The below link is from Russell Bird's "The Lonely Lament of Fonkin Hoddypeak" originally posted on the Greytalk List Server on 21 January 2001.
The Lonely Lament of Fonkin Hoddypeak. WoG Fiction 580 CY DISCLAIMER AND WARNING: Section iii. contains material of a graphic nature that may be offensive to some readers. manicmidwife advises that that section is suitable for mature readers only. Not reading that section will not detract from the flow of the overall story i. It was dark. So dark that Fonkin Hoddypeak could see nothing. This didn't concern him, as he was tired. He lay back and allowed himself to pass into the sleep trance of his people. His attention passed to his youth. He recalled his younger days in Geoff. A scrawny elf, given to much teasing for his name. He did not care much for it, but then nor did he think it important. Certainly his human colleagues thought it a mark of his vanity. As they grew older he retained his youth, and then they came to respect him. He came to respect the passing of time and the effect that it had on those not blessed by Labelas. Fonkin was not so concerned for his name as he was his fitness. He had begun training in the magical arts (as did most of his people). He found that there was a deeply personal need to work to achieve a state of fitness. His commitment saw him gain skill as a warrior. Fonkin gained some skill as a dual adventurer. Most of the elves of Geoff tended to be one or the other. Thus Fonkin had won the respect of his fellows Olves and humans. He tended toward associations and freindships with the sturdy humans, and found himself proud of his fighting skills. Though well practiced in magic, his studies in that area suffered as he was selected for military service. Over the passing years, Fonkin was sent on many exchange missions and border patrols throughout the Sheldomer. His name became a term of respect, no longer attracting the scorn that it did during his youth. He kept in contact with his sister who did not share his wanderlust, and was surprised to learn that he had a half-brother by name of Kaleb. During his travels, he saw the lands of the Greyhawk Domain grow prosperous. He also saw the rise of the Pomarj as distinct from the Wild Coast. He dispaired at this. He also dispaired at the condition of his brother. As with many of the half-bloods, he had trouble finding his way in one culture or the other. Fonkin saw little of him, and when he did, Kaleb was resentful and full of spite for Fonkin's success. He had returned to Geoff and found that the Giants of the Crystalmists had begun raiding the lands to the east. Though not a new problem, recent events had seen them become destructive and a significant threat to the safety of the land. Fonkin found himself drafted to the Jotens patrols. He would have volunteered regardless, as he was stationed with many of his human friends who had grown to middle age around him. The rest was history, and was the pinnacle of Fonkin's life. It also marked the fall from grace. A fall from which he had never recovered. ii. Following those adventures, he continued his freindships with his fellow adventurers, and held a song of joy in his heart for each of them. Beek, Flerd, Cloyer... all of them. They had faced the very threat of death together countless times, and come through sometimes by luck alone. He remembered especially Philotomy the paladin. At first, he had distanced himself from the stern and dedicated warrior, who seemed to lack the ability to relax and express himself freely. What was more, there was serious conflict in the group. Followers of the way of Trithereon, Pholtus, St. Cuthbert and Pelor; among others all thrown together and fighting for a cause and their very survival. Despite their commitment to the great quest, Fonkin thought it would all come to blows. Indeed on many occasions it very nearly did: arguments about which path to take, which threats to avoid and who should take the lead. Fonkin recalled that it was all put into perspective in the great underground cavern of the dark elves. The party had taken refuge in a great forest of fungi. They were hunted, badly beaten, and though none would openly admit it... they were frightened witless. Fonkin recalled the words that Philotomy spoke that dark day: "I am terrified. I have dedicated my life to championing the needs of the common good, and I find myself at a loss for direction". He had began to shiver "I will follow the person that has the best suggestion for what we should do. We came to investigate a giant threat..." Tears had come to his eyes "I am not sure whether or not we should just go home". Fonkin recalled the moment well. He was suffering from a complete loss of faith and was sure that whatever action they took would lead to a very painful death. He could think of nothing to say. Cloyer Bulse and Flerd Trantle looked to each other. They had fought bitterly for almost the entire journey. They hated each other and all that the other stood for. An unspoken moment passed between them and they turned to Philotomy. Flerd had said "Whatever you decide, we will follow". Cloyer added with complete conviction "I will follow you to the death". Cloyer and Flerd then embraced. Philotomy was silent for a while, and then spoke. "For the loss of Wurp the Eyebiter, for the atrocities to which I have borne witness... I will kill any drow on sight". >From a foundation of faith built on hate, they pressed on and survived. None of them shared that in any of the debriefings. It was unspoken. It was a bond to the grave. The recovery from the trauma of the drow saga took months. Painful months that Fonkin felt drag by the day. He yearned to return to the underdark on a personal mission to remove all drow from the Oerth. He also dispaired at the enormity of the problem, and knew to do so would be fatal. Still, he considered... and considered heading out alone. The recovery was slowed by the madness of Kaleb, who had started to spread slander and mis-accusation. Accusations of alliances with the drow, corruption and murder... A problem that would not seem to go away unless Kaleb died. There where whispers that he had fallen in with a very bad crowd in Verbobonc. Fonkin and Philotomy had recovered enough to accept a mission for the armies of Furyondy. During a scouting mission to the north, they ran into a force led by Iuz the Old himself. As their fellows were slaughtered around them, they stood firm. In an moment of intense motivation fueled by desperation, Fonkin loosed an arrow that struck the Lord of Skulls in the chest. The Old One shrugged it off unhurt. So surprised were they both, Fonkin could not be prepared for what would happen next "YOU ! ELF ! What is your name ?" "Fonkin Hoddypeak ! Giantslayer of Geoff, Underoerth adventurer and sunderer of the drow !" "You have amused me today. That has earned your survival, but at a cost. You shall survive to hear your name whispered throughout the lands as a curse of disrespect. So be it... HODDYPEAK !". With that, Iuz the Evil laughed at Fonkin and his forces began taunting the brave elf. The survivors retreated to safety iii. Later, Fonkin found himself saying his farewells to Philotomy. His freind and ally, who had elected to stay and seek membership among the knighthood in service to Belvor. "His Highness the King feels that war is coming. I feel it too. I have decided to stay behind and petition for acceptance into the Knight order of the Hart". Fonkin felt hurt by this. He felt that it showed. "You are thinking of going back down there, aren't you my freind ? Back to the Vault ?" "Yes I am. I was hoping that you might join me" Philotomy regarded his freind sadly "I can never return. I don't think you should either, even though you might want to". Fonkin was ready to appeal to the stubborn paladin. Philotomy just smiled. "Tell me Fonkin, do you remember Charinida ?" "No. Should I ?" "You have been trained to forget her. Perhaps it is well that you should... Just this once, I will help you to remember. Think... the high priestess of Queen Lolth... what do you remember ?" "Charinida..." Fonkin let his mind float back. "Remember.. the Great Fane... the Egg of Lolth..." And Fonkin started to remember... Charinida. They had fought and slain many drow. Philotomy had sworn to slay any on sight. All that changed when they met Charinida. Beautiful, kind, inviting. Fonkin remembered her. He remembered lusting after her, wanting her for himself. Philotomy read his expressions. "Yes, you remember her... You remember her as I did. The most beautiful woman we had ever seen, even more so than Eclavdra... Now, do you remember the dungeons beneath the Fane ? We encountered a prisoner..." Fonkin struggled to remember. He thought this odd. He could clearly remember the travels against the giants, the battle with Eclavdra, the journey into the depths, the Vault, and beyond. Why was this a struggle ? "You have had help in suppressing this memory. Many of our colleagues are still in the Sanitorium struggling to forget. Will yourself to remember", Philotomy was forceful now "We freed a male drow who was scheduled to be sacrificed.." A name came to Fonkin, he became pale "... Nilonim" "Yes, Nilonim. You remember how he filled us with hope that there could be redemption for the drow ? He sought to join us and we agreed. We trusted him". "Yes...", recalled Fonkin, inspired by the memory "Now, do you remember how Charinida and her spider hunters captured us ?" "I remember..." "You remember what she did to Nilonim ?" Fonkin recalled and was flooded with the horror. They were restrained, their armour and clothing removed. As the sickly brazers burned, they watched as Nilonim was strapped to the alter of the Spider Queen. He was tortured, brutalised, and devoured alive by the spiders. And... they.. enjoyed... watching... Philotomy was holding Fonkin now. Holding him and looking him directly in the face. "Charinida... you desired her. I desired her as well. We all did !" "Yes..." "Do you remember what she and her priestesses did to us next ?" "Yes". In spite of himself, Fonkin remembered. The greatest pleasure and reckless abondon of his life. He yearned more than ever to return. To return to the embrace of Charinida. To return to the pleasure of being her willing slave. To be her most favoured slave... "I too recall the pleasure. My willing desire cost me my faith and the special skills that came with that faith. My vows abandoned, I am now but a simple sell-sword, and unable to provide protection from the undead or heal as I once was able. I have hid that from you all this time. This was Lolth's gift to us". Fonkin was shaking as the tears came. "Do you see now why you must never go back ? You want to... but you must not. It is a trap and would spell your doom. This drow problem has passed beyond us. Perhaps it is the problem of another generation... maybe even an elf generation". Fonkin nodded and was calm once again. "I am unable to forget the memory Fonkin, such is my burdon. You will be able to do it and do it easily. It is in your nature. Just remember our freindship. That will protect you. Go now in peace, and take care..." Fonkin embraced his friend warmly, the horror of his memories fading as he did. His compulsion to return to the Vault of the Drow fading as well. iv. The old one was true to his word, much to the shame of Fonkin, who retired to a more private life, troubled by the spread of insults such as "Don't be a Fonkin !' and the like. People did not even seem to realise they were doing it, which was some small comfort. Fonkin recalled how he was teased for his name during his youth. He had lived to outgrow the effect that that teasing had on him, but this was something hurtful indeed. More recently, he had teamed up with Fnast Dringle, a brave wood elf who had travelled with Fonkin in the past and together they had faced the giant threat. Fnast had not joined them in the expedition into the underdark. "A wood elf underground ? Ho, I don't think so !". Fonkin thought no less of Fnast for this. He was a good friend and noble warrior. A shame he was torn apart in front of Fonkin... Fonkin awoke with a gasp. That had only happened a few minutes ago. He laughed but it hurt to breath. 'Curious", he thought "to see one's life pass before one's eyes. A human phenomenon that I would dismissed as heresay, had I not experienced it for myself". Fonkin would have said it, had his jaw not been broken. His sword arm too, was useless. He was bleeding from more cuts than he had dressings to cover. Here he sat, alone and slowly dying. His weapons were gone, his armour was hanging loosely on his broken frame. He wasn't in a position to cast any of his spells, physically, verbally or emotionally. He sighed. It was about all he could do. It was still dark. His vision was fine, there was no light or heat in the barren room. The door was buckling and he knew his oppressors would be though the door soon. "Hope... I know something about hope", thought Fonkin. "Hope is that my deeds are worthy enough of an audience with the father of all elves. May I be worthy of the honour of being one of his speeding arrows in his war against the drow. An arrow that never shatters, but may be used again.." The door buckled "...and again" The door buckled again "... and again" The door buckled severely. It wouldn't be long now. "And again" Fonkin found the strength to say this at last. A strength born of anger and hatred. Hatred for the drow. A hatred that was had slowly doomed him. The door buckled and finally gave way. Fonkin could see them now, despite the darkness - the levitating monsters of metal. Here, beneath the metal halls of the fortress that was hidden in the Barrier Peaks, not far from his beloved homeland; Fonkin Hoddypeak - sole survivor of a doomed expedition, lay back and willed himself to enter the sleep trance once again. The trance came with ease despite the pain. A vivid memory came to him... He and his fellows were lost in the Abyss. They had survived weeks of near constant battle that had seen them escape within an inch of their lives more times than they could count. They had faced rooms containing hundreds of trolls; ice caverns full of beserker frost giants and spellcasting ogres; insane liches; ravenous illithids; rotting fish-men; lizards that they thought were dragons; dragons that they thought were lizards and all of this before they had encountered Eclavdra and her foul ilk. They then had to resist the pain of wyvern stings, spider venom, fungal poisoning and the mindbending effect of drow pleasure drugs. Now, in the misty corridors of the Demonweb, they had simply given up, unable to go on. They could not remember the last time they had bathed; they were dangerously malnourished; all wore unruly beards and they had lost all sense of time and direction. A voice spoke. It belonged to Faffle the Mage. Faffle - a shy loner that none had heard speak save for when engaged in spellcasting. He said "We can't give up now, we have to press on !" Fonkin remembered replying in anguish "We are lost", his face buried in his hands, his dark brown hair cascading down his face. "Are you going to remind us that we have a duty ? Are you going to say that we owe it to our home lands ?" "No", replied Faffle, as quietly spoken as ever. "Actually, I was going to say that I am very much in love with your sister. I want to ask her to marry me and I would like very much for us to settle down on a farm somewhere... somewhere far from any giant or drow threat. That is, if it is okay with you...". With that he blushed. Fonkin remembered staring hard at Faffle with his jaw gaping. He stared hard for a long time, and then the laughter started. It began with Flerd... Flerd Trantle the serious, the chaste, the intolerant and the zealot. He was laughing so hard his eyes bulged. In spite of himself, he snorted... and then laughed harder. Then they were all at it. Faffle looked downcast "Please don't laugh ! I am going to need your help here !" No monsters disturbed them that day... or the next.... Fonkin smiled at the memory, and knew peace. Then, he knew no more.
