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 Posted: Wed Jan 24, 2007 8:13 pm
T'bell and K'rel Post-Fall 01
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Posted: Wed Jan 24, 2007 8:17 pm
T'bell and K'rel Post-Fall 02
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 1:21 pm
T'bell and K'rel - Morning After Fall
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 1:22 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 1:30 pm
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Posted: Sat Mar 10, 2007 1:37 pm
 Imirin's Impression Well, it had been a wonderful idea at first. Completely profitable, no matter which way it was looked at. South Hold had suffered from a lack of traders nearly as much as the Weyr had, and by figuring out what exactly they needed, and becoming familiar with the people there, well...it was an equation for future profit, if not immediate.
Thread made him take the wagon in case he got stuck under a random fall if those dragonriders couldn't predict it properly. The runners were only too happy to be hitched up once more. Of course, they'd been a right test to catch, and then to get them to stand still long enough to hitch up...but once they remembered they were made to pull the wagon they threw themselves into their work.
Now with the sun at its peak would typically be the worst time to travel. Even with the heavy humidity and the beating sunlight it was cool under the branches of the jungle. The thick leaves let only small spear of the brightness through, and Imirin reveled in the heat and the pure nature that was the south. Nothing like the cold of the north, or the oppressive rock of the Weyr. No this was...this was close to the caravan again. The ride wasn't long to the hold, and the wagon was holding up well. It had taken him a long time to remake and decorate, and now he had his life back, a part of it.
Jeering ahead caught his attention, and the runners ears perked forward at about the same time. He clucked to the runners and steered them along the familiar path while a dagger made its way into his hand. The wagon would frighten off anything, with its bells and colours so foreign to the wild animals, but a well-thrown dagger would dissuade even the most aggressive beast. The turned the corner onto a sandy expanse, the blue of the sea far on the other side masked by a wavering haze of heat. Imirin had to squint to see the three wherries, who seemed to freeze int he air over what they were hassling. They looked at the large wagon that had rolled from the tree cover and squawked in surprise. Whatever it was they were hovering over lost its importance in the interruption. The runners snorted, the cart clanked and jingled, Imirin yelled, and the trio winged into the air amidst furious noises. The wagon, however, was bigger than they were.
Imirin watched them for a moment, playing with the idea of roast wherry, but the bloody would upset the runners...he could make the shot if they kept circling. He hefted the dagger experimentally and the trio seemed to wing higher.
Smart beasts. Smart stupid little beasts.
He sighed and slipped it back into his belt. The sand was warm even through his boots when he jumped off the seat of the wagon, and he felt the familiar sinking as he walked the distance to what they'd been interested in.
Nothing caught his attention at first and he scuffed the sand around the area, shielding his eyes from the glare. He could feel the sweat breaking out on his back and the sun beating hard on his bare shoulders. Taned as he was this was still asking for a burn.
"Stupid blind things." He cursed under his breath and glanced up again, they'd lowered in their circling and he flicked out the dagger once more. "A little closer, tasties!" the sun glinted off the metal as he waved it and he chuckled humorlessly when they flew up higher. Another squinted examination found nothing in the area. Just when he was about to chalk their attention up to some stupid game his foot hit something in the sand and he paused. The runners shifted and he clucked absently at them as he bent down to investigate. The sand was warm and he brushed it carefully away from the small mound.
The small egg-shaped mound.
The small egg-shaped mount that was actually an egg.
"Shards." Imirin pulled his hand back and looked at it critically. A firelizard egg. He sighed and cast a glance around the beach. This was what they'd been interested in. A cursory examination proved there were no more in the area. He clicked his teeth and stared at the thing. Stupi useless little beasts...but the hold...
He tilted his head and looked at the egg again, mismatched eyes glinting. Firelizard eggs fetched a decent price, and this one looked big enough. Might be a gold, maybe a bronze. As long as it wasn't a green it'd be worth something. Marks were marks. Even still with the wherries around it it might be dead already. He tapped a foot in the sand while he weighed his options, then stood and strode purposefully to the cart and pawed through his belongings and merchandise. A wherskin bag was what he needed, and when he found one the proper size he cast a look up to the wherries and waved it in the air. "Get back, I found it you rotten pests. Mine." Another shake of the bag as he walked was enough to cause a screech and make them fly higher. He tossed a rock up halfheartedly and the circled even higher. Vicious things.
The sand around it was warm and he scooped it into the bag, then the egg and more sand. The pesky things needed to be kept warm, and the shell was still heavy and both hard and warm to the touch. Plus the sand would cushion it on the road. He hefted the bag again, gave the wherries a rude hand gesture, and stowed it securely between his rations for the trip behind the seat. The runners were quite eager to get back under the cover of the trees and eagerly plodded back along the trail while Imirin whistled to himself.
When the heat had died down and noon had passed its hottest time Imirin's stomach told him it was time to make use of the food he'd packed. That damn cook did not like him. Something about traders and rotten bargaining. He snorted as he reached behind him amidst the jangling and ringing of the wagon and fished out a meatroll.
Then he heard a crack.
He quickly pulled the runners to a halt and stuffed the food in his pocket. It wasn't the wagon itself, though his heart jumped at the thought. He'd just built the sharding thing. No, it came from his wares. If something had cracked that was a loss for him. The reins were quickly tied to his seat and he vaulted over to get a look at the source of the noise.
Another crack in the silence. He dropped to his knees, pawing through the bowls and jugs he was to sell.
Another crack. Shuffling.
Then a quiet mewl. He scowled and yanked one of his bags out of the way, the blasted jungle had far too many thieving little things. A small bronze ball rolled out of the bag and squawked.
He stared at it.
It unraveled itself and stared back at him, then opened its mouth and screeched.
"SHARDING BLASTED FLIT!"
It jumped at the noise, then got the scent of the meatroll in his pocket and lunged at him, eagerly tearing it out. Imirin cursed, loudly, and the flitt screeched at him in hunger. "Get off, go! You weren't supposed to hatch until I sold you!" He pointed a finger at it accusingly as he scrambled away from the thing crawling up his leg. It bit said finger. He let loose with a string of curses as loud and varied as only a trader would know. The firelizard didn't care for the noise, or the lack of food and lunged for his rations instead. Imirin grabbed them and yanked them out of the way, spilling the bag over the cart floor. Meatrolls and cheese, a loaf of bread and the few fruits he managed to snatch rolled onto the cart floor. He cursed again and scrambled to grab the food. The flitt scrambled for his hands, snatching here a meatroll and there a piece of redfruit just a quick as he could grab it.
The runners were altogether used to Imirin's fits of temper and so were happy to doze standing in the jungle as the epic battle went on behind them. One started to lip at the fronds he could reach.
By the time the hatchling had stopped clawing at everything edible (including Imirin's hands and arms) and Imirin had stopped trying to toss it, crush it, step on it, and simply curse it into nonexistence, both were exhausted...and the little beast had taken up residence on his head. He had a sinking feeling it was stuck, but fortunately it was asleep so that would not matter for now. Now if only he could kill it.
He sat for a long time as the sun traveled down and the runners began waving their tails at the bugs coming out. He glared for a long time at the opposite side of the wagon. The flitt kept moving on his head...it was breathing...it was breathing and he was quite nearly out of food. The blasted stupid sharding thing was breathing on him and sleeping on his head.
He narrowed his eyes at the wall opposite him, then looked angrily at the runners, then glared at the tail tip hanging just on the edge of his vision. He couldn't understand why he hadn't killed the little beast yet. It was tired...honour denoted he wait till it woke up...but then he'd have to feed it again, since honour would prevent him from killing a starving hatchling baby creature little...he had no honour! Why in the sharding burning blasted two moons was it still alive! Other than its amazing ability to dodge heavy things thrown at it, it had no reason to live.
Why hadn't he let the wherries eat it?
Maybe they were still outside...
He got up, the flitt didn' move, and plopped back on his seat at the front of the wagon. The wherries weren't out, and the runners were asleep. The reins cracked and the beasts woke up. "They're still on the beach, I bet, you disgusting little pest." He muttered as he turned the wagon around and headed back to the beach. "I'll use you as bait. Fresh roasted wherry."
When he got there the sand was barren of any life, and the tide had moved in. He glared, then turned back towards the Weyr.
"You eat my food, you ruin my trip, and now you can't even get eaten." He hissed under he breath. The flitt rolled over and its tail smacked him in the nose. He was nearly vibrating with rage. "This is some joke. Some hilarious joke. I'm going to find out what firelizard tastes like cooked. You wretched little thing, you probably taste horrible. There's no meat on you, I'd say, but at least you're stuffed with my food you blasted ugly little thing."
The flitt snored at him. Boogers, in his hair. His face hurt from glaring. "I will give you to that greenrider. He can keep you. He can Impress you. I don't want you, you stupid, useless, food-eating, booger-hairing, earring-stealing, noisy, rotten, dumb excuse for a creature."
***
When he returned to the Weyr he left his wagon in the care of the stable hands and stomped off to the heights. By the time he got to the cliff top he was winded, and if possible even angrier that T'bells' watch was all the way at the top.
"You!" He snarled at the silhouette. Liliath turned her glowing eyes on him in the now-darkness, and he saw the whers stalking over. The sharding beasts knew him already, he pushed past them to the surprised greenrider. "I have no idea how, but this is your fault."
"This?" T'bell asked. He rubbed Tabesks' head in comfort. She disliked the trader. "What is 'this' Imirin? Your head?"
The trader growled and pulled the flitt from his hair, losing a few of the red stands in the process and waking it up. It was dozy and hungry, and he knew he'd have to get it food son or hear it cry. "This! You did this!"
T'bell's eyes widened in shock and he peered at the tiny thing. It looked to be just a hatchling, and in the dark either a bronze or brown. "You have a flitt?! Who in their right minds would give you a flitt?"
Zephyr peeked his head over T'bell's shoulder and cheeped at the hatchling curiously. Flute gracefully landed on Imirin's head now that it was free and peered down at the thing.
Imirin was nearly vibrating again. T'bell could see he was about to explode and quickly removed Flute. He spoke with forced calm between clenched teeth, "I wasn't given a flitt. I found it and it hatched and I can't kill the sharding thing!"
"Well you Impressed it, of course not!" T'bell frowned at him and suppressed the urge to save the little thing from the trader's wrath. "I thought you were going to the Hold?"
"I was." He hissed. The flitt chirped and he half growled and half groaned. "And now I have to feed it! The cook hates me!"
T'bell tried hard. He really did. Liliath's complete and utter amusement wasn't helping him. Eventually he couldn't hold back the laughter and he simply burst.
Were it not for the whers, flitts, and dragon, Imirin would have killed him.
"Oh Faranth. Oh my." The greenrider dissolved in another fit and steadied himself on Tabesk. "This is...this is poetic. I need to compose something!"
"That's right. It's so funny I'm right hearin' your blasted death!" He shoved the flitt into the crook of his arm and stomped away. "I was going to give it to you, you stupid Harper."
"Can't give it to me." T'bell called, still amused. "You Impressed it. Go get him some food and give him a name." He snorted again. "I...I'll help you train it. You can't kill him."
"Try me."
"No," T'bell explained slowly, "You can't. You would have already. You can't do it." He pointed at the trader. "Impressed."
Imirin glared mightily at him. "You will help me train the useless thing."
"Not useless." T'bell reached up a hand to pet Zephyr and Flute crooned, stroking his cheek with her wedge-shaped head. "They're very useful. Very. You just need to train them right."
"I'll see if I can't kill it by morning." He grumbled and stalked off just as the hatchling woke up enough to realize it was hungry again. The cook may help him out if only for her own personal amusement at his predicament.
For the next sevenday he said the same thing every evening. In the morning he promised to use the little bronze as wherry-bait. By the end of the sevenday he was still promising both things, but he'd dubbed the little beast Bait for lack of a better name, and to serve as a reminder of his purpose in the future.
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