The Excellent Log of the Journeys and Tribulations of Samuel Scourduel, Part I

Entry One

In which the author tires of his life of drudgery and wistfully recalls his younger years upon the seas. He returns once more to decks and swabs, but is most cruelly cast adrift. He encounters some little people, befriends them and is of great service, but is most heinously betrayed. His return to these lands.

had often thought upon the earlier days of my life with much fondness and a certain nostalgia, but the necessities of maintaining the comfort to which I was accustomed left me with little time nor the impetus to change my destiny. I lived then as a landowner of some repute, and the servants and tenants upon my farms and in my townhouse thought well of me. I imagine that I was content – in some measure, at least – but since my many journeys I can no longer consider such trivial pursuits to be conducive to any true happiness. My youth had been filled with relative poverty, but also great joy as I had served upon a small number of ships of varying size, running goods from port to port along the southern coasts. Since those days of youth, I have been thoroughly bored.

Six months past I took it upon myself to remedy this ailment of mind and soul, and so travelled south to the ports once again in search of some position aboard a ship – perhaps as a physician or botanist (for my time in comfort has not been completely fruitless). It was in Port Lina (Reldo – this appears to have been a settlement approximately in the same location as Port Sarim) that I met Captain Gillan, a most worthy officer who is by no means easy on his crew, but is at least not too quick to draw the lash. He offered me the role of purser, and entrusted me with the chests that carried all the expedition’s wealth.

The Glass was a long schooner, and was thus lacking sufficient space for cargo. It had not yet occurred to me that the schooner was designed less for trade than for its speed, which is most conducive to escaping the depredations of pirates and corsairs. I was quickly relieved of this foolishness, for a mere three days into our voyage we were beset by a veritable flotilla of ships bearing the black flag. Despite our speed we were quickly overrun and boarded, and no amount of impressive swordplay on my part or Captain Gillan’s would dissuade those reprehensible curs.

I was cast adrift in a narrow barrel and, by the looks upon their malformed faces as they loaded the cannon, I thought then that I was surely doomed to meet my lord Saradomin at the behest of a cannonball. As I gathered my faculties to prepare myself for such a miserable end, the pirates suddenly became raucous and made expressions of terror. They thrust their twisted fingers skywards, and I am sure I heard more than a few prayers to both Saradomin and Zamorak.

Looking into the blue ether, I espied a great white shape which must have been a bird: but what a bird! I soon discerned that it was an albatross – well-known to sailors across RuneScape – and watched with shameless glee as it harried the pirates upon the schooner’s deck. Its beak cut down rigging and its talons raked the hunched backs of a number of the villains.

I laughed then, and merrily observed the ships departing with great haste. It was only with slow realisation that I discovered myself alone at sea in a barrel too narrow to comfortably sit, nor with a paddle or any kind of provisions. My view of the sea presented me with only horizons and I felt only a gentle zephyr that was unlikely to lead me to shore. I am unashamed to admit that at that moment I wept.

Of course, the greatest of journeys may begin with the most unfortunate of circumstances, and I know now that my lord Saradomin has plans for his humble servant, Samuel Scourduel. I was left bobbing like a cork for two days upon the waves, with only sea water to tempt me and the sun to burn my pale landowner’s skin.

n the morning of the third day, feeble-minded and weak-limbed from starvation and dehydration, I saw a green crescent grow in the far distance. By mid-morning it was obviously land, and I paddled towards it with what little strength I had remaining. Just before what should have been my lunchtime, I saw that the water was shallow enough to wade through and thus I staggered like a drunkard towards the beach, where I collapsed into a fevered sleep.

When I awoke, I discovered a small shell filled with fresh water being held to my lips by hands that seemed those of a child. I was still ill with hunger and thirst, and my eyes could focus no further away, though I fancied I saw all around me dozens more children. I tried to rise, that I might hold the shell and quench my thirst myself, but found that all my limbs were tightly fastened to the ground, and that my hair had been tied to some restraint that prevented me from moving even the slightest fraction of an inch.

A strange food was placed between my lips, and a rough hand encouraged my jaw to chew and my throat to swallow. Whoever these children were, they carried with them excellent foods. By the time I had finished with the strange meal, I could focus my eyes further afield and beheld the strangest sight I had then seen: all about me was a circle of small people no taller than my hip, but with all the physical build and trappings of adults.

Each of these strange people had oddly elongated chins and a mischievous look about them. Though I did not speak their tongue, I was able to comprehend that they were in some discussion about what to do with me. It quickly became obvious that they had encountered humans on some few occasions, and that all such encounters had not been completed to their benefit. Realising that they might simply slit my throat to save themselves from whatever evil they perceived I might bring, I gathered my strength and tore myself free from their bonds.

Rising up to my full height, I saw that not one of them stood taller than my waist, and they scattered quickly to hide behind bushes and small trees. A few of them pulled back strings on tiny bows and fired ineffectual arrows at me that mostly bounced from the thick leather of my coat, though a small number punctured my skin but went no further, feeling like little more than pin-pricks. I gestured quickly that I meant no harm, and sat upon the ground to drink from one of their buckets and to eat a few of the foods that were arranged near where I had lain.

After a half an hour, several of them crept from their cover and approached me. I extended my hand towards them, relying on the belief that all sentient creatures would judge this a friendly act. One by one, they approached and wrapped their small hands around one of my fingers and shook it – though one of these tiny humanoids stood back and glared fiercely at me with crossed arms and hunched shoulders. It was clear that though the majority of this group felt they could trust me, this one miserable creature was determined that I should not be allowed to live.

Soon there was an excited chattering among them, and four or five of them pulled upon my wrists to encourage me to rise. It was obvious to me then that there was some service they needed me to perform. I could only assume that some disaster or puzzle that had vexed them could be resolved by a man of true human stature. I followed the little people back to their settlement, though they insisted on blindfolding me to be sure that I would not be able to betray them by memorising the path to their village. Once in the village I was introduced to a regal gentleman of the same size as his people but dressed in such excellent finery that I felt compelled to kneel before him.

This ‘king’ pointed upwards quickly, indicating that a branch of the magnificent tree behind him had sickened and begun to rot and would eventually sicken the entire tree. A few of his subjects indicated the fragility of the tree, and that they were forbidden to climb upon it for fear of causing further damage. So it was that I was given a tiny saw and a small pot of some pungent liquid, all for the treatment of this ailing tree. While I knew not why they should care so dearly for this plant, I quickly set to work and reached up for the rotten branch with the saw.

Some few minutes later I had removed the ill limb and covered the exposed stump with the oil. With a cheer, the small people rushed to the base of the tree and looked up towards its trunk. I was quite surprised, then, to discover a face wrought from the tangled knots and grooves in the bark – I was yet more surprised to see the face move and to speak! A short moment later, the tree had fallen once more into silence and I felt the small hands of these diminutive fellows clutching my fingers with gratitude. It was then that my eyes fell upon the angry little fellow from earlier, whispering something into the king’s shell-like ear.

So it was that despite my good intentions and the rapport I felt I had nurtured with these charming people, I was forced to flee their little village with arrows in pursuit (each cunningly aimed for the softer parts of my face and hands), finding myself at once lost in a maze populated by beasts both common and weird.

When I found myself outside the maze again, and had time enough to pluck the small arrows from my back and legs, I turned to the north and wandered in search of more hospitable folk, finding myself at a small town attached to a port. With some gratitude, I returned to my native home.

The Excellent Log of the Journeys and Tribulations of Samuel Scourduel, Part II