Chapter 9 — Pirates Of Parvati
And thus begins Chapter Nine.
Pirates of Parvati.
The council leans forward.
Now.
There I stood.
Feeling four emotions simultaneously.
Excited.
Afraid.
Concerned.
Curious.
A balanced emotional diet.
And so I asked Gunman the most important question.
“How are we getting there?”
The council nods.
A sensible inquiry.
“Where is it?”
An even better inquiry.
Gunman looked at me.
Then delivered news so horrifying that for a brief moment I considered returning to Valhalla and living there permanently.
“We walk.”
The council erupts.
Children.
The Gurudwara flashbacks arrived instantly.
The exhaustion.
The suffering.
The betrayal.
Brother.
I can barely walk when sober.
And now this man wanted me to walk two miles while sloshed.
A bold strategy.
Now.
We departed.
The pilgrimage began.
And I wish I could tell you stories of the journey.
Beautiful scenery.
Interesting conversations.
Life changing revelations.
Children.
I remember absolutely none of it.
The council applauds.
One moment I was walking.
The next moment I materialized.
No transition.
No memory.
No loading screen.
Just suddenly existing somewhere else.
The council writes.
“Fast travel unlocked.”
Correct.
Now.
Before me stood the ticket counter.
The gateway.
The final checkpoint.
The council waits.
I paid the absurd admission fee.
One.
“Please Dad, everyone’s going to the rave.”
The council nods.
A currency I was deeply familiar with.
And then.
we entered.
The council cheers.
Now.
Children.
Imagine music so loud that your chest vibrates.
Not your ears.
Your chest.
Imagine lasers.
Colors.
Smoke.
Movement.
Thousands of people.
Thousands of stories.
Thousands of cryptids gathered from every corner of the planet.
The council grows quiet.
And suddenly,
for the first time on the journey,
I felt completely at home.
Not because I knew anyone.
Not because I belonged.
But because nobody belonged.
Everyone was strange.
Everyone was wandering.
Everyone was searching for something.
The council nods.
My people.
Now.
The next thing to remember is important.
I immediately passed out.
The council collapses.
Children.
Listen.
I’ve never claimed competence.
Now.
When I next awakened,
hours had passed.
The council waits.
I found myself inside a tent.
The council leans forward.
Whose tent?
Excellent question.
To this day,
I have absolutely no idea.
Possibly mine.
More likely not mine.
Statistically someone else’s.
Now.
Inside sat two strangers.
A blonde woman.
A black haired man.
The council nods.
Temporary NPCs.
Quest givers.
Or perhaps accidental rescuers.
I genuinely don’t know.
Now.
Children.
There are moments in life where you should ask questions.
This was one of them.
I asked none.
The council applauds.
Consistency.
Instead,
I smoked a joint with them.
Accepted a suspicious pill.
And continued existing.
The council groans.
Children.
Do not use the Unbegun Saga as a travel guide.
Now.
The remarkable thing was how normal this all felt at the time.
No introductions.
No explanations.
Just three cryptids sharing a moment beneath canvas while music shook the mountains outside.
Then they sent me on my way.
Like side characters whose questline had concluded.
The council nods.
Their work here was done.
Now.
I wandered.
Aimlessly.
Gloriously.
The council smiles.
And eventually fate intervened once more.
For I collided with Beard Man.
The council erupts.
A reunion.
Children.
The look on his face was magnificent.
“Brother, we thought you died.”
A reasonable conclusion.
“I thought I did too.”
I replied.
The council applauds.
An equally reasonable response.
Now.
Just like that,
the pack was whole again.
Gunman.
Beard Man.
Bald Man.
Ponytail.
The Unbegun.
And however many additional cryptids destiny had collected along the way.
The council cheers.
Now.
This is where most people would describe the party.
The music.
The atmosphere.
The experience.
Children.
I remember exactly one thing.
The dance.
The council already knows.
Brace face.
Close eyes.
Jesus take the wheel.
Pinball Protocol activated.
I danced the same way I always dance.
Like a man attempting to survive turbulence.
Like a loose shopping cart descending a hill.
Like a cryptid discovering rhythm through trial and error.
The council applauds.
A masterclass.
Now.
The music roared.
The lasers flashed.
The mountains watched.
And somewhere amid the chaos,
the wandering continued.
Thus concludes Chapter Nine.
The Rave.
The Tent.
The Temporary Resurrection.
And the reunion of the pack.
For children,
the night was far from over.
And as we shall soon discover,
Pirates of Parvati still had several surprises left in reserve.
