Galpo Story

~Four days before the death of Boundary Keeper Galpo Glory.

Remember this about the people of the land. They love illusions. They love fantasy. They are enraptured by mist and smog and artifice. Everything they do is in the name of fantasy.

Galpo Glory crested, rising up and breaking the surface of the quiet sea. His scaly, golden head made him look like a large koi or goldfish at first, but soon his body followed, humanoid, dressed in a sort of silvery tunic. 

These people. They must be warned. They know not the danger of the coming mermaids.
He saw land up ahead and paddled his way toward the shore. 

Galpo Horatus Glory III was a triton, and he had a terribly important mission to accomplish. The land dwellers were a diverse people. Humans of all kinds, elves, dwarves, even occasionally orcs took part in the same society, but rarely did they see his kind, and rarely were their kind seen in the massive, glistening kingdoms and palaces beneath the waves. 

After some paddling, he landed on the beach, then, being horizontal, he stood up. Here on land, the empty space was lighter than it was in the sea, but the body was heavier. He had to stand upright, which was strange. 

The beach was covered in people, mostly humans, as far as he could tell, though Galpo had only been on land some six or seven times and he admittedly still had trouble telling some races apart. 

The dwarves have beards. The elves are thin. The halflings are small. Humans are the ones without any distinguishing characteristics. 

These were mostly humans, it seemed, baking under the bright sun. The sun here was so hot. How did people survive? Galpo shielded his huge, wide eyes and began walking across the beach. 

“Hey! You! Out of the way!” he turned his head and saw a huge man wearing only a small strip of cloth over his crotch. The man was round like an egg, and he was running like a charging swordfish.

Goodness!

Galpo made sure to get out of the way.

The round, egg-shaped man charged at a skinnier man with tan skin. Maybe an elf? Was he skinny enough to be an elf?

“You took it from me!” the egg man barked. Galpo was fluent in Tradespeak, so he could understand, even though the words were mixed up and garbled. 

The elf man yelled back something that Galpo had learned was inappropriate, and threw his fist at the other, and the two started beating each other viciously. A crowd gathered and watched the scene unfold with Galpo. 

Why are these land dwellers battling each other? He wondered to himself. What could be the reason?

While he was searching the scene, he noticed something tucked into the thin man’s pants, something long and green, like seaweed. 

He watched the two men pound each other.

Why do they do this?

“You’re not from around here? Are you?” a gentle voice said beside him. He turned his face and saw yet another man. He had a face that even Galpo knew was handsome and silky black hair in a tail behind his head. 

“No, sir,” said Galpo, “What is the meaning of this?”
“Well,” explained the figure, “Agag over there stole something from Puffy.” 

“The green weed?”

“So, you’ve noticed? You have a good eye. Onions.” 

“What are onions?”
“Just a delicious vegetable we have up here on land.”

“Are the onions so delicious that men will battle for them?”

The handsome man laughed a hearty laugh with his whole chest, “Men will battle for anything here on land.”

Galpo remained silent, drinking the violence in with his fish eyes. By that time, “Puffy” had dropped Agag to the ground and was trying to shove a fist-full of sand in his mouth.

“Hey,” said the handsome man, “I’m Garen, Garen Loreshaw. Want me to show you some real onions?”

–

Garen took Galpo to a restaurant, a place with a picture of an octopus on the name-board. Galpo was able to read the characters of Tradespeak, but not quickly. Script was less commonly used in the undersea kingdom where he lived. 

It was cooler inside than it was outside, which Galpo appreciated.

I know not how the people of this land avoid becoming cooked by the fire of the sun.

Garen led Galpo to a table. There were a few other people in the restaurant, all humans and bearded humans and short humans. A server approached. He was a human with yellow eyes and gray skin. His demeanor troubled Galpo. 

“What will you have?” graveled the server. 

“I know not,” said Galpo.

“Give him The Ocean’s Finest.” said Garen, “And one of those for me too.”

“The Ocean’s Finest? Is this true? Truly a bold claim for a food store on the land.”

Garen shrugged, “I mean, it’s good, but maybe not really the finest. Places like this like to be dramatic in their naming schemes. It’s better for business.”

Galpo squinted as best he could to demonstrate irritation, but Garen didn’t seem to notice. 

At length, the gray man returned with a plate covered in things. There were leafy things, round white things, and a big, orange fish, which stared back at Galpo with wide, dead eyes. 

Galpo stared down at the fish.

The fish stared up at Galpo.

Galpo stared down at the fish.

The fish stared up at Galpo.

–

After eating the parts that seemed tasty, Galpo noticed that Garen was gone. He stood up and noticed that the door on the side of the restaurant was hanging open, so he went outside. 

He found Garen lounging against the wall, standing in the space between this building and the one next to it. In his hand, there was a wooden pipe with smoke coming out. The human looked like a fine painting. If Galpo had been an artist, he might have tried to capture this moment.

“Hey, Galp.” said Garen, noticing him, “What do you need?”

“In this dish, I did note notice the long green vegetables that those men had been dueling over.”

“Oh yeah?” Garen shrugged, “I guess it was a different kind of onion.”

Galpo leaned up next to Garen and tried to look as easy and comfortable, but he found it an awkward position.

Garen noticed the triton struggling, “You’re pretty tight, huh? Want a taste?”

Before he knew what he was doing, Galpo had the pipe in his hand and was pressing it to his mouth.

“Now, breathe it in, but don’t breathe it in. You got me?” Explained Garen. 

Galpo sucked in the air. It tasted like mint and crushed conch. He started coughing. It burned his nostrils. He dropped the pipe and coughed. 

“Hey, easy there.” said Garen. 

Galpo continued coughing. The ground beneath him started to shake and tremble. He lifted his head and got dizzy. Everything started to turn green. When he exhaled, smoke spewed from his mouth like he was a dragon. 

“Haha. First time, I guess. Don’t they have anything good under the sea?”

Galpo looked up at the sky. Up above him, he saw the clouds rippling, as though there was movement, as though the sky itself had a surface, and there was another world above it.
Remember this about the people of the land. They love illusions. They love fantasy. They are enraptured by mist and smog and artifice. Everything they do is in the name of fantasy.