Part XVIII:Tears and Laughter
12th of Granite, 391Pawsteps and dripping water reverbated throughout the cavern as Tanzul walked down the narrow pathway between the rough stone wall and the still waters. In all his years in Waterlures he had hardly explored the cave cut into the cliff at the lake's north end, but now, while he was ruminating over his life, his legs had carried him there of their own accord. He brushed his paw against the uneven wall and examined it, following its arching path with his gaze all the way to the ceiling and then to the other side, where it disappeared into darkness. He was awed by how natural it looked and by the sheer amount of work it must have taken to hollow out the cliff.
Tanzul padded over a rickety plank bridge crossing a channel of water, which cut across the walkway and into the wall. He followed the path around the lake, nearing the center of the cave where a shrine encircled by stone pillars lay. His thoughts wandered to Coni and the discussion he had had with her some days ago. He didn't really know what to think or feel of her plans to leave, but he knew that he'd come to miss the jovial hamster woman.
'Maybe she's still upset how things went with Dimbulb,' the fox man thought,
'and I don't blame her. It was hardly handled in the best of possible ways and it ended in terrible tragedy. But neither can I blame sheriff Fayoba. He did his best given the circumstances. He tried to warn what might happen. Dimbulb's death was the inevitable result of the decisions the leadership made. Still, there shouldn't be anything to be so upset about.' He didn't believe the last part himself, no matter how much he tried to reassure himself.
In truth, it really
was reason to be upset. Despite all warnings and other available options, the town leadership had chosen to imprison Dimbulb, to confine him in a small, dark cell. It was cruel to shut one with a broken soul alone in the dark. It could not have ended any other way than in madness. And as if Dimbulb's loss of mind and death in the dungeon wasn't enough, the hippo man was refused a final place of rest in the catacombs and his body was thrown to rot among dead goblins. It was only because of Edzul's persistent petitions that Dimbulb got a half-decent burial. No wonder Coni wanted to leave—it was surprising that she was the only one.
Perhaps, deep down, Tanzul wanted to leave, too, but he knew it'd only end badly if he did. He didn't want to lose more friends, he couldn't bear even the thought of it. Indeed, he was worried that something awful might happen to Coni on her upcoming travels—her luck couldn't last forever.
It was a terrible thought and he wondered if he'd ever see the hamster woman again.
17th of Granite, 391Granite was over halfway through when the elf merchants from Ula Tefe arrived leading their heavily laden pack animals to town. It was time to fetch goods for trade, but some had decided to spend their time in leisure at the Hut of Romancing drinking mead and meeting friends. Baron Oddom was one of them and he was rather excited and happy, for he had made another new friend. He had taken Inod's advice into consideration and, indeed, it felt good to be nice for a change.
“...and after my mother passed away, I have done my best to follow in her pawsteps,” baron Oddom said to his new friend, Olngö Lieages the goblin. “But it is not always easy and, despite showing mercy now and then, I often upset some with my decisions. Choosing between two rotten eggs leaves a foul taste in the mouth, is it not so?”
“'tis noble of you milord to be a merciful soul,” Olngö praised the baron and bowed his head slightly. “A sign that you are
truly of better blood and character than the lowly peasant is; fit to rule and watch over them—as is your birthright. Never forget that.”
“Hm, you think so? Even after the Mountainhome stripped my mother of land and title?” Oddom arched his brow and looked at the goblin. Olngö acted and looked like a member of the dwarven court with his heavy robes and ear-flapped bonnet, though there was no hiding the plain, simple fact that he was a goblin—hard to miss that emerald green skin and long, curved nose, the baron surmised.
“Even then, milord,” Olngö kept on honeying the baron. “I have come to undestand that your lordship's mother was one of strong will and blessed with great wisdom—I can see the same in you, milord—and is not so that she carved this place as her own and watched over it faithfully and with diligence? Perhaps it is so that she was always of nobler blood, or perhaps it was written in the stars that such was to be her destiny—and now, in turn, it is your destiny.”
“Hmm, now that you mention it—just between friends, mind—the state of the town was at its best when mother still was holding the reins,” Oddom said, keeping his voice down. “Things did almost spiral out of control when Likot became mayor—may her soul rest in peace—and then along came that miserable eel, that Fecici fellow, cajoling all to vote for him with that silver tongue of his. He's been head of town for ages and I see no change coming to that.”
“But the mayor, he does listen to you, does he not?” Olngö asked him cautiously.
“Yes, of course he does,” Oddom waved his hand, “and more often than not, he does as I tell him to do... Though, come to think of it, I suppose that is because I won't stop bugging him until he yields.” Oddom scratched his cheek, his mouth open. He hadn't actually thought of it that way before.
“That is good to hear, for it is your right to command. You must never lose sight of it, milord,” Olngö said, his lips curling into a faint grin.
“I am glad we are on the same page on this,” baron Oddom said with a smile and put a paw on Olngö's shoulder. “It is good to call someone like you a friend.”
“Your lordship is most gracious to say so highly of me,” Olngö bowed his head, pleased that he had made a good impression.
He continued with praise of the baron, but Oddom's focus shifted to a rather agitated voice coming from further down the tavern. His ears twitched as he focused on the voice of Idar the dwarf cheese-maker.
“...and did you hear about Coni?” Idar asked the llama man, leaning on her crutch and waving her free hand about.
“No? Is something wrong with her?” Osod replied hesitantly, his normally calm voice carrying worry in it.
“Well. if you ask me, yes,” Idar griped, tapping her foot. “The young hamstress has decided to
leave Waterlures! Leave! Can you imagine that?”
“Oh, she is leaving?” Osod said, befuddled by the news. “Hmm, I must say my farewells and bid her safe travels before she goes, then. When is she leaving?”
“I don't know when—she didn't say,” Idar said, her brow furrowed. “But my guess is that she'll come to talk with you before she heads out like a fool. I think she's telling everyone one by one of her silly plans—oh, and do you know what?”
“No, but something tells me you are about to enlighten me,” Osod said calmly, chewing his lips.
“Of course I am! It really wasn't a question, was it now?” Idar scoffed, her foot tapping at a faster pace. “Bah! Sometimes I wonder why I even bother talking to you—always saying something silly—but, regardless, she had the audacity to ask
me to come along with her! Me! Now can you imagine that!”
“That was rather kind of her,” Osod said with a smile. “I think she quite liked traveling with you. What was your answer?”
“What was my answer?—
huff-huff-huff—” Idar snorted and stopped tapping her foot. “What do you expect? Why, look at me you woolly oaf, I'm a cripple for the sake of the Wind!—” she stomped her crutch on the floor “—Limping about with a lame leg in tangled forests and rough hills full of rabid animals and things of a much fouler nature would be the end of me. I most certainly won't be answering Nökor's call willingly. And, besides, we arrived here only recently, for the Rabbit's sake—ach, and now I'm beginning to sound like one of the local rodents—perhaps I should go with her!”
“Hmm, perhaps you should calm yourself—” Osod began, looking at the fuming dwarf whose face had turned red.
“I am calm!” Idar protested loudly, but Osod ignored her and went on, “—perhaps you have forgotten how much time has passed since we arrived. It is soon eight years. That is hardly recently, Idar.”
“Well, maybe not for you, but for a dwarf that is no long period of time,” Idar said, slightly calmer now. “You see, my kind, we have been blessed with a very long lifespan. We live over a century and a half—eight years is nothing for us. Of course, we don't live as long as those
immortals, the elves and goblins who never grow old—quite unnatural and suspicious, if you ask me. So, what I mean to say is that the amount of time we have been here, it is nothing—
nothing!—for us dwarves. It's merely a blink of the eye and,
poof, gone, just like that.”
“But Coni is not a dwarf, Idar,” Osod explained slowly and calmly. “She must feel time very differently than you do.”
“Is not a dwarf. Is not a dwarf!—
huff-huff—” Idar puffed, all riled up again. “Why, of course she's not a dwarf! Too much hair on her and in all the wrong places!”
“Idar. A hamster woman has hair where the Gods intended it to gtow—it is not wrong,” Osod gently explained, a trace of a frown on his face. “It not unlike the rainbow, its arc carrying its many colors across the sky, all in their proper place. Just like Mater meant it to be. It is the same with Coni's hair, growing like the Gods saw it good.”
“Ach! Sometimes you are impossible, Osod,” Idar rolled her eyes. “It was only a figure of speech... or something like that, anyway—nothing to get all theological about. Regardless, Coni is leaving, whatever her reasons may be, although, she told me she needs a change of scenery and misses wandering—not good reasons to risk ones life, if you ask me. So, I said to her that she should forget such foolishness and stay here with us, where it is safe, and not go blundering blindly into the wilds and ending up dead like Pife.”
“Hmm. That might not have been a wise thing to say,” Osod said disapprovingly.
“Yes, you don't have to tell that to me,” Idar grumbled. “She got quite upset by my words and left...”
Osod frowned and sighed.
“...but I
did try to apologize,” Idar said, shame in her voice.
“At least a little...” she added , pinching her thumb and forefinger almost together. “...but that was after the door slammed shut.” She winced.
Meanwhile at the patio pavilion of the Enchanted Bridge, Azstrog the Cagebird was discussing with a visiting human. He called himself Lapama Wavemint and he was a poet and he had come to perform and enjoy himself. Something about the thin but muscular human with chiseled features felt a bit off to Azstrog. She was rather nervous when he stared at her from under his turban with his bulging sky blue eyes. It was a cold and lifeless stare which gave her shudders.
“A priest you say?” Lapama said in a hollow voice, arching his brow.
“Yes, that I am,” Azstrog said proudly. “Holy Deep I am called by the faithful. I am the Guiding Light of our chapter of the Creed of Adventuring.”
“That means nothing to me,” the human said bluntly and eyed the goblin judgmentally from head to toe.
“Ah, our se
khth—um, sect must not be known beyond the realm of Ustuth Ïdath, then,” Azstrog said, Lapama's penetrating stare distracting her. “We are followers of Almighty Ôsed, the fairest and humblest of all, the Great Doe Goddess who cast away the Nothingness when the First Spark flared. She is the Rabbit in the Sky, birther of the world, and we are her faithful.”
“Hmh, a rabbit god... And I suppose those are your priestly vestments, eh?” Lapama snorted and pointed at Azstrog's robes, which were of the finest quality but either a little bit short or too tight for her.
“Why, yes, they are!” Azstrog said excitedly, especially proud of her embroidered robe despite its short sleeves. “I do like to dress well.”
“Well? With those ill-fitting rags? Don't make me laugh!” Lapama sneered at her and slapped his thigh. He leaned toward her and said in a voice full of loathing and hate, “Yours must be a very tasteless and poor order then, goblin.”
“I... Well... I-if that's... the...” Azstrog failed to find the right words and almost panicked. After a few moments she managed to pull herself together, “If that's your way to go, then I have nothing more to say to you, goodbye!” She turned her back at the human and stomped away, head held up high.
“Suit yourself,
priest,” the human shrugged and turned his focus back to his drink he hadn't touched. He began to drum the table rhythmically with his hands as Azstrog disappeared behind a corner pillar of the pavilion.
Out of sight Azstrog burst into tears.
20th of Granite, 381The completion of the east wing of the House of Knowledge had breathed new life into the library and Waterlures's many scholars. They had put it to good use and many a discussion and the turning of pages echoed throughout the hall. In the southeast alcove sat Dumed Guisetin the dwarf sage and next to her was the dwarf Cog Crazetrades—another scholar—discussing with the human scholar Ganuh Powerbabies. Dumed was reading a scroll titled
'Before Scraping - by Tekkud Bannerguise', its text written on fine parchment made from the skin of a sasquatch—truly one of the best writing materials to ever exist.
With extreme interest Dumed read the scroll, trying to focus despite the two others blathering rather loudly next to her:
“...and, indeed, many Chief Medical Dwarfs oft err in distinguishing the Cause of the Fever, and, thus, they come to apply the wrong Cure, which ends in more Harm, sending the Humors spiraling into an uncontrollable State of Imbalance. Maladies from Foul Air must be treated in a different way than the Burning Heat which comes from Putrefaction. Both have their own Remedies and it would be folly to use the Cure of one on the other. It is of the utmost importance that care be taken to thoroughly examine the Body of the poor soul who is bedridden by illness...”Dumed put down the scroll gently on the desk. It was impossible to concentrate on the scroll and comprehend what she read with all the noise around her. Why, why did the two have to come here to talk about whatever their silly topic happened to be this day? There was plenty of unused space in the library where to ponder and philosophise. Indeed, that was why the expansion had been built in the first place.
“Ahem,” Dumed said, coughing into her fist. It did not have the desired effect. She tried again, louder, “AHEM.”
The two stopped their babbling and turned to look at her. “Yes?” They said in unison.
“Ahem. May it please you, good colleagues,” Dumed said dryly and pushed herself up from the chair, her joints popping in the process. “I have come to notice a slight inconvenience in the current circumstances I find myself in—a predicament even, if you will. Understand, I have taken it as my duty for this day to study the written word of our esteemed Tekkud Bannerguises—may her soul be among the Stars—”
“I do believe she was a follower of Zoku, not Ôsed,” Ganuh said over her.
“—her writing is—eh, what?” Dumed said, confused by the interruption.
“Yes, quite, and many other gods, too, I might add,” Cog said to Ganuh, her hands behind her back. “Quite a number of them, in fact. Some more benevolent than the others, such as generous Nemen Trustedworth, joyous Nanir and merciful Stalcon Rightnourish, but then there ones like Ágesh Blockadeskinned, whom we well know was at one with war, and I think she mentioned once the name of—” Cog looked around her and reached closer to Ganuh and whispered “—Bazsa the Sinful.”
“No, that cannot be! Surely you jest?” Ganuh said, stunned by Cog's words.
“Would I jest on a serious topic like this?” Cog said confidently, putting a ring-adorned hand on her bosom. “It is, indeed, what she told me—may the Eternally Young be my witness.”
“That is disconcerting. When did she tell you this?” Ganuh said worriedly.
“Um, if I may—” Dumed tried to make herself heard and raised a finger.
“I'm not entirely certain when it was,” Cog ignored Dumed, stroking her angular chin. “It seems my memory doesn't serve me as well as it used to—must be the old age.”
“Ah, yes, I do often face the same conundrum,” Ganuh said, nodding in agreement. “I find myself chewing my lip when forgetfulness strikes me—unpleasant and awkward when it happens—but it is so that age doesn't come without a price. Indeed, we must be careful not to waste any of the precious years we still have left.” She began to fiddle with earflaps of her threadbare purple bonnet.
“Quite so, quite so,” Cog said, thoughts of time racing through her mind. “We must not squander what we have. Every day, nay, every minute counts—how old were you again, Ganuh?”
“A hundred and eleven, approaching a hundred and twelve,” Ganuh said proudly.
“Really? That is an admirable age for your kind,” Cog said, astonished by the human. “Well, I myself am only at a humble ninety or so—quite some time left for me, I believe.”
“Can I—” Dumed tried her luck once more.
“Indeed, you are but a youngster still,” Ganuh said to Cog, sidelining Dumed, “but, truly, think if we spent all our time in the taverns drinking ourselves into a stupor or idled about perching atop pillars and poles—like
some do—we would get absolutely nothing done.”
“Ohohoho! Quite clever, quite clever,” Cog applauded her and chuckled. “Meng can sometimes be such a... queer fellow, what with that silly speech of his and always going,
flap-flap, with those wings.” She flapped her elbows up and down like wings.
“Could you two—” Dumed attempted in vain.
“I believe it is a bird thing to do so,” Ganuh said to Cog. “Perhaps it is a remnant of the times when they were still wild?”
“It could be so? Why, they have wings, so why not other birdly things?” Cog pondered, twirling a finger in the air. “Truly, remarkable creatures—the birds, I mean—take storks, for example, there can be no doubt that they travel great distances with those beautiful wings of theirs—tremendous endurance they have—and in the Teal Swamps yonder one can see huge flocks of storks wading in the marshlands, plucking fish out of the water with their long beaks—a marvelous sight. In fact, I've seen such a few times myself when traveling to Controlledseal and back.”
Dumed grimaced and bit her lip.
“I have seen a few storks in my life, too,” Ganuh said with a nod. “Did you know that storks can make their nests on chimneys?”
“What? In chimneys? Surely there are too big for that,” Cog said, her eyes wide in astonishment.
“No, no. On chimneys.
ON them, not in,” Ganuh said, slowly and clearly.
Dumed clenched her hands into fists and gritted her teeth—she was beginning to seethe with rage.
“Oh, I must've misheard you, how silly of me,” Cog chuckled and slapped a hand on her forehead. “Why, I was already thinking how they—”
“BE QUIET, YOU TWO!” Dumed bellowed, finally losing her patience.
Silence fell over the whole of the library's east wing. A book could be heard falling to the floor further off, followed by a short curse. Ganuh and Cog turned to look at Dumed, both startled and upset by the shouting.
“There is no need to yell, dear Dumed,” Ganuh said with a repulsed frown on her lips.
“Yes, if you have something to say, ask politely,” Cog said, her head pulled back in offense. “There is no need to be so rude.”
“Oh, you two babbling muck roots don't even know what it means to be rude,” Dumed spat out in a venomous voice, shaking her finger viciously at her colleagues. “When I decide to be rude, there's no stopping me—there's nothing you half-witted cod-pieces can do when I reach my boiling point!”
“Yes, quite. So, I've noticed,” Cog said bitterly, looking down her nose at Dumed.
“Indeed, one could say you have a rather astounding range of vocabulary at times,” Ganuh contemplated sourly, disgusted by Dumed's outburst. “Why, I'm oft left befuddled by the, hm,
things that come out your mouth—I wonder if such ugly things are fit to be called words even!”
“I think she merely spits out any nonsense—words or not—that comes into her mind,” Cog explained to Ganuh, ignoring the still fuming Dumed beside her. “I call it
going with the flow—that is letting the stream of words rushing forth take you with it and cascade out of your mouth, like a waterfall spraying mist. Why, I do it myself sometimes—it can be quite liberating.”
“Shut up,” Dumed grumbled, clenching her fists ever the tighter.
“I think that's not what the expression means,” Ganuh said to Cog, paying no heed to Dumed, “but I catch the meaning of what you mean. I might have to try it myself.”
“Shut. Up.” Dumed hissed through clenched teeth.
“Yes, I do suggest you do so, one day,” Cog said and clasped her hands behind her back. “All you have to do is take a few deep breaths, relax and let it all out—”
“ARGH! THAT'S ENOUGH!” Dumed screamed as loud as an alarm bell, clutching her ears and pulled them in frustration. “I am sick and tired of the yapping of you beslubbering newts! What sin so foul have I committed to be punished with the company of such uncouth toads—have mercy on me, beloved Ôsed! Spare me from these rump-fed chamber pots!”
With that Dumed picked up the scroll and stormed away from the alcove in protest. Cog and Ganuh watched, aghast, as she headed away from the east wing.
“I wonder what went into her?” Cog said after a moment, scratching her chin.
“I am at a loss... I haven't the faintest of inklings why she would behave so,” Ganuh said, still stunned by the outburst.
“A bad sign of character, behaviour like that,
tsk-tsk,” Cog shook her head in disappointment.
“Truly. One would expect more from a sage her age,” Ganuh said with a frown. “But, enough of that, where were we before she interrupted us?”
“Was it rivers? Or streams? No, no, that doesn't seem to be right,” Cog said, holding her chin and furrowing her brow as she thought. “Ah, yes! It was birds! We were talking about birds, I believe.”
“Well, we might just as well continue from that,” Ganuh said and tapped her nose. “So, what do you think of
newts...”
And so the two scholars continued their meandering discussion, pondering anything but the topic they had debated earlier that day: archeology.
21st of Granite, 381In the earth-walled entryway to the old well, below one of the breweries and Sibrek's Cordwainery, the young capybara man Edëm Weakenoars stood next to the Shrine of Mines. He had been in the midst of his prayers to Zas Ochreumber when his younger sister Ast Helmrecluse came out of the well-room after taking a bath and stopped to have a chat with him. The two were children of Olon Seerlances the Healer and Atíir Archsinged the Broker, though, they both were counted as adults, and both had pursued the path of a weaver.
“Oh, oh, I have another one! Have you heard the one about the forgotten beast and narwhal?” Edëm began to tell his fifth joke to Ast. Most of the time he was calm and had a rather low self-esteem, but when things turned into sillyness—and it often did with him around—he became all excited and eagerly shared his latest jokes and puns—even when inappropriate.
“No, but I heard you forgot ten bees and naw whaa?” Ast replied in a slurred voice. It was how one was supposed to reply to the question—that was the joke. She had heard it way too many times and it could hardly be called a joke, but still it always made her giggle.
“Always a pleasure to jest with you, Ast,” Edëm chuckled and bowed deeply.
“You could sometimes take things seriously,” Ast said and rolled her eyes. “But if that's not possible, maybe you should seek work as a court jester—baron Oddom could use one.”
“Oh no, it'd be horrible! He'd gut me before I even get started with the puns—
eck, eck,” Edëm snorted, making gutting motions with his paws. “But seriously, speaking of the baron, I've been planning to ask his lordship if he'd take me into the Fenced Princes. Word is they're in need of recruits.”
“Edëm! You can't do that!” Ast said disapprovingly. “You'll break mother's heart if you do that—and you know it.”
“Please! I won't tell her, of course,” Edëm smirked smugly. “And you better not tell her either.” He pointed at Ast and furrowed his brow.
“Oh come now! She'll find out on her own eventually,” Ast frowned and folded her arms.
“Pssh! I'll worry about that then,” Edëm waved dismissively. “Thing is, Waterlures needs more folk to take up arms. We can't just expect others to defend us—someone of us needs to volunteer. I'm sure mother'll come to understand that.”
“I can't stop you, but you won't make a good fighter,” Ast said with a sigh. “I don't want to see you holding a spear with those clumsy paws of yours and poke a hole in yourself.”
“But I'm strong,” Edëm said and flexed his massive muscles strapped with lard. “That's got to count for something, eh?” He wiggled his brow.
“You're impossible, Edëm,” Ast rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Do what you will, join the militia, but please be careful? Now, I've got to be going—and I won't tell mother—I've got better things to do.”
“Like what?” Edëm asked and leaned his elbow against the wall. “What could possibly be better than the company of your charming brother?”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe stare at a door or something more pleasant than your ugly face?” Ast poked her brother in the muzzle—harder than she intended—and skipped away, waving goodbye. “Be seeing you!”
Startled, Edëm stumbled backwards and hit his head on the statue of Zas. “Ow! That hurt!” Edëm shouted, rubbing his head, “You'll pay for that, ye knave! Ye pig-herding cur!” He shook his fist after Ast in mock anger.
22nd of Granite, 381It was barely dawn, the light still pale and grey, and mayor Fecici stirred in his bed, dreaming restlessly. The caged cardinal on the other side of the room raised its head and ruffled its feathers, looking at the stranger in the room. It was Urdim Planrocks, the black bear woman, and she stood gloomily next to the slumbering elf. Her shoulders sagged and her eyes were sad and wet with tears. She had come to once again to complain to the mayor, patiently waiting for him to wake up.
The cardinal let out a few short and sharp chirps.
“Mflm... not now little bird-pest... mfm... sleeping...” Fecici mumbled in his sleep, smacking his lips and scratching his chest.
“Mayor Fecici? Are you awake?” Urdim asked quietly in her deep voice. She gently pushed his shoulder with her big paw.
“Ummum... no... not the feather... anything but that...” Fecici kept on mumbling, twitching his head left and right. Urdim nudged him again and Fecici slapped his hand on her paw.
“GAAH!” His eyes shot wide open and he jolted up in bed, screaming.
“Fecici?” Urdim said as she pulled her paw away. Fecici turned to look at her and yelped once more, pulling his blanket tight to his chest. The cardinal fluttered in the cage, chirping raucously.
“By the Gods' buttocks, Urdim!” Fecici snapped at the black bear woman, straightening his nightcap and got up from bed, wearing only his under tunic. “Have I not told you more than enough times that I am not to be disturbed when I am sleeping? Apparently not, so I will repeat myself for the hundredth time—” he berated Urdim while he walked to fetch his clothes from his chair, his bare feet slapping on the floor “—There is no problem so bad it cannot wait until I am up and awake—not even a goblin invasion—say, I do hope that is not the case, is it?” He looked over his shoulder at Urdim, slightly worried.
Urdim stared at at the floor in shame, her paws clasped in front of her. She shook her head in response.
“Good. Now, I can see by that look on your face what this is all about,” the mayor said sharply as he violently yanked his tight hosen up. “You have been sulking and moody, dwelling on how your life has become so miserable and unbearable—” he struggled with his kirtle, trying to force his head into a sleeve “—and why-oh-why does this and that always happen to you and nobody else, hmh? Or possibly you want to spend some time with your family, but... you don't have one—am I close? Or maybe this time it—urgh! Drats! I seem to be stuck! Help. Urdim. Help.”
Fecici turned to face Urdim: his arms were sticking forward, both stuck in the same sleeve and his head bulged in the other one.
Urdim burst into laughter.
25th of Granite, 391The dwarf Tobul Orbsmetals stepped through the doorway into the Baths, which to this day had never been used for anything else than as an animal pen. Such was the case even still and now the Baths were home to several giant bats. Indeed, after learning from mayor Fecici that there were some of these majestic creatures caged in the deeps, Tobul had asked if he could look after them.
Fecici had approved and Tobul had managed to tame the beasts—he was, after all, a half-decent animal trainer. He was satisfied that he had chosen to come to Waterlures. It had changed his life for the better and it was about time: he was nearing a hundred and forty years. It was a good age to settle down and spend the remainder of his years in peace and quiet. Of course the town wasn't perfect—there was no such place—and it had its flaws.
For instance, the library was often far too noisy if one wanted to read books—those scholars could be quite loud sometimes. Arguing and bickering constantly over some silly topic. Instead of talking and talking, they should do something practical for once and get their hands dirty. There was plenty of work in the disgusting sewers. It'd do good for the scholars to handle refuse once in a while. Maybe they could argue about that? Tobul chuckled at the thought.
“G'day, beasties,” Tobul said happily as the giant bats wobbled around him, anticipating food. “Now, now, let's not be so greedy...”
He groomed each of the three bats in turn and gave them treats when they behaved. It felt good to be around
proper cave critters after a long time.
Yes, Tobul liked his life in Waterlures.
26th of Granite, 391In the stone stores, beneath the Mason's Hall, the dwarf Zuglar Rampartspirits put down his mallet and chisel. He swiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand and blew out in relief. Over a month and a half he had toiled on his masterpiece, barely sleeping, and now, finally, his work was done.
He looked at his work and was pleased. It was a stunningly beautiful grate carved from a single chunk of phyllite. The grillwork was intricate and formed rhythmic patterns of interlacing tendrils, like the twisted branches of a blood thorn tree. The frame had various reliefs of historical scenes carved from gems, glass and bone set into the stone, and they were encircled with bands radiant cut red spinels. The final touch was a wooden ring pull with woolen padding and strips of leather fashioned into spikes.
Zuglar nodded with approval, hands on his hips. Kulbukith,
Wheeledturmoils, would look fine on the pedestal in the dining hall and his wife, Inod Claspedrite, would certainly appreciate it.
It was a sunny and pleasant day in late Granite and only little snow remained. Mistêm Strappedoil stood at the wayshrine above the catacombs and next to the Old Mill, praying to Ôsed.
“O Mighty Ôsed, bringer of Light and Mother of All! I am in need of your guidance, your soothing embrace, for I am troubled,” she whispered with her head bowed and paws folded in prayer. “Tell me, o Ôsed, what are these visions so terrible that come to haunt my dreams? What is this violent voice that torments me so? Give me a sign—something, anything—for I fear it is the trumpeting of Darkness and Chaos, wooing me to embrace Death and Disgrace.”
The young capybara woman was despairing, for the same dreams that turned into nightmares kept plaguing her at night. Some days she dreaded the approach of night and the time to go to bed. She had searched for answers, but she had found none. She had done as Uvash had suggested and asked Meng the crow man, but he was of little help. And the prophets... Well, she couldn't make heads or tails of their ramblings.
Sometimes when walking the streets and alleys alone, Mistêm thought she heard foul whispers in the wind; sometimes she felt like the ground trembled beneath her paws and she feared that dark spires would burst from the ground; and once she thought she saw from the corner of her eye shadows reaching for her, grasping at her like the sickly claws of a wraith. She knew none of them had been real, that they were only figments of her imagination and soon the visions, or whatever they were, would pass like they always did. But it was of little comfort, for the fear was real.
As much as her nightmares worried her, other troubles weighed on her. It was not many days ago when she had run into Uvash the Younger and as they were talking he had slipped that he was going to leave Waterlures. He had tried to deny it at first when pressed, but in the end Mistêm had managed to make him talk. He had told her he planned to head out on an adventure with
“a few decent folks”, but he hadn't revealed any details—and he had made Mistêm swear she wouldn't tell of it to anyone.
Somehow none of it had surprised her, but it had left her worried. Uvash was still young and inexperienced—and quite annoying at times, she mused—and she had been surprised how much she feared something bad would happen to him. She had conflicting feelings for the sometimes charming but mostly foppish brat. It was very confusing and made her anxious.
Mistêm hoped the answer would be found in prayer.
1st of Slate, 391The hamster woman Coni was visiting her dear friends Astesh and Sibrek. Word had reached her ears that Astesh had given birth to a boy, and she had come to congratulate the proud parents. But it was not the only reason why she wanted to meet them, for the time to leave Waterlures was nearing and she had yet to tell the two of her plans.
Astesh was on her bed, propped into a sitting position with the baby cuddled in her arms. She was smiling, but sighed heavily. Coni, who had just finished telling of her coming travels, sat on the bedside, making faces at the wee babe.
“Aw, Onol is such a sweet little one,” Coni said happily and tickled the plump baby.
“He is a precious one,” Astesh said, stroking the babe's head gently. “A shining gift from Almighty Ôsed, an answer to our prayers.”
“Yes, the greatest of blessings,” Sibrek said with much pride in his voice, leaning against the wall next to the bed. “He is everything I ever wished for and dreamed of—praised be Ôsed—how blissful it is to finally have children of my own!”
“
Oo-dee-doo-dee,” Coni blabbered to Onol, wiggling her fingers in front of him. “They sure are fun, but I still wouldn't want to have one of my own. Herding stray lambs back to the pen is enough of mothering for me.” She grinned broadly at Sibrek.
“And when might Miss Pocketstand be leaving
her pen, then?” Sibrek asked.
Coni paused for a moment and furrowed her brow before she gave her answer. “I don't know yet, but soon. I think I might leave with the elves, or maybe a bit later... Before summer, anyway.”
“Oh, child,” Astesh sighed and lay a paw on Coni's paw. “Is there no way we can convince you to reconsider and stay in Waterlures?”
“Astesh, she has made her mind,” Sibrek frowned and shook a finger at his wife. “She is a grown up hamster woman and can do as she pleases. We have no right to press her.”
“Oh, it's fine, Sibrek,” Coni chirped and waved her paw. “I don't mind. I'm used to it by now, anyway. Everyone tries to persuade me to stay. It's just how it is, I suppose.”
“I must still beg your forgiveness for saying so,” Astesh said gently, a sad smile on her face. “You are very precious to us and we will miss you very much, sweety.”
“Yes, most certainly we will,” Sibrek said firmly but warmly. “You will be in our prayers every day.”
“I... Thank you,” Coni blushed, feeling a sting in her chest for the kindness of her friends. “I will miss you all, too.” She hugged Sibrek, then Astesh, her eyes moistening.
“You are a Child of Light, Coni,” Astesh said, holding and squeezing Coni's paw. “The Rabbit watches over you, even though you do not pray to Her. Be safe, dear, and steer clear of places where the Light has gone silent, for you do not belong to the Night and Darkness.”
“I-I will,” Coni nodded and forced a smile on her quivering lips. She sniffed.
“And you come back in one piece, too,” Sibrek chided her lovingly and wagged a finger at her, “I will be very upset if you don't.”
“Then I will have to do my best to not let you down,” Coni chuckled as she wiped her eyes. “And, mind, this not a farewell yet, I'll still come to say proper farewells to you before I leave.”
(Continued in next post...)
Author
Topic: Waterlures - A Capybara Man Fortress & Adventure [DF 0.47.05] (Read 107354 times)