An Age of Mysterious Memories

As I’m contemplating the meaning of the phrase Aces and Eights, I find myself lost in thought as usual. There’s no context for it, whatsoever. I’ve never seen a playing card, I’ve never met a human who might play cards. Yet there it is, right at the forefront of my weird digital databank of memories. They’re a mystery to be sure. My lovable little dragon buddy Lilagni has a few odd bits of knowledge too, but it’s more just knowledge, not memories. To me, it feels like the knowledge shouldn’t even exist in our world. Computers? Technology? Videogames? Cards? Humans? None of that stuff exists. Heck, if it weren’t for Lilagni and the beavers I just met, I’d assume sapient life doesn’t even exist. But it all feels so familiar somehow.

Even some of the things Lil says about our lives and reality just don’t quite mesh up with what my brain tries to tell me is the way things are supposed to be. It’s like, I remember physics having specific gravity, erosion, decay, lack of distributed force, and on and on and on. But none of that exists. Trekking through our samey samey world with my spherical dragon pal has yielded no hints as to any of those things being true, or ever having been true. Heck, even things that seem like they’ve broken off from trees or otherwise accumulated on the ground are probably just ground spawns of usable material loot, at least half the time. The fish at our home pond respawned frequently. I never bothered timing it, not that I have any source of timekeeping, since our light source isn’t a sun or anything.

I’m vaguely human-like, definitely humanoid, though not necessarily as human as I thought early on. I’ve had more looks at my reflection since I made a home at the pond. If I were human, I’d be extremely young, but, my appearance is too pixie-like, elven, yet cherubic, and ever so slightly goblinoid. Plus, I don’t present as any human gender since I don’t have a biological sex, nor any hints of the characteristics of either. At best I could be called androgynous, which is fine by me.

Lil is apparently headbutting me, trying to get my attention, to shake me from whatever reverie I’ve been muddled in. I’ve once again been traversing down a mental rabbithole along a train of thought that leads to nowhere. Thankfully, Lil is quite insistent when they need to be, and oh, now is probably a good time to get my attention.

Oy vey, really? Well, speaking of humanoids, in the distance is a cacophony of croaking and ribbits. The sounds are seemingly being belted out by bipedal frogs or toads. I really don’t know the difference. Not only that, but the ground gets a bit murkier, damper, as if we’re reaching some sort of flood plain, basically the jungle that had been like a tropical savanna of endless baobab trees, is now a swamp. Actually, that’s probably the wrong name for the type of trees, but I have no idea what tree names mean what trees. I think they might be redwoods, or sequoias. What do I know though? I’m a crypto-zoologist not an arborist.

Ahead, where all of those humanoid bullfrogs are croaking, it seems almost all of them are facing a rock formation that’s a bit like a leaning tower. It’s an angular stone jutting out from amidst the swamp, near the edge of the river as it goes over yet another small set of falls and rapids. At least, it appears like a small set of falls, but the horizon is all awash in a sort of murky emerald. I’d hate for it to be much longer than ten or twenty feet. I wouldn’t know how to get down safely without having Lil transform and fly us down. Though, in a dire emergency, I could risk using a potion. I don’t know if I believe or trust its effects. I definitely don’t want to have to find out if the scroll was correct about their magic through trial and error during a life or death scenario.

Atop that rock, standing with pride, is some sort of primate wielding a staff and wearing a simple tunic and trousers. I’d describe their looks more accurately, but it seems as if every time they take another stance, their form or appearance shifts. Maybe they have some kind of martial arts skill that mimics animal forms based on their posture or kata. I think kata is what they’re called. They do retain a long prehensile tail in every shape, despite occasionally appearing as species of apes.

Upon approach, it gets harder to make headway due to being short, and trudging through soggy murk and muck. I realize the frogs are antagonizing this mammalian monk or ninja or martial artist. The odds look incredibly poorly in favor of the lone monk upon the rock. I don’t know the sides or the stakes here, if this is a game, a friendly rivalry, a territory battle to the death, a duel of honor, I have no idea if I should intervene at all.

Lil grunts out through their textbox, nearly answering my unspoken thoughts, “Rej buddy, I don’t think this is a good situation at all. It looks bad, mega bad, mega mega mega bad.”

I want to smile at Lil’s phraseology, or turn of phrase, a familiar sort of verbal repetition for them, but they’re right. Also, thinking on it, Lil could answer my unspoken thoughts if they read my narration log after it updated. It keeps perfect record of almost every thought I subvocalize. I feel like that’s incredibly strange, but the only two people in existence that I know of both have them. Lil and me that is. Well, knew of until this moment.

So why should having a subvocal memory log feel strange, when my data set shows that it’s a hundred percent likely? Okay, obviously a terrible data set, but that’s why we’re on this whole quest to find, or create and start, a community to begin with. Because just two people sitting around a lake until we die of boredom doesn’t entice either one of us as a prospect.

It doesn’t appear as if the frog-people are likely to want to join a community, it seems they have their own. They’re numerous, something that’s surprising, since the entire rest of the world seems to be so sparsely populated. Several ‘dactyl dinosaurs, Lil, me, a few beavers, that scary feathery bear. And, well, continuously respawning fish.

I vaguely hear that familiar ticking typing noise of text appearing, the sound associated with ellipses. The sound however gives me no clue as to what’s being said, or transpiring, though I could swear the frogs are croaking out bully. Are they calling the primate a bully?

As I’m pondering this, some form of missile, whether it’s a rock from a sling, or an arrowhead that broke loose of its shaft I can’t tell, sails towards the individual atop the rock. I wince as I expect a gruesome impact to be followed by the squelching sound of them falling into the muck below. Instead I hear a thunderous crack as the missile is deflected with their staff, and there’s a veritable wave of force like a mass of wind that knocks back everything within a radius of easily a hundred feet or more.

After the thunder clap, the figure slams the staff down atop the rock causing another thunderclap. This thunderclap is followed by a bolt of lightning sailing out of presumably the sky. Which is also seemingly from nowhere, as it hadn’t been raining, nor did it seem to be storming at all. The bolt of lightning blasts downward but seems to curve in midair towards the direction the missile had been fired from. Instantly I hear a croaking gurgle, as sizzling and popping and a shower of sparks forms from what must have been a frog hiding amidst the branches of a tree. One that had fired on the martial artist. The frog thing fired, obviously, not the tree. Actually, maybe that’s not so obvious in this world. Our world? My world? Reality? I think it’s just reality. I should stop thinking of it as something separate from my memories. Regardless, the sizzling is followed by the familiar sound of crashing, shattering glass and metal chains of derezzing.

I right myself from where I tumbled after the thunderclap, and try to skirt the edge of the conflict, or confrontation. I’d really like to get to know that lone defender. For some reason, it almost seems as if that rock is important to them. Or are they using the rock as a staging grounds for something else? A battle? A lure? A trap? My ultra-strange genre-senses are telling me there’s something more to this situation than a simple bout of bloody violence. My skull aches as memories try to force their way to the forefront of my brain once more.

More and more frequently I find myself with at least partial headaches. I don’t want to worry Lil, so I don’t bring it up, plus it’s not like I could hide it from them anyway, they read my mental logs aloud every so often. I love my adorable spherical dragon pal. Their resilient shining scales on a soft blubbery form is a lovely juxtaposition. Their tail being their only limb is a bit saddening, but Lil knows how to make up for their lack of limbs.

I especially enjoy getting hugged by their tail, or them using their tail to grip my skull like some sort of crown, or circlet, as they ride atop my head. I think I’ve caught them playing with my hair with their tail, and maybe sniffing it? I’m not certain. Scent is a weird thing. I don’t notice scents at all almost any time. On occasion though, a scent screams out importance as it rushes to my nostrils to alert me to its presence.

I whisper through party-only text chat, “Lil, they’re like some sort of devotee of the elements, or have some sort of ninjitsu elemental skill, or maybe their staff controls thunder and lightning. Do you think we should just get away from this conflict?”

Lil’s comment causes my heart to sink, “I don’t know if that’s going to be an option partner.”

I gulp as I ask, “Why not?” I’m dreading the obvious answer, and hoping I’m wrong about my guess.

“We’re surrounded.” Lil answers, almost laughing under their breath in the tone of their text, confirming my fears.

I slowly shift my eyes around, squinting, letting my eyes take in the scenery, avoiding moving as much as I possibly can. Amidst the muck are several figures, as Lil said, pretty much surrounding us.

“Greetings, sorry to interrupt your business, we’re just travelers passing through, I hope that’s permissible.” I try to explain to no one in particular, hoping perhaps some of the frogs can figure out a way to understand me, or to interpret my intentions by my tone and body language. I know my voice isn’t translated to text for anyone outside of my party, and everything in the universe other than me apparently speaks through textboxes. I’m only even able to talk to Lil at all because they invited me to their party.

As a spear sails towards my head, I frown, slightly dismayed. I’m mostly annoyed at yet more creatures being hostile. The thing that shant be named, the vicious fish in the pond, Vampguppy, the big white-feathery bear. All hostile. Do I really need to run into a society of creatures that chuck spears at me on sight?

Speaking of spears, or, thinking rather. Rather than ducking out of the way, I try to claim ownership of the spear as it sails at me. Reaching out towards it, it scrapes into my hand, yet thankfully it passes mostly harmlessly into my inventory. It did gash my palm slightly though, and I can spy a bit of ichor mingling with my blood. The effluvial ooze that traverses from the point of the ichor’s contact burns and itches.

I groan and nearly facepalm, “I really hope that wasn’t some kind of poison.”