Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blood. Show all posts

Friday, 20 May 2016

Neil's Birthday Story 2016

As a lot of the 'keener' (or is it 'more keen'?) followers out there will know, some of my friends get a story, rather than a card or a present for their birthdays each year.  Mr friend Neil is one of these people.

Hope that he doesn't mind me sharing it with you... He won't, he's pretty chilled.

-oOo-

Arkon looked over his shoulder into the night, their camp was small and the torches that their bodymen had sunk into the ground only illuminated the pale sand directly below them. The Tyrnus Desert was a thousand square kintyres of featureless flatland. They were still a full day’s ride from civilisation; from the terminus of the first part of their quest.

“Lord Arkon?” asked Lord Bilthor, looking up from the firepit, “Are you sure that the seer will be in Forthang City when we get there?”

Lord Arkon nodded slowly, then took a long drag on his Yantha-bone pipe, “That’s where the Sand-Kin said he would be; I’ve had no reason to think they would lie.” The curl of pale green smoke from his pipe momentarily obscured the stars that made up the constellation of Jory the Merrywalker; Arkon waved it away before Bilthor had chance to remark on this new ill omen.  “Is Lord Teletorc in his tent?”

Bilthor nodded, robbed of the opportunity to point out the ill omen, “He’s still suffering from that nest of woodgrubs that he ate yesterday. I told him that he should have let his bodyman singe all the hairs off it before he ate it, but what would I know?” He made the complicated hand-gesture that meant ‘It is as something known by a child.’ In his native language.

“We will enter Forthang tomorrow, the seer will be on top of his pole in the market square and he will be able to tell us where we can get High-Lord Sehmbhy’s yearly tribute.

“I hope it’s easier than last year’s quest, the air was very thin at the top of the mountain. I lost three bodymen to that final avalanche…” both men nodded, “Lord Kalkreith’s wife still hasn’t recovered from losing her husband you know?”

Arkon pulled the tiny crystal vial from under his shirt, “I’ve still got the sample of the creature’s blood.”

“Does it protect you from harm?”

“Well, brother, I’m not dead yet.” The deep laughter of the two lords was interrupted by a bodyman bringing them each a glass of Jumen wine, which they drank silently and retired to their tents for the night.

The next morning was bright and hot. The three lords sat whilst the camp was struck, and packed carefully aboard their tame Yanthas. They headed towards the shining towers of Forthang behind its giant defensive wall of sand-glass. The strong legs and barbaric claws of the Yanthas ate up the distance as if it were nothing, and even though they had to stop twice for Lord Teletorc to be put back onto his mighty steed, it was just after Second-Prayer when they arrived at their destination.

The Lords’ bodymen cleared the way in front of them, as they made their way from the stables to the market square – and right to the base of the seer’s pole.

“Good Seer, I am Lord Arkon of the Guild of Tribute. We…” He looked at Lord Teletorc’s prone form, lying on the worn cobbles, “We three have travelled from far Ithnia to gain your counsel.” Arkon paused, but the seer just sat at the top of the pole, his eyes closed. “We have been sent so that we may know of what the High-Lord requires as his tribute this year.”

The seer’s eyes flickered open, their cloudy white pupils reflecting the harsh sun. He coughed, his mouth dry from not speaking for the three hundred days since he had last spoken. He fixed the lords with his blind stare, “The High-Lord requires one of the remaining two Chumchurras in existence. One is located in the highest tower of the Dark Citadel on the dead continent of Chumchurrasel. To reach it you must cross the Blood Sea, braving the ravenous Sea-Chibs who are known for their ability to separate a sailor’s head from his shoulders between breaths. Then, when you make landfall on the rocky coast of Koranth, you must travel across the Plains of Death, against the Mirror Wind that will show you your greatest desires to try and divert you from your task. And finally enter the Invisible Valley by choosing the one true door from amongst the eighty-three exactly similar ones, knowing at all times that the wrong choice will bring instant death.”

Arkon and Bilthor looked at each other and gulped. “Can I just stop you there, what about the other one? – You said there were two.”

The seer blinked, “What?”

“You said that there are two remaining – So how do we get the other one, claiming the first one seems a bit… involved. Not to mention dangerous.”


The seer deflated slightly, then he reached for the jug of ice-water next to him and took a long, slow drink. “There’s an Argos Extra on the corner of Hadras Street,” he pointed over their heads, back the way they’d come, “It’s catalog number 734/7624 – You get a choice of colours. Only one per customer though. You know, no offence, but I don’t think you’re really entering into the spirit of this ‘quest’ business.”

Tuesday, 13 January 2015

Are you nice? Does it hurt?

They say there are are a lot of different kinds of people in this world.  You’ve got your movers, your shakers, your couch potatoes.  Douches, heroes, thinkers, doers, readers, writers, leavers, cutters, people who like the taste of tinfoil, rappers, mappers, toe-tappers and, of course, the universally reviled hipsters.

But when it comes down to it, there are really only two types of people.

People who adopt stray cats, and people who don’t.

Now, if you know the real me, you’ll know that recently I’ve become one of the former.  Here’s a picture of her.  Her name’s Pipe.

Raggedy, isn't she?

She’s tiny, probably about a year old or so, and has been either mistreated, or been feral for quite a while as she has the attitude of a grumpy wood-chipper with a hair trigger.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

She latched onto my kids, specifically my son, on their way home from school about a month ago.  She was scrawny and pathetic, her coat moved of its own accord due to sheer volume of fleas and she didn’t really have the strength to do proper cat stuff like jumping or meowing loudly.

My daughter, because she’s a realist, told him that they wouldn’t be able keep the cat, because we had a cat and a dog already and also because ‘Mum & Dad are both heartless ogres.’ (and she’s right, I actually spend a lot of my time hiding behind boulders up on the moors with a stone hammer, feasting on the bone marrow of unsuspecting ramblers and the mountain rescue teams sent to find them.  It’s where we met, my wife and I. I looked at the sunlight bouncing off her knotted unibrow across a pile of sucked-dry corpses clothed only in that nice, brightly coloured, fabric that’s waterproof, but totally wicks your sweat away and thought ‘Dyamn Beeyatch! You fine!’)

He put down the kitten and started to cry, which seemingly set the kitten off and she panicked and allowed it to follow them home, across several dual-carriageways, over a level-crossing and through a ford, twice… I should probably note that this wasn’t their normal way home; I think she was trying to dissuade it.  Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

The kitten took up residence in the north formal shrubbery, between the real tennis courts and the helipad, for a day or so until we could purchase enough chemicals, pills and pastes to ensure that it didn’t pass on any dreaded lurgeys to anyone else.  And after a good couple of hours of combing, the mehsahib had dislodged, quite literally, a bin-liner full of fleas (which is now roving around the garden of its own accord, ready to chase any of us that try to escape by running away down our private beach) The worming cycle was completed, causing one unsuspecting guest to exclaim ‘Why have you fed your new cat spaghet… Oh, never mind!’ and be violently sick in my prize hydrangeas.

But not to worry, because everything’s fine now.  She’s putting weight on, OK – that’s mainly because she won’t let anyone else in the house eat, including us.  She will, and this is no word of a lie, put both her front paws on your dinner-plate and have it away with your jumbo battered-sausage before you can say, ‘You little bleeder! I’ll gut you like a fish!’

She does love ‘cuddles’ though, and will sit there and let you happily stroke her until you touch that quarter-inch square of skin that causes all four of her legs to independently swivel around and latch onto your wrist whilst she bites chunks out of the fleshy party of your thumb. (Location of this small patch of fur changes hourly, some might even say very much more often)

She’s also getting used to Morty, our occularly challenged Staffy… He can now come nearer than three feet to her before she devolves into a velociraptor and tries to tear out his eyes, which would of course, leave him much more challenged than usual.

Our other cat, Pop, can take her or leave her.  I mean, they growl, and hiss, and takes swipes at each other, but that’s pretty much standard cat behaviour isn’t it… There’s not actually been blood.

Well, there’s been blood, obviously, it’s mostly dog-blood though.  And it’s not all bad, because he now has a permanent noughts and crosses board on his muzzle that he’ll happily let you use for a biscuit.


What I’m trying to say is, erm… Well, I’m not hugely sure what I’m trying to say… If you could make something up about stray animals and being able to find enough excess affection for something that might well actually be the death of you by sitting at the top of the stairs silently in the dark, feel free to attribute it to me and imagine that it’s today’s message, OK?