Chapter 21

Axorie didn't say 'I told you so!', because, well, honestly, she hadn't. So there is a benefit to being a naysayer after all, the sweet triumph of declaiming "I told you so!". But really, isn't that a hollow sort of satisfaction? Wouldn't a better triumph be to have told them, and had them listen, and follow your advice? That is just how it seems to me, anyway. "You sure told us!, Glad you were around to tell us, otherwise who knows what we might have done?" -Like that ever happens. Are there really people who are listened to, and who are right? That is the kind of person who would gather a following, I would think. But I can't think of any, offhand. Can you? Oh, there was that Moses fellow, and that Noah dude. But Noah wasn't really followed, and Moses wasn't really listened to. Who else can you name? I can name some who are right, and I can name some who are followed, but I can't think of any others who are both.

The Originals had very simple concepts of tribal identity. There was "US" and there was "FOOD".Sometimes an aged, injured or infirm "US" became "FOOD". That was the way it was, and that was the way it always would be. That is, until they met Axorie. It was deemed safest for Axorie to go first among the Originals. Freaky at first objected, until Axorie gently scoffed. "What are they going to do, eat me?" she asked mater-of-factly. "In fact, I have the least to worry about of all of us. They can't touch me, and I can kick their entire collective asses. If I got bored of kicking ass, I could whip out my blades of doom and start slicing and dicing, and they still couldn't do anything about it.

Axorie really messed the minds of the Originals badly. They couldn't fathom her, it was not in their conceptualization. Here was a being who was NOT US, but was also NOT FOOD. That just didn't make any sense! They tried to eat her, but she wasn't really there, but she was, because she was kicking their butts. Imagine being haunted by the ghost of Christmas Future, or something. While you were awake. At work. The Originals were very discomfited. After one day of trying to deal with this red haired demon, who could not be eaten, and was not US- They all picked up their meagre posessions, and started leaving the area. The whole mighty tribe, all eightyseven of them. Tired of having their asses kicked, they packed up their bundles and started trudging off into the wilderness doing their best to ignore the anomaly which was Axorie, who trailed behind, booting their rears. She followed them for a week, to make sure they didn't slow down or turn back, but they were on a mission, perhaps their unknown leader had a message from the universe. And perhaps they had. They were off looking for the promised land, where there was noone who was NOT US and NOT FOOD, and where noone kicked heiny. After a week, it was anywhere, but who knows how far they went, sadly rubbing their tooshies, before they stopped.

"That was it? That was our Quest?" grumbled Hardcase. You just can't please some people. "Now what are we going to do?" "Well, we could always go back to school..." teased Steetch. "No, never mind, I didn't say a thing." protested Hardcase. "How about we follow the trade route, and find the next town or economic center?" geeked Steetch. "Mayby they have a Quest-like Adventure they need handled there?" he guessed. The adventurers had discovered that people didn't have any strong opinions about magic users, except that you didn't want to mess with someone who had powers, be they gods or wizards. So, Freaky would get to dress as strangely as he cared to. He took Patches to town, while the rest camped out, and got provisions, and cool mystical robes and shit. Dried corn husks, to use as TP, never go adventuring without TP. Usualy you would also want waterproof matches in your ziplock bag of toiletpaper, but with someone with an afinity for fire and an Eagle Scout, there wasn't much call for matches. Even Freaky himself could turn up a pyrite and a flint if need be. Thus fortified, he politely invited Patches to accompany him, and headed out of town to meet up with the rest of the group. As soon as he was out of sight of the town, he stopped and put on his ArchMage robe and hat. That was more like it!

Axorie caught up to them about a week later, following a trail of new mythology about the gods who gave them fresh wells, and taught them cover crops on fallow fields, and ploughing green compost under. Most returned to their grandfathers ways of farming, and some of the wells were only used as shrines, but what are you gonna do? Steetch even took over a smithy at one tiny village, and produced a fine ploughshare out of an old rusted helm, but it was placed in a place of honor, and admired, not used. It wasn't as if they people were ungrateful, they were very glad for the attention- it was just that fabulous new ideas are often ignored, at first. I don't think one would have to worry too much about the first law of contact, most primitive cultures just ignore new technology, anyway unless it is an obvious improvement on an existing one.