Postcards from Tamriel, Stories and such that fall somewhere between a snippet and a thread Options

[treydog]

@ghastley- It started with the phrase "sticky lizard"- which I don't remember the context for. And then it just kind of scarpered off on its own from there. Growing up, I did have occasion to catch our local variety of skinks- Five-Lined. And they can "lose" their tails as a defense mechanism- and then grow them back. For the rest- it is what happens when you turn a former English major loose with a word processor....

@SubRosa- I think this next installment will fit in with your feelings of creepiness crawling. Rahvin is usually pretty good about avoiding "things that man (or mer) was not meant to know," but sometimes his thirst for knowledge gets away with him. I am glad that it caused a smile or two- it was certainly fun to write- and to picture in my head.

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Somewhere outside of Ald'ruhn, Vvardenfell

The two boys tumbled out of the opening in the hillside, their exit punctuated by a rumble of falling stone and a gout of dust that covered them from head to foot. “Remind me again how I got involved in this?” coughed the larger one.

Two days earlier

I found Rahvin in his lab, which was not surprising. He was there any time he did not have to be somewhere else, and would have slept there if Aunt Serene had not drawn a line about it. Of course, saying he was “in” the lab was a bit of a misstatement. It had only taken a few explosions, releases of noxious fumes, and infestations of escaped creatures in Sarethi Manor to get him banished to the outside wall of Skar. There he had set up a makeshift roof and a couple of additional walls that were almost sturdy enough to deter an anemic scrib. Considering the frequency with which the walls were blown down- or sometimes knocked down, by people rushing to escape one of his “tests,” it was just as well. Regardless, he was usually there, unless he had been forcibly reminded that his presence at family meals and lessons was not “optional.” The only exception was weapons training. Whenever 'Thyna reminded him it was “time to practice,” he dropped whatever he was doing and grabbed his bow. When I say “dropped,” it is not a figure of speech. I should know, since I helped put out a number of the resulting fires.

But on this particular day, he was not burning, boiling, or blowing up anything. Instead, he was slumped on his stool, chin supported by both fists and his elbows propped on the table to either side of a tattered book. If I had inherited any of Mother's artistic skill, I could have done a painting or sculpture of him and called it The Scientist- Dejected. The hair sticking out at odd angles just added to the scene of misery.

“Hey, Rah. If the story is that sad, just read a different one.”

He didn't look up at first, but continued his morose glare at the pages of spidery writing, as if he could transform what they said by sheer force of will.

“Hello Athlain. No, it isn't 'sad,' it's just....” He stopped and looked up suddenly, his eyes alight with a new- and probably explosive- idea. “Athlain! Good! So I found this old... journal, and it gives directions to a t... a cave that is almost certain to hold the ing... some really interesting artifacts.”

“So?”

It was usually his older sister that roped me into dubious and dangerous adventures, but I still had painful memories of going to lessons covered in purple fuzz, thanks to one of Rahvin's “really good ideas.” I was actually interested in exploring this cave, especially if it had been forgotten. But the thing was, others tended to have an interest in caves too, like smugglers and bandits.

“And where is this cave? Skyrim? Akavir? And what's in it besides 'artifacts'? Dragons? Vampires? Giant deadly Dwemer constructs?”

Rahvin's enthusiasm did not waver in the face of my questions. “That's just it. The entrance isn't far from here. And better still, it was blocked by a rock slide a long time ago.” His eyes drifted up and to the right. “So there's almost certainly probably nothing in there to be worried about.” He casually added, “You could bring that staff Mother has been teaching you to use- if it will make you feel better.”

What I felt like was that I was being... herded. Rah knew I was happy to have finally found a weapon that I could actually use- and one that let me keep Athynae from beating me during every practice session. And he also knew that I had always hoped to make a significant discovery of some sort. So it sounded good, but it never paid to give in too easily.

“I don't know, Rah. Who else is going?”

Because it was entirely possible this was one of Athynae's “adventures,” and that she had put him up to asking so I would be less suspicious. But he waved his hand dismissively, “Oh it would just be us- unless you don't want to be part of The Expedition.”

I could hear the capital letters, and felt my resolve slipping. “Let me think about it.”

He shrugged as if it wasn't all that important, and started sorting alchemy ingredients. That went on for several minutes and then he paused and asked me, “You have archery practice tomorrow, right?”

I looked at him as if he had grown another head- not as far-fetched as it sounds, if you had seen some of his “experiments.” “You know I do- you're supposed to be there with me. And what does that have to do with anything?”

He nodded absently, his hands still busy. “Right. Yes. So... how about this? If I score better than you, you go with me to the... cave.”

Rahvin was more naturally adept with a bow than I was, but I had managed to stay close through diligent practice. I wasn't in Athynae's league, but then almost no one was. But on the other hand, I wasn't so hopeless that people had to evacuate the range when I shot. Still. “And what about if I win?”

He didn't quite laugh, but his lips twitched. “Ah... If you win, you get all my desserts for a week.”

“Two weeks,” I countered, and stuck out my hand.

“Done,” he answered, and shook on the bet.

That should have been all the warning I needed; Rahvin might miss meals, but he never missed dessert.

The next afternoon found us on the archery range, and I was amused to see that Rahvin had equipped himself with a new bow-string and was examining the shafts and fletching on each of his arrows with a critical eye. In that moment, he resembled his older sister preparing for a tournament competition, instead of someone engaged in a friendly wager. Of course, his desserts were on the line, which probably explained his competitiveness. And it also probably explained the fact that he beat me by a good ten points. I didn't like losing, but the prospect of doing some exploring was enough to soothe that minor irritation. Athynae was occupied with a handful of wild guar that had been brought in, and was spending almost all of her time at the stable.

So it was that I met Rahvin at his lab far too early the next morning. When I surveyed the pile of “essentials” he had gathered, I understood why we were meeting there instead of Sarethi Manor. Anyone seeing all that equipment would have deduced that Something Was Up.
“I thought you said the cave was nearby.”

“It is.” Rahvin's voice back came from somewhere in the mountain of supplies. “In the hills northeast of here.”

“And how many pack guar are you planning on using? And how will you get them out of the stable without Athynae noticing?”

His head popped up from behind a crate like a startled scrib, hair sticking out in all directions. “Pack guar? I didn't think we would need...,” his voice trailed off as he looked from me to the mound of gear.

I leaned on my staff and pointed to the travel pack strapped across my back, “Food, water, a few potions and bandages. We aren't going to invade Elsweyr, are we? I like the Khajiit.”

He chewed his lip and looked at the accumulation again. “Well, no. But....”

I straightened up and pointed. “Same things I have. Food- plus a little extra in case things go longer than we expect. Water, because you always take clean water. Some potions- but not your entire stock! Maybe a small shovel and a pry bar.” I had gone on enough, “Come on. It will be fun,” adventures with his older sister to know how to prepare. “And bring your bow; that's racer country.”

When I mentioned cliff-racers, his face lit up and he started digging through the sacks and boxes. “I can test my new Cliff-Racer Repellent formula!”

“Ah... how do I put this? 'No.' No Racer Repellent, new or otherwise.”

The thing was, the evil-smelling concoction actually sort of... worked. It also tended to stay on your skin for a month or more and... ate holes in your clothing. Not to mention that it caused every scrib and kwama forager in the area to think you were a member of the opposite gender- if scribs and foragers had genders. But... no. Just no.

At last, minus the repellent and enough other equipment to have supported the garrison at Fort Moonmoth for a year, we left Ald'ruhn. The going was easy, and we would have made good time, except for Rah's need to stop and examine and catalog every bug, bush, or flower we passed. He also frequently consulted the notes he had made from the old book, explaining that the tome itself was “too delicate to carry into the field.” I was just happy I had packed enough food for several meals, and that we had left near first light.

Once we got into the foothills, Rahvin stopped to take sightings of several mountain peaks and turned us a bit more east. Satisfied with what he saw, he picked up his pace toward the mouth a a ravine that cut deep between two of the hills. When we reached the terminus, he sat down in the shade and pointed to a pile of stones that lay against the slope. “That should be it. Just roll those rocks out of the way. The slide doesn't appear very deep.”

“And what will you be doing?”

He waved an airy hand, “Oh, you know. Making observations; taking notes- that sort of thing.”

I pushed the shovel into his outstretched hand and said, “How about you take this shovel and observe me using the pry bar while you dig, instead?”

Between the two of us, we were able to clear most of the debris. As we got deeper, I thought some of the stones seemed to have been worked, and possibly even had partial inscriptions etched into them. But Rah did not seem interested, so I just got on with the work. After an hour, I stopped to drink some water and Rah picked up the pry bar and poked idly at an upper corner of the rock pile. It collapsed inward with a clatter, revealing the entry to an underground chamber. There really was a cave behind the slide. With renewed energy, I took the shovel and enlarged the opening to the point that we could get through.

“You brought a lantern, right?” He looked sheepish and then stared at the ground. “Torches, then?”

“Ah... ummm.....”

I stopped shifting rocks to look at him squarely. “You set out to explore a cave, and remembered to bring half-a-dozen notebooks, twenty pens and brushes, four colors of ink... but no light source?”

He kicked at a small rock, “I packed several. They were in one of the boxes you made me leave behind.”

I grabbed my hair with both hands to keep them from reaching for his throat, and growled. “I told you to leave the box behind, not the lanterns. Because that box also had saws, hammers, and enough lumber to build a small house!”

He didn't respond, but began flipping through one of his notebooks. “Ha!” he said, finger pointing to an entry. “And not far from here, either!”

“Would you care to... enlighten me?” I couldn't resist the pun.

He grinned back in appreciation. “That is precisely what I intend to do. All we need are some fire fern leaves and some scathecraw branches. Along with a few drops of my fire-breath potion- it's still experimental- we can make torches.”

I was torn between admiration at his ingenuity and wanting to ask why he thought we needed to carry an... untested... fire breath?... potion with us. Admiration won, and I volunteered to go get the other things he needed. I had some experience with the thorny scathecraw plants and figured I would be less likely to get skewered- or sidetracked. I also wanted to put some distance between myself and Rah when he opened a potion that might just catch fire if he looked at it sideways. For a wonder though, the impromptu torches worked a treat and didn't even give off as much smoke as regular ones produced. We smiled at each other and headed out of the midday sun and into the gloom.

After the first fifteen feet, the floor and walls became smooth and uniform. So it probably had been a bandit cave at some point. If so, the inhabitants had abandoned it or perished long ago, and should not trouble us. When we had gotten thirty feet in, the narrow tunnel gave way to a more open chamber. Rah made as if to press ahead, but I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Even though it appears empty, we should still observe the rules for entering unknown ground. That means I go first with my staff and you wait for my signal.”

He grumbled a little, but agreed; even when we didn't think there was an actual need, we followed the rules. Both of us had gotten bruises from Athynae when we had failed to do so. Her lessons tended to stick with us... sometimes for weeks.

I took a firm grip on my staff with my right hand and raised the torch higher with my left, then approached the opening. I paused before stepping out of the tunnel, trying to see everything. Shadows ran away along the walls, and I saw a pile of bones scattered to one side. It appeared that my surmise about the inhabitants being caught by the slide had been correct. I continued my scrutiny, trying to avoid staring into the flame of the torch and further destroying my night vision. Details swam into focus- a couple of large, low stone rings in the floor, filled with some kind of dark, powdery dust; some decorative urns along the walls; a stand or podium of some sort. The individual pieces suddenly snapped into a coherent whole and I hissed over my shoulder, not taking my eyes off the room.

“Rah? Since when does a 'cave' have ash pits? I thought those were used to burn the bodies of the ancestors, so their spirits could strengthen the Ghost Fence. But then that would make this a... tomb?”
As the word left my lips, I did turn all the way around to glare at Rahvin.

He avoided my gaze and mumbled, “Ah. Well. Yes. That is... you see...”

Whatever it was I was supposed to “see” was interrupted by a rattle, like pebbles striking the ground. Fearing a new rock fall, I looked back into the room, where the “pile of bones” was reconstituting itself and rising from the ground and... screaming... as it lurched toward me. In the pause between the screams I had time to hear Rahvin gasp from where he had come up behind me. I couldn't spare a glance for him- the ambulatory escapee from a graveyard was coming too quickly. In that moment, something- training, or reflex, or abject terror- took over. I tossed my torch at the skeleton and used the now free hand to shove Rah back down the tunnel. I took a step back after him, blocking the entry with my own frail flesh. Then I grasped my staff in both hands and waited.

Undead are almost all vulnerable to magical or silvered weapons. The helpful voice that sometimes popped into my head was back. I thought in reply, “That's nice. Too bad I don't have one.” The voice continued, as if reading an entry in an encyclopedia, Skeletal undead range from actual animated skeletons to bonelords to bone golems. Because they have little or no soft tissues, blunt weapons are favored for use against them. Hoping that Rahvin would stay put, I took a long step back into the chamber and swung my staff horizontally at about shoulder height. The blow caught the skeleton right on the side of what had been its head, interrupting it mid-scream. I put everything I had into that swing- shoulders, wrists, and hips. And it worked. The skull flew from the spinal column and ricocheted off the opposite wall. A second later, the rest of the bones dropped back into a heap.

And as for me, I turned and ran, shoving Rahvin ahead of me all the way out of the tomb and into the light of day. There was a rumble behind us, and a fresh fall of rock sealed the entry once more. I stood up from where I had collapsed, untangling myself from Rah and my staff, and began brushing the dust off. He stayed on the ground, his eyes huge and his face whiter than the bones of the grinning tomb guardian we had faced.

“That was an animated skeleton!” he gasped at last.

“Yes. I noticed.”

“But it was screaming.”
“I noticed that, too.”

He sat up with a frown of concentration on his face. “But, how? It didn't have any lungs, or a tongue, or vocal cords, so....”

I picked up my staff, looking at it with a new respect. “It also doesn't have any head, which is probably what saved us. And I am not going to go back to ask it about any of the other stuff, either.” There was a long, tense silence before I went on, “That was an ancestral tomb, wasn't it? And you knew it was a tomb before we even started.”

“Well... yes. But... it probably has artifacts in it, too. And it was lost, like I said.” He finally stood up and looked me in the eye. “I needed some ingredients to test some new ideas- gravedust, bonemeal, ash salts. Do you have any idea how much the apothecary supply merchants charge for those?”

“No. But I think we both have a good idea as to why they charge what they do, don't we?” I tried to be angry, but I was too exhausted. I could feel my body starting to shake with delayed reaction. But Rah was already off on another tangent.

“A skeleton! And you... I mean... you just stood there, like nothing was ever going to come past you. And it was screaming fit to bring down the ceiling on our heads, and you... you stalked in there, like it should have been afraid of you. And then the staff went “whoosh” and “crack” and its head went sailing! You know, I bet I could invent a game out of that. Of course, I'm not sure how we could get the skeletons to participate- and I would have to do something about the screaming; that's really unnerving. And I don't know how they do it anyway. But...” He ran down and his eyes got wide again as he stared at me like he hadn't ever seen me before. “But you saved my life, Athlain. Even after I deceived you into going into a tomb.”

I picked up my staff and my pack and said, “Yes. Yes I did. So you can give me all your desserts for the next three weeks.”

A shadowy shape rose up from the side of the ravine, from a place where I wouldn't have thought a pebble could have hidden and a voice dark with menace said, “I don't think either of you will be getting any desserts for some time.”

Rah goggled and gasped, “Unc.... Uncle Seth?”

[SubRosa]

Ah, the poor Scientist Dejected. Just waiting for a hapless victim to come along and get roped into ingredient-hunting in a cave.

Athlain seems to be hitting all the high points of what is likely to be found in said caves. Besides ingredients of course...

I am so used to Athlain being a mace man, that I forget he started out with a staff. I guess when it comes down to it, he is just a blunt instrument...

Everywhere is racer country!

Good thing no one brought the lanterns...

Uh oh, it's not good when the piles of bones get up. It looks like Rahvin had the worn copy of Borellus after all. It's a good thing Athlain has his vorpal staff, that goes whoosh rather than snicker snap. Or does it just snicker?

A fun little childish escapade that definitely went too far. Thankfully Athlain was able to rise to the occasion.

And Seth Rogan at the end!

[treydog]

@SubRosa- Rahvin is fun to write. I admit to a fondness for distracted scientist types, especially the Wile E. Coyote sort....

And Athlain wishes he had more of an "edge," but he is a bit too generous for his own good.

Athlain's fear of undead doesn't help much either when the dry bones get up and dance.... And I have a feeling the staff (or at least the wielder was going "Oh crap!" or similar sentiments).

Seth Rogan- as a matter of fact, he WAS part of that assassination plot in Korea.... hmmmm...... At least it wasn't Mike Meyers- THAT would have been more frightening than the skeleton.

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Late One Morndas in Ald'ruhn- A Nursery Slime (Part One)

My feelings about guar could best be described as “mixed.” The wild ones could be almost as dangerous as their alit and kagouti cousins, and even domesticated beasts could be unpredictable. “Unpredictable” and “out-weighing you by an order of magnitude” is not a good combination. But then there was Cos Mear, who had been my companion since he was a baby. 'Thyna and I had found him beneath his dying mother's body while we were wandering the Grazelands. When we freed him, he had bleated at me and head-butted my midsection. It was the start of a wonderful friendship. Funny how so many of my friendships started with me being bruised or battered.

I had spent the first several nights after that with him, but fortunately for my sleep schedule- and my aroma- Lumhara, Athynae's racing guar, decided to “mother” the little lump of scales and claws. Of course, with care and regular feeding, he did not stay small for long. He would never reach Lumhara's size; the males rarely did, but he still grew large enough to carry me within just a few months. Better still, his calm presence made him ideal for working with captured wildlings or even abused animals that we took in.

The sudden development of using guar as mounts had caused an equally explosive growth of the infrastructure to support them outside the walls of Ald'ruhn. Stables, paddocks,and exercise and care facilities spread to cover more area than the original town. Under Aunt Serene's careful management, the formerly barren hills and valleys had become as verdant as the Grazelands far to the north. It was hard for me to credit the descriptions of blasted, ash-covered terrain related by those who had lived to see the end of the Blight. Regardless of recent history, the combination of good grazing, humane practices, and official sanction had turned Ald'ruhn into a hub for all things related to guar-riding. Harness and saddle-maker stalls sprang up like mushrooms following a spring rain. A track was laid out running past Fort Buckmoth all the way to the former Ghost Fence and back.

Soon, everyone with a “guar problem” or a “problem guar” came to my formerly sleepy home town. It was as if a form of madness had afflicted almost everyone, and I tried my best to avoid the contagion. And, excepting my bond with Cos, I had been successful- until the aftermath of the “Tomb Incident.” My sentence for that little adventure was a general restriction to the house when I was not fulfilling the other part- stable duty. I had always handled all of Cos Mear's care, including cleaning his stall, getting his feed, and even tending him when he acclimated some of the difficult guar that came our way. But that was the limit of my involvement in what I privately referred to as the “Guar Madness.” There were plenty of people more suited and also more inclined to spend every waking- and even some sleeping- moments in the stables. I preferred less... aromatic environs. Of course, my parents were aware of my- “extreme” was the word Mother used- devotion to personal cleanliness. So, when the Tomb Incident was revealed, it was to the stables for me. For one full month.

It was Mother's idea, mostly, but when I protested, my father was less than sympathetic. “I spent the first years of my life in a stable, if you will recall. And I slept there. You will get to sleep in your own bed every night, provided you clean up beforehand. I will make sure there's plenty of water waiting outside the house for you.” He appeared to be suppressing a smile as he added, “And you should wear some old clothes- which you might also want to leave outside before you come in.”

Thus it was that I found myself wearing a disreputable striped shirt, threadbare canvas trousers, and a battered pair of boots, all while wielding a shovel and pitchfork, and trying to avoid splattering myself. Feeding the herd was not bad, other than the weight and odor of some of the feed. I could at least console myself that hefting the sacks and buckets was building muscles. But there was also the fact that some of the animals, apparently following the lead of Athynae's racer, Lumhara, had taken to spraying half-chewed bits of food at me. It was either a sign of affection, or more likely, their idea of fun.

However, the... byproduct... of their diet was another matter entirely. If Rahvin and I had not been forbidden to converse for the duration of our punishment, I would have set him to work on a knotty, not to mention smelly, problem- how was it possible for an animal to produce thirty pounds of waste from ten pounds of food? But that metaphysical discussion would have to wait. Another mystery that perplexed me by the second day was the apparent absence of Athynae. She normally spent every possible moment in the stables, to such an extent that Aunt Serene had finally been forced to issue an edict- “No sleeping in the stables, except in the case of an emergency.” And the corollary was that it was up to Aunt Serene to decide what constituted an 'emergency,” and also that, “But Lumhara gets lonesome,” did not count. But a bit of observation, something my father had encouraged me to practice more diligently, gave evidence that 'Thyna had been around. Lumhara's stall was always clean when I got there, and her feed and water were always fresh. But where was Athynae? Why was she not taking every opportunity to tease me about my “new-found dedication to the care of guar”?

I sighed and put the tools of my incarceration away, glad to have another day over with. Only twenty-eight to go. But just before I could make good my escape to less pungent places, the person about whom I had just been wondering appeared from some hidden corner of the stable complex. “Lainie! I need your help! The eggs have all hatched, but the babies are ignoring my attempts to feed them. They won't eat and if they don't, they'll die! Why are you just standing there?” And she turned back to the door of the room from which she had emerged.

I was “standing there” because I was deciphering her rush of words, and also because I was gazing with forlorn longing at the sunlight streaming through the doors that offered escape. With another sigh, I turned away from freedom and trudged after her. The “eggs” she mentioned had been found in a Hlaalu smuggler's wagon a week or so earlier. Apparently the fool was trying to carry them to the mainland. While Aunt Serene and her other daughter, Bree, were engaged in investigating the “business” side of the smuggling, 'Thyna had become the self-appointed “egg tender,” a job that became necessary as soon as it was discovered that the eggs were viable. Even if the original nest could have been found in time, a faint hope, the mother would have rejected the stolen eggs due to their having been handled so much.

So Athynae had been minding the eggs, a measure that became necessary because none of the females in the stable were currently nesting. In fact, we generally avoided bringing nesting guar into the stable complex because there were too many chances for trouble. Any of the “ladies” suspected of being about to bear were taken to one of the herders for care and so that they could raise their offspring in a less stressful environment. Once they got a bit more independent, the herders took over the hand-raising to keep them tame. In any event, with no “mother guar,” available, 'Thyna had been keeping the eggs warm, turning them as needed, and watching their progress for several days. And now it appeared her efforts had been rewarded. Five newly-hatched guar. Wonderful. Up until that time, Cos Mear had been the youngest of the creatures I had ever dealt with. In fact, as far as I knew, this clutch was the first ever to hatch in Ald'ruhn. And now, Athynae Sarethi, expert on all things guar, needed my help? She had asked, I could do no other but to answer. I squared my shoulders and entered the tack room. What else could I do? The hatchlings were in this fix through no fault of their own. The tiny creatures needed me and I could not turn away. A "true knight"- according to all the stories- helped the unfortunate, the helpless, and the downtrodden I had kind of hoped that meant a girl my age or younger- but still....

We got into the tack room, where 'Thyna had built a sort of "nest"- a raised mound of clean sandy earth, bounded by boards to hold it together A pile of small, dark-striped shapes was curled within on fresh straw I did a quick count- five And all of their little rib cages were rising and falling- so they were alive- for now. A stove held kettles of water, kept warm enough to maintain humidity. When I got close to the nest, first one, then another- then all of them, raised up and started a high-pitched cheeping. They opened their mouths wide, displaying purple tongues and gums.

“Um... 'Thyna? Why are they doing that?”

She smiled and put a hand on my shoulder, “They’re hungry and they want you to feed them. They wouldn’t do that for me. This is fantastic, Lainie! Look how sweet they are!”

I made to step back, replying, “Good. That's what you wanted, so I can just....” At my movement, the little oval heads tracked me and the cheeping increased in volume. And the friendly hand on my shoulder became a push in the back.

Athynae said firmly, “No. What I want is for them to eat. I already knew they were hungry. You're the first person they have responded to. I thought about asking Rahbrat, but he would turn it into an... experiment. And anyway, it appears that they want you to feed them.”

I resigned myself to my fate. “Fine. Hand me the bucket and I'll toss them some grain.” If we could finish up soon, I would still be home before dark,

“Ah. No; that's not how it works. Their little bellies can't handle grain yet. I have made a mash for them, and you have to scoop it up and put it in their mouths.”

“Um... well then, hand me the bucket and the scoop.”

There was a long pause that told me I wasn't going to like what came next. And I was right. “There is no 'scoop,' except for your fingers. You take a small lump in your hand and....”

I interrupted her explanation, “I do what when now? They have teeth! How about I just hold the bucket for them and let them dip their little, toothy snouts in there?”

“What part of 'hand-feeding' do you not get? You have to take a lump of mash in your hand and stick it into the baby's mouth and push it into their throat until they swallow. Remember when we watched the mama cliff-racer feeding her babies?”

I recalled the incident all too well and the memory caused my stomach to lurch. “You must be joking,” I hissed.

Athynae's cheeks flared and she thrust the bucket into my hands. “No, I'm not. If they don't eat, they will die! Is that what you want?”

As a matter of fact, I did not want that to happen, nor did I want to live the rest of my days knowing I could have done something and chose not to. I took the bucket and knelt before the mass of squirming, cheeping reptiles, telling them, “Settle down, you lot. I know it smells bad, but the good news is, there's plenty to go around.” Whether the words made any difference to them or not, I don't know, but they calmed immediately, tracking the bucket of foul-smelling... stuff... with their tiny heads. With a shudder, I stuck my hand into the gooey mess and pulled out a clump of something unspeakable, which I then shoved into the first gaping purple maw. I swear the eyes crossed, a reaction I could understand, but then there was a spasm and a swallow and the goo disappeared. And I had been correct- they did have teeth- really sharp ones. But what were a few- or not so few- minor cuts among friends? I moved to the next, and the next- repeating the process of “scoop, shove, swallow, grunt, nip” until the bucket was empty. Five mouths finally closed and ten beady eyes began to droop shut as their owners sank down into a pile of striped scales and bulging bellies.

It had been moderately awful, but at least it was over. I let out a pent-up breath and spoke over my shoulder, with faint hope, “So... I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

Athynae was already over by the stove, creating odors that would have been more at home in her brother's laboratory. She shook her head even as she stirred slimy things in with smelly things. “They will need to be fed again in two hours, so there's no point in you going anywhere. There are some blankets you can use if you need to rest.” She stopped what she was doing to give me a dazzling smile. “Their metabolisms are really fast at this stage; that's why it was so important to get something into their stomachs. And they will need a lot of food to start with, so they can finish developing. I'll send a runner to let Aunt Baria know. We can do this, Lainie. Now that you've gotten them to take food, it will be easy.”

I laughed hollowly. “Easy. Right. Also smelly and disgusting. And who elected me for this anyway?”

She pointed the ladle at the nest of little snoring shapes, “They did.”

My legs were starting to cramp, and I made to stand only to hear a distressed “mewl” rise from the nest, followed by a small, scaly head. I put my hand down and the little devil snuffled at it and settled- after grasping my fingers with his front legs. It was going to be a long night. “You think you could bring some of those blankets over here? I don't think I will be going anywhere for a while.”

[To be continued]

This post has been edited by treydog: Jul 8 2019, 11:59 AM

[SubRosa]

With all of this ranching, Athlain is starting to look like John Wayne to me.

Athlain is a true knight in shining guar poo!

It looks like he is the guar-whisperer. A very sweet tale of fatherhood.



Nits:
They’re hungry and they want you to feed them[.] They wouldn’t do that for me.
One of those hungry guar ate the period between the sentences.

[haute ecole rider]

Aww! This brings back memories of feeding hungry hatchlings at the wildlife rehab center! They always knew when you were going to feed them and wake up from a sound sleep to chirp madly and reach ceilingward with gaping maws. At least they didn't have teeth . . .

[treydog]

@SubRosa- I have a feeling he is going to walk funny, at least. And despite his protests, he does rather like the critters- but he has to pretend to be grumpy just to declare his individuality. And I got the baby guar to... expel... the missing punctuation point. They will probably gobble some more if I don't watch them....

@haute- I was thinking of your veterinary experiences as I wrote this. And I also decided to go with the idea that dinosaurs -> birds and that guar are warm-bloods.

And now, the conclusion of this... messy tale... or should that be "tail?"

---------------------------------------------------------------


A sound interrupted my rest; it was not sleep, because noxious odors had always kept me awake far more certainly than loud noises. This sound was not loud; it was somewhere between a soft belch and a cough. I raised my head enough to see a tiny face looking back at me, with what I could only describe as a quizzical expression, similar to Rah working on a particularly perplexing chemistry problem. The mouth opened, letting out another small belch, and I started to grin. However, my impending good humor was wiped away, or rather inundated, when the mouth opened wider and let loose a torrent of... whatever it was that the little ba... beast had decided not it no longer wanted in its stomach. If it had smelled awful going in, it was ten times worse coming back up. I jumped to my feet and flailed around, using words that I imagine Athynae did not realize that I knew.

For her part, she sat up from where she had been sleeping, did some indefinable thing with her hands that made it look as if she had just brushed her hair, and stifled a laugh at my antics- and probably my language. “Oh- I forgot to tell you. The mash is not an exact formula, so their little tummies can't digest everything. They get the nutrients they need and … um... get rid of the rest. It's perfectly normal.”

Anything I might have said in response would have set the air on fire, so I just pointed to the water bucket. She had the kindness to bring it to me, and also the fortitude to avoid laughing as I wiped my face, but her eyes were dancing. I had just finished cleaning myself when I heard several more “urp... hack... blechhhhh” sounds from behind me, and felt something coat my lower legs and feet. “It just gets better and better, doesn't it?” I muttered.

Athynae put both hands over her mouth and spoke between them, her words so muffled I could not make them out.

“What?” She shook her head from side to side, still keeping her hands over her mouth. Her shoulders were also quivering and I got a feeling of impending doom. “You are going to have to tell me eventually. Think of it this way- just like those little... monsters over there,” I pointed to the babies, who were watching my arm-waving with avid interest, “Better out than in.”

'Thyna finally took a deep breath and composed herself, with what appeared to be a supreme effort. “Interesting that you said that. Because... if they are finished digesting, which is what this indicates,” she pointed at the mess that splattered my boots and legs, “that means we- and by 'we', I mean 'you', need to stimulate the... ah... other end of their digestive systems.”

I crossed my arms and shook my head. “Oh no. Not a chance. I stuck my hands down their little gullets so they would eat, but there is no way in Oblivion I am putting my fingers in their....”

“Of course not, you scrib-brain! That would probably kill them!” She calmed herself and spoke more quietly. “What you need to do is gently massage their little abdomens with warm towels to stimulate their colons and bladders. When you do, nature and muscles will take over, and they will feel much better.”

“I, on the other hand, will smell much worse,” I muttered.

Of course, her elven hearing caught my protest. “Oh, I don't think that's possible.”

The next several days were a nightmarish repetition of the first one- making... baby guar glop, stuffing it into their gullets, letting them process what they could, and... expel what they couldn't. And for the entire time, I was confined to that small room. Whenever I made any attempt to esc... leave for a moment, one of the tiny beasts would awaken and alert the other four, at which point they would all start cheeping. The first time it happened, we heard a loud banging coming from out in the main stable and Athynae had to go and check, because I was obviously trapped. In a few minutes, I heard the pad of large feet coming toward the door, and watched as Athynae came in, holding a lead rope. She stepped to the side, and Lumhara's massive head poked through the portal and turned so as to bring an eye to bear on the nest. She took her time, seeming to inspect every part of the arrangement, before turning her gaze on me. She held eye-contact for a long moment, then gave a derisive snort and shook her head vigorously. “I take it that is a comment on my parenting skills,” I said, interpreting her actions.

Athynae agreed, “She probably wonders why you aren't in the nest with the babies. Now that she seems more or less satisfied, I will get her back to her stall.” She paused on the threshold, “I would strongly suggest you don't try to go anywhere.”

I was beginning to forget what the sun looked like- and what fresh air smelled like. That room had become my prison. I wondered if it had been this bad for my father and Aunt Serene in the Imperial Prison. Surely not. At least they weren't confined with five tiny, hungry, incontinent little monsters. Athynae did as much as she could- taking over my cleaning duties in the other parts of the building, bringing in fresh bedding and food for the hatchlings, and clean water and food for me as well. The one time she tried to assist with the actual feeding, the ungrateful little wretches snapped at her and huddled around my knees, eyeing her with dark suspicion. I know that bothered her, especially since she was usually much better with guar than I was. And because it reinforced the fact that I couldn't leave the room, I did not find it in the least amusing.

Yet another crisis presented itself when she brought me clean clothes. Because I had avoided doing stable work, I did not have much in the way of “suitable”- that is, ready for the rag pile- clothing for my current situation. But 'Thyna, with her usual resourcefulness, was able to find some shirts and trousers that would not be any less valuable for being exposed to... that particular environment. The problem arose when I pulled off the thoroughly disgusting striped shirt I had been wearing for three days straight. As soon as I had it off, the babies began carrying on as if their tails were caught in a steel trap. Athynae recognized the issue. “Put the shirt back on, Lainie! If you take it off, they can't 'see' you and they are wondering where 'Mama' went.”

“Just paint stripes on my skin! Please don't make me put... that... back on.”

“And what happens when you wash? And we don't have time anyway- Lumhara and the other girls will tear this place apart if you don't do something quick!” She was right, I could hear disturbed bugling and banging coming from the stalls. Holding my breath, I pulled the disgusting article back over my torso and crouched beside the nest. The hatchlings gave contented sighs, along with some... presents for me.

My voice was gloomy as I looked at my best friend, “Please find me some more striped shirts. I'll pay for them. If I can wait until the little... creatures doze off, I can probably change without causing a catastrophe. As for the old clothing....”

She shook her head, “We are friends, Lainie, but... there's no way I am touching those clothes, not even to burn them.”

I couldn't really argue with that. I had been wearing them, and I didn't want to touch them either.

By the fifth day, there was considerably less regurgitation and they had also figured out how to take care of their other... needs... without assistance. We set aside an area for that purpose, and they got fairly good about using it, except for the smallest one, who seemed to choose her moments to have “accidents.” Better still, they were able to take feed from bowls instead of requiring someone- that is to say, me- to stuff it into their mouths. They were also getting larger; two of the biggest reached to above my knees, and the others were not far behind. Less frequent feeding meant I got to rest a bit more, and that gave me time to think about my other requirement- I desperately wanted a chance to wash thoroughly, instead of the “bucket baths” I had been taking ever since this ordeal began. The lavender that Athynae had used to scent the water, out of kindness- or more likely, self-preservation- could only go so far. What I wanted was a long, hot bath- but I would settle for dousing myself at the pump outside the stable. With that goal in mind, I waited until my little scaly watch-lizards had dropped off to sleep following their afternoon meal. Athynae had escaped earlier, mumbling something about “needing to exercise Lumhara.” It might even have been true, but all I knew was, she could leave whenever she wanted and I couldn't.

Just to be safe, I hung one of the spare striped shirts over a chair and placed it where it would be visible from the nest. Then, moving as stealthily as any burglar, I eased out the door, being careful not to let it slam shut. Luck continued to smile on me, as the stalls were empty, their usual inhabitants having been turned out for exercise or grooming or socialization. The sun beckoned from the back door of the stable like a long-lost friend and I crept toward it on feet that felt suddenly light enough to dance. This was going to be perfect- a quick nip outside, a wash, some fresh air- and then back to the dungeon. But I would be clean! Still moving quietly, I checked outside. Athynae was atop Lumhara in one of the training rings, working on knee signals to get her to turn, stop, or accelerate. Once they had those mastered, 'Thyna would be able to use her bow while mounted. But for me, it meant they were focused on their task- not on the door or the pump.

I had just reached that blessed fount when I heard an odd noise from Lumhara's direction. I looked to see the golden guar facing me, every line of her body the definition of “alert.” Athynae was also looking my way, or actually just a bit behind me. She pointed and started to say, “Don't you think it's a bit soon for a wa....,” when the words were snatched from her mouth as her guar lunged for the paddock fence and cleared it in a single bound. It was a testament to 'Thyna's skill that she managed to keep her seat. As for me, I was paralyzed by the sight of several hundred pounds of guar charging toward me. Just before she arrived, I got my muscles unfrozen and turned to dodge back into the stable. And there, also mesmerized by the charging beast, were the five hatchlings. Visions of trampling carnage flashed through my mind as I dove to shield the little monsters who had been the bane of my existence for the last five days.

But the impact I was dreading never came. At least not to my escaped charges. I felt the ground shake and the breeze of Lumhara's passing and turned just in time to see her knock one of the wildling males completely off his feet. That accomplished, she placed a hind foot on his neck and raised her head, bellowing a challenge that must have been heard in Maar Gan. He had the good sense to remain completely still, until Lumhara gave him a shake and rumbled a low warning.

“Lainie! Get back inside, right now!”

I looked with longing at the water pump, only scant feet away, “But...”

“Now!”

With a sigh, I turned back into the stable, watching as the babies turned to follow me. Well- four of them did. I counted them off, calling the names I had given them as I went, “Filbert, Gilbert, Lilbert, Wilbert... Where's Fafnir? Fafnir!” The smallest hatchling was looking at Lumhara with what I could only describe as... admiration. Meanwhile, the look Athynae was bestowing upon me was anything but admiring.

“You can't give them those names! You do know that three of them are female, right?”

I glared back at her. “So? I'm their 'Mama,' so I can name them whatever I like. I did have some alternate names--- Barfy, Poopy, Pukey, Sneezy, and Sh...”

“No! Never mind! Fine! Just... get them back inside, please.”

I turned to lead my parade of fellow escapees back to our cell, and again, Fafnir lagged behind. Lumhara released the male with one last warning shake and stepped carefully over to where the smallest hatchling stood, stretching as far up on her hind legs as she could. Athynae's guar leaned down and give her tiny duplicate a snuffle and a lick, then nudged her toward the rest of us. And as we walked (or waddled) back to the tack room, Lumhara paced after us, for all the world like a guard or an escort. When we finally got back to the doorway, Lumhara had to nudge the little F bomb (as I called her because of her apparently premeditated flatulence) into the room. She then turned to face the doors and went into the “starting rest” stance that she used at the beginning of a race.

After that, things settled down. It was only a couple of more days until all of them had gotten independent enough to not need me there every second. They even started accepting food from Athynae, which was a major breakthrough for all of us. As for me, I finally got to go home, where I had to explain to my father why I had needed to rent a room at the Ald Skar Inn.

“Because they wouldn't let me use the bathing facilities unless I did. And then, after the third bath, they started charging extra for the hot water, so I used my Firebite spell to heat it for myself. And by then, I was so exhausted that I actually needed the room.” He nodded his understanding finally, his expression solemn, although I think his eyes were twinkling. I added, “Oh. There's a pile of... things outside the front gate. Nobody should probably touch it until I can get some lamp oil and 'Thyna can come by with her bow and some fire arrows.... For now, I am going to take a bath. And then probably several more.”

And, even though I had grown to detest striped shirts, I had no choice but to wear one every day when I went back to the stables. Because if I didn't, a certain quintet of guar, who should have grown out of it, set up a terrible ruckus. And their names were Lady, Dancer, Strongheart, Hopper... and Fafnir.

This post has been edited by treydog: Jul 11 2019, 10:42 PM

[Grits]

The inky dinky stinky pink skink hijinks was great fun to read! I adore Rah as Athlain affectionately sees him.

Oh my gosh, The Dejected Scientist and his Expedition had me in stitches. Four colors of ink! Athlain had a stellar moment almost inventing the head-sailing game. I loved Rah’s awed retelling. Uncle Seth! That was the perfect ending!

Good times in the guar byre! “Push it into their throat..” Yikes! I love that little F-bomb’s name stuck. Poor Athlain, guar rescue sounds as exhausting as any other animal rescue, only with a much higher volume of muck.

(A nit: It looks like some italicizing went haywire in the paragraph where Athlain names the sweet darlings.)

I love these postcards from Ald’ruhn!

[SubRosa]

Guar feeding habits, perfectly normal...

Ooh, guar presents!

That was a nice touch of 'Thyna exercising with Luma. Many people think riding animals are like machines, they can just hop on one, turn the key, and ride off. But the fact is that riders need to spend time working with their mounts, so they can learn be comfortable with each other, and to understand one another.

That was a sweet little interlude of Athlain's mommy days in the stable. I am sure he will using the stilt striders for all his transportation needs after that!

[ghastley]

I have visions of someone getting a striped shirt as a gift at the next holiday where one does that sort of thing.

[Acadian]

By Dibella's silky britches! I've gone and let Buffy miss acknowledging Jerric's birthday by a day! Buffy and I hope the big Nord had a wonderful day, filled with mead, cake and undaunted plunder boxes.

[Renee]

By Dibella's silky britches! I've gone and let Buffy miss acknowledging Jerric's birthday by a day! Buffy and I hope the big Nord had a wonderful day, filled with mead, cake and undaunted plunder boxes.

Yeah, hope you had a good one, Jerric.

On my old phone I actually had several of my characters' birthdays in there. Kahreem is September 3rd I think, for instance. But that phone bit cyberdust and I haven't continued the habit. I still have 'em all written down though, or typed up into Notepad pages.

I guess it's easy for you, eh Acadian? You only have one character birthday to remember, and I know she's in April. April 19th, right????

[Grits]

Thank you, friends! Jerric did have a fun dungeon birthday with plunder boxes to open. He got a kick out of everyone getting plunder presents on his birthday!

[Acadian]

Glad Jerric had a nice birthday!

Yes, Renee, Buffy's birthday is April 19.

[mALX]

Aw, I missed Jerric's Birthday! Sounds like he had a great one! Happy (belated) Birthday, Jerric!

[treydog]

So here is a (very short) snippet from my current writing project. In which one of the characters, Sigrid Guldmanen, explains how she came to leave home.

-------------------------

Sigrid stared off to the north for a moment before she explained, "Weel, it was all doon to Wilhelm Hrodbert, my far cousin. The sea near to oor village had just froze o'er, an' so they was bettin' on when it would be safe to cross on the bay on the ice. So that was when Willy Rob said... 'Hold me mead an' watch this.' As ye might expect, his ability to gauge the thickness o' the ice was... nae sa guid. Still, t'would o' been all right- I think.... he had enough drink inside o' him that he weren't feelin' the cold when he broke through. A' course, we tossed him a rope, ye ken. And he grabbed it.... But then, the spekhval grabbed him... I s'pose he looked like a valtaross or such like, splashin' aboot like he did."

I nodded sympathetically. "So you came here to get over the grief?"

"Nay. Or perhaps I did. Ye see, everyone felt I should o' stopped the idjit fra bein' a idjit. It was easier ta leave than ta tell 'em that I woulda had to have drowned his da afore Willy Rob was born ta manage tha' trick. A' course it didna help that I asked if they were wantin' me ta fly oop ta the moon and bring 'em back some cheese ta go wit' their whine... “ So here I be. Bryn followed. Said he had ta 'Look oot fer his near-sister.' Oh aye. It only made sense tha' the onliest man in the village with the sense ta bang two rocks together should leave. They had already lost their idjit. And the competition fer his replacement was goin' ta be fierce."

[Grits]

Thank you, treydog!! I love it!

[Renee]

Looking forward to your writing project, Trey. What sort of accent is that Sigrid is speaking?

[treydog]

Looking forward to your writing project, Trey. What sort of accent is that Sigrid is speaking?

Oh- that's "Mock-Scots." (Kinda like the "Mock Swedish" spoken by the Muppets' Swedish Chef.) Everyone knows ™ that RPG Scandinavian/Norse/Nord/Lannach/Norlander characters speak with a Scots brogue- sometimes slipping into Irish (if the writer has dialect dyslexia). This is apparently due to the fact the Americans find a Scots accent inherently humorous- and also because (other than using a lot of umlauts), have no idea how to illustrate a Norwegian or Swedish dialect.

[Renee]

This is apparently due to the fact the Americans find a Scots accent inherently humorous-

I find Scottish accents alluring. Thanks for the explanation.

This post has been edited by Renee: Apr 8 2022, 01:14 AM

[treydog]

This is apparently due to the fact the Americans find a Scots accent inherently humorous-

I find Scottish accents alluring. Thanks for the explanation.

Well yes- that too. My "source" is mostly Terry Pratchett's Nac Mac Feegle. If I ever get the books done, there is a fair amount of Sigrid (as well as the "near brother" to whom she refers). He manages to call Athynae a "gret wee harridan" and get away with it- mostly because she isn't sure what he meant.