Speaking in Tongues
After asking his name in hundreds of languages and dialects...
Galene says, "Say your name...tok namu...meni pong...I am Galene...You are?"
Zombie mumbles, "GaRrUgHh"
Galene says, "Say your name...lam pori...sta nika...I am Galene...You are?"
Zombie mumbles, "GaRrUgHh"
Galene says, "Say your name...kolim nem...bilong yu...
Zombie mumbles something barely recognizable, translated here, "OhOHh, I Am MaJeLlA. Is A pLeAsUrE tO mEeT u GaLeeeNNe"
Barbarian, barbarinus, barbaria, barbarus and ????????. He says his name is Majella. Now that I've stumbled upon some common linguistic ground (appears to be a dialect closely resembling something from the Awyu-Dumut family, we can get by in Tok Pisin), he's proven both intelligent and articulate! Majella, my poor fool. How unfortunate, and a little ironic, to find him here now. After fleeing his Tribe of Korowai to escape the spread of the "laughing disease" Kuru, he joined up with a crew of Barbarians lead by Vargas the Mad. When Vargas and his men discovered this island, they were transformed into the dreaded Tluca through the evil sorcery practiced by the cannibalistic natives! Literally out of the frying pan, into the fire...
It occurs to me, where there is smoke, there is fire. Where there is fire, there is food. Where there is food...there is Cronus. Thus, I've had Majella stash the as many chests and crates as we could load and bury them, and using the smoky trail above the trees to guide our path, we've set off to discover the source of the drums which make Majella so nervous. He's proving very brave, despite obviously knowing something disturbing which he's repressing, or is perhaps too ashamed to share with me.
Below is an excerpt from the Logge of Chatte, translated:
Galene says, "Majella, are you certain you are up to this? I've been grateful for your assistance and your protection, but I will understand if you would prefer to remain here"
Majella mumbles, "I gO wItH u"
Galene says, "I promise I won't hold it against you if you abstain, my friend. I do not wish to place you in danger."
Majella replies, "MaJeLlA hUnGrY nEwAY. Is A pLeAsUrE tO mEeT u GaLeeeNNe. NoT wAnT 2 eEEet u GaLeeeNNe"
I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I've no time to probe further now. We all have our secrets, and I've just spotted a bit of red in the trees up ahead. I am hoping it's a member of my landing party, as it's quite out of place. From what I've seen, the natives seem to prefer a sort of purply-violet, an Indigo color, and I've yet to see anything local in either red or orange. I wonder what the significance of that might be?
Make sure you visit this forum thread to share your illustrations of our journey! Paperwork is not my forte, and I need your help! You know I always reward those who do my homework for me! Illustrations for today provided by Copperkatie and Squatek.
A New Friend
Do not think me foolish, for I had brought the necessary preparations for our mission, but they've all been lost with our vessel. Thus I confess that although most of the morning was spent attempting to explore deeper into the island, I was inevitably forced to retreat to the shores once again, my attire entirely unsuitable for the arduous journey inland.
Lack of provisions had left me ill-prepared for any hazard, in fact, so food was my next objective. I believe my weakened condition was not simply due to protein deprivation but also lingering effects from something in the noxious fumes we sailed through to reach the island, so I dare not return to the sea until I learn how the natives avoid such effects. Perhaps there is something in their diet which gives them a natural immunity? Perhaps I need simply to acclimatize. Until such time as I've determined it safe to venture out again, I'm restricting myself to what I can forage up on land, which at least seems to be abundant in fruit.
While foraging for fruit, I've come across a number of other objects which have given me a great deal of insight into customs and way of life observed here. Perhaps they are not so far from civilization as I've feared. I've come across a rather large number of dolls, so they obviously have strong family units and devotion to their children. Religion also features prominently, I suspect, from the care taken to bury their dead with objects to serve them in the afterlife. Party favors and tokens are signs that they apparently greet death with an air of celebrating the fulfilled life of the deceased, instead of mourning. However, I confess that I'm baffled by the above ground burial practices, without even benefit of a mausoleum or tomb, and with no negative sea level here that would cause a buried body to be prematurely exhumed. Perhaps open-air burial has links to their belief system. Maybe they worship a god of the skies, and are offering their loved ones into their care?
In any case, a very interesting thing occurred while I was examining these artifacts (and placing some in crates to take home for further cultural study). Puzzling over some strange inscriptions in an attempt to determine their origin, I was suddenly set upon by what I can only describe as a zombie! Intent to take my very life or my virtue, I cannot say, but we struggled for quite some time. I have not much physical prowess, but neither will I lay down and submit, I daresay, to such a rogues attempt to ravish me! All the while I attempted to communicate with him, but no language seemed to penetrate the mask of bloodlust.
At some point in our struggles, the oaf knocked me down so hard, my corset became loosened. Worn out and without hope, I prepared to submit to the inevitable. Inexplicably, he stopped and simply stared at my heaving bosom. My mother Doris had given me a necklace for luck before we left on our journey, and it seemed to have captured the monster's attention (at least, I was hoping that's what he was staring at so longingly).
In an attempt to show good will, hoping to prolong the uncertain stalemate, I gave the charm to him. This had a miraculous affect! The zombie appears to have become enthralled by my generosity, and has been my loyal helper ever since.
It's been most convenient having him to lift these heavy crates and boxes after I've filled them with historical and cultural artifacts, and he's even collected enough fruit to end my concerns for food for the time being. Still, he appears visibly agitated each time we hear the drums start up again, and I must take that as sign that they are cause for concern. We're collecting goods as quickly as possible now as the drums are playing more frequently and it feels like something, something rather major, is imminent.
Our sponsors would like us to let you know that there is an ongoing need for illustrations to go with this mission report, so that Headquarters does not yell at our castaways for their lack of diligence in providing visual documentation of their journey. Information on this can be found in this forum thread, and contributions chosen for inclusion will be rewarded most handsomely. Illustrations for today provided by BootlegPatch and volleygirl10.
Where did everybody go?
I can find no sign of my companions after the crash of our vessel yesterday. At this point, I'm more concerned with the loss of basic toiletries, however. I don't know if the inhabitants on the island are at all civilized, but I've not yet managed to locate a privy, which might explain those strange whirlpools.
Sustenance will also become an issue. At least I managed to find something during my swim to shore, and Calamari has always been a favorite of mine. However much I wish it, I can not confine myself to the sea and still manage to explore these strange new surroundings or attempt to locate my companions.
Tomorrow I'll strike forth inland as my presence would surely be noticed if I attempt to circumnavigate the island and leave myself exposed on the open shore. The key here is to attempt to observe the natives, without being myself discovered. Hopefully I can avoid detection until our party can regroup.
Initially the strange fog had me suspecting some level of industrialization here, but that seems far from the case. The only tools I've located are handmade and crude. They are not Pre-oceanic, however. Although limited and primitive, they have achieved seafaring exploration capability, with crude rafts harbored in the shallow coastal inlets. So though I must remain mindful of the First Imperative prohibitions, we're not held to them as tightly as we might have been. If we can establish a hidden observation outpost and disguise ourselves as part of the native group, we can learn a great deal more by those interactions than mere observations.
I also note our vessel was not the first to find itself grounded here, from the wreckage strewn onshore. The natives don't appear to recognize the value of precious metals or stones, if the loot I started collecting off the beaches is any indication. I've managed to make a small stockpile which I've buried for the time being, and noted it's location. I hope to be able to dig it up again and retrieve it before we leave the island. I wish I could have put aside a bit more, but I confess to not feeling quite myself since we first caught sight of the island. I'm sure it's nothing, and I'll feel much better once I locate a source of fresh water...
Our sponsors would like us to let you know that there is an ongoing need for illustrations to go with this mission report, so that Headquarters does not yell at our castaways for their lack of diligence in providing visual documentation of their journey. Information on this can be found in this forum thread, and contributions chosen for inclusion will be rewarded most handsomely. Illustrations for today provided by Dexla and Xeitgeist.