must say that I was far from comfortable and the urge to flee had never quite left.

Franz appeared in short order. He had dark, disheveled hair, pale, blue eyes, and lips embarrassingly red for a man. He shook my hand absentmindedly and then took a seat of his own.

He told me that he did, in fact, have the book I so desperately needed. He questioned me in detail about my situation and what I proposed to do about it. When the subject turned to the Mayans, he eyes glowed in great delight.

"I have often wished to add the bones of the great Xbalanque to my collection," he said. "But I have had no opportunity to travel so far south." A strange wistfulness crossed his face briefly before he continued. "You say that you only need his skull to fashion this spade? And that you will have no need of it afterward?"

I confirmed this to him.

"Most excellent, indeed," he said. "I will gladly loan you this book if I can in turn ask for a favor. Bring me back as many of the bones of Xbalanque as you are able. In turn, I will not only give you use of this book, but I will introduce you to one of my agents in the area. She will be able to find you guides, equipment, anything you need."

"You are quite generous," I said, astounded at this offer.

He shrugged. "It is simple for me and I would very much like to see these bones."

We talked briefly about some of the local happenings. He seemed oddly informed for someone who lived in so remote a location and who obviously rarely ventured out into the sunlight.

"I should be getting back home," I said after a while.

"Certainly," he said. "I easily forget the time. But, first you must have some tea and meet my daughter, Irena."

I turned in the direction of his gaze and nearly jumped out of my skin. His daughter stood but mere inches from me. So still and quiet did she stand that I would have thought her a statue had I not known better. She must have been no more than 8 or 9 and had the same dark hair and pale skin of her father. Her long hair had fallen across the left side of her face and she wore a simple white nightgown. In her hands were 2 cups of tea, one for her father and one for me.

I tried to recover as well as I could under the circumstances. The warm tea felt good on my cold hands and warmed my belly.

The rest of my evening in that house is... hazy. The warmth of the tea spread quickly, finally thawing out the cold I had felt since coming to the door. But the warmth began to feel wrong and my limbs became quite heavy. I think I tried to stammer out an apology and get up but ended up falling onto the hardwood floor. I have vague memories of his daughter leaping upon my outstretched arm and biting it. I know that I felt only the slightest of tugs.

There are more memories, but they are all quite jumbled and fading and I would rather not delve into them. When the fog cleared, I found myself driving, only a couple of miles from home and with a copy of "A Field Guide to Desecrating Ancient Mayan Ruins: 101 Rules, Guidelines, and Best Practices" in the passenger seat next to me. Later on when I had the strength of will to open it, did I notice a slip of paper with the name Luisa Gonzalez and a phone number written upon it in smudged ink.

I have not slept at all this night.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#13

Franz sounds like a pretty cool guy. We should invite him to the Citadellian Holiday Party.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#14

What a lovely family! If you decide to really get into the hobby, Moon, Franz sounds like he'd make a great resource. I know you are new to the whole "tomb-raider" scene, but it really is a very rewarding pastime. Glad you were able to get your hands on a copy of that book -- I ordered mine off Amazon, but haven't really been happy with the print quality. I think they used cheap knock-off cowhide in place of the human-leather binding. Receiving an original from an older hobbyist is a rare stroke of fortune.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#15

I should think I'd like to meet Irena. She sounds like the sort of girl that'll grow up to be a fine young woman.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#16

Oh, how's that bite working out? Did she leave any marks? Did they look feral, almost animal? Is it oddly cold to the touch? Is there the distant smell of wet fur and raw blood?

Calamine should be good for that kind of thing, I think.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#17

My wrist was nicely bandaged when I came to in the car last night. I've been afraid to look at the wound. It does itch a little.

I will clean and rebandage it this evening after work. I hope it doesn't slow me down. This evening will be quite hectic as I plan for my flight tomorrow, making certain I have my book and printouts, while also trying to get some sleep before leaving. I am exceptionally tired after my ordeal last night.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#18

What a lovely family! If you decide to really get into the hobby, Moon, Franz sounds like he'd make a great resource. I know you are new to the whole "tomb-raider" scene, but it really is a very rewarding pastime. Glad you were able to get your hands on a copy of that book -- I ordered mine off Amazon, but haven't really been happy with the print quality. I think they used cheap knock-off cowhide in place of the human-leather binding. Receiving an original from an older hobbyist is a rare stroke of fortune.

We will see. I am both frightened and excited at the prospect of my first foray into this hobby. I will know more once I've traversed the jungle and faced the horrors of my first ancient tomb. Even so, I am hesitant to go back into that house. The things I'm remembering...

OTOH, I must say, the book is of exceptional quality. The leather cover is soft and pliable, the wording a deep crimson that really stands out on the yellow parchment. Caligraphy certainly is a lost art these days. And very few people worry about quality materials anymore.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#19

The wound on my wrist appears to be mostly healed. I finally found enough courage to unwrap it. It is, at the moment, a mass of purplish scarring that still itches a bit. The wrist itself is still sore but only when I flex it. Lucky for me, she bit my right arm and not my left.

I managed to pack all of the essentials. I have the map I attained online, the non-Euclidean subs by Forganthus, the book on the Mayans from Franz, and all the other essentials. I have not packed any weapons as I fear I would not be able to fly them into another country. A shame, as I was looking forward to trying out my new butterfly swords. I will, however, see if Franz's contact can at least obtain a kukri for me after I land.

Sleep came swiftly for me last night. My exhaustion from the previous night caught up with me in full force. I vaguely remember seeing Franz and his daughter in my dreams. They were watching me silently. When I looked over and saw them, Irena put her finger to her lips and shushed me. Franz waved. And then my alarm was blaring at me to wake. It took quite some effort to drag myself out of bed in order to make my flight.

I am at the airport now. I will post again when I am able.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#20

What airline are flying with? I know there's only a handful that fly into the darkest parts of the Yucatán rainforest.

I went once. Flew with a small company called Air Quetzal. Their logo - a cheery bright bird - belied the dark, creaking shack of an office at the Ciudad Acuña International Airport. At first I thought I was in the wrong place, some maintenence shed perhaps, but the wiry man in the chair there confirmed I was at the right place. He wore a heavily worn gray workshirt, the kind one finds in a mechanic's shop, with the name "Miguel" embroidered on the breast. When I called him by that name, he glared at me, muttering in what I must assume was Nahuatl. I quickly apologized in my broken Spanish. He only explained that Miguel was his brother, who was long dead.

He flipped through a clipboard and pointed to a hand-written page with my name and flight information. I nodded, afraid to ask how he already knew my name. The man - whose true name I never did learn - picked up a walkie and spoke rapidly. After a very long few minutes, an older man walked into the door, wearing the same sort of shirt. He smiled and greeted me: "Me llamo Santiago. You fly to Yucatán, si?" Relieved, I followed him out the door.

My concern returned as we walked away from the tarmack and onto a dirt path. He chattered on, mostly in Spanish I did not understand, as we walked through the bush. Finally we reached a clearing where sat an ancient looking prop plane - I was certain it was built no later than the '50s, and appeared to have not been painted or well-maintained since. Santiago picked up my bag and frowned - "Too heavy, sir. No fly with all this." With another look at the plane, I happily obliged and removed all but my most essential things. Santiago assured me I would get them back when I returned, but I remembered the look on Miguel's brother's face and resigned myself to never seeing them again.

The plane started with after a harrowing minutes of Santiago trying to spin the propeller and cursing in Nahuatl as it failed. Finally it sputtered to life, roaring with an intensity I cannot describe well. He climbed into the seat in front of me and gave me a wide grin and thumbs up. I forced and smile and nodded. The plane lurched forward, wheels squeaking and creaking, slowly advancing on the "runway" of dirt and loose gravel. Ahead just beyond was a patch of trees and rocks. I prayed fervently that we would avoid it - and we did, but only just. Santiago pulled the plane up and she rose just in time to skirt the treetops.

While the view was brilliant, thrice the engine began to sputter. Only Santiago's curses and punches seemed to keep the engine from failing entirely. I saw the forest below, deeply foreboding and yet beckoning. After a while Santiago shouted something and pointed - our landing site. But where? I saw no towers, no runways, only trees. The engine's roar and my broken Spanish made it impossible to express these concerns, which grew as my pilot seemed uncharacteristically silent and focused as he descended. I began to panic as we came ever closer to the jungle canopy, still seeing no sign of civilization. Just before I could scream the greenery suddenly gave way to a narrow slab of dark concrete, covered here and there in growth. The plane bounced twice, landing abruptly, Santiago stopping just before the end.

He smiled again as he waved goodbye, handing me my gear. "Good luck again, senor!" I smiled wanely back, praying the rest of my trip went better.

Overall, 3/5 stars.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#21

I asked my guide about Air Quetzal. Her eyes got very big and she vehemently shook her head.

"Victor plays a very dangerous game out there," Luisa Gonzalez told me in her perfectly enunciated British accent. "They were much safer when Miguel ran the show, but ever since his brother had him killed... No, I would not go anywhere near him if I were you. Your friend is lucky he did not disappear in the jungle."

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#22

Now that I've had a chance to get settled for the night, I can post a little more about my day.

Franz's contact has been a lifesaver.

My flight into Mexico was entirely without incident. I spent much of it studying. Non-Euclydian geometry is quite fascinating, although I won't claim to completely understand it. I have gotten somewhat used to reading off of the 4-dimensional printout, but I must say that it tires me out quite rapidly. The tips on desecrating Mayan ruins was an easier read and I found myself taking copious notes, hunched over the notepad in my lap while the book lay open on the tray before me. The woman seated next to me seemed more than a little disturbed by it.

When the plane landed, I did as Franz instructed and called Ms Gonzalez. Speaking perfectly enunciated English with a British accent, she informed me that she was not far away. A driver was sent to pick me up before I'd had a chance to do little more than check messages and let my family know I'd arrived safe and sound.

From a staging area, I was introduced to both Ms Gonzalez and 4 other traveling companions, all rather rough looking locals. Gear was quickly assembled. I noticed that the men all carried machetes and asked after a similar item for myself. Ms Gonzalez smiled and handed me a bamboo box with a hinged lid. Unfolding it, I was stunned to see the very weapons I had wished to take along with me. Sheathed side by side in a single leather scabbard were dual swords, both short and broadbladed, with D-shaped brass guards and a hook over the back of each blade. I'm sure a grin split my face as I buckled on that scabbard.

In addition to the butterfly swords, I was also given a pistol. When she first tried to hand it to me, I explained that I had little experience with firearms; I had, in fact, not touched one since I was a teenager out shooting with friends. She gave me a quick rundown on the basics of this particular gun, a 9mm semi-auto, and then moved on to readying the men.

Shortly before we left, Luisa and one of her men looked over the map with me. They talked back and forth in Spanish for a couple of minutes, I presume deciding on the best route as my skill in the language is sorely lacking. In the end they appeared to come to an agreement and everyone jumped into motion.

We drove to another, smaller airport well outside of the city and jumbled into a prop plane. I can't say the flight was comfortable but I will say that we made good time. At some point I saw the pilot point something out to Ms Gonzalez. She looked worried and responded in a grim tone.

I could see nothing but jungle from our eventual landing point. Little time remained before the sun set. We hiked for another 2-3 hours before coming upon a small compound where I was told we would stay for the night.

At dinner I had the chance to speak more with Luisa. She outlined in rough detail the route we would take in the morning but avoided any questions, pointed or subtle, about Franz. About herself, I learned that she had a British father and a Colombian mother. She had grown up in London but met and married a Mexican gentleman shortly after University. Her exact current line of work remains a mystery, but I did not pry very deeply.

Sometime after midnight, as I readied myself for bed, I was startled at the sound of gunfire. Luisa made a quick appearance, warning me to stay in my room and not to let the map out of my sight. The excitement died down shortly after but I will admit to uncertainty about the quality of sleep I will get this night.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#23

I have done it!

Despite the difficulties of the previous day, the bones of Xbalanque are now in my possession. I shall soon be winging my way to the cold and rainy northwest, toward home and family.

The day was quite harrowing and seemed as though it would never end. I feared for my life (and soul) more than once and my wife will most certainly chastise me for the injuries I have incurred on this quest. But it will be worth it to kiss her sweet lips and face once again, knowing that I am alive and my journey a success.

I will post more details once I have another opportunity. The helicopter has arrived and I am being waved over.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#24

Wow, great work! :up: You managed that in what I'm sure is record time. How did you manage through the Hall of Hauntings? I'd thought for sure the Ghost of Past Imperfect Passive would have gotten you.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#25

Well done! Novices rarely navigate the Non-Euclidean planes successfully on their first venture, but it sounds like Forganthus's subs on the material were enough of a crash course. I forgot to mention this before you went in, so forgive me, but did you manage to get any pictures? Hobbyists often like to take "before" and "after" shots of the tomb as a kind of keepsake/collectible.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#26

I will get to the Hall of Hauntings and the non-Euclidean pathways in due time. I am sorry to say that I did not think to take pictures. Further proof of my amateurish bumbling. Were it not for my guides and the resources of Franz, my inexperienced corpse would likely be decomposing well out of sight of humanity. (My first thought was to say, "I'll surely remember to take pictures next time." Certainly this will be my only foray, especially after the number of times I nearly found my doom in but a single day.)

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#27

I slept more soundly Saturday night than I expected to. Despite the obvious dangers and how quickly events had progressed, I drifted off shortly after the previous day's post.

Once again I experienced a vivid dream about Franz and his daughter. We were all in the sitting room in which I had first met him. This time Ms Gonzalez was also present. She and Franz were in the far corner, talking quietly but in earnest.

Irena sat upon the floor, white dress spread out around her, sipping at a cup of tea. When she noticed me watching her warily, she raised her delicate china cup to me as if in offering and giggled when I recoiled. Her thick black hair had once again fallen across the left side of her face and she looked directly at me with one large blue eye. I felt ice-cold fingers walk down my spine but could not look away, transfixed by that single cerulean orb. My wrist began to itch and burn simultaneously but I could neither scratch it nor look at it.

Franz interjected sharply.

"Irena, please be gracious to our guest."

She blinked, releasing me, and then stood up gracefully, curtsied, and flounced across the room, flinging herself into a chair at the edge of my peripheral vision. Luisa was nowhere to be seen.

Turning to me, Franz said, "You have a long journey ahead of you, longer than I am sure you expected when you began this quest. Ms Gonzalez has updated me on your progress. She is very good at what she does. I would listen to her without argument or hesitation. You are new to this game and I would hate to lose you so early."

With that, he snapped his fingers and I found myself awake and upright.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#28

Ha! Getting to decompose in the Tomb of Xbalanque! That's funny stuff! :lol:

Seriously, though, decomposition would have been a generous alternative to what happens to most who venture there. Glad you made it.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#29

The day began slowly, tediously, and miserably. We marched in the heat, endlessly harassed by biting insects and jungle foliage. After the fifth straight hour of hiking, my haste in taking up this quest began to seem pure folly. Who could possibly hope to locate and unearth, in a single day, the bones of a king dead many centuries! I am a foolish man, far too quick to fling myself after any excitement!

But I kept to my purpose, loathe to turn around once on the path to my goal.

Just shy of the seventh hour of our trek, Luisa called a halt to our party of 6. Three of the men quickly divested themselves of their packs and sat down to rest. The other joined Luisa and beckoned me forward. We walked a ways past the others.

"We shall rest for a short time," Luisa told me. "And then begins the next phase of the journey."

When I looked at her questioningly, she gestured before us at a large pool of water.

"Behold! The gateway to the Underworld!"

It took me a moment to catch on. I had seen pictures of these cenotes in the book. I tried to piece together the references and how they could possibly relate. They dotted the land, connected together by hundreds, if not thousands, of miles of underwater caverns. An entire chapter had been devoted to the relationship between the cenotes and ancient Mayan ruins.

Then I had it.

"We're traveling through the Underworld?" My face must have matched my disbelief, for Luisa laughed.

"Didn't you look at your own map? Why do you think the tomb of the Great Xbalanque has been undisturbed all this time? He may have been buried in the mortal realm, but that does not mean there are any mortal roads which lead to him."

I could think of naught to say in reply; not that I had the chance. Gunshots rang out nearby and a man screamed.

Luisa, her man, and I ran for the others, drawing pistols as we did so.

Chaos greeted us. One of our own men was down and bleeding. The other two had drawn their machetes and charged the attackers.

Events unfolded too quickly for me to recount them all. I fired a few wild shots before it became clear I was as likely to hit our own men as I was theirs.

I barely dodged a knife thrust directed at my face. I grabbed my attacker's wrist, pulled it forward and then slammed my other forearm into his elbow, twisting my hip as I did so. His lost his grip on the knife and ran off, his arm hanging limply at his side.

Another came at me with a machete, slicing shallowly across my left shoulder before I could twist completely out of the way. I fumbled at my scabbard, seeking to free the blades while adrenaline made my hands shake. Twice more I dodged his blows. The third one I caught in the guard of one blade and then chopped into his neck with the other. He fell to the ground, twitching.

We routed the rest soon after but it wasn't clear if they would stay gone.

With no time to lose, we bandaged up our wounded and headed for the cenote. Once there, Luisa read aloud a passage in some language unrecognizable to me. We then followed her footsteps in a meandering path around the water. I shook the entire time, the adrenaline still tearing through my veins and the possibility of another attack looming in my mind.

From the angle at which we now approached the cenote, it became obvious that a path had opened up along its side, leading downward with smoothly carved steps and completely free of water. Perhaps "opened up" is not the correct phrase. I think, rather, that we had approached an entryway hidden by clever use of ancient Mayan power and the strange effects of non-Euclidean geometry.

It would be difficult for anyone to follow us.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#30

It appears that I caught a fever while in the jungle. It has finally broken and I hope to continue my tale soon.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#31

After a number of strange occurrences (illness, power outages, and numerous internet interruptions) I am finally able to continue with my tale.

I know now that our journey took but a handful of hours. At the time it did not seem so. I swear that for me 3 days passed within that strange realm. The hours that passed, the rising and setting of that strangely luminous sun, all point to a period of 3 full days and nights. Even curiouser, for our guide Carlos it was 5 days and for Luisa it was 7. We spent no significant time apart, remember all the same events, and can make no accounting of our difference in perception of time. Having perished in the journey, none of the rest of our troupe can supply their own experiences. In this retelling I will use my own subjective sense of time.

We descended down that stone stairway, away from our pursuers and into a group of limestone caverns lit by an ambient bluish-green glow. The chill air appeared wavery and slid across the skin as we moved, feeling almost like brushing through spider webs or thin tissue. It smelled faintly, but I have no words to describe of what other than to say it was like comfort and fear both rolled into one.

After what I believed to be the end of our first day the man who had been shot became infected with a host of fast growing black worms. He began screaming as they tore their way through the wound and under his skin. Within 10 minutes they were streaming from his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. In the meantime he had gone silent.

We camped within the caverns that first night, rotating tired but alert sentries. I had despaired of my original timeline but the excitement of discovery had found its way into my blood and I could not fathom turning back. I only hoped that my family would not fear for me in my absence.

The second day we left the caves and ventured into a forest lit by that same dim bluish-green glow. Something like a sun traveled in the sky but it did not move like our own reliable star; I found I could only take a brief glimpse of it before its erratic motions made my head feel as though things were trying to dig their way out of my brain. During that long day, we were set upon twice by roving bands of demon monkeys with slings and copper-headed clubs. None of us escaped without harm, though none perished either. My side is still sore from a bruised rib and the gash across my cheek bled profusely at the time.

That night we camped below a floating, inverted cenote, whose waters were filled by a constant stream from the ground before us up 50' into the air.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#32

This is the cause, in part, to all that to-do about the "Maya apocalypse". Doubtless they have the date pinned - to the last seconds, it is said - but exactly which 144,000 days a b'ak'tun lasts is not as direct as one might think.

I have seen the strange landscape you describe but once before. I wonder if it was the same cenote? I should not speculate, I suppose. It would be... incautious to speak too much of it here unless I was sure. Strange how even speaking the words of some things seems to cause them to come into being.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#33

I have seen the strange landscape you describe but once before. I wonder if it was the same cenote? I should not speculate, I suppose. It would be... incautious to speak too much of it here unless I was sure. Strange how even speaking the words of some things seems to cause them to come into being.

Doubtless it is the same one. At least I hope... it frightens me to think there could be more than one of these. I too shall avoid giving voice to the thing which woke me that morning of the third day. I shall only say that I lay there in silent terror for an unknown length of time, wishing that that nameless thing would disappear, banished from sight and memory.

Why it did not take any of us before it crawled back into the hanging cenote, I will likely never know. Perhaps we were as insects to it, unworthy of notice. Whatever the cause, I am thankful. Doubly thankful, for had it not disturbed my slumber, the lot of us would have been slain in our sleep. Our man on watch died soundlessly by a hurled stone-tipped spear, the blood pouring from his neck as he was transfixed upon its point.

I shook myself, yelling incoherently to wake the others while trying to dislodge the echoes of the horror of that nameless thing from my mind. For we had been set upon by scaly snake men, wriggling into our camp upon thickly coiled tails, wielding clubs and spears of wood and stone in their too-human arms. I myself took a blow to the solar plexus from a club before I could sufficiently rouse myself to action. I sat there on hands and knees, vulnerable, waiting for breath to return or death to take me. The retort of a pistol sounded just moments before a heavy body fell upon me. I later learned that it was Carlos who had saved my life in that moment. At the time, however, I was only grateful to still have breath in my lungs.

Without an opportunity to retrieve my own weapons (I had been thrown too far aside to easily reach them) I had to cast about for something with which to join in the fray and came across one of the primitive spears of the hideous snake men. Fortunate for me; the spear is my favorite, rightly called the king of weapons. In my spare time I practice with it as often as I can manage. Recovered, weapon in hand, with the others of the party at my side, our attackers were soon routed.

Only one man had fallen in the fray, though we found it necessary to patch each other up. None among us had escaped unharmed. Carlos walked with a limp. Luisa's right arm was tied in a sling. The other man had received a nasty gash to his scalp and I suffered from a number of minor cuts to my sides and arms.

For the one who had fallen we made a simple grave and Luisa said a few respectful words in Spanish. Afterwards we gathered up our gear and continued on our way.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#34

Ah, the exciting life of tomb raiding and underworld exploration! How I miss those days, but alas -- parental duties required that I put my sword up years ago. I'll say though, that the spear you collected from the Naz'atha is a potential collectors item, worth a pretty penny if you manage to bring it back in good condition.

I'm looking forward to your report when you get back to your home. I've found many uses for ancient Mayan remains, but fashioning a spade from the skull of Xbalanque is a stroke of pure genius! Can't wait to see how effective it will be at curing your pumpkin problem, and what cosmic side-effects that particular desecration will put in motion.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#35

I did manage to bring home the spear, although despite its monetary value I intend to hold onto it as a token of my journeys. It is quite effective and a work of art, primitive though it appears.

As for what happened when I returned... the specifics are soon to come, but I must find some way to remove the curse which followed me. I have suffered a number of odd and seemingly unrelated mishaps since leaving with the bones of Xbalanque; a mysterious illness, power outages covering just a portion of my home street, equipment burning out, errant vehicle troubles, and more. More than likely I will need to return to Franz for assistance, though the idea of that sends chills down my spine.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#36

Sounds like you may have an infestation of Ch'amway -- the Mayan version of gremlins (photo here). They are a common pest encountered by hobbyists, and you may be able to find more advice for ridding yourself of them on the relevant forums, if you are reluctant to approach Franz. I can understand that, though. It can be embarrassing to approach a seasoned veteran for help with what amounts to the grave robbers' version of lice, but he may also be able to provide you with a faster way to rid yourself of them.

I'm not the most seasoned raider myself, but I can give you some pointers that might help. I had a friend who once brought back a whole host of Ch'amway from his adventures in Mexico. Here are the steps we took to expel them from his home:

1. Shave your entire body, to confuse the spirits and make them lose sight of you.
2. Take a long shower in running water, whilst sprinkling salt around the area to further confound them.
3. Emerge from the shower and dress entirely in red, and paint your face to resemble a jaguar. By now, the Ch'amway will not recognize you, and will be looking for a new host.
4. Place your shaven hair in a hollow gourd (a pumpkin will do), and bring it to the nearest body of water. I would recommend a river or a lake, as a pond is a bit small for this purpose.
5. Wait until nightfall, then float the gourd out onto the water, after lighting the hair on fire. This will draw the Ch'amway away from the shore and they will become lost over the open water and unable to find their way back to you. When dawn breaks, they will be defenseless -- out in the open and without shelter. The morning light should banish them back to the underworld.

Carving the pumpkin is optional, but will give this a greater chance of success. Try matching its features to your own, if at all possible.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#37

We walked for most of a day before stumbling upon an ancient Mayan city populated by the dead. They watched us in silence as we trod upon a stone road, passing fields of strange fruits, vegetables, and grains before entering the city proper. Each man, woman, and child wore colorful clothing and a hideously styled mask of beaten copper, through which we could see naught but blankly staring eyes.

Soldiers lined the roadside as we entered, their collective gaze intent upon our every move. We walked warily along the meandering stone walkway, catching glimpses of various buildings, pyramids, and courtyards, all made of stone with elaborately carved figures upon them.

I wish I could say that we made it through this city of the dead without any conflict, but that is not so. Near the edge of the neighboring forest, we were suddenly surrounded by soldiers who roughly grabbed one of our party and hauled him off. We could do naught against their multitude of bristling spears. Luisa, Carlos, and I could only listen on in horror to his screams as he was carried away. We know not of his fate, for we were forceably ejected from the city and into the wildlands once again.

Now at half of our original number, we trudged onward into the surrounding hills. A meandering path led us to a great pyramid. We followed a winding stone staircase from the base to the topmost terrace of this great structure. There we found a doorway, seemingly leading to nowhere. But, as she had done at the entrance to the Underworld, Luisa chanted in the ancient Mayan tongue and led is into the doorway.

At first it appeared that we would walk directly through the doorway and onto the other side of that great terrace, but we somehow made a slight twist to the right and found ourselves in a completely darkened space which carried the echoes of our footsteps back to us.

We had finally left that cursed Underworld and ventured into a cavern of gigantic proportions. With our flashlights, we made our way across, into an intricately created replica of an empty, ancient Mayan city, complete with a pyramid-temple at its center. It was there that we found the remains of the great Xbalanque. I will admit that I wept at the sight of his bones. We had gambled much to make it this far and lost 3 brave men in the process. I know I will never be the same again.

Despite our exhaustion, we did not rest until we had put the city-tomb of Xbalanque far behind us. I had expected us to take the same route home that had led us here, though the prospect of facing those horrors a second time gave me pause. This was not to be, however, for Carlos, using Luisa as translator, explained that we could return through the Hall of Hauntings. Apparently this Hall exists in many dimensions but allows travel in only limited directions. He tried to explain how this was so but I found myself unable to follow. At the end, I merely shrugged and gestured for him to lead onward.

I braced myself before entering the Hall of Hauntings. From the name, I expected to be set upon by ghosts or any number of unnameable horrors. Fortunately for me, I do not speak Latin, so the attempts by the ghosts there to make me repeat the litany of word conjugations had no lasting effect upon my already fragile mind. Luisa did not fare as well; at one point she degenerated into babbling about Past Imperfect Passive vs Past Imperfect Active. I am told she will recover, given enough time.

We made it out of there in short order, emerging near a small town in Guatemala. I was greatly surprised to find that I had been gone for less than a day. Carlos made arrangements for one of Franz's helicopters to pick us up and bring us to an airport, whence I was able to return home mostly safe and somewhat sound. The administrations of my wife were of great assistance in my recovery, though the details are not fit to relate here.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#38

Sounds like you may have an infestation of Ch'amway -- the Mayan version of gremlins (photo here). They are a common pest encountered by hobbyists, and you may be able to find more advice for ridding yourself of them on the relevant forums, if you are reluctant to approach Franz. I can understand that, though. It can be embarrassing to approach a seasoned veteran for help with what amounts to the grave robbers' version of lice, but he may also be able to provide you with a faster way to rid yourself of them.

I am sure that you must be right about the Ch'amway. I have little knack for this sort of work. It sounds like I will need to seek out Franz's assistance for this as after all.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#39

Now I come to the crux of my tale, where I faced off against the kind of terror which only a sorcerer can bring to bear. This is where I show my gratitude to you all for your kindness and helpful hints during my long ordeal. And though this occurred more than 2 weeks ago, every detail is still fresh within my mind.

I had in my possession the powerful skull of the ancient Mayan hero Xbalanque. I was home. I had mere hours with which to fashion the shovel and dig up the dead fowl which I would bury three days hence.

I am no skilled craftsman and a skull is a difficult thing to fashion into any other form. But I would not allow any obstacle to prevent me from completing my quest. There was no aesthetic in the shovel which I formed from the skull and it was no easy tool to bring to bear. What could have been 10 minutes with a normal shovel took nearly an hour with my morbid creation. And yet, the burlap sack was there! Right next to the old redwood which I had planned for the burial place. The dead bird inside was rank indeed.

It was late at that time and I am certain from the look on his face that I had disturbed my neighbor during his evening repast. I must have looked quite frightful in my own way, bandaged, tired, covered in grime, and holding a sack from which emanated the stench of partially decomposed fowl.

The purpose of my quest was full upon me and his usual tricks failed to impress me; eyes glowing red, sigil-bedecked robes billowing out in an unseen wind, and the almost heard chitters of small creatures behind him. Even his pumpkins did their best to send me running, each a mere foot from either side and growling low.

"What do you want, Worm!?" my neighbor said, chuckling in his usual self-satisfied way. "Do I need to have you escorted from my domain?" With a flick of his hand he summoned a skeletal claw which began to reach out from the darkness of his house.

"Not at all," I said, my voice calmer than I expected it to be with the full force of adrenaline coursing through my tired and battered body.

"I am here to make sure you get the message through your thick skull once and for all."

With the power of the chicken coursing through my voice, I bellowed out, "Keep your own damn pumpkins in your own damn yard!" and struck him full across the face with the foul smelling sack.

The change in him was immediate and astounding. The red glow vanished from his eyes and they went dead. His robes sagged. The skeletal hand pulled back into the house as if yanked from within.

With no inflection whatsoever to his voice, he said, "Yes, my master. My pumpkins shall never bother you again."

Satisfied with the result of my quest, I walked back home, keeping my head up as well as I could. Pure exhaustion had set in and I was barely able to crawl into bed before sleep took me into its sweet embrace.

I slept through the night and most of the following day, a deep and dreamless sleep the like of which I have rarely experienced. When evening arrived and I finally roused myself from slumber, it was to the smell of freshly baked pies.

"Look, Love," my wife said, grinning wide, "the neighbor brought us some freshly baked pumpkin pies."

On the night of the full moon, I used the skull of Xbalanque once again. This time to bury the corpse of the poor chicken. At least the smell had lessened over the intervening days. I worried that the cats would try to get into the bag but they wished to have nothing to do with the thing.

I buried the sack in the same spot by the redwood tree in which I had dug it up three days previous. Once it was safely settled under a mound of earth, I straightened its neck, removed it from the bag, and set it free. I have seen it wandering about these past couple of weeks, always walking backward with a certainty to its step. I expect to one day find an egg on the lawn. The lawn which has been free of pumpkin scat for some time now.

Franz returned for the bones shortly after I buried the chicken. He appeared upon my doorstep the following evening, making no attempt to enter my house while I went to gather up the bones and his book. I was both relieved and oddly sad when he left.

Re: The Quest to Eliminate Pumpkin Scat

#40

A satisfying end to a worthy quest! I do hope that Franz was able to provide you with some better tips to rid yourself of the Ch'amway (since shaving one's entire body is both uncomfortable and often unsightly), and that you are now well-rested from your long journey. Tell me, as a first-time tomb raider, how did you find the hobby? Will you continue to pursue it, now that your quest is over?