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Author Topic: Tales from Anyaral  (Read 3497 times)
Lost Egg
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« on: April 07, 2012, 09:22:03 pm »

Hi all,

What with Mike busy with his new job and preparing for Salute I find myself with itchy fingers. Not wanting to get too far ahead with my writing for the Travelogue (don't worry there are more issue to come) I came up with an idea...a series of short tales on anything I fancied from WoT. Of course these aren't sanctioned by Mike so I may well be putting a load of tosh up but still hopefully they will be enjoyable.

So without further adieu I bring you tale number one...

Quote
The Red Kosok
Across the busy square a small group of Fubarnii wearing red sashes, stopped outside a tavern, the Golden Frugin, before one of their number broke off, swaggering through the doors of the building. Outside, the others attempt to look casual but any trained eye could tell they were lookouts and new how to handle themselves.

Satisfied that the time was right the watcher shifted his weight and gave a subtle hand signal for hidden eyes. In a heart beat the lookouts found themselves surrounded by a shabby assembly of spear wielding warriors, local militia. They disarmed their stunned foes and herded their new prisoners from the area before they knew what had hit them.

With the target’s fellow warriors taken care of the watcher broke from the crowd and pushed open the tavern door, crouching to fit through the frame. Focused on his goal the mountainous bulk of the Eragu passed with ease through the drinking throng who instinctively moved from the giant Fubarnii’s path. Casting a searching eye over the customers he quickly located his prey and zeroed in.

A lone drinker sat in her booth, idly admiring a wall mural and nursing her tankard.  She only broke from her revelry when a shadow fell across the table.

“I have been tracking you for some time…it has been a most amusing chase. But, that chase is now over.”

The drinker dismissed the giant’s declaration with a wave of her hand, “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

He snorted at her seeming defiance and drew forth a vicious curved dagger before driving it into the table, narrowly missing the drinker’s hand.

“But where are my manners?” The giant affected an apologetic nod before continuing, “I am Jaral of clan Galin, mercenary, bounty hunter and the Fubarnii who has finally brought low one of the most ruthless bandits of the north.” As if to emphasise the power he held over his charge he leaned forward and took her drink, gulping it down in one go, never dropping his eyes from hers.

“As my prisoner I shall hand you over to the authorities where you will be tried and dealt with; you who has brought such misery to merchants and traders across the region.”

Nonchalantly, the prisoner toyed with the red scarf around her neck. Clearly annoyed, Jaral darted forward and grabbed the scarf, tugging on it to the discomfort of his victim. He grinned as he enjoyed the sense of power over his new prisoner. “You who have stolen so much and yet now you have lost it all…Red Kosok.”

At the mention of her name, she visably relaxed, making Jaral grin all the more, “Do not look to your followers for by now they are safely unnder lock and key to accompany you in your incarcerration.” For a moment the giant looked puzzled but continued with his lecture. “It is fitting that one who has forged a reputation for ambushing her targets with terrible speed should end up now fallen before just such a tactiiic…”

With a thump the hulking bounty hunter collapsed, landing in the groaning seat behind him. Clearly surprised and frustrated at this turn of events he could only struggle, no longer unable to speak or even move as his head swam.

Casually the Red Kosok pulled a small flask from her clothes and leisurely took a swig, contemplating the delicate choice of colours on the wall. Finally turning to face the prone form before her, she leaned in, “Arrest me? To think that one who lacks such panache should ambush me…please. I ambushed you with a drink!” She joyfully declared, oblivious to the loathing glare that bored into her head.

“Of course I noticed your clumsy attempts to shadow me a while ago but such distraction was too fun to give up too soon. However, I have a large job on the horizon and I cannot afford complications. Those militia are mine, a few choice words and a purse or two soon arranged that. My followers are waiting for me outside as we speak.” The Red Kosok stalked around the table and plucked the dagger from the table. “You say you enjoy the chase…well I enjoy the hunt.”

The last image Jaral ever saw was his would-be prisoner closing in with a merciless glint in her eye, raising his own dagger to his prone throat.

In one swift slice Jaral’s world ended, “I guess today is just not your day…”

A good while ago I read something Mike had typed, probably in one of the ramblings, about Fybarnii bandits and I thought it was a cool idea. Then the other day an idea occurred and I just couldn't help myself. I thought it might be fun to throw in a few film references in as well Wink

HN
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Carcharoth
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« Reply #1 on: April 08, 2012, 08:38:05 am »

I enjoyed that. Once again you've added characters to the world that I want to sculpt... Smiley
Minor setting point would be that Frugin pods tend to grow in warm sunny regions, so less likely to be suitable for a pub name in the cold north...
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Lost Egg
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« Reply #2 on: April 08, 2012, 08:48:58 am »

Merci Sir!

Ahh...err...maybe the pub is run by a southerner...or something...

HN
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TuffSkull
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« Reply #3 on: April 08, 2012, 10:52:21 am »

A nice bit of Sunday morning reading. Very evocative for a short story. If mike wants to sculpt them, I want to paint them & make the scene!  Grin
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Lost Egg
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« Reply #4 on: April 08, 2012, 07:14:31 pm »

Cheers TuffSkull, I'm glad to have entertained Smiley

HN
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Taelan
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« Reply #5 on: April 13, 2012, 04:35:43 am »

Fun read; I almost hear a scenario called the "Quest for the Golden Frugin" that or I've watched too many kids shows from the 60's.

- T.
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Lost Egg
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« Reply #6 on: April 13, 2012, 07:36:56 am »

Cheesy
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Lost Egg
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« Reply #7 on: May 07, 2012, 07:55:28 am »

Howdi all, I've a tale here that I came up with shortly after Salute but it took me a while to get it down, what with all the nappy changes etc. Tis losely inspired by the day...enjoy!

Quote
Hoof It!

Trails of dust worked their way into the town like rivers flowing to the sea. Pack beasts of all shapes and sizes were herded through the streets, each baring the load of their master; goods to sell or trade while others bore recent purchases. Inevitably with such a menagerie of beasts there comes a wide variety of dung and, it was one such pile that a young Fubarnii stood studying. Firmly gripping her favourite toy under one arm she gave the pile an exploratory nudge with a hoof.

“Urgh, you touched the poo!” screeched an older Jenta, while her companion chuckled next to her.

“Didn’t, just got close is all,” denied the younger Fubarnii. Moodily thrusting out her lower beak.

“Poo-hoof, poo-hoof!” chanted the siblings, running off towards the crowded market place, chased by the younger Jenta and her denials.

In the cooling heat of twilight the Fubarnii of the market bought and sold wares; woven rugs, delicate spices, exotic foods and all manner of goods.

A Jalik fruit tumbled into the dust, quickly followed by the questing hand of a stallholder. With a slight grunt of discomfort the trader limped back to her stall to return the furry green fruit to its fellows. She barely bothered to remove the dust, for the juicy contents were safe within its thick husk.

Across the street three hidden urchins licked their beaks at the thought of the refreshing taste. They watched the withered stallholders actions and giggled as her bedraggled headdress slid slightly down her face. They stifled their chuckles as she cursed loudly, returning it to her brow.

“They’re not bad, I had one last week,” boasted the eldest of the three.

“Did not. Mum never bought me one,” pleaded the middle Jenta.

“Did, but Mum didn’t buy it, I pinched it,” said the oldest, looking satisfied with herself. For a moment a look of awe passed over the two younger Fubarnii.

The middle Jenta recovered quickly, trying to sound matter of fact. “Oh I take things all the time. A couple of moons ago I got myself some kala root.”

The two older figures turned expectantly to their younger sibling who was in the midst of exploring the contents of her snout with a digit.

“Well…? What have you pinched?” asked the eldest.

“Mum says only naughty Fubarnii and Devanu steal,” replied the youngest Jenta.

 Her older siblings rolled about laughing, “Everyone does it, only wimps don’t. You must be a wimp!”

The youngest looked unsure for a moment.

“I’m no wimp!” She defiantly declared.

“Prove it,” challenged her middle sister, pointing at the traders stall, “go and pinch that Jalik fruit.”

Shifting uneasily the small Jenta weighed up the distant threat of her mother against the impending threat of being labelled a wimp for the rest of the day. In a heartbeat her mind was made up and she stepped falteringly out of the alley. Small gasps greeted her back as she made her way slowly across the market, her gaze never faltering from the target.

The trader was busy talking to an old Sempa and didn’t see the young Fubarnii standing in front of her stall, nervously clutching a toy.

Summoning her reserves of courage she reached out and quickly grabbed a fruit, spun and marched back to the alley, only breathing once she’d returned to its safety.

Panic shot over her body as a coarse hand rested on her shoulder.

“What do we have here?” An adult Fubarnii had entered the alley silently, her body encased in the armour of the local militia.

“Hoof it!” blurted out the oldest. Fear spurred the three young Jenta into action and they dashed off down the alley. Startled, the soldier took a moment to react before blasting on a whistle and giving chase.

The three Jenta dashed down the alley, the two older Fubarnii separated with practised ease, heading off in different directions. The youngest faltered before the eldest yanked her away from the closing militia.

A small group of soldiers thundered after the fleeing Jenta. The young Fubarnii put their small size to good use, nimbly weaving down the alley and out into another market street beyond.

Despite the coolness of the early evening the militia were weighed down from the heat and their cumbersome armour so struggled to keep up with the spritely Jenta.

Three of the militia tore after the eldest and her charge while the rest ran after their sister.

The eldest and youngest Jenta bolted into the street ducking and weaving between the shoppers heading directly for the end stall, nestled in the entrance to an alley. The closer they got the more the crowd thinned allowing the militia to close on them. In moments they could hear the heavy hoof beats of their pursuers but too late the militia realised what would happen. The two Jenta dropped, sliding underneath the stall while the three pursuing militia attempted to stop but failed, crashing into the unfortunate stallholder’s livelihood.

A few minutes later the three exhausted Jenta gathered just down the street from their home, grinning madly, recounting tales of what happened and how they had escaped. They were so engrossed and pleased with themselves that they failed to notice the shadow that fell across them.

“What have you been up to?” demanded an angry Sempa.

The three young Fubarnii turned slowly to face the wrath of their mother.

“Err…Mum…we…” the eldest trailed off under her mother’s withering gaze.

“Right!” With practised ease the Sempa grasped the two eldest by their arms and hauled them off back towards the market. The youngest toddled after them.

“First you’re going to show me who you stole from. Then, I’m going to teach you how to respect others!”

As the four Fubarnii headed back to the market the faint whimpering of the three Jenta drifted over the surrounding houses.

I need to get cracking for the character comp now...

HN
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Carcharoth
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« Reply #8 on: May 07, 2012, 09:21:49 am »

That's a fun little story  Smiley
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