Ooze walked blindly on…further and further into the darkness of the deep forest. He felt surprisingly invigorated…too invigorated; and every now and again he found the sting of the sharp stick in his gut as the splinters tore into his flesh. But he was alive, and that kept him moving on and on.
What was this feeling of mistrust in his lord? why had Tubatron failed to see his devotion? Ooze knew that he had some mistakes, but why such harsh treatment? and above all why had Tubatron’s spell failed to get him where he needed to go? Surely a being of such musical splendor would not have blundered. Ooze was dazed, he felt so full of life, and yet at the same time he knew he was dangerously close to losing his consciousness. his mind wandered, he hadn’t thought of home since that fateful day that led him to this accursed place. Had his parents survived that giant wave that seemed to spell doom for the village?
As Ooze thought about his past his hazy mind went back to better days….
It was Christmas day, and in the dark of early morn a young 8 yr. old Ooze ran anxiously down the steep stairs that led to his loft/bedroom in the rafters of his parents humble cottage. at the bottom of the stairs his young hopeful eyes filled with glee as the scene unfolded before him. A large fir tree which his father had chopped down the week before was the most spectacular sight to the young half human in him, so decorated with reds and greens and blues. His father sat in his favorite chair smiling contently as he polished his favorite old battle axe. When his father saw him his smile grew broader and Ooze gazed on in growing excitement as his father reached behind his chair and said, “Got something for ya kid”. Next it was Ooze’s half orc side to be pleasantly awed, for his father was holding up a delicious whole pork by its hind legs. Soon his mother was in from the back room yawning wide but looking happy as always. “Merry Christmas mother!” Ooze said. “Oh Ooze, dear why don’t you put on some clothes before we start with the presents” she said sleepily. “Oh let the boy get on” Ooze’s father replied. His mother gave him her usual loving glare, but seemed to nod in defeat. Without a second thought Ooze dashed for the wonderfully wrapped bulk under the tree and ripped it open with orcish abandon.
what he saw next was beyond what his little mind could find words for. A golden instrument, gleaming in the light of the pale window just behind and to the left of the tree. Its large strong horn was heavy to his little hands, but it was a good heaviness, a solid feeling. “Its called a tuba dear” his mother stated proudly, “I bought it from the strangest wanderer I had ever seen down in the village; I know how much you love watching that brass band that comes to town so…. here we are love” “I….I….thank you mother!” he reverently placed the mouthpiece to his lips and took a deep breath, then blew into the instrument. a glorious sound reverberated through the room, he was too entranced to notice the slight cringe on his mother’s face or the chuckle from his dad. “Just remember dear” his father mused with an ‘I told you so’ sort of look towards his wife, “you brought this on yourself”.
That tuba had since been Ooze’s life, his passion, his pride. it had been with him at every moment, indeed he had found his faith through the trusty thing. and now it was gone. He felt empty inside as he trudged ever on with his mind full of thought….