|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 9:55 pm
Tension
(1125 words)
Malta played in the dying sunlight of another day. The young Orakoir had trained hard at alchemy, and was now playing hard, and soon she would eat well. She was a happy khehora, and the day had been good to her.
Suddenly, a shadow broke the light that danced over her play area, a shadow that loomed, glowing eyed, as if out of nowhere.
"Malta?"
Malta was not afraid. She had never been afraid of shadows, or the dark. In fact, her day was about to get better. She sat up, looking up at her sister before crouching playfully and running at her, ineffectively tackling her. "Sorai!" she squealed, snuggling the Diabi, "You're back!"
Sorai rubbed her head against her younger sibling's, her great, curved horns clattering against the undeveloped nubs atop Malta's head. She swore that, ever time she and Maike came back from a trading run, the little orakoir was bigger - both lengthwise and widthwise. She sure was a round little thing. "So I am." she said, playfully holding Malta down with one of her great paws, curling her tail around them both, "You look well, dear."
"Really?!" chirped Malta, rubbing against her sister again, enjoying the feel of her small scales on her sister's thick grey-and-green ones, the warmth of her sister's body, and the sense of family that Malta loved, and didn't think she could ever be without. “Baayo says I'm fat, though...?”
Privately, Sorai thought Baayo was right. “Baayo is an idiot.” she crooned instead. Unlike her brother – her dear, stupid, wonderful brother – she remembered how their baby sister felt about her round, tubby little body. “I think you look beautiful.” She purred, “I think you will be a gorgeous Orakovan.” Gorgeous, perhaps. Malta was certainly a pretty Orakoir. Sorai saw no issues with her roundness. Why should there be?It was her stamina that was the problem – her sister was winded by the slightest things...
Malta beamed, tail waving delightedly. “What did you bring back, Sorai?!” she chirped excitedly. Maike and Sorai always brought the most interesting things from their trading trips. Last time they'd come, Maike had given her a cauldron and a small book about potions, to commemorate her life choice to be an alchemist.
She wasn't expecting another gift, of course. Her siblings had very important trading jobs to do, and they were doing it for the whole settlement, not just for little her.
“I'll show you later.” said Sorai, almost slyly, “For now, where's father?”
“In the fields! He'll be back later!” chirped Malta. Sorai uncoiled herself and took her paw from Malta, standing up again. Malta followed suit, bouncing a bit ahead to be even with her sister's huge head.
“Yes. Right. That is where he always is.” said Sorai, thoughtfully. She looked up at the sky for a moment, “Malta, go and let him know that I'm back, and that Maike will be along later. If you see mother...” she hesitated, “Don't tell her.”
“O... kay?” Malta was puzzled. Why not tell mommy? She was sure that her mother had to be overjoyed whenever the traders came home, and worried when they left. Malta always was, so she assumed that the older khehora would be too. It made sense.
“Good.” Sorai gave her a nuzzle before spreading her great and beautiful wings with their purple flashes of markings, “Then I'll show you what I found. Tonight.”
~~~
Malta couldn't wait. She bounded to the training area of the settlement, where her mother was violently attacking a wooden dummy. Malta waited until the splinters stopped flying, before bouncing up, unable to stop wiggling from her excitement. “Mama mama!” she chirped, “Sorai and Maike have come home!”
“Oh, have they?” said her mother, striking the dummy again. Malta waited for another answer, but got nothing but silence and the sound of breaking wood. She frowned, perplexed. This was a happy thing. Why wasn't her mother happy?
“I'm going to go tell Daddy now!” she chirped, waiting a moment for her mother to respond.
“Fine.” said her mother, pausing briefly, her breathing fast, but not labored, “You go do that.”
“Okay!” Malta bounded away, towards the fields, sparing a moment to wonder at her mother's behavior. But maybe her mama was just happy inside. Mama didn't show her feelings much.
~~~
Malta was so happy later. They were all a family, all together for the first time in a long while. She didn't understand why daddy and her older siblings didn't seem as happy, or why her clutchmates seemed uneasy. In fact, she seemed to be the only one out of the loop, though she had been absent from her family a little, with her teaching and all.
Sorai took her outside to look at the boxes that they and their beasts of burden and their fellow traders had brought back from the caravans of the desert, and they were – as always – filled with wonders. That would have been enough for Malta – to just explore the eerie magic that the strange and distant two-leggers made on whims.
But then Maike gave her a box – another one all her own. It was smaller than the other one from before, and smelled of wood and paper. He opened it with his strong claws, and inside were pages of flattened, pulped leaves bound to animal hide. They smelled of herbs and beast and ink.
They were tomes, books of magic that held words. He had gotten them for her. Malta pretended to read them, flipping through them delicately with her claws, fascinated by the looping, curling symbols. Maike had taught her to read magescan last time, and she hoped he would help her this time too. They wrote so beautifully, but the pretty forms of the words obsured their meaning, and she couldn't read it. She was sure she would want to though. Later, he had said, and she was excited for that later.
Soon, Sumudi, Baayo, and Madjen joined her outside, sniffing at the strange goods. Malta could hear loud sounds coming from the family's den, but she couldn't make out the words, and she wasn't sure she wanted to – grown ups, even their older siblings – had things they needed to say among themselves. Sometimes it was better not to know what they were.
Instead, she played with the books and, later, when the adults were finished arguing, they found her, curled up asleep, on them. Gently, she and her clutchsiblings were moved back into their cavern home, along with their respective gifts, hopefully never to know about the argument that was still rending their family, even in the silence...
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 10:09 pm
Before You go
(Aiding an Alchemist Adventure)
“Malta?” her teacher called out. Malta turned back, stunned – he had never called her by her name before. It was always 'runtling' or 'brat'. She stared at him with quizzical eyes, their glow becoming apparent in the swift mountain sunset. “You... still going to Soldul with your ma?” his voice was strangely subdued, and Malta wandered back, looking up at him in confusion.
“Yes.” she said, uncertain.
“You're sure?” he asked, his expression unreadable.
“Mmhmm...”
He swallowed, then turned to the wall of his hut. “Wait a moment.” he said, fiddling with things that his body masked. A few moments later, he tossed a wrapped package at her feet. It smelled of dirty cloth, and bird, and lizard, and sunlight, and death. “Its for you. So you can make stuff.” She picked it up in her mouth. “Now get.” Obediently, Malta walked away, looking back at him, not sure what to make of him in this moment. “I'm going to miss you, you stupid runt.” he mumbled, “Get here bright and early tomorrow, you hear?”
She nodded, relieved at his renewed normalcy, and bounded back home with her new package.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 10:25 pm
Malta Flight Begins
(1234 words)
"I can't believe that it was just you." said Katangi, her tail lashing briefly in frustration.
Malta padded along beside her mother towards the coast, taking roughly four steps to every one of the great adult Diabi's strides. She was still small, a little butterball of a barely-adolescent Ysali khehora. She bounced as best she could to keep up.
"I mean, out of all of my brood - two clutches of 'em, only one decides to come with me. The rest stick to their sniveling snot of a father..." the Khehora gave Malta a glance with her eerily glowing eyes, "Not that I mind them being loyal to their sire, but hes a pity magnet, for Soudana's sake. He's done well by you all, sure, but only one is coming with me?" The Diabi huffed. "And the wimpiest runt of the lot at that..." she shook her head and, stopping, gave Malta a cursory and investigatory look over, "I Suppose..." she mumbled, "its better than going alone." she shook her head, growling slightly, as if she had only just realized she was speaking aloud. "Nevermind that. Get a move on, little one."
Malta wriggled delightedly, happy at the positive attention from her mother. She had never had so much of it at once before: her mother was a reserved and ferocious warrior-beast. She knew that her mother disapproved of her path in life - already chosen - and her clan, and she knew that her mother would have preferred one of her more warlike siblings to go with her back to darkened Soldul and her tribe.
None, though, particularly liked their mother. They had preferred to stay in the village with their cousins, uncles, aunts, and especially their father. Malta had felt sorry for her mother, and had piped up, volunteering herself. She hadn't wanted her mother to be lonely and she'd been curious about Soldul. It was, after all, sort of her homeland too. Her brothers and sisters had tried to talk her out of it, but their father had talked them down. It was Malta's decision, he had said, and Malta agreed. She didn't make many decisions on her own - she wasn't confident enough for that - but when she did make her decisions, she was absolutely sure, as she had been when she'd decided to be an alchemist and not a warrior or a farmer. She was sure of this decision, too, and didn't want to back down. Besides, she could always go back if she had to.
"Mama?" she said, struggling to match her mother's gait, "How are we getting there?" She knew Soldul was over the ocean, which meant... swimming? But that was an awfully long way to swim... Perhaps a boat? She'd heard that Magescans used wooden or metal platforms like moving land to cross the ocean.
"We fly, of course.” Malta's mother shook her head, muttering something about 'silx-brained runts' “What, did you think we'd be walking across?”
Flying was difficult, and a ocean was a long way. "I... don't know if I can..." she said, trilling uneasily.
"Well, fine. I'll carry you a ways when you need it, but only when you need it. I'm going to be pushing you, runt. I want you to be nice and strong when we get to my tribe." the big khehora huffed, "Not a useless wimp like you are now."
Malta gave her mother a glowing, quizzical look, before deciding to pretend her mother hadn't said that. "Why? Can't I do potions there?" Sure she was weak and silly and fat, but she was an alchemist, or was going to be, and you didn't need to be a fierce warrior for that. She wasn't silly with poisons and potions.
"I mean," amended the larger Khehora, "You can." she thought for a moment, nodding quietly to herself, "It'd be new and useful, so I guess you'd be a little valuable there. Huh. Never thought of that..." she smirked, relaxing a little of her great and muscular bulk, "But I can't have a weakling like you stay weak in my tribe. They'd not like that."
"Oh." Malta didn't entirely get it, but assumed her mother must be right about whatever it was. Adults usually were, and she would understand later on, when she was older too.
“Having second thoughts? Want to go back to your sniveling father and your pathetic siblings?” her mother asked, leering down at her. Malta hadn't realized just how sharp her mother's teeth were.
“No, Mama.” she said, “I'm staying with you.”
“Oh.” Her mother seemed surprised, and her glowing eyes shuttered briefly in a puzzled blink. “All right then.”
They continued walking.
~~~
It was a long walk through the wooded terra expanse, and Malta was already tired by the time they reached the Eowyn coast. The little ysali resisted the temptation to play in the rolling waves as she followed her mother - she wanted to be as unsilly as possible for this trip. She knew her mother liked seriousness, and Malta really wanted to try and please her.
Katangi stood on a series of cliff-like rocks. They seemed to pierce the ocean like the giant black teeth of a huge monster, the illusion further annointed by the blood red light around it: The sun was setting, and the water looked like bloody gold, shimmering intensely. Malta watched, awestruck by the spectacle.
"I forgot what this was like.” murmured the large Diabi, “You're not gonna see things like this in Soldul." Katangi flicked out her tongue at the wind, growling in approval "We start flying from here, now. We should find some islands to rest on by morning."
"Here?" squeaked Malta, not so sure if she liked the thought of climbing on those tooth-like rocks and leaping out into the shimmering watery abyss beyond, "Now?" and besides, she was tired.
"Yes. Here and now. Get your fat tail up here."
Malta did as she was told, scrambling up the rocks, her claws skittering on the black, smooth surfaces. She stood next to her mother, crouching uncertainly.
"We take off on a count of three. Don't lose sight of me, you understand? When you get tired, call out. And I mean really tired, none of this 'oh, I'm so tired because I'm weak' kargoth s**t. You had better be properly bone tired if you call out to me. You hear?" Malta nodded. "Allright. 1, 2..." Katangi opened her great wings and Malta dis so as well, her wingspan a mere flicker of shadow compared to her mother's, "3!" Malta was buffetted by the wind from her mother's takeoff, but managed to flap hard enough to get into the air. Her wing muscles, still immature, screamed as she flew away from the warmth and safety of dry land. Once she started moving, though, they stopped hurting so much.
"Atta girl." said Katangi, grinning at her daughter, before banking off a bit. Malta thought she caught another murmur on the breeze, but dismissed it as an illusion of the wind. She was focussing on keeping up with her mother and on flying with her young wings and body, a difficult task. She was tired and didn't have the brainpower to dedicate to figuring out what was real and what was not. She had probably imagined it anyway...
Her mother wasn't a thanking sort of person.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu May 22, 2014 10:35 pm
Solace or Solitude in the Paling Light
(568 words)
Malta decided she liked the silence of the daytime. Her mother's tribe slept then, true to their dark roots. Free of her guardians, she could sleep when she pleased – or not sleep at all, eat when and what she pleased, go where she pleased, and – best of all – avoid the other members of the tribe when she pleased.
She felt bad about deliberately avoiding her own kin, but in the months she had been with them, she had slowly begun to not care. She just wanted to get away from them and their endless jeering. They were, all of them, so much bigger than her and, also, all of them were Diabi. So were some of her siblings, but her siblings didn't act so... Diabi-ish. Her siblings were nice.
These khehora were not, especially the ones her age. Though they were her age or not much older, they were massive compared to her, and bulky with muscle. Despite the rigors of travelling across the sea to Soldul, and despite having far less food than back home, Malta was still the chubby little butterball that she had always been. Home, that had made her cute. Here, it made her a source of ridicule and an embarrassment to her mother.
The others in the tribe found it funny how she struggled to keep up with them. Some did not like having a non-warrior among them, others found her skill useful. Gratitude and disdain made for an awkward combination, and not one she liked.
The point was, they didn't like her, she didn't much like them, and they all knew it. Malta didn't think she hated them, exactly. She just felt alien among them... Wrong, almost.
And very alone.
Her mother had stopped paying much attention to her after the gruelling trip across the ocean. She was occupied with her new life and her old family. Not Malta's family. Malta knew they were blood kin, but... they just were not family. Not like her father and siblings were. In these quiet sunlit moments, Malta could miss them, and home, and, even, regret ever coming to this land.
Except she didn't regret it entirely. She liked Soldul. Her mother's tribe lived in a beautiful (and dangerous) forest full of all sorts of plants she could forage for and use. When she was alone and could forage around in the brush, she was happy. The lack of real sunlight did not bother her - her eyes were keen and, in some ways, the darkness was really very pleasant. Soft, even, compared to the harsh light of the desert and the mountains of home.
She snuck out of the tribe's camp often, rarely going too far, padding carefully out into the sallow-lit woods, glancing back on occasion to be sure that she was not followed. They followed her sometimes, these cousins of hers, and then mocked her away from the others. Their cruelty baffled her. But - she sniffed the air and relaxed - for the time being, she was safe. She nosed at an interesting plant, nudging it with her magic until it glowed with luminesence. She thrummed happily and looked around her at the encircling grove. Yes, she was safe here, among her plants.
She stretched and continued her walk, wanting to wander as far as she could before she had to turn back and return to the tribe.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 6:55 am
Gold Petalias
630 words
Malta loved to collect herbs. It was soothing, in a way. Whenever she picked an herb, she always magicked it to grow back. She knew it annoyed her bodyguards, but everything did and she liked the symmetry and the idea that she was somehow giving back something to the plant in exchange for its leaves. She couldn't do much about roots, though, those she felt sorry about.
As they left the lake shore and returned to the tribe's territory, Kumog stopped, sniffing, before growling.
"Get back, fatty." he growled, shoving her aside as she pushed ahead. Malta did not ask why - she almost didn't want to. There was a path nearby, and she heard Kumog snarl again from its direction. She shrunk back as she heard a scream and hid herself in a hollow, frightened and unsure.
Soon, Kumog returned, bloody and smug. "All safe for your little soft claws, you ugly fat runt. You should come over and see what a real khehora can do."
She squeezed out of the hollow, her fins pressed to the side of her head unhappily. "I don't wanna."
He shoved her. "Come on." he growled, and she obeyed, feeling very heavy and cumbersome.
The road was ahead and was well travelled usually, taking goods from Obsidian city to the other settlements of Soldul. Usually, it was well-guarded, but this section was between shifts.
But Malta didn't know that. What she did know was that she could smell blood. A lot of it.
Blood itself didn't make her nauseous. She didn't like bleeding, and she didn't like to shed it with her own claws, but when others did it was mostly okay. She'd had to get used to it in the tribe anyway. She didn't want to see the actual scene of carnage, though - she really didn't. But her cousin shoved her again, and she moved until she could see, through the trees, what Kumog had done.
A Hastar - Soldulan in color - lay dead on the road, bleeding from many gashes. It lay on top of an Oblivionite, also clearly dead.
Malta stopped at the treeline, feeling bile rise in her throat. "Y-your very tough..." she said, looking at Kumog nervously as he loomed behind her.
"Oh them? They were nothing." he scoffed. "They were pathetic. I did the Oblivionites a favor. Now they can't make weakling spawn." He went over to his kills and nosed at them, dragging the hastar off to inspect the magescan.
No... Malta wanted to say, suddenly afraid for her cousin. Magescans were dangerous, and who could really say if it was completely dead? It was an older one, after all, with wings and a tail. She shrunk back with a whimper as the magescan moved.
Kumog shook his head at her. "Pathetic." he said, "Its already dead." He crushed its head with a claw, leaving a broken, bloody, pulpy mess behind. "See? Dead." Malta felt sick, but nodded anyway. "Lets see what it's got on it... ooo!" Kumog pulled a small, wooden box out from under the bloody mess, "Thats something worthwhile!" he crowed, "Lets see whats inside..." He struggled with the box, trying to gnaw on it before growling. "Stupid thing!"
"Here..." said Malta timidly, "Let me try." She approached, leery of the blood pool spreading into the soil - which would make for happy plants later, but not a happy Malta now - and maneuvered her claws into the latch. She pulled, and the box came open.
"Oh... great... flowers." growled Kumog, losing interest, "What a disgrace to Sodana herself..." he said, moving away to pick up the Hastar carcass, "Mmmphmmms go." he said through the mouthful.
"Okay..." said Malta, gently picking up the petalias before bounding after her cousin, towards home.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Jun 06, 2014 6:58 am
Adventure: Herb Hunting
Malta settled into her lair, pleased with her haul of the night. She set out the herbs. Where before her supplies had been scanty, She had herbs of all sorts now - from Thistlethorn to Vipervine to Seggan leaf, and even Gold Petalias.
She said sorry, again, to the poor Oblivionite who had perished with the petalias on his person. Or her person. After Kumog had finished with them, she couldn't tell. She wondered where they'd gotten the flowers - they grew on Serenia, which was so far away... She tucked them carefully into her makeshift wooden root shelves, finding their glow soothing. They were so pretty... Serenia must be a gorgeous place. She wanted to visit some day.
The other herbs were inventoried slightly less carefully, but with no less excitement. Malta was always excited about potion crafting, and now that she had the materials, she could!
She yawned.
Tomorrow. She curled up and fell asleep dreaming of bubbling cauldrons. Whether she also dreamed of brutally killed Oblivionites that night, she couldn't be sure.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 2:41 pm
Its So Cute! ]
Malta frowned at the creature. She couldn't exactly blame it for running away - she was much bigger than it, after all, and a khehora. She'd be running away, too, if she were it, and she felt a little bad for scaring it so badly.
But! It was running the wrong way, if it was trying to get back to the Magescans, and the forest was so scary! Malta hesitated a moment, but only a moment, her pudgy face becoming very resolved.
She was going to help the fluffy thing. Even if she got a little lost in the forest, or if she had to get near Magescans. The fluffy thing deserved it, and she knew she could help it... or at least keep her cousins from eating it.
With a bouncing bound, she propelled herself after it into the forest, scared but resolved. She would help the fluffy thing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jun 14, 2014 4:00 pm
Roly Poly
Malta sat by the remains of her cage for a moment, paying her respects to the probably dead fluffy pet thing she had tried to save. She wasn't going to look for it to make sure - she knew notbjaovin. They weren't scary, but she didn't want to tangle with one either.
She hurt. She was tired. She was hungry, and groggy. And she had failed. She felt sorry for the uruu, and for the magescan that had kept it as a pet - magescan or not, they had to be sad and missing their pet, especially one as fluffy and cute as that. She hoped they wouldn't be looking for it for long. There was no point - it was dead.
She felt sorry for herself too. Not only had she failed, but she'd run around doing it, and now she had only a few herbs and aching limbs to show for her daytime wanderings. She only had a night of glares from her cousins to look forward to, made slightly better by the prospect of being at her cauldron.
Finally, she moved, standing up and looking into the canopy. It was getting dark, and soon her family's night would begin. She would be missed - or, at least, they would wonder where she was. If they'd had to look for her, they'd only be more pissed at her than they already were. Malta didn't want that - there was already at least one person looking for something they lost. She didn't want to add to that.
And so, she began to make her way homeward.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 8:08 am
Meaniebeak
He wasn't moving. "Regeel... are you all right?" she asked, but she could tell he wasn't.
Drouil stings, she remembered, were poisonous, and the poison was a numbing poison. In enough doses, it effected movement and the ability to navigate. In a lot of doses, movement became impossible. In short, it was a sensation then motor effecting poison. She'd memorized a lot of poisons, their effects, and their antidotes from her alchemy teacher, who had decided one day that it would b useful for her to know all of them. He'd drilled it into her for three days - that had been fun. She hadn't tried out her own poison very often, but she knew it was a pain-and-reaction inducer that, when milked from her, treated with heat and magic, and ingested made a very useful antidote to many other poisons. She didn't have any antidote on her, as she hadn't tried to get her own venom in a while, but she did have her magic.
He was breathing, so that was good - if the dose was too high, it would stop breathing, but several drouil had to be involved and their victim had to also be allergic. Which Regeel wasn't/
She nosed at him with her magic, healing up the outside wounds fairly easily. She could feel the poison in him, blocking his muscles off and holding him back like a leash.
Poisons were tricky. They weren't like wounds, which were definitely there, or disease, which was definitely harmful. They worked by tricking the body into thinking they were something else, and un-tricking the body was difficult.
Fortunately, she didn't have to do that so much. Drouil poison was not toxic. If she had been a peisio, she could wash it out of his system, but as a ysali, she could speed his body's own recovery - it knew what it was doing anyway, but she could give it a push to do it a little faster and a little safer. So that was what she did.
She felt the poison begin to degrade, bit by bit, as his body took it apart and moved it away. Soon, he'd be able to move and then she could get him home and give him medicines. That would help him a lot. For now, though, she had done enough.
She stopped her magic and let him stir. He stood unsteadily, not fully healed. "Lets go home..." she said, "and get you properly treated, okay?"
"Mmph." he mumbled, but he turned, somewhat docily, towards the clan lands. "Its nearly time for the fights anyway." She shivered. The fights. Yes. Those. "You should watch. Its a big night for Vorkin and Kumog."
"I'm allowed to?" she walked beside him, and he leaned on her, his limbs still weak from the poison. "I mean, I'm Ysali..."
"You're family. Why wouldn't you be?" he asked, irritated.
"Oh." she said, smiling quietly.
"Anyway," he continued, "Lets deal with this quickly. I can't show up to the fight like this."
"Okay!" she said. They weren't too far, so it wouldn't take long to give him the medicines and stimulants, "I won't tell anybody about it, allright?"
His glowing eyes shifted to her. "You'd better not." he growled, but Malta heard a softer note within it, one that made her feel good about the night so far.
Your welcome she thought, smiling. you're very welcome.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 1:05 pm
Sharp Pointy Bits Malta turned over the sharp stinger in her claws, looking at it. It was sharp, with a hollow to its venom sac which was, she saw with delight, still attached and functional. Numbing poisons were interesting to her, and she wanted to see if she could figure out how to make a salve out of it. The warriors of the tribe were always getting hurt. Maybe if she could take their pain away and heal them, they would like her more. She just wanted them to like her, that was all. She put it back in her collection pack. The drouil had stung her, which would have used up some of the venom - to no effect, of course. That was both the blessing and curse of being Ysali. Poison didn't effect her, but neither would its numbing niceness. And it would be nice - if she couldn't feel pain, she'd be able to run futher, and faster, and longer. She'd be strong. She sighed and curled up, exhausted, on her sleeping mat. Studying the poison tomorrow... Sleep now.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 1:08 pm
Crafting Solo: Having Fun with Potions
Rank 0 -> Rank 1
Created: 2x Basic Healing Potion
Malta loved to see her cauldron bubble and boil and seethe with heat and water. It was exciting - the steam, the herbal scents, the... well, the everything.
She'd primed it with some fresh water and was watching it take on the seasoning of the pot - that was why the magescans used iron. Seasoning gave the potions depth and character, and made each one better than the last. For Alchemy, the seasoning was magical in nature, of course - she couldn't actually leave it dirty because of all the poisonous ingredients. But she'd heard that Magescans cooked with iron pots as well, and those were seasoned too, but not with magic. That would be interesting, she thought, to see. The cooking, not the seasoning. Seasoning wasn't very interesting at all. It was just the remains, just there already.
As the water boiled merrily, she ground the seggan leaf into a smooth, gooey paste and, slowly so that it would dissolve properly, added it to the hot water. Seggan-goo lumps were bad- they wouldn't cook or combine well, and would prevent the potion from working right. She'd even heard that seggan lumps were toxic, but she wasn't sure she believed that. A lot of things turned bad with heat, but seggan? Seggan was just good all around, right? As a salve? Still, whether she believed it or not, she wasn't about to let lumps into her potions.
She stirred it in until the water took on a vague, silvery sheen. The fire had already gone down, so she didn't have to worry about overcooking it, but she started preparing the remedial fronds anyway, plucking the leaves and dropping them into the pot. She let them steep, stirring occasionally with her stirring wand, gently infusing them with magic to make them unfurl and release their pungent healing oils.
She set back to munch on the frond's stems, a favorite snack of hers. They were sweet, yet tangy, and full of delicious, nutritious sap. She knew they were actually very good ingredients in their own right but... she was hungry.
A gnarled and horned dark blue muzzle accompanied by glowing silver eyes peered out around the entrance to her lair. "Hey runt." said Kumog, baring his teeth slightly, "You staying in tonight?"
"Mmm!" she said, looking up at him. He was huge compared to her, and all muscle and sinew. Sometimes, she envied his strength and stamina. Mostly, though, she feared him. He was strong and ferocious, and - with the way she annoyed everybody here in the tribe - she feared that ferocity turned on her. "I have some potions and medicines to make..."
"I don't care about that." he interrupted, "I just wanted to know. Good. I'll go hunting, then, without having to watch out for your fat grubsack of a tail. Good." he raised his lips in an absentminded snarl. "Have fun with your..." he hissed softly and mockingly, "Potions."
He left, wearing his arrogance like a cloak and leaving a somewhat deflated Malta in his wake. "I will..." She said quietly as she decanted the healing solution into its containers and left them to cool, “I will...”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 1:15 pm
Crafting Solo: Batch 2
Rank 1 -> Rank 2
Created: 2x Healing Potion
Malta sniffed the pot. It still smelled of potions and magic. She could make another batch from it, if she desired. She kept the old leaves in, adding more water and blowing the fire back up to bring it to a boil again. She crushed up another seggan leaf and added it in.
Her lair began to fill with woody-smelling steam, from the old seggan leaves. This potion would taste different, and look different, but that was fine. It was an experiment, all a part of seasoning the pot. She put the front leaves in and let it cook, watching it despondently.
She wished that her cousins wouldn't be angry with her. She couldn't help being weak and out of shape. She really couldn't. She'd tried to eat differently, but she already didn't eat much - mostly vegetation and the occaional meat - and yet the fat remained, smoothing her body and hindering her movements, and making her too round and heavy. When she tried to run, it hurt her body, from her feet to her lungs. Whenever she thought she was making progress towards a sleeker body, it came back again within a week. She couldn't help it. No matter how she tried, she couldn't help it.
She stirred the potion solution, letting magic spill into the mixture, causing it to glow a faint green-yellow.
"Thats very pretty, Malta." Malta quickly looked up at the entrance, blue eyes wary. She hadn't heard her visitor approach and she feared further insult and reprisal. She relaxed when she saw the grizzled, aged nose of an elder, her shining obsidian-black scales with their painted red swirls and stripes gleaming in the light of the magic.
"Hello Elder Suhur." she crooned, her tail wiggling. She liked the elders - they were very nice to her and had welcomed her into the tribe even when the others had glared at her, as if she was some sort of invader. Sometimes, she still felt like one. Not just now, though. She smiled down into her pot. "You think so?"
"Oh yes. A very lovely vibrant glow." the elder approached, slowly and nonthreateningly, sitting nearby. "How goes the potion making, dear?"
"Its going well!" said Malta, gesturing with her head to the cooling potions, "When they cool, I'm going to stopper them! Then they'll be ready to use!"
"Mmm." Elder Suhur nodded appreciatively, "Do you mind if I watch you work for a little bit? I find the act of crafting fascinating."
"Really?" said Malta, stirring some more. This batch of potions would soon be ready, "Do you want me to make up your medicine too?" she asked, walking over to her herb stores and looking back at the Elder questioningly.
"Oh yes." said the elder, "That would be most... wonderful." she said, shifting, relaxing perceptably as she lay down nearby. She was huge too - most of the tribe were. Malta decidedly resembled her smaller, sturdier, father, and she, occasionally, didn't mind that. "And yes. Do you know, I tried to take up a craft, once. I couldn't manage it..." she tapped her claws on the ground. "Now that you mention it... I'd like my medicine soon."
Malta smiled sympathetically. Elder Surhur had swollen joints, and - although she could handle herself fine and was active, sometimes they pained her. "Is it going to rain?" she asked, decanting the reduced potion liquid into their clay containers to cool.
"Mmmm..." said the Elder, watching as Malta took out the herbs that would relieve their pain, ad began to grind them into a fine powder. "I think so, my dear." Malta carefully ladled a bit of the remaining water from her cauldron and turned the powder into a sludgy paste, setting it to glow vaguely with her magic. She pushed it towards the elder, who licked it clean, her ancient eyes closing against the bitterness. "Yes... I think so indeed."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 15, 2014 1:33 pm
Crafting Solo: If they ever do Anything
Rank 2 -> Rank 3
Created: 1x energizer
"So, little one. What are you going to make next today?" asked elder Suhur. Malta had busied herself cleaning up and capping her potions when she thought they had cooled enough. The elder had watched her the whole time with the dark, piercing eyes that made her feared and respected by young khehora of the clan. Oddly, she didn't scare Malta much, if at all.
"Mmm..." Malta thought for a moment. "I was thinking I'd try an energy drink... I get so tired all the time."
"A good idea." murmurred the Elder, still watching her, "Go ahead and make it then, my dear. Don't mind me."
"Okay!" said Malta. She brought the fire back up to a cheerful blaze and added her water to the cauldron, waiting for it to come to a boil as she hummed and cheerfully ground a seggan leaf into a paste - it had to be done fresh each time, otherwise it would curdle and become nearly useless.
"You are in a better mood than when I came in, little one." observed the Elder, her tail twitching. The medicine had kicked in, and her swollen joints were reducing to a less painful size. "I am better because of your medicine, but you... why were you upset before?"
"Mm?" Malta murmured, carefully taking out one of her Gold Petalia flowers. It was dried, but a few spell words and an infusion of her magic, and it was soon viable and vibrant. It glittered gold in the dark air, very definitely not of the dark land. She cut it up coarsely and placed it into the pot first, watching it dissolve into a golden fluid in the boiling water. "I wasn't upset..." she said, smothering the flame slightly to turn it down.
"Don't lie to me, child. I can see right through them." she rumbled quietly, "I can also see why you are lying, and your loyalty is commendable." Malta said nothing as she gently added the seggan leaf goop, stirring it gently into the mixture as she added in her magic. She didn't want to say anything bad about her cousins... and besides, she wasn't really that upset, not now anyway. Elder Suhur always cheered her up when she came by, and she wasn't upset at all anymore. "Malta..." murmured the elder, "Tell me. What have those young males been up to..."
"Oh, um..." Malta thought for a moment. She knew that Elder Surhur meant Kumog, Vorkin, and Reegel. "Oh... nothing... I dunno..." she said noncommittally, watching her potion brew become thick, syrupy, and golden, practically glowing with the bright energy it would impart when drunk. She poured it into a clay vessel to cool, marking the other four with wax as healing potions before putting them away for the time being.
"Malta... Have they hurt you?" asked the Elder, her voice soft, kind, and concerned. This was why Malta liked the Elder. She made her feel cared for. Loved, even.
"No." she said, glad she could at least be honest about that. Nipping her heels didn't really count, and they hadn't done that for months... something about her tasting bad. "They haven't hurt me."
"Mmm..." the elder watched her as she set about sealing the energizing potions and marking them, "Well, good." Malta smiled at her, tail waving as the elder stood up and stretched. "Well, Malta, I'm going to go now... Listen, if they ever do anything..." and the gleam in the elder's eyes meant anything, "Please let me know." she said, before flicking her tail in a respectful wave and leaving, her every step assured with power.
Malta watched her go and, with an uneasy sigh, began to clean up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 17, 2014 10:13 pm
A Far Cry from Home
Malta couldn't stop wiggling on her way home. Perhaps part of it was shivering - she'd been int he cold all night, and likely would be stuffed up and unhappy when she got back to her lair, but she could deal with that easily enough.
She bounced through the trees, too giddy to be afraid of the lurkers in the soon-to-be vanquished dark. The night as beginning to life, and she was unharmed and alive, and the Oblivionite was unharmed and alive, and why shouldn't she be happy?
He'd thanked her!
She hummed a jaunty tune all the way back to her lair before tackling her bedding and snuggling its warm dryness to her, purring softly from the residual good feelings.
The blanket smelled of her brother Maike
She took a deep, happy sniff of it, remembering other giddy, happy times in her life, before she started her fire with flint and tinder and built it up high, banishing the cold for good.
She curled next to it, covering her face almost bashfully with her paws, her tail still wiggling as she fell asleep...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 24, 2014 12:36 pm
Taming: Hastar: Come back! and In Trouble
Malta skipped back to her lair as evening began to shroud the forest, still high off of residual good feelings. It had lasted through the day, and she hoped it would continue to last.
"Malta." A figure loomed out of the shadows. Initially they were only familiar, but as the creeping darkness receded from their form, Malta recognized them.
"Oh! Good evening, elder!" she said cheerfully, carrying her bag of seggan leaves. The succulents were so useful, and she had found a bunch of them - enough, perhaps, to use for several months of potions!
"Malta, we must talk." said the elder. Something about their tone made her wary, but her good mood refused to budge.
She began to put the leaves away in her stores."Of course, elder!" she said, nodding at them, "What do you want to talk about?"
The elder loomed over her, gleaming eyes unreadable, a stern sculpture of obsidian and ash. "Where were you all last night, Malta?"
"Oh! I was in the swamps..." Malta said sunnily, smiling up at them.
"And what were you doing there?"
Malta wondered if she should tell them. "I was..." she began. On the one hand, she liked being honest, especially to elders. She could lie but there were so many things to remember about lies - she was always afraid she would forget them and screw up. On the other hand, how would the elder feel about her caring for an Oblivionite? Malta wasn't sure. But, in the mood she was in, she was optimistic. "Taking care of a patient!" she said proudly.
"A... patient?" the elder cocked her head and sat down, "What sort of patient."
"Well, there was this Oblivionite, you see..." Malta watched the elder, looking for a reaction. Nothing. She hadn't realized how stony the elder could be - she was as unreadable as a cliff face. She marvelled at how little fear she felt, even as she said the name. "...And he was injured, so I stayed with him through the night..."
The elder looked at her for a moment. "Why did you not heal him and be on your way?" she asked, quietly, that wouldn't keep you out all night, would it, little Ysali?"
"Er..." Malta faltered, "Well, he wasn't exactly injured... I mean... I think his wings and tail were growing in..." she shifted from one forepaw to the other, "And I helped him with it... I waited until he woke up before I left."
The elder looked at her. No nod, no snarl, nothing. "I see."
"I didn't want to leave him in the swamp, you see, all alone..." Malta continued, "And it was raining, so I..." she trailed off, looking up at the elder hopefully, searchingly, looking for some reaction. Did the elder approve? Did she disapprove? "I couldn't just leave him there!"
"No. you could not." said the elder, closing her eyes. Malta hoped it was a sign of approval. "Oblivionites are agents of the Dark Lady, our goddess, and it is good to, in her name, give them aid where it does not harm our tribe. You did well." Her eyes opened, and Malta's good mood faded away beneath the piercing gaze. "However, we were worried about you. We searched for you all night, and prayed to the Dark lady that you would return safe. Much of our hunting and scouting efforts were derailed to search for you, little one."
"I'm... I'm sorry..." whimpered Malta, cringing.
"It is all right that you make your daytime excursions, but in the night there are dangers, and you are not able to handle them. We have accepted this and thus, outside of our sight, we, as a tribe, are concerned about you, little cousin." The elder moved closer, gazing down at her, "It is one thing to be abandoned in the woods, little one, but to neglect to return...' the elder shook her head.
"I'm sorry..." Malta repeated, looking down in shame. Everybody had been worried about her, and they had tried to find her. She felt terrible for wasting their time.
"Don't be sorry, little one." sighed the elder, who turned to walk away, "Do something. Each evening you will do a task for each tribe member who spent the time to search for you last night. You will not leave to gather herbs for your own purposes by yourself or with your bodyguards until you have completed a task for each person. Do you understand?"
"Yes elder..." she said, hanging her head in shame
"Good." The elder began to leave, "Well, come along then. We start tonight."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
