A massive man, over seven feet tall and almost 300 pounds walked into the outback carrying a large satchel over his shoulder along with a crude mace made of three axe blades. He grunted in disappointment at seeing the place empty. It would not remain empty for long as Matt Simon emerged from his office.
Matt noted the massive humanoid looming over the surrounding tables. “Hello there.”
A grin stretched from ear to ear on the white skinned blue-eyed goliath. "EY! VAN! UMAN!" He dropped his satchel on the ground with the sound of many somethings grinding together like misshapen rocks. "MAAT SLAAG?" He pointed to one of the four great dueling rings. Runt began to take off the large crude made, dropping it heavily on a table before gesturing again. " 'OW YOU SAY... BATTLE! YOU, ME, ‘ONOR BATTLE" the voice boomed loudly, as if speaking quietly was not something he ever did.
“Ah...sure. If I understand what you're asking.” Matt pointed toward one of the Rask generics. “If not, maybe we can get Jake to translate.” He shot a half grin while walking toward the Rask Generic. “With or without that thing?” A hand gestured towards the homemade-looking weapon.
Runt removed the boar-hide vest, blue tattoos spelling out histories and legends all over his chest and back. He waved away the gesture to the massive weapon and instead walked towards the place the small human had pointed. "NO WEAPON. BATTLE O’ STRENGTH. "DON' BE AFRAID. I BE GENTLE" The hearty laugh shook some of the random mugs left on a nearby table.
“I thin, on strength, you've got me beat hands down.”
The two faced off inside Ring Anarchy; Matt’s posture was comfortable and skilled while Runts was crude and lumbering. The battle started off aggressively with Runt diving fist-first for his opponent. Matt nimbly stepped out of the way.
" 'OW SO FAST?!"
Runt turned around bringing his forearms down on the small mans shoulders, he held back enough not to squish him into the sand. "GRAAH" He pulled back, standing in one place for a moment before winding back with his left fist, striking Matt in the chest. The muscles on his arms rippled as he swung forward again with a very obvious punch. Matt slid down to kick Runt in the shins throwing his massive bulk off balance.
" 'EY? YOU KICKED ME! YOU KICK IN YOUR FIGHTS?"
“When I have to.”
Runt wound up his other arm "GRRRAAHH" and launched it towards the small man's stomach, taking a hit to his own stomach in return. Matt continued to kick at the giant, finding the shins and legs an easier target. His opponent was jovial, dishing out as many punches, flips, and hooks as he could. Matt, on the other hand, stayed low and aimed for the exposed shins.
"GRAH! WHAT IS DIS KICKING?! 'OW YOU NOT FALL DOWN?"
“Oh, believe me, I'm going to be black and blue about three minutes after this match ends”
After a few more exchanges Runt swung up a fist, catching Matt in the upper-chest just below his chin. Matt flew back, landing on his back. “Graaah.”
For a brief moment, it looked like Runt was about to dive in for a traditional tackle and grapple. Instead, he stood back and laughed loudly. “HAH! YOU FIGHT GOOD. WE DONE FIGHT? WE FIGHT MORE?"
Matt groaned, sitting up. “Sometimes better than others. Well, we're done with that specific fight. We could do another with your bashy thing,” he pointed to the mace “or magic if you're so inclined in such arts.”
Runt made a disgusted sound hearing the word magic. "DEVIL ARTS, NO GOOD. EY, YOU, YOU FIGHT LOTS? PUNCHING? AND KICKING?"
“Quite a bit, yeah. Probably more than I ought.”
Run turned to look over at his well-crafted mace-from-three-axes and grins. "WE FIGHT WEAPON, THEN YOU TEACH ME KICKING, YES? ‘ELP RUNT BE BETTER."
“Yes, I can teach you kicking.”
Their fight with a sword and mace proved to be just as lively. Runt continued with his aggressive assault, lumbering forward with more strength than speed or agility. At first, they traded aggressive blows, almost miming each other save for the size difference. Matt quickly switched tactics and started to take a defensive route.
At the very end of the fight, Runt charged forward with the butt end of his weapon, only to find his target had slipped away. " WHY YOU MOVE?! FACE CHALLENGE! IT IS MAAT SLAAG WAY!" The normal jovial demeanor had been replaced with a mixture of confusion and slight frustration.
“Because moving lets me not get hit and have added chance for victory. Just like kicking.”
"DO ALL SMALL MEN FIGHT LIKE YOU?"
“All? No.”
The goliath grunted. "SO. MOVING ‘ELP YOU WIN? RUNNING AWAY IS VICTORY?" His loud voice echoed in the space around them.
“It's not running away from the fight. It's evading within the construct of the fight.”
Large, hairy eyebrows furrowed together. "YOU MUST TEACH ME. ‘ELP RUNT BE BETTER. RUNT MUST BE BETTER. I ‘UNT FOR YOU. YOU TEACH ME. IT IS FAIR?"
“You can hunt, but it doesn't have to be for me. I can teach you either way.”
Runt nodded. "I 'UNT FOR YOU. IT IS FAIR TRADE. WHAT BE NAME CLAN GIVE YOU?"
“Simon. Matt Simon.”
Runt grinned widely. " 'ONOR MATT SEEMON. I RUNT." Runt took a few large steps over to the satchel he had carried in and dragged it over to Matt. While he was walking away Matt wondered just how runty Runt was in comparison to his average clanmate. Matt peered into the bag as it was opened before him, noting the large collection of red wyvern scales. Runt began counting them out in a large pile on the floor, seeming to separate it in half. “RUNT KILL RED SKY DRAGON. I 'UNT FOR YOU. YOU TAKE. "
“Ahhhh. I don't think I have anywhere to store that. But I think I know somewhere that you could take it and that could help your...training.”
Runt looked very puzzled. "I TAKE WHERE YOU WANT DEM. YOU MAKE BOUNTY" He shoved the poster of the wanted red wyverns he had torn down in front of Matt.
“There's an armorer in the Dragon's Gate district...goes by the name of Cavanaugh. If memory serves, he can work scales like that into highly sought after shields. Given the size of that” he again points at the mace “and since you don't seem to have an issue holding it in one hand, I think a shield might do you some good. Or, on the other hand, you could go with protective armor. Breastplate or, maybe better, leg guards. You know, to protect from the kicking” Matt grinned at this comment, noticing the small bruises forming on Runts bare legs. “And do me a favor...don't kill any more of those things. The bounty's actually making more problems than it's solving.”
It takes Runt a while to figure out what Matt is saying. " YOU WANT RUNT... NO 'UNT RED SKY DRAGON?"
“Yes. No more hunt red sky dragon. Sky dragons die. Something worse comes along.”
"RUNT PAART MATT SEEMON. ... TAKE SCALES TO ... CAVANAUGH? HE MAKE HARBUNAD?" Runt was puzzling out all the words that Matt said, the common tongue feeling odd in his head. "SHIELD AND.... " He sounded out the words for a few seconds "LEEGG GUARDS?" Runt nodded before Matt could respond, confident he had figured out all of the small mans speakings.
“Yes.”
Runt grinned at the confirmation, packing all the large scales back into the massive satchel which seemed to be made of some kind of hide. " WHEN RUNT COME BACK? FOR MATT SEEMON TRAIN?"
“Ah, maybe let's make plans for a few days from now. Say, three days, here, after dawn?
" 'REE DAYS! RUNT BE HERE " Runt grinned at that. He then threw the satchel over his shoulder and picked up the massive mace. "YOU NEED RUNT TO 'UNT, FIGHT, CARRY, LIFT YOU TELL RUNT. MATT SEEMON TRAIN, RUNT WORK."
“Sounds like a plan. See you then.”
"RUNT BE AT WATER SIDE. FIND RUNT DER." Then he took massive lumbering steps towards the doors, opening them both up and squeezing through awkwardly. "GGRRAAHH!"
The First Fight
Moderator: Staff
The First Fight
MAAT SLAAG
A Trophy for Clan Seemon
Runt shouted and smashed the base of his three-ax-headed mace into the ground. Matt Seemon was once again, victorious! With a wide grin, he shouted out "MATT SEEMON! I BRING YOU GIFT". He didn’t bother waiting for a reply, this was a grand moment and what better way to celebrate than with a grand gift! He pulled open the sack and gently, but awkwardly, removed a large set of great white stag antlers. He set it on the table Matt had been sitting at before his duel. "A TROPHY! FOR CLAN SEEMON!"
“What's that?”
Grinning with pride Runt’s memory returned to that moment when he slew the stag with a javelin and cut the antlers from its head. "FROM GREAT BEAST IN FOREST! I 'UNT IT AND KILL IT! DA MEAT WAS GUD! "DIS," he gestured proudly to the antlers, "IS CROWN OF BEAST."
“Great bea...oh.” Matt’s eyes widened as he recognized what was being presented. “Oh! Oh no. You took that bounty?!”
A warm, itchy feeling began to spread in Runts stomach as he detected the thinly veiled incredulity and disappointment in Matt’s voice. "IT WAS A 'UNT...." his feet began to shift as the itch started buzzing like an angry bee. "RUNT BE GOOD AT 'UNTING. DIS BE TROPHY FER CLAN SEEMON."
“Runt…” Matt sighed heavily. How could he explain this to a man who clearly loved hunting and fighting? “Not all hunts are equal. And that's not a trophy. Not one we want or should be at all proud of.”
Silence filled the space between them like an impassable chasm. Not proud? The beast had been perfect, beautiful and majestic. The hunt had taken days, and it wasn’t just tracking but defending against the crimson shadows which chased the hunters at night. The kill was clean with minimal waste. He had taken great care in skinning the beast, removing the antlers and drying the meat. It was one of Runts proudest moments.
"SO. MATT SEEMON... NO WANT DE CROWN OF BEAST." He continued to shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. He scratched his stomach where the itch was not just one bee but a dozen. "IS DER ODER 'UNTS DAT RUNT DO DAT ARE... BETTER?"
“Yes, there are..better. Hunts.”
With heavy resignation Runt nodded then puts the antlers back into the sack, tearing a few holes in the process. "YOU TELL RUNT OF 'UNTS. RUNT GO DO DEM." Perhaps it was not the prize his chief wanted. Maybe there was something grander and more majestic! Something more challenging than wyverns or stag.
“I think...Koy. You need to talk with Koy. She's much more an expert at such things. But promise me that you're not going to hunt any more of...those…” he pointed to the horns Runt was putting away. “And if you are interested in any of those Hunter Guild contracts, you talk to me first.”
Talk to Koy? This was even more confusing. Only the Jarl issued orders, especially regarding hunts. Was this a clan of a Hun-Jarl instead? A She-Chief? Runt frowned, mulling this over. Yes, Koy-luck preferred the fight more. Matt always left important decisions to Koy-luck and The Hunt was especially important. He would take his bounty to her. "YES MATT SEEMON." There was a pause as he thought about the guild contracts, best to be open with the mate of the Jarl. "RUNT DID ALL OF DEM. FOX. AND LIVING TREE.” The foxes were easy, just a couple of traps. He strung them up and skinned them well, and dried what little meat was one them. Most of the white fox fur was save for Koy-luck and the best of the two antlers he had brought for Matt. The treant was the best part. Fighting a living tree and winning… well, he had to have an extra sack to take all the bark to the Guild. "WAS MAAT SLAAG!"
“A...all?” Matt sighed again, bowing his head. “God.”
Noticing Matt’s increasing disappointment Runt backpedalled a bit. "RUNT GREAT 'UNTER! BUT RUNT ASK. NEXT TIME."
“Yes. Please ask.”
Then a brilliant idea formed in Runt’s head. During the hunt, the crimson shadows had chased him and the other hunters. At one point Runt decided to take a stand with his stone-rune for protection. It only took one good swing to vanquish the ghosts that harried them. Rumor had it the devil-woman in Battlefield Park summoned them. Perhaps he could hunt after all. "CAN RUNT 'UNT RED DEMON SHADOWS IN FOREST? ONE'S FROM DEVIL-WOMAN."
“Devil woman?”
Runt remembered talking with Matt before about the devil-woman and trixie-fae, but it seemed that one reason Koy-luck was hun-jarl was for her memory. "YES. HORNS. DEVIL ARTS. HUN-VAN. DEVIL WOMAN. ODER 'UNTERS SAY SHE SEND EVIL SHADOWS TO 'UNT DE 'UNTERS. IS ALLY WITH TRIXIE BLUE FAE. JOOL."
“Joo...Jool. Jewell?”
Runt growled at the memory of the trixie fae almost doing magic on him. "YES. TRIXIE FAE. DEVIL WOMAN WID TRIXIE FAE. DEVIL WOMAN SEND OUT RED SHADOWS. RUNT 'UNT SHADOWS? YES?"
“Let's hold off on the hunting until we have a sit-down with Koy.”
"OKAY. RUNT GO FIND KOY-LUCK NOW."
“Nono, she's home asleep. Tomorrow, or later in the week.”
Runt lifted up the large sack, a white antler poking through it now, and grabbed his mace. "TOMORROW. DEN RUNT 'UNT!" With the prospect of hunting the crimson shadows - and perhaps getting Koy-luck to approve other hunting, Runt grinned at Matt. "RUNT GO FIND RESTING PLACE NOW." In fact, he could think of a nice cold warehouse that was mostly empty. The docksiders didn’t seem to mind him camping out in there - at least, no one said anything.
Matt eyed the horns, clearly distracted as Runt began to leave “All right. Ok.”
It wasn’t until Runt was lumbering out of the Outback, singing some war chant or other, that Matt registered the giants' last comment. “Wait, what? Find a resting place?”
“What's that?”
Grinning with pride Runt’s memory returned to that moment when he slew the stag with a javelin and cut the antlers from its head. "FROM GREAT BEAST IN FOREST! I 'UNT IT AND KILL IT! DA MEAT WAS GUD! "DIS," he gestured proudly to the antlers, "IS CROWN OF BEAST."
“Great bea...oh.” Matt’s eyes widened as he recognized what was being presented. “Oh! Oh no. You took that bounty?!”
A warm, itchy feeling began to spread in Runts stomach as he detected the thinly veiled incredulity and disappointment in Matt’s voice. "IT WAS A 'UNT...." his feet began to shift as the itch started buzzing like an angry bee. "RUNT BE GOOD AT 'UNTING. DIS BE TROPHY FER CLAN SEEMON."
“Runt…” Matt sighed heavily. How could he explain this to a man who clearly loved hunting and fighting? “Not all hunts are equal. And that's not a trophy. Not one we want or should be at all proud of.”
Silence filled the space between them like an impassable chasm. Not proud? The beast had been perfect, beautiful and majestic. The hunt had taken days, and it wasn’t just tracking but defending against the crimson shadows which chased the hunters at night. The kill was clean with minimal waste. He had taken great care in skinning the beast, removing the antlers and drying the meat. It was one of Runts proudest moments.
"SO. MATT SEEMON... NO WANT DE CROWN OF BEAST." He continued to shift awkwardly from one foot to the other. He scratched his stomach where the itch was not just one bee but a dozen. "IS DER ODER 'UNTS DAT RUNT DO DAT ARE... BETTER?"
“Yes, there are..better. Hunts.”
With heavy resignation Runt nodded then puts the antlers back into the sack, tearing a few holes in the process. "YOU TELL RUNT OF 'UNTS. RUNT GO DO DEM." Perhaps it was not the prize his chief wanted. Maybe there was something grander and more majestic! Something more challenging than wyverns or stag.
“I think...Koy. You need to talk with Koy. She's much more an expert at such things. But promise me that you're not going to hunt any more of...those…” he pointed to the horns Runt was putting away. “And if you are interested in any of those Hunter Guild contracts, you talk to me first.”
Talk to Koy? This was even more confusing. Only the Jarl issued orders, especially regarding hunts. Was this a clan of a Hun-Jarl instead? A She-Chief? Runt frowned, mulling this over. Yes, Koy-luck preferred the fight more. Matt always left important decisions to Koy-luck and The Hunt was especially important. He would take his bounty to her. "YES MATT SEEMON." There was a pause as he thought about the guild contracts, best to be open with the mate of the Jarl. "RUNT DID ALL OF DEM. FOX. AND LIVING TREE.” The foxes were easy, just a couple of traps. He strung them up and skinned them well, and dried what little meat was one them. Most of the white fox fur was save for Koy-luck and the best of the two antlers he had brought for Matt. The treant was the best part. Fighting a living tree and winning… well, he had to have an extra sack to take all the bark to the Guild. "WAS MAAT SLAAG!"
“A...all?” Matt sighed again, bowing his head. “God.”
Noticing Matt’s increasing disappointment Runt backpedalled a bit. "RUNT GREAT 'UNTER! BUT RUNT ASK. NEXT TIME."
“Yes. Please ask.”
Then a brilliant idea formed in Runt’s head. During the hunt, the crimson shadows had chased him and the other hunters. At one point Runt decided to take a stand with his stone-rune for protection. It only took one good swing to vanquish the ghosts that harried them. Rumor had it the devil-woman in Battlefield Park summoned them. Perhaps he could hunt after all. "CAN RUNT 'UNT RED DEMON SHADOWS IN FOREST? ONE'S FROM DEVIL-WOMAN."
“Devil woman?”
Runt remembered talking with Matt before about the devil-woman and trixie-fae, but it seemed that one reason Koy-luck was hun-jarl was for her memory. "YES. HORNS. DEVIL ARTS. HUN-VAN. DEVIL WOMAN. ODER 'UNTERS SAY SHE SEND EVIL SHADOWS TO 'UNT DE 'UNTERS. IS ALLY WITH TRIXIE BLUE FAE. JOOL."
“Joo...Jool. Jewell?”
Runt growled at the memory of the trixie fae almost doing magic on him. "YES. TRIXIE FAE. DEVIL WOMAN WID TRIXIE FAE. DEVIL WOMAN SEND OUT RED SHADOWS. RUNT 'UNT SHADOWS? YES?"
“Let's hold off on the hunting until we have a sit-down with Koy.”
"OKAY. RUNT GO FIND KOY-LUCK NOW."
“Nono, she's home asleep. Tomorrow, or later in the week.”
Runt lifted up the large sack, a white antler poking through it now, and grabbed his mace. "TOMORROW. DEN RUNT 'UNT!" With the prospect of hunting the crimson shadows - and perhaps getting Koy-luck to approve other hunting, Runt grinned at Matt. "RUNT GO FIND RESTING PLACE NOW." In fact, he could think of a nice cold warehouse that was mostly empty. The docksiders didn’t seem to mind him camping out in there - at least, no one said anything.
Matt eyed the horns, clearly distracted as Runt began to leave “All right. Ok.”
It wasn’t until Runt was lumbering out of the Outback, singing some war chant or other, that Matt registered the giants' last comment. “Wait, what? Find a resting place?”
MAAT SLAAG
Hun-Jarl (A Fire-Star Story)
"KOY-LUCK. IS CLAN SEEMON OF SHE-JARL OR HE-JARL?"
“Heya, ta ye too, Runt.” Koy grinned up at the giant. She was getting better accustomed to his sudden rumblings. She tapped her fingers against FireStar, the opal running warm in the pocket of her dress. “Ye mean which one of us is in charge? I call Matt the Boss but I’ve got the worse of the temper ‘tween the two of us. I imagine he checks with me ‘cause I’m more likely ta have a strong reaction ta things.”
Runt carefully set down the very large sack near her chair. He watched the subtle ripples of Koy-lucks’ muscles as she set down her lemonade; remembering how formidable she had been the few times they trained together. If she was consulted on all decisions she must be the hun-jarl. "KOY-LUCK IS DE JARL. I BRING GIFT FOR CLAN SEEMON. MATT DID NOT LIKE GIFT. I GIVE TO KOY-LUCK." With great care, he pulled out the antlers of a great white stag and a smaller bag with the skins and fur of half-a-dozen white foxes. "CROWN OF GREAT WHITE BEAST FER DE CLAN. SKINS AND FURS FOR KOY-LUCK TO MAKE COVERINGS WID. MATT SEEMON SAY IT NOT BE MAAT. WHAT SAY KOY-LUCK?"
Growing up in Langenfirth served Koy well in the presence of several dead animal parts. She understood immediately why Matt did not like the gift. Koy tried to temper her words and not give away her sadness at seeing the stag anglers in particular. “Tell me somethin’ first, Runt. Wha is the use ta ye of killin’ all these animals? Were they the only things ‘round ta eat?”
Runt scratched his head a moment, remembering all the hunts with his huslyd and venns. Weeks away from the caverns hunting for food to feed the clan, learning how to throw a javelin or rock at a fireboar and making a necklace from the tusks of his first kill. "RUNT 'UNT. IS WHAT RUNT DO. RUNT NEED FOOD. RUNT 'UNT FER FOOD AND GET GOLD FER MORE FOOD AND DRINK. IT ALSO OLD CLAN WAY. 'UNT FER RANK, 'UNT FER CLAN, 'UNT FER FOOD. TROPHY SHOW CLAN BE GREAT!" There was a momentary pause. "ALSO. 'UNT FUN!”
Koy nodded. “I understand tha’. I used ta spend many days in the forest with my brother and we would hunt boar and the like. We hunted fer food and fer hides. But, Runt, iffn ye are so good at huntin’, wha poor creatures will be left iffn ye slay ‘em all? Ye can go too far and be wasteful. It’s somethin’ the Gods of my home would frown upon.”
The words of his oldest soster came to mind. “We use all of the fireboar Runt. Never waste a kill.” He hoped he had not been wasteful. He ate the heart fresh from the kill and seasoned the liver, kidneys and tongue for later. “RUNT NOT KILL LOT. JUST... SOME. MATT SAY TO ASK BEFORE NEXT 'UNT. RUNT WILL DO DIS."
Runt would be treated to a look that the rest of their “clan” found fearsome. She fixed him with those dark-green Aldamiras eyes. “Ye will ask and not be wasteful then, aye?”
"YES HUN-JARL.” Koy-luck understood the hunt and she was a sterk hun-jarl. This was going maat compared to his talk with Matt Seemon. Perhaps she would say yes to his idea. “CAN RUNT 'UNT DE RED SHADOWS SENT FROM DE DEVIL WOMAN? DE 'UNT DE 'UNTERS. RUNT 'UNT DEM INSTEAD? AND FER FOOD, WHAT CAN RUNT 'UNT?"
“Ye can hunt anythin’ tha is not rare. Animals tha are plentiful, ye can take wha ye need fer food and not be greedy. But wha are these red shadows?”
"DEY TRAVEL DE WILDS. AT NIGHT DE ATTACK 'UNTERS. SOME SAY DE BE SENT BY DEVIL WOMAN. RUNT 'AS KILLED DEM. WHEN DOD DEY DISAPPEAR. I 'UNT MORE?"
“They are demons causin’ harm? And ye’re not wary of ‘em? They have magic?”
"RUNT 'AS RUNE-STONE" He slowly patted one of his boars-hide pockets. "DEY NOT 'ARM RUNT"
Koy stopped herself from launching into her “beware foreign magic” speech. For one thing, Runt had heard it already. For another, she wouldn’t be able to explain why she could caution him while carrying FireStar around. “Wha do ye get from huntin’ em tha it’s worth a risk fer yer health?”
"DE GLORY O’ DE 'UNT," He said proudly. Adding quickly after "GLORY WID NO ... WASTE?"
“That’s good, ye’ve got it! No waste. I would still not advise puttin’ yerself in harm’s way with magic folks but iffn they are truly evil spirits, I won’t stop ye either.”
Runt nodded with a big grin and then pointed to the gifts he brought. "KOY-LUCK WANT GIFTS? OR RUNT TAKE TO 'UNTERS GELD?" If there was to be no waste, then she would accept his gifts for the Clan.
Instead, she sighed with a regretful look at the antlers. The furs were a little trickier to someone in the fashion industry. “I’ve got a different idea. These have been gotten under ill-advisement. Ye must find a way ta give ‘em back not as a trophy but find a way ta make ‘em useful ta those in need. Can ye do tha?”
His head swiveled between Koy and the bounty, what did she mean?. With a large finger, he pointed to the white fox fur first. "RUNT CAN MAKE SMALL 'IDE VEST FER KOY-LUCK'S KIDLING." Then he pointed at the antlers. "RUNT CAN MAKE CROWN FER KOY-LUCK? OR NECK-STRING? OR..." he then gestures to some buttons on her clothing "BOOTONS?" Then they would still be trophy’s the Clan could display.
She chuckled. “Tha’s sweet, Runt, but think wider. Our clan has so much. Those would still be adornments and luxury, not survival. Ye can think on it and tell me when ye’ve turned this inta somethin’ tha helps someone with less.”
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Perhaps he could make small coverings for the van who did not like the cold. The antlers could make good arrows, but he would need supplies. "BUT. WHERE RUNT KEEP IT?"
“Wha do ye mean? Where do ye keep any of yer things?”
The itch of the bees started to grow in his stomach again, but he just pointed a large sausage finger to the sack. "RUNT NEED ROOM FER ODER STUFF. SKINS GO BAD. ANTLERS BREAK."
She looked at the sack and then at Runt. “And where do ye call home, where ye could have a room fer those things and yer sack?”
Runt stuck his chin out a bit, shifting as the itch in his stomach grew. "RUNT SLEEP WHERE RUNT BE TIRED." He had learned, over time, that the van didn’t like you sleeping on their roads or streets. He tried to find abandoned homes, warehouses or a place outside of the city. Vagrant was a word he heard a lot, but he didn’t know what it meant, only the look of disgust on the faces who said it. He did not want to see that disgust in Koy-luck.
“Oh.” Koy covered up her frown. “Well, we can’t have tha, not fer Clan Simon! Would ye be open ta help findin’ somewhere ye could keep yer things and sleep at night? Do ye like bein’ outside?”
"RUNT LIKE DE COLD. RUNT FIND CAVES OR EMPTY 'UTS NEAR WATERS. SOMETIMES RUNT RESTING PLACE IS OOTBACK" He shifted a bit more before grabbing his sack, looking incredibly uncomfortable. He could sense the pity. He hated pity. "RUNT FIND RESTING PLACE NOW. KOY-LUCK KEEP GIFTS FER NOW. RUNT... WILL DECIDE LATER WHAT TO DO WID DEM."
Koy decided not to press further. “Be safe, Runt.” Once Runt’s back was turned Koy let the frown remain on her face. “Well I don’t think I make much of a hunjarl now, do I?” Pronouncing it as one word in her accent, the red opal responded.
“That is not an actual thing, is it?” There was a crackle to the stone’s voice, tempting without being defined.
“It is ta ‘em. And I think I’m failin’ at it. I don’t think he’ll be one fer takin’ wha might feel like charity.”
“You are not blind, elf. Do you not have proof in all the dead remnants he left you? He is well-equipped to take care of himself.” Koy could sense where FireStar’s unspoken thought was going next. It hadn’t taken long for Koy to understand their particular way of viewing people.
“Don’t.” Koy knew it was a feeble warning.
“Imagine what he could do with the right fuse lit.”
“‘Nough.” Koy had been telling Runt the truth when she said she had the worse temper out of the Simons. She had not yet gotten the hang of avoiding the bait. FireStar enjoyed her growing irritation.
“Now, now, what are you afraid of, Koyliak? You are acting like I am the big bad wolf.”
“Ye’re somethin’ big and bad.”
“Fair. I did not need to huff or puff when I burned your house down, now did I?”
They were referring of course to the time the opal helped burn the Outback down all those years ago. Koy found her hand reaching into her pocket, fingers wrapping around the warm stone as if she could strangle them. FireStar thrilled at the palpable emotions running through the elf. “Go on. It won’t do much but if it makes you feel better, squeeze away.” She could feel the heat growing but she couldn’t let the stone go. She knew she was giving them exactly what they wanted but could not think of an alternative. “Just imagine it. That giant’s hands cracking bones. He certainly won’t go hungry even if he can’t keep a roof over his head. How beautiful it would be.” FireStar took advantage of their grip over the elf’s vulnerable mind, projecting an image of Runt in the eerie red glow of the stone, covered in blood with a pile of pale corpses in his strong arms.
“I said. ‘NOUGH!” The skin on her fingers starting to burn where she gripped the stone, Koy violently threw the opal away from her. The red stone landed on one of the white fox furs left behind, singing the hide and leaving a dark circle in its wake. Koy shook out her fingers, rubbing the phantom burn and glaring at the opal. The already wasteful and now ruined fur was an added insult to injury. In her mind, Koy could hear what was meant to feel like fiery laughter at her expense, rippling through to the elf’s despair and the opal’s sheer delight.
Co-written with Koyliak
“Heya, ta ye too, Runt.” Koy grinned up at the giant. She was getting better accustomed to his sudden rumblings. She tapped her fingers against FireStar, the opal running warm in the pocket of her dress. “Ye mean which one of us is in charge? I call Matt the Boss but I’ve got the worse of the temper ‘tween the two of us. I imagine he checks with me ‘cause I’m more likely ta have a strong reaction ta things.”
Runt carefully set down the very large sack near her chair. He watched the subtle ripples of Koy-lucks’ muscles as she set down her lemonade; remembering how formidable she had been the few times they trained together. If she was consulted on all decisions she must be the hun-jarl. "KOY-LUCK IS DE JARL. I BRING GIFT FOR CLAN SEEMON. MATT DID NOT LIKE GIFT. I GIVE TO KOY-LUCK." With great care, he pulled out the antlers of a great white stag and a smaller bag with the skins and fur of half-a-dozen white foxes. "CROWN OF GREAT WHITE BEAST FER DE CLAN. SKINS AND FURS FOR KOY-LUCK TO MAKE COVERINGS WID. MATT SEEMON SAY IT NOT BE MAAT. WHAT SAY KOY-LUCK?"
Growing up in Langenfirth served Koy well in the presence of several dead animal parts. She understood immediately why Matt did not like the gift. Koy tried to temper her words and not give away her sadness at seeing the stag anglers in particular. “Tell me somethin’ first, Runt. Wha is the use ta ye of killin’ all these animals? Were they the only things ‘round ta eat?”
Runt scratched his head a moment, remembering all the hunts with his huslyd and venns. Weeks away from the caverns hunting for food to feed the clan, learning how to throw a javelin or rock at a fireboar and making a necklace from the tusks of his first kill. "RUNT 'UNT. IS WHAT RUNT DO. RUNT NEED FOOD. RUNT 'UNT FER FOOD AND GET GOLD FER MORE FOOD AND DRINK. IT ALSO OLD CLAN WAY. 'UNT FER RANK, 'UNT FER CLAN, 'UNT FER FOOD. TROPHY SHOW CLAN BE GREAT!" There was a momentary pause. "ALSO. 'UNT FUN!”
Koy nodded. “I understand tha’. I used ta spend many days in the forest with my brother and we would hunt boar and the like. We hunted fer food and fer hides. But, Runt, iffn ye are so good at huntin’, wha poor creatures will be left iffn ye slay ‘em all? Ye can go too far and be wasteful. It’s somethin’ the Gods of my home would frown upon.”
The words of his oldest soster came to mind. “We use all of the fireboar Runt. Never waste a kill.” He hoped he had not been wasteful. He ate the heart fresh from the kill and seasoned the liver, kidneys and tongue for later. “RUNT NOT KILL LOT. JUST... SOME. MATT SAY TO ASK BEFORE NEXT 'UNT. RUNT WILL DO DIS."
Runt would be treated to a look that the rest of their “clan” found fearsome. She fixed him with those dark-green Aldamiras eyes. “Ye will ask and not be wasteful then, aye?”
"YES HUN-JARL.” Koy-luck understood the hunt and she was a sterk hun-jarl. This was going maat compared to his talk with Matt Seemon. Perhaps she would say yes to his idea. “CAN RUNT 'UNT DE RED SHADOWS SENT FROM DE DEVIL WOMAN? DE 'UNT DE 'UNTERS. RUNT 'UNT DEM INSTEAD? AND FER FOOD, WHAT CAN RUNT 'UNT?"
“Ye can hunt anythin’ tha is not rare. Animals tha are plentiful, ye can take wha ye need fer food and not be greedy. But wha are these red shadows?”
"DEY TRAVEL DE WILDS. AT NIGHT DE ATTACK 'UNTERS. SOME SAY DE BE SENT BY DEVIL WOMAN. RUNT 'AS KILLED DEM. WHEN DOD DEY DISAPPEAR. I 'UNT MORE?"
“They are demons causin’ harm? And ye’re not wary of ‘em? They have magic?”
"RUNT 'AS RUNE-STONE" He slowly patted one of his boars-hide pockets. "DEY NOT 'ARM RUNT"
Koy stopped herself from launching into her “beware foreign magic” speech. For one thing, Runt had heard it already. For another, she wouldn’t be able to explain why she could caution him while carrying FireStar around. “Wha do ye get from huntin’ em tha it’s worth a risk fer yer health?”
"DE GLORY O’ DE 'UNT," He said proudly. Adding quickly after "GLORY WID NO ... WASTE?"
“That’s good, ye’ve got it! No waste. I would still not advise puttin’ yerself in harm’s way with magic folks but iffn they are truly evil spirits, I won’t stop ye either.”
Runt nodded with a big grin and then pointed to the gifts he brought. "KOY-LUCK WANT GIFTS? OR RUNT TAKE TO 'UNTERS GELD?" If there was to be no waste, then she would accept his gifts for the Clan.
Instead, she sighed with a regretful look at the antlers. The furs were a little trickier to someone in the fashion industry. “I’ve got a different idea. These have been gotten under ill-advisement. Ye must find a way ta give ‘em back not as a trophy but find a way ta make ‘em useful ta those in need. Can ye do tha?”
His head swiveled between Koy and the bounty, what did she mean?. With a large finger, he pointed to the white fox fur first. "RUNT CAN MAKE SMALL 'IDE VEST FER KOY-LUCK'S KIDLING." Then he pointed at the antlers. "RUNT CAN MAKE CROWN FER KOY-LUCK? OR NECK-STRING? OR..." he then gestures to some buttons on her clothing "BOOTONS?" Then they would still be trophy’s the Clan could display.
She chuckled. “Tha’s sweet, Runt, but think wider. Our clan has so much. Those would still be adornments and luxury, not survival. Ye can think on it and tell me when ye’ve turned this inta somethin’ tha helps someone with less.”
He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Perhaps he could make small coverings for the van who did not like the cold. The antlers could make good arrows, but he would need supplies. "BUT. WHERE RUNT KEEP IT?"
“Wha do ye mean? Where do ye keep any of yer things?”
The itch of the bees started to grow in his stomach again, but he just pointed a large sausage finger to the sack. "RUNT NEED ROOM FER ODER STUFF. SKINS GO BAD. ANTLERS BREAK."
She looked at the sack and then at Runt. “And where do ye call home, where ye could have a room fer those things and yer sack?”
Runt stuck his chin out a bit, shifting as the itch in his stomach grew. "RUNT SLEEP WHERE RUNT BE TIRED." He had learned, over time, that the van didn’t like you sleeping on their roads or streets. He tried to find abandoned homes, warehouses or a place outside of the city. Vagrant was a word he heard a lot, but he didn’t know what it meant, only the look of disgust on the faces who said it. He did not want to see that disgust in Koy-luck.
“Oh.” Koy covered up her frown. “Well, we can’t have tha, not fer Clan Simon! Would ye be open ta help findin’ somewhere ye could keep yer things and sleep at night? Do ye like bein’ outside?”
"RUNT LIKE DE COLD. RUNT FIND CAVES OR EMPTY 'UTS NEAR WATERS. SOMETIMES RUNT RESTING PLACE IS OOTBACK" He shifted a bit more before grabbing his sack, looking incredibly uncomfortable. He could sense the pity. He hated pity. "RUNT FIND RESTING PLACE NOW. KOY-LUCK KEEP GIFTS FER NOW. RUNT... WILL DECIDE LATER WHAT TO DO WID DEM."
Koy decided not to press further. “Be safe, Runt.” Once Runt’s back was turned Koy let the frown remain on her face. “Well I don’t think I make much of a hunjarl now, do I?” Pronouncing it as one word in her accent, the red opal responded.
“That is not an actual thing, is it?” There was a crackle to the stone’s voice, tempting without being defined.
“It is ta ‘em. And I think I’m failin’ at it. I don’t think he’ll be one fer takin’ wha might feel like charity.”
“You are not blind, elf. Do you not have proof in all the dead remnants he left you? He is well-equipped to take care of himself.” Koy could sense where FireStar’s unspoken thought was going next. It hadn’t taken long for Koy to understand their particular way of viewing people.
“Don’t.” Koy knew it was a feeble warning.
“Imagine what he could do with the right fuse lit.”
“‘Nough.” Koy had been telling Runt the truth when she said she had the worse temper out of the Simons. She had not yet gotten the hang of avoiding the bait. FireStar enjoyed her growing irritation.
“Now, now, what are you afraid of, Koyliak? You are acting like I am the big bad wolf.”
“Ye’re somethin’ big and bad.”
“Fair. I did not need to huff or puff when I burned your house down, now did I?”
They were referring of course to the time the opal helped burn the Outback down all those years ago. Koy found her hand reaching into her pocket, fingers wrapping around the warm stone as if she could strangle them. FireStar thrilled at the palpable emotions running through the elf. “Go on. It won’t do much but if it makes you feel better, squeeze away.” She could feel the heat growing but she couldn’t let the stone go. She knew she was giving them exactly what they wanted but could not think of an alternative. “Just imagine it. That giant’s hands cracking bones. He certainly won’t go hungry even if he can’t keep a roof over his head. How beautiful it would be.” FireStar took advantage of their grip over the elf’s vulnerable mind, projecting an image of Runt in the eerie red glow of the stone, covered in blood with a pile of pale corpses in his strong arms.
“I said. ‘NOUGH!” The skin on her fingers starting to burn where she gripped the stone, Koy violently threw the opal away from her. The red stone landed on one of the white fox furs left behind, singing the hide and leaving a dark circle in its wake. Koy shook out her fingers, rubbing the phantom burn and glaring at the opal. The already wasteful and now ruined fur was an added insult to injury. In her mind, Koy could hear what was meant to feel like fiery laughter at her expense, rippling through to the elf’s despair and the opal’s sheer delight.
Co-written with Koyliak
MAAT SLAAG
A Wild Night
Leaves and branches rustled slightly as Jonn and Runt stalked through the foliage. The faint twilight slipped past some of the trees to illuminate a small herd of deer. Jonn lifted up a crossbow, and Runt readied his javelin. To their right, the air shimmered red and a discordant howl started up. Dark pupils peered through the bushes on their left. An unearthly chorus of snarls, growls, and snaps crescendoed on both sides. The deer startled instantly, fleeing into the brush. Dropping bow and javelin Jonn and Runt withdrew their favoured weapons in one fluid motion, turning back-to-back to face the crimson hounds. Runt hefted the wavy Flammenschwert while Jonn gripped the two-handed broadsword he found in the manor. They fought as two brothers born in battle, working together to fight the shadows. As they fought the beasts, crimson riders emerged from the wilds and charged into the fray. “GGRROOOOAAARRRGGHHH!” yelled Runt as he turned to swing the wave-bladed sword through one of the spectres. Mere moments later wisps of red rose into the air like a hellish smoke indicating where each hound and rider was slain. Pride swelled within him, the rune-stone had protected not only him but Jonn as well. The fight was easy, almost too easy.
They spent the better half of the night in the wilds hunting, luring and slaying the crimson shadows of Battlefield Park. Eventually, Jonn suggested they turn to something with more bite and so they went hunting for wargs in the darker reaches of the forest. However, if they ever came upon the crimson spectres they were quickly dispatched. As night turned to day Jonn pointed out they should probably head back to New Haven and get some food. Stating that he had “clan business” to attend to, Runt declined the offer.
While Jonn stomped through the forest back to Rhy’din Runt continued his hunt in the wilds. He spent the morning tracking boars, looking for their footprints and sniffing the air for their distinctive scent. Eventually, he slew six, separating their heads into a large rough-hide sack (one of the two he brought) and skinning them for meat. In the way of his forefathers, he sliced the symbol of challenge into each boar-head. Though the spectres left no remains, the devil-woman would know what he had done.
Jonn's Character used with Player Permission
They spent the better half of the night in the wilds hunting, luring and slaying the crimson shadows of Battlefield Park. Eventually, Jonn suggested they turn to something with more bite and so they went hunting for wargs in the darker reaches of the forest. However, if they ever came upon the crimson spectres they were quickly dispatched. As night turned to day Jonn pointed out they should probably head back to New Haven and get some food. Stating that he had “clan business” to attend to, Runt declined the offer.
While Jonn stomped through the forest back to Rhy’din Runt continued his hunt in the wilds. He spent the morning tracking boars, looking for their footprints and sniffing the air for their distinctive scent. Eventually, he slew six, separating their heads into a large rough-hide sack (one of the two he brought) and skinning them for meat. In the way of his forefathers, he sliced the symbol of challenge into each boar-head. Though the spectres left no remains, the devil-woman would know what he had done.
Jonn's Character used with Player Permission
MAAT SLAAG
DE NAKED BRAWL
Runt lumbered out of the pit, crawling up the side. Figuring Koy didn't want the new clothes to get dirty from all this mud he stayed in the nude and just picked up his large sack where he had stuffed the vest and pants. He picked up the three axe-headed-mace and stretched, shaking off some mud from his beard. Allowing the rest of it to dry he proudly marched off towards the city to tell Clan Sih-mon of his victory. He sang on the way out. "DE VICTOOORRYYY! VICTOORRYY! VICTOOORYY ZO DE MAAT SLAAAG!"
Despite the near lateness of the hour, he sang all the way to the Clan Sih-mon home, his low bass ringing through the streets - if slightly offkey. When the Simon's opened their door Runt puffed out his chest all pride and glory. "RUNT FIGHT IN DE GREAT BRAWL! RUNT DE SECOND VICTOR!" As he stood on their porch, dried mud flaked off his naked body.
"DE BLU-'AIR 'UN-VAN DAT NOT BE TRIXIE FAE SAID RUNT GET TO MAKE GREAT CHALLENGE!"
Despite the near lateness of the hour, he sang all the way to the Clan Sih-mon home, his low bass ringing through the streets - if slightly offkey. When the Simon's opened their door Runt puffed out his chest all pride and glory. "RUNT FIGHT IN DE GREAT BRAWL! RUNT DE SECOND VICTOR!" As he stood on their porch, dried mud flaked off his naked body.
"DE BLU-'AIR 'UN-VAN DAT NOT BE TRIXIE FAE SAID RUNT GET TO MAKE GREAT CHALLENGE!"
MAAT SLAAG
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