the drowning of eudoxia

Live and drink. An in-character gamelog of indie roguelike Caves of Qud.

[0therpearl]

At the north edge of town, I hear someone calling me over.

So this is Chugs-in-Quicksalt. They bid me hunt down some old ruin or other— just north of Ebony Tarchemish. On my journey to Qud, the caravan I shadowed told where to find this Ebony ruin, so I accept. Compensation for my service will stay my axe-hand well enough.

I ask if there's other work, and they say to check the mourner in the graveyard, or to make myself useful gathering ashes for the goats.

I'll check the graveyard.

[0therpearl]

Surely enough, there's work to be found. It's not long before I stumble upon one of the village's "Parliamentarians". Something smells wrong about him. The desert salt has dried out my nose, so I can't figure out just what it might be.

All the same, he ushers me over, looking for a waterhand to aid him.

Ebony Tarchemish isn't far from here; A ruin with little more than old roofless walls for a windbreak and evidence of old camps. I passed it coming in. The salt pans are a quiet enough walk— if you avoid the rogue Issachari and the occasional pack of flying fire-snakes. If this Nawar is going to be a boon to their "trade prospects", that means I get first pickings by finding it. I gladly accept.

Chugs-in-Quicksalt is quick to point me to his peers. "Seek them east and south," he says. Sure enough, I spy their amaranth red robes of office down in the graveyard and out by the spine fruit patch... And another statue.

[0therpearl]

"Moon and sun, friend! You have my deep and many-sided thanks."

Her faith moves me little, and truth be told I doubt the worth of even ferrying this trinket about. But if the Six Day Stilt hosts a grand bazaar, it ought to be worth a visit. I tuck the salt mill in my belt and move about my way. Surely this village has better work to offer, or at least someone worth robbing. My water's low.

[0therpearl]

I walk the long perimeter of the town, looking it over closely. One villager catches my eye, digging about in the salt sand.

She's found a bit of scrap— some kind of odd trinket. When I approach, she wheels on me and damn near drops to her knees.

I've heard tell of the Stilt, but only in passing. Might be there's bounty up there, yeah?

A temple doesn't sound like bounty, but a grand bazaar does. If it's half as loud as she says, it ought be easy to find with my ears. She thrusts the trinket forward into my hands, but I have reason to hesitate if Moghra'yi has threats like those I've known.

Firearms and fire-snakes, of course. Fine enough. If I'm to cross the rest of the way into the rust and ruin, I may as well take this bauble.

Yeah, live and drink. Something about her "deep and many-sided thanks" sticks with me as I turn the trinket over in my hand.

... Is this a joke?

[0therpearl]

I don't know what it is, but I don't like these statues.

Something about them is unsettling, and the villagers around them seem... Frantic in their admiration.

Stone shouldn't put my fur on end. I'll leave it be for now.

[0therpearl]

I followed a caravan south across Moghra'yi, with half a mind to rob them and finish the trek myself. Dawngliders got to them first.

Mirqushur might smell of leather or fruit if it didn't just smell like poison salt. The desert has been drinking vapor off my tongue for days, and I feel dull and slow with thirst. Half a waterskin left. I have half a mind to axe the first human I see.

They've got work, though, and are quick to point me to their kith.

I'm told the Issachari are a tribe native to the salt pans, and can be recognized by their names just as easily as their scarlet-and-white garb. Blood and salt, maybe. And snakes and oil and fire. This one has an odd look about them, but the sun's high and the shadows are deep, so I can't get a good luck under the kufiyeh they wear. I'll look around the village instead, and talk to those two. Maybe I can trade this scrap of witchwood for a meal.

[0therpearl]

Salt Sun, 7th of Tishru ii Ux. I arrive in the village of Mirqushur.

[0therpearl]

[avahkadoo]

I made a Caves of Qud animatic!

[0therpearl]

I’m sincerely sorry for the lack of updates here; As much as I want to play Qud and keep drawing updates for it, I can’t right now. Ya girl got carpal tunnel syndrome a while ago and it’s only gotten worse— Typing and drawing are painful right now. When it abates (and I’m confident I can do so without further harm), I’ll pick back up on my adventures.

[0therpearl]

I knit my injuries with the life stolen from the Seeker as I walk. Even with the Rusted Archway on the horizon, the hike feels like it takes weeks.

Sun’s getting low. I can just make out the movement amid the ruins — pigs, vines, centipedes. Other bugs don’t much care for me, but I’ve got bullets to spare for any that’d turn their fangs my way.

When I arrive, I hit the place like the wrath of the sultanate.

This is simple. Take out the pigs first, dance away from the slower bugs, and keep my distance from the pricklers. They’re not too dangerous alone. Only cost a bullet or two a pop to clear, but unlike the livid creeper vines, they don’t follow.

It’s dusk as I clear out the threats from the top floor. The few scratches I have on me are filled in by the life I steal from a wayward goat. I butcher what’s left for a meal... Though I scarcely feel hungry after I drink ‘em dry like that.

Dark sets in, and my torches are starting to dwindle. Rather than head below I decide to plunder the old lockers for what I can. A good blade, a sturdy shawl...

What’s this?

Jackpot.

[scribblewise]

ehehehehehe.

EHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!

ehe. ehehe. ehehehehehehe!

ehehehehe.

eeeheeheeheeheeheehee.

[0therpearl]

Worse comes to worse, and at my lowest point, the hunters find me.

The worst kind.

No use drawing on her. Moon Time is dry on ammo. The Seeker of the Sightless Way already feels my psyche, already knows I’ve got the gifts they want to pluck from my head. 

Soon as I twitch a feeler, they’re going to try to rip my mind from me.

She moves faster. Trying to shatter my mind — tear the me from the meat.

I move smarter. The Seeker’s pumping out pure vitality, so I open up and let it in. I make it mine.

Then I drink

her

dry

... 

Much better.

[0therpearl]

Ow.

Fuckin’ slugsnout.

Damn pig’s left me in a bad way. Lost, bleeding, damn near death... Cold. But I feel like I’m on the precipice of something. If I can just catch my breath, patch myself up — Maybe I can remember what it is.

Need to get myself some vittle and make my way back to Alaazoshan.

[0therpearl]

“Okay, lack-salt. It’s on.” This fool just ruined my damn coat.

I hit him hard, and he’s too nervous to throw them bombs right in my face. Blocks a few good swings with his horns, then one catches the neck, and he’s down.

“Shh. It’s over.”

[0therpearl]

Somewhere along the way, I end up riverside. Between the holes in space-time and getting turned around, I can’t tell Hamas from a hole in the ground. Thick bank of dark fog has rolled in and there’s no telling north without eyes on the Spindle, ‘least until I get my hands on a compass.

For a sip of freshwater, this fish kindly gives me directions. Short jaunt across the jungle and I’ll be where I need to be.

Then I get lost.

Ah, shit.

The goat’s got a fistful of explosive seeds and ten kinds of bone to pick with me. I eat three of the things before I can close the gap.

[0therpearl]

libndink ehehehe >:3

I wake up. I get a move on.

I run into a pack of them hyena-folk halfway back to the village. Ain't much to be said — they want steel and my water, they get my lead. This one's friendly, seems like.

"Moon and sun, critter." I tip my hat. "Tell your folk I'd rather save my slugs if you please."