The Sidhe guards studied this curious visitor a moment. The Heiress had many odd associates, but this one definitely took the cake in terms of just being a bit ‘off’. “The Heiress is not currently within, but we were told you would possibly come with information that must be sent on to her right away.”
The great mithril gate opens to admit Rab into the private property side of the basalt wall, and once inside the gates, a look down the long driveway gives him a glimpse of the white albite house perched atop a hill. It glistened and glittered in the sunlight, looking more like a dream or mirage than a solid structure.
The Sidhe guard offers Rab a cool drink, and offers to take the parchment from him. “You would wait for a reply?” Pale blue, nearly silver eyes study Rab a moment as he prepares to send the parchment off to the Sorceress.
The parchment was laid atop a black tanzanite rune and vanished the moment it settled in place.
Matlal and the Eldarie
Moderator: Tasslehofl Momus
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
The parchment solidified on Matlal, and a small blue dragon picked it up and took it to the construction site, handing it over to Garl, the construction site leader. The big silver spread the parchment open and studied the figures scrawled on the back of the drawing. The numbers closely corresponded to what he had roughly estimated.
The time required troubled the Silver. The outer structure would be complete in the next 4 weeks, and then they could begin on the inside, but according to the scrawled figures from this Rab, it would be months before he could be ready.
Garl frowned. He hated leaving the islands. He’d come here a long, long time ago to get away from the persecution and suspicion of the outside world. He hated the outside world, but with the elven woman gone, he was in charge of the construction. And months, well, that just did not fit into the plans.
The dragon considered shifting into human form, and decided against it. He would go in his own form to meet this Rab person. He thanked the little blue and told her that he would return shortly before Garl stepped onto the rune, and found himself standing partly inside, partly outside a guard house in RhyDin.
He backed slowly out of the stone structure, as bits of stone fell onto the ground. “Still have this Rab fellow here?”
The time required troubled the Silver. The outer structure would be complete in the next 4 weeks, and then they could begin on the inside, but according to the scrawled figures from this Rab, it would be months before he could be ready.
Garl frowned. He hated leaving the islands. He’d come here a long, long time ago to get away from the persecution and suspicion of the outside world. He hated the outside world, but with the elven woman gone, he was in charge of the construction. And months, well, that just did not fit into the plans.
The dragon considered shifting into human form, and decided against it. He would go in his own form to meet this Rab person. He thanked the little blue and told her that he would return shortly before Garl stepped onto the rune, and found himself standing partly inside, partly outside a guard house in RhyDin.
He backed slowly out of the stone structure, as bits of stone fell onto the ground. “Still have this Rab fellow here?”
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
SOMETHIN GOES FSSST.
They let me wait inside the gate, as someone needs to lookit the figures I sent. The court isn’t stoned, but like a bit of forest clearing, with trees that go up and out over the walls. There’s one that’s all white, like nothing I’ve seen. Very pretty. I turn back to the guard-men to ask bout the white tree, and can see through the open door that they’ve put the plans on a block of stone. So I change me question to concern what they’re doin when FSSST! The plans are gone. Jest like that.
I jest about fall over. I’d no ideer that Alais was a Magiker, or that I’d be mixin with Magickers. Course, dunno what difference it makes, as I’ve got to be mixin with dragons, and they’re bout as Magickal as yeh can get. But once the plans are gone, I can see the runey-marks on the stone block. “Hey!” says I “Where’d the plans go; they're for Alais!”
But they’re deef or dumb or aloofy, and don’t answer. I get a bit closer to the gatehouse, better to see what’s what. The men’re mutterin and ignorin, and I’ve jest bout got me head in the doorway when FSSST!
Oh be joyful, there’s a Large Creature. Right. In. Front. Of. Meself.
The whole of the gatehouse is gone, jest a shiny, silvery, enormous something. Parts of the gatehouse hit the ground all round me, and now I’ve wet me trousers. A rumbly roary noise and hot air and the thing moves – head and neck and some great flappy-thing behind – and that’s all I make out.
I run.
Dunno how I got the gate’s lockbar up so quick, or got past the creature’s pointy bits. Not quite even sure where I am now, but thankee to me poor, six-foot-down mother for the lesson of turnin tail on anythin bigger’n meself that looks to be in Poor Humor.
There’s folk walkin round past me on the street, looking at me oddlike, but that’s nothing new. I get meself a biscuit from a bloke and his biscuit cart and squat down by a house to have a bite and a think-about. Near’s I can gather, that gatehouse either turned into a Creature, or the gateman turned into one. I try an remember bout what I did in the court to make such a thing happen – I mean, all’s I did was admire the trees and spy that white tree. Surely that weren’t it. I mean, why’d the gateman invite me in if he’d be on his way to becoming a Creature? Why not do it while I was outside and save me the trouble of getting the gate open, and save himself the trouble of … well, I dunno. Breakin his gatehouse.
Now, if it was the gatehouse that became the Creature, that’s a bit more bothersome. I chew some more, and squint up at the shops, houses and Rhydin walls all round me. If’n a gatehouse can become a Creatures of Pretty Good Size, there’s … I choke on me biscuit a bit … there’s no telling what these other … Quite Large buildings … could become. Jest the thought of it makes me a bit sweaty and the biscuit’s not feelin so good in my gullet.
Now I’m not daft. Not addled. Not ill, not dim, not dumb, not even slow. Well. But the point is that, Village Idiot or not (a part time bit of fun, not a full-on thing, mind yeh) I know that buildings do not become Creatures (of any size). Howevermore, I have been in the vacintinary of Magikers, and know that they can do many things which would make me run. Thusly, I finish my biscuit without more coughing and decide that Rhydin cannot be all Creatures pretending to be buildings, as there’d be more people running. So, it must be jest some buildings, who perhaps are pets for Magikers.
Finelike. So. If all’s good with the rest of Rhydin, how’s meself to get to talking with Alais when her gatehouse Creature is in Poor Humor? I get meself another biscuit. and ponderificate some more.
They let me wait inside the gate, as someone needs to lookit the figures I sent. The court isn’t stoned, but like a bit of forest clearing, with trees that go up and out over the walls. There’s one that’s all white, like nothing I’ve seen. Very pretty. I turn back to the guard-men to ask bout the white tree, and can see through the open door that they’ve put the plans on a block of stone. So I change me question to concern what they’re doin when FSSST! The plans are gone. Jest like that.
I jest about fall over. I’d no ideer that Alais was a Magiker, or that I’d be mixin with Magickers. Course, dunno what difference it makes, as I’ve got to be mixin with dragons, and they’re bout as Magickal as yeh can get. But once the plans are gone, I can see the runey-marks on the stone block. “Hey!” says I “Where’d the plans go; they're for Alais!”
But they’re deef or dumb or aloofy, and don’t answer. I get a bit closer to the gatehouse, better to see what’s what. The men’re mutterin and ignorin, and I’ve jest bout got me head in the doorway when FSSST!
Oh be joyful, there’s a Large Creature. Right. In. Front. Of. Meself.
The whole of the gatehouse is gone, jest a shiny, silvery, enormous something. Parts of the gatehouse hit the ground all round me, and now I’ve wet me trousers. A rumbly roary noise and hot air and the thing moves – head and neck and some great flappy-thing behind – and that’s all I make out.
I run.
Dunno how I got the gate’s lockbar up so quick, or got past the creature’s pointy bits. Not quite even sure where I am now, but thankee to me poor, six-foot-down mother for the lesson of turnin tail on anythin bigger’n meself that looks to be in Poor Humor.
There’s folk walkin round past me on the street, looking at me oddlike, but that’s nothing new. I get meself a biscuit from a bloke and his biscuit cart and squat down by a house to have a bite and a think-about. Near’s I can gather, that gatehouse either turned into a Creature, or the gateman turned into one. I try an remember bout what I did in the court to make such a thing happen – I mean, all’s I did was admire the trees and spy that white tree. Surely that weren’t it. I mean, why’d the gateman invite me in if he’d be on his way to becoming a Creature? Why not do it while I was outside and save me the trouble of getting the gate open, and save himself the trouble of … well, I dunno. Breakin his gatehouse.
Now, if it was the gatehouse that became the Creature, that’s a bit more bothersome. I chew some more, and squint up at the shops, houses and Rhydin walls all round me. If’n a gatehouse can become a Creatures of Pretty Good Size, there’s … I choke on me biscuit a bit … there’s no telling what these other … Quite Large buildings … could become. Jest the thought of it makes me a bit sweaty and the biscuit’s not feelin so good in my gullet.
Now I’m not daft. Not addled. Not ill, not dim, not dumb, not even slow. Well. But the point is that, Village Idiot or not (a part time bit of fun, not a full-on thing, mind yeh) I know that buildings do not become Creatures (of any size). Howevermore, I have been in the vacintinary of Magikers, and know that they can do many things which would make me run. Thusly, I finish my biscuit without more coughing and decide that Rhydin cannot be all Creatures pretending to be buildings, as there’d be more people running. So, it must be jest some buildings, who perhaps are pets for Magikers.
Finelike. So. If all’s good with the rest of Rhydin, how’s meself to get to talking with Alais when her gatehouse Creature is in Poor Humor? I get meself another biscuit. and ponderificate some more.
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
Garl materialized partly inside the gatehouse, and partly outside the stone structure. The stone cracked and crumbled around the door way where his neck and shoulders were crammed together in a much too small space. He growled at the tight fit and slowly began to back out of the small structure. His tail lashed against the green basalt stone of the wall, eliciting another growl from the large silver.
The Sidhe guards had all vacated the room when Garl first appeared, they recognized a dragon’s head when they saw one, and this one was clearly in ill humor. They were not terrified per se, but a healthy dose of respect was clearly in order. Since the Heiress had moved to Matlal, her relationships had taken on a decidedly larger than life aspect.
Garl shook off the dust and debris from the structure and lowered his head to look at the guards, “This Rab fellow still here?”
They looked around quickly, just in time to see him disappearing around the corner and down the street. “It looks like he’s discovered that he needs to be elsewhere milord.”
Garl lifted his head above the wall, in the direction they had indicated, just in time to see the man hastily putting as much distance between them as possible. He heaved a sigh. This was going to be even worse than he’d thought. Now he would have to go hunt down this Rab somewhere inside the city.
He could not very well go wandering the streets of RhyDin in his current form, and with a growl he shifted into a more human like appearance, although he did not bother to change his eyes nor his silvery scaled skin. Fine. If he had to hunt this Rab fellow through the streets, he would do just that.
He gave the guards a nod and headed through the gate in the direction the man had taken.
Both Sidhe glanced at one the other simultaneously, heartily glad it was not one of them that Garl had come for. The tall, humanoid took off at a ground covering trot after the odd man who’d come with the projected requirements.
He found himself in the center of RhyDin, and noted several people staring behind them as if they’d just seen something very odd, and then he stopped a local vendor of what appeared to be biscuits and asked if he had seen a rather addled man pass through here, a carpenter sort, and described the clothes he’d glimpsed as the man had fled earlier.
The vendor nodded, “yup, bought one of my biscuits and took off with it nibbling and muttering as he did so. Why? You looking for him?”
Garl raised a brow ridge. “Of course I am. I need to discuss a project with him. Any idea where he went?”
The vendor pointed to a house across the square where the silver spotted his quarry nibbling on a biscuit. He thanked the vendor and began to cross the square in the direction of the house and the one called Rab.
The Sidhe guards had all vacated the room when Garl first appeared, they recognized a dragon’s head when they saw one, and this one was clearly in ill humor. They were not terrified per se, but a healthy dose of respect was clearly in order. Since the Heiress had moved to Matlal, her relationships had taken on a decidedly larger than life aspect.
Garl shook off the dust and debris from the structure and lowered his head to look at the guards, “This Rab fellow still here?”
They looked around quickly, just in time to see him disappearing around the corner and down the street. “It looks like he’s discovered that he needs to be elsewhere milord.”
Garl lifted his head above the wall, in the direction they had indicated, just in time to see the man hastily putting as much distance between them as possible. He heaved a sigh. This was going to be even worse than he’d thought. Now he would have to go hunt down this Rab somewhere inside the city.
He could not very well go wandering the streets of RhyDin in his current form, and with a growl he shifted into a more human like appearance, although he did not bother to change his eyes nor his silvery scaled skin. Fine. If he had to hunt this Rab fellow through the streets, he would do just that.
He gave the guards a nod and headed through the gate in the direction the man had taken.
Both Sidhe glanced at one the other simultaneously, heartily glad it was not one of them that Garl had come for. The tall, humanoid took off at a ground covering trot after the odd man who’d come with the projected requirements.
He found himself in the center of RhyDin, and noted several people staring behind them as if they’d just seen something very odd, and then he stopped a local vendor of what appeared to be biscuits and asked if he had seen a rather addled man pass through here, a carpenter sort, and described the clothes he’d glimpsed as the man had fled earlier.
The vendor nodded, “yup, bought one of my biscuits and took off with it nibbling and muttering as he did so. Why? You looking for him?”
Garl raised a brow ridge. “Of course I am. I need to discuss a project with him. Any idea where he went?”
The vendor pointed to a house across the square where the silver spotted his quarry nibbling on a biscuit. He thanked the vendor and began to cross the square in the direction of the house and the one called Rab.
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
SOME MORE FLEEIN AND SOME CHATTIN AND WAITIN
I can hear someone (someone small, not a Creature) at the biscuit stand, askin after me, and I foothot it down one alley and another and lose meself completely. After dark I find my way back to the parcel before recallin that I never spoke to Alais.
It’s Thursday before I see her, in the Arena. She’s got sniffles and sneezers and such, but tells me bout someone lookin for meself. Turns out it’s Gath – a dragon name that seems more like getting nastiness outta yer throat – who was the Creature at the gatehouse, and he didn’t so much used to be the gatehouse or the gateman, but instead he came through the runey-stone. And he’s in charge of buildin Alais’s buildin. So that’s all pretty … educational. Not sure it’s worth a ruined a pair of undershorts, but so it goes.
Dancy, the annoyin goblin, is shimmyin round the front door, shakin flowers at Weedy and Mug, who giggle like ijits. Spoiler’s way off in the dark somewhere, throwin cow pies at Dancy every now and again. His aim is still piss poor. “Right, yeh bleeders. Lookie here.” The goblins slow down to some regular pokin and proddin and pinchin. Spoiler hits me in the ear with a cowpie, which I can ignore for a bit, jest to not give him the satisfaction. Can hear him cacklin out there in the dark though.
“Lookit. There’s gonna be … someone by sometime soon. A … visitor-like.” Another cowpie sails paste and knocks Dancy off the stoop. Mug and Weedy choke they’re laughin so hard. “Shurrup! It’s gonna be a Dragon.”
Silence.
Dancy starts into her whingin, which makes the others mewl and clutch each other. Spoiler sends another pie bouncin off the stoop. “Ah and yeh best be warned before yer wee little hearts go ‘pow!’ when it flies down right in front of yeh.” And now they’re gone. Not a one. It makes me grin a bit, but thinkin bout some great silvery shiny Dragon settin down atop me shack makes me not-so-smiley, and I get a look at the moon. It’s half-past, which is good for cucumbers (if’n they’re planted, which they’re not) and good for cows carryin calves, but particle-lickularly poor for spottin Dragons. I see nothin, smell nothin, but suspect me balls won’t drop again til that thing shows up and we get this over with. Egad.
I can hear someone (someone small, not a Creature) at the biscuit stand, askin after me, and I foothot it down one alley and another and lose meself completely. After dark I find my way back to the parcel before recallin that I never spoke to Alais.
It’s Thursday before I see her, in the Arena. She’s got sniffles and sneezers and such, but tells me bout someone lookin for meself. Turns out it’s Gath – a dragon name that seems more like getting nastiness outta yer throat – who was the Creature at the gatehouse, and he didn’t so much used to be the gatehouse or the gateman, but instead he came through the runey-stone. And he’s in charge of buildin Alais’s buildin. So that’s all pretty … educational. Not sure it’s worth a ruined a pair of undershorts, but so it goes.
Dancy, the annoyin goblin, is shimmyin round the front door, shakin flowers at Weedy and Mug, who giggle like ijits. Spoiler’s way off in the dark somewhere, throwin cow pies at Dancy every now and again. His aim is still piss poor. “Right, yeh bleeders. Lookie here.” The goblins slow down to some regular pokin and proddin and pinchin. Spoiler hits me in the ear with a cowpie, which I can ignore for a bit, jest to not give him the satisfaction. Can hear him cacklin out there in the dark though.
“Lookit. There’s gonna be … someone by sometime soon. A … visitor-like.” Another cowpie sails paste and knocks Dancy off the stoop. Mug and Weedy choke they’re laughin so hard. “Shurrup! It’s gonna be a Dragon.”
Silence.
Dancy starts into her whingin, which makes the others mewl and clutch each other. Spoiler sends another pie bouncin off the stoop. “Ah and yeh best be warned before yer wee little hearts go ‘pow!’ when it flies down right in front of yeh.” And now they’re gone. Not a one. It makes me grin a bit, but thinkin bout some great silvery shiny Dragon settin down atop me shack makes me not-so-smiley, and I get a look at the moon. It’s half-past, which is good for cucumbers (if’n they’re planted, which they’re not) and good for cows carryin calves, but particle-lickularly poor for spottin Dragons. I see nothin, smell nothin, but suspect me balls won’t drop again til that thing shows up and we get this over with. Egad.
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
The quarry was a slippery one, for a carpenter sort, he had the elusive skills of quicksilver.
Garl was growing short tempered with having to hunt his quarry down; and the noise and press of the world of humans was troublesome. He caught fleeting glimpses of the man as he disappeared into a series of alleys, and Garl did not want to take wing to search for this Rab, it would draw even more attention than his current form did. He followed on foot, but Rab had the advantage in knowing the city where Garl did not. As dusk settled, Rab was no where to be seen.
The next couple of days proved fruitless in seeking the carpenter, and at length, Garl began to ask around. He hated interacting with the local populace, but there can’t be all that many carpenters named Rab in the city, and sooner or later, someone would know where the wretch lived.
Some looked at him in suspicion and moved away without saying anything, others quickly looked away and mumbled that they didn’t know the one he sought. After the eighth or ninth try, Garl snarled at a well dressed passerby, who blinked at the silver scaled creature with dragon eyes, in a humanoid form. The creature was soft spoken, but intelligible, “There is a Rab that lives in a dilapidated shack on the outskirts of town. Just on the edge of the city, with a bit of a garden plot, and some troublesome goblins.” With that, he quickly vanished into the melee of people that frequented the town square.
Garl waited until night fall before shifting into his true form, and the black sky above RhyDin played host to the silver winged form of a great dragon. Garl did nothing to mask the dragon fear his kind caused, and the night dwellers of RhyDin who were under his flight path felt the full power of unmasked dragon presence. Garl did not care. He needed to find this Rab and convince him to work more quickly.
After several circles around the perimeter of the city, Garl spotted a shack that fit the description, including several goblins tossing something disgusting around in the night. “Why goblins?” muttered the dragon as he looked for a likely place to land where he could make certain the man would not escape him again.
There was a garden patch that was partially tended, but held some weeds along with the vegetables, it would have to do. The great silver landed with a flap of silver limned wings in the waning moonlight, digging his talons into the tilled ground as he folded his wings. He lowered his head and snaked it toward the door of the shack, narrowing his eyes as he did so.
There was the squeak of goblins vanishing into the night as he called the carpenter by name. “Rab!”
Garl was growing short tempered with having to hunt his quarry down; and the noise and press of the world of humans was troublesome. He caught fleeting glimpses of the man as he disappeared into a series of alleys, and Garl did not want to take wing to search for this Rab, it would draw even more attention than his current form did. He followed on foot, but Rab had the advantage in knowing the city where Garl did not. As dusk settled, Rab was no where to be seen.
The next couple of days proved fruitless in seeking the carpenter, and at length, Garl began to ask around. He hated interacting with the local populace, but there can’t be all that many carpenters named Rab in the city, and sooner or later, someone would know where the wretch lived.
Some looked at him in suspicion and moved away without saying anything, others quickly looked away and mumbled that they didn’t know the one he sought. After the eighth or ninth try, Garl snarled at a well dressed passerby, who blinked at the silver scaled creature with dragon eyes, in a humanoid form. The creature was soft spoken, but intelligible, “There is a Rab that lives in a dilapidated shack on the outskirts of town. Just on the edge of the city, with a bit of a garden plot, and some troublesome goblins.” With that, he quickly vanished into the melee of people that frequented the town square.
Garl waited until night fall before shifting into his true form, and the black sky above RhyDin played host to the silver winged form of a great dragon. Garl did nothing to mask the dragon fear his kind caused, and the night dwellers of RhyDin who were under his flight path felt the full power of unmasked dragon presence. Garl did not care. He needed to find this Rab and convince him to work more quickly.
After several circles around the perimeter of the city, Garl spotted a shack that fit the description, including several goblins tossing something disgusting around in the night. “Why goblins?” muttered the dragon as he looked for a likely place to land where he could make certain the man would not escape him again.
There was a garden patch that was partially tended, but held some weeds along with the vegetables, it would have to do. The great silver landed with a flap of silver limned wings in the waning moonlight, digging his talons into the tilled ground as he folded his wings. He lowered his head and snaked it toward the door of the shack, narrowing his eyes as he did so.
There was the squeak of goblins vanishing into the night as he called the carpenter by name. “Rab!”
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
GARLTH
And no sooner’d I nod goodnight to the half-moon than it winks out altogether. Odd. Takes a tick or two before I make sense of it, and then it’s plain as no knickers in the daylight – somethin … Large … jest flew across the sky. Then there’s a silvery moonlighty shine and a grumble that makes the shack rattle, and makes the goblins inside squeal, and makes me guts feel like I swallowed a keystone. “Oh shite.”
Next I know, I’m on me backside in the tomato bed. Dunno where me mallet is. Dunno what this Garlthy dragon wants, but there he be, standin over me like a castle tower. Wings like tents. Head like … head’s hard to focus on … cause it’s movin closer and closer. My eyes water and there’s somethin goin on that makes me throat tiny, makes me ears ring. I can’t sit up. Tis though he’s got all himself settin on me, though, I’d be stone dead if’n that were true. Clear me throat but it takes a score of tries before there’s wet in me mouth again.
“Eh. Eh. Hullo. Eh. I’m Rab. Er. Yer Garlth then, eh?”
And no sooner’d I nod goodnight to the half-moon than it winks out altogether. Odd. Takes a tick or two before I make sense of it, and then it’s plain as no knickers in the daylight – somethin … Large … jest flew across the sky. Then there’s a silvery moonlighty shine and a grumble that makes the shack rattle, and makes the goblins inside squeal, and makes me guts feel like I swallowed a keystone. “Oh shite.”
Next I know, I’m on me backside in the tomato bed. Dunno where me mallet is. Dunno what this Garlthy dragon wants, but there he be, standin over me like a castle tower. Wings like tents. Head like … head’s hard to focus on … cause it’s movin closer and closer. My eyes water and there’s somethin goin on that makes me throat tiny, makes me ears ring. I can’t sit up. Tis though he’s got all himself settin on me, though, I’d be stone dead if’n that were true. Clear me throat but it takes a score of tries before there’s wet in me mouth again.
“Eh. Eh. Hullo. Eh. I’m Rab. Er. Yer Garlth then, eh?”
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
The big silver lowered his head right into the carpenter's face. "You are Rab? The one who sent the estimate for Lady Nitesong's project?"
He folded his wings then. "Your estimates take much too long. What do you require to shorten the timing involved?"
While Garl 'could' have shifted and made Rab a little less nervous, he did not. He stood there in Rab's garden patch casting very long shadows.
"And when you've finished explaining that, would you like to tell me why you took off like a scared rabbit before I could ask you at the Lady's home? Chasing you around this city has not been to my liking." The dragon gave Rab an expectant look as he made himself comfortable in the garden patch, heedless of the tomatoes that used to grow there.
He folded his wings then. "Your estimates take much too long. What do you require to shorten the timing involved?"
While Garl 'could' have shifted and made Rab a little less nervous, he did not. He stood there in Rab's garden patch casting very long shadows.
"And when you've finished explaining that, would you like to tell me why you took off like a scared rabbit before I could ask you at the Lady's home? Chasing you around this city has not been to my liking." The dragon gave Rab an expectant look as he made himself comfortable in the garden patch, heedless of the tomatoes that used to grow there.
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
EXPLAININ
Dragon speech don’t quite go into yer ear as much as it … goes through yer skull. Hot smell of somethin meltin is all over me like water. His head is bigger’n me. And he’s Irritated. Egad. I spend a good minute keepin some solid control on me bladder so’s I can wear these trousers again tomorrow.
“Er. Hunnerd foot beams, five foot thick? Take a half day jest to get one tree down.” I get it out in all a breath, then breathe in that smell, and every drop of water in me is gone. The silvery head remains. The eyes don’t blink.
“Ech. Mahogany’s harder’n stone, nearly. Get a team of ten men round the trunk and still hours of work.” No response from the head. Still waitin for … a good reason, I’m guessin. Though they’re all good so far.
“Tree comes down, strip the branches and ready for the mill. Long day’s work to take a tree that’s old as the seasons.” Nothin. I get to feelin a bit better in the head, and sit up some. Leastwise, Garthl isn’t … bellowin at me. I think me brain works better without that.
“And yer mills aren’t even started yet. It’ll be a day each sawin down a trunk that’s ten foot around to a king beam and some jack beams … course, some call em collars and purlins, but that’s of no sense at all to me, seein’s how …” Glarth’s head moves jest a bit and a push of air comes out his nostrils. So I move on.
“But lookee here, half-day to timber them trees and then what – if’n yerself and yer … friends are to be haulin the trees to the island, that’s. Well. Hmm. I dunno. Guess it’s bout how many friends yeh got and, er, how musclely yeh all are…”
“Look, what’d I be slowin yeh down for? What good’s it do me? These’re big, big beams and trees, with a long way to go and a … stupidifyin amount of work to do on each. I mean, I’ve not even seen yer foundations yet. What if’n we need more beams?” The thought of that jest pulls all the rest of the backbone outta me, and I lay down with the tomatoes. “More beams. Yer killin me.”
Dragon speech don’t quite go into yer ear as much as it … goes through yer skull. Hot smell of somethin meltin is all over me like water. His head is bigger’n me. And he’s Irritated. Egad. I spend a good minute keepin some solid control on me bladder so’s I can wear these trousers again tomorrow.
“Er. Hunnerd foot beams, five foot thick? Take a half day jest to get one tree down.” I get it out in all a breath, then breathe in that smell, and every drop of water in me is gone. The silvery head remains. The eyes don’t blink.
“Ech. Mahogany’s harder’n stone, nearly. Get a team of ten men round the trunk and still hours of work.” No response from the head. Still waitin for … a good reason, I’m guessin. Though they’re all good so far.
“Tree comes down, strip the branches and ready for the mill. Long day’s work to take a tree that’s old as the seasons.” Nothin. I get to feelin a bit better in the head, and sit up some. Leastwise, Garthl isn’t … bellowin at me. I think me brain works better without that.
“And yer mills aren’t even started yet. It’ll be a day each sawin down a trunk that’s ten foot around to a king beam and some jack beams … course, some call em collars and purlins, but that’s of no sense at all to me, seein’s how …” Glarth’s head moves jest a bit and a push of air comes out his nostrils. So I move on.
“But lookee here, half-day to timber them trees and then what – if’n yerself and yer … friends are to be haulin the trees to the island, that’s. Well. Hmm. I dunno. Guess it’s bout how many friends yeh got and, er, how musclely yeh all are…”
“Look, what’d I be slowin yeh down for? What good’s it do me? These’re big, big beams and trees, with a long way to go and a … stupidifyin amount of work to do on each. I mean, I’ve not even seen yer foundations yet. What if’n we need more beams?” The thought of that jest pulls all the rest of the backbone outta me, and I lay down with the tomatoes. “More beams. Yer killin me.”
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
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Garl stood over the man as he wavered there in the garden. Garl frowned darkly as the man's knees rattled together loud enough to wake the bears from hibernation. Finally he found his voice and began his list of excuses for the excessive amount of time he owuld need. Garl kept his head right in front of Rab, reptilian eyes never blinking, never wavering from the man's features.
He cites the size of the trees, the toughness of the wood, and in the end, it came down to the slowness of men's work. Garl snorted.
Then the man began to question dragons and their abilities.... and Garl's temper was waning. "if’n yerself and yer … friends are to be haulin the trees to the island, that’s. Well. Hmm. I dunno. Guess it’s bout how many friends yeh got and, er, how musclely yeh all are…”
That was enough for Garl, to have anyone question the strength and power of the dragons was an affront that could not remain unaddressed. He narrowed his eyes at Rab. So you haven't seen the building yet? You think you might need more beams?"
The man collapsed into the tomatoes about then with a wimper, "yer killin' me."
Garl lifted his head to his full height above the man. "I have not yet begun to kill you, but if you desire to see the construction site, then let us be off." And with that, a taloned foot hovered above Rab, prepared to grab him up and fly away with him.
"Questioning a dragon's strength is not an auspicious start Carpenter. But I will show you what you need to see." A chill mist swirled around them.
He cites the size of the trees, the toughness of the wood, and in the end, it came down to the slowness of men's work. Garl snorted.
Then the man began to question dragons and their abilities.... and Garl's temper was waning. "if’n yerself and yer … friends are to be haulin the trees to the island, that’s. Well. Hmm. I dunno. Guess it’s bout how many friends yeh got and, er, how musclely yeh all are…”
That was enough for Garl, to have anyone question the strength and power of the dragons was an affront that could not remain unaddressed. He narrowed his eyes at Rab. So you haven't seen the building yet? You think you might need more beams?"
The man collapsed into the tomatoes about then with a wimper, "yer killin' me."
Garl lifted his head to his full height above the man. "I have not yet begun to kill you, but if you desire to see the construction site, then let us be off." And with that, a taloned foot hovered above Rab, prepared to grab him up and fly away with him.
"Questioning a dragon's strength is not an auspicious start Carpenter. But I will show you what you need to see." A chill mist swirled around them.
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
MORE MESS
Great huge clawfoot over me. And I’ve gotten the dragon Out of Sorts now. Brilliant. “I’d not question yer … mightiness, really … jest that …” I stop talkin a so’s I can try and crawl backwards a bit, away from that claw. Realize now, as I sit up, that he’s said somethin I missed. “Did yeh say … ‘let us be off’? Er.”
Then with a howl and a bang that rattles the very last of me poor nerves, shutters fly apart on me shack, and open-mouthed goblins come sailin out the window to land on the dragon’s claw over me head. They cling and chew and wail, and I can see from their eyeballs that they’re terryfied but here nonetheneverless. That’s me critters.
But the claw swoops jest the same and grabs me by the torso like a twig. Me wind’s gone and I can’t move a finger as Gartherel yanks me up. Good great hoptoads, here we go.
Great huge clawfoot over me. And I’ve gotten the dragon Out of Sorts now. Brilliant. “I’d not question yer … mightiness, really … jest that …” I stop talkin a so’s I can try and crawl backwards a bit, away from that claw. Realize now, as I sit up, that he’s said somethin I missed. “Did yeh say … ‘let us be off’? Er.”
Then with a howl and a bang that rattles the very last of me poor nerves, shutters fly apart on me shack, and open-mouthed goblins come sailin out the window to land on the dragon’s claw over me head. They cling and chew and wail, and I can see from their eyeballs that they’re terryfied but here nonetheneverless. That’s me critters.
But the claw swoops jest the same and grabs me by the torso like a twig. Me wind’s gone and I can’t move a finger as Gartherel yanks me up. Good great hoptoads, here we go.
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
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The howling charge of screeching and yammering goblins met Garl’s ears, and he was leaped upon by the mass of yeowling vermin. Garl groaned. Why? Why did he come here for this??
The taloned limb curled around the carpenter as the chill mist swirled into icy fog and the garden patch vanished from view. Great wings spread above the carpenter and those goblins still clinging to the silver’s leg. The rhythmic beat of the wings had a distinct up-down cadence as the carpenter and goblins were flown into the icy fog.
Moments later, the fog cleared and they were out over a great body of water. The waves rippled off as far as could be seen in the night as moonlight and starlight were the only illumination that could be seen. Garl snarled at the goblins that were still yammering and biting at him. “Keep it up and I’ll drop you into the sea!”
A dark shape began to loom in the night, waves could be seen breaking upon a black sandy shore as a series of islands began to resolve in the darkness. The big silver’s flight altered toward one of the larger islands rising from the white foam. It had the look of several volcanic peaks that formed a good sized land mass. In all, there are three large islands, and uncountable smaller ones.
Garl lands on a flattened plateau that overlooks the sea, and the largest of the islands. “Welcome to Matlal Carpenter. This is your building site.” He deposited the man and his goblins near the large foundation stone that formed the power base for the Sorceress here in the islands.
Behind him rose a stone structure that rose into the night nearly 40 meters high in graceful arches and domes, with towers rising beside the main structure, but those were not yet complete.
The sky began to lighten to palest shades of grey in the pre-dawn.
The taloned limb curled around the carpenter as the chill mist swirled into icy fog and the garden patch vanished from view. Great wings spread above the carpenter and those goblins still clinging to the silver’s leg. The rhythmic beat of the wings had a distinct up-down cadence as the carpenter and goblins were flown into the icy fog.
Moments later, the fog cleared and they were out over a great body of water. The waves rippled off as far as could be seen in the night as moonlight and starlight were the only illumination that could be seen. Garl snarled at the goblins that were still yammering and biting at him. “Keep it up and I’ll drop you into the sea!”
A dark shape began to loom in the night, waves could be seen breaking upon a black sandy shore as a series of islands began to resolve in the darkness. The big silver’s flight altered toward one of the larger islands rising from the white foam. It had the look of several volcanic peaks that formed a good sized land mass. In all, there are three large islands, and uncountable smaller ones.
Garl lands on a flattened plateau that overlooks the sea, and the largest of the islands. “Welcome to Matlal Carpenter. This is your building site.” He deposited the man and his goblins near the large foundation stone that formed the power base for the Sorceress here in the islands.
Behind him rose a stone structure that rose into the night nearly 40 meters high in graceful arches and domes, with towers rising beside the main structure, but those were not yet complete.
The sky began to lighten to palest shades of grey in the pre-dawn.
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
FLOWN
I can see the foundations from where I’m lyin on the ground, but I dinna care. Me ribs ache and me head’s still swingin round and up and down from the dragon’s flyin bit. There’s naugh in me belly, neither. A cruel way to travel, flyin. Not suitablelike for carpenters, nohow.
The dragon flicks the goblins away from him, like when yeh got a burr stuck to yerself. The goblins stagger round a bit and trip over me legs and arms and lay where they fall, groanin and gurglin and generally not-so-pleased-soundin with their decisions of late. Someone deposits somethin wet and warm on me shirt, but I’m not ready to sit up yet to see to it.
Egad. Some honor all this is, eh.
The foundation is all stone, course. High-reachin, broad-runnin. The stones themselves are bigger’n meself, it looks, and no scaffoldings, so I’m supposin that the dragons are not jest Frighteners and Flyers and Incinerators and Beasts of Strength, but also Stonemasons. Well then. Quite the creatures, they are.
Garleleth is still settin near, and I wonder if’n he’s ever not impatientlike. Flickin his tail round and shiftin his gaze on me. I mean, seein’s how old these beasts must be, a few days would be like a tic or two. Not really keen to get his arse hairs all ruffled up at me again though. So, I get meself settin up.
“Well, spose I owe yeh thanks for introducin meself to … vomitin from Way High Up…” His big ol eye blinks at me and can’t say I’ve found a trace of funny in that dragon. “…Yeh. Er. Fine stonework yeh got there. Can I walk round it a bit?”
Goblins roll off me as I get up, slow now, slow. Mug and Weedy hang onto each other. Spoiler blows a raspberry at the dragon, and when Garlth turns his gaze thataway, he eeeps and takes off round behind some rocks. The fool Flowerhead hiccups and lies there, makin ‘oooooo’ sounds at the sky, which does look nice, actuarily. I groan and stretch, me body grumpy at the handlin I’ve had. Look for a path to the site, and squint up at Garethl.
I can see the foundations from where I’m lyin on the ground, but I dinna care. Me ribs ache and me head’s still swingin round and up and down from the dragon’s flyin bit. There’s naugh in me belly, neither. A cruel way to travel, flyin. Not suitablelike for carpenters, nohow.
The dragon flicks the goblins away from him, like when yeh got a burr stuck to yerself. The goblins stagger round a bit and trip over me legs and arms and lay where they fall, groanin and gurglin and generally not-so-pleased-soundin with their decisions of late. Someone deposits somethin wet and warm on me shirt, but I’m not ready to sit up yet to see to it.
Egad. Some honor all this is, eh.
The foundation is all stone, course. High-reachin, broad-runnin. The stones themselves are bigger’n meself, it looks, and no scaffoldings, so I’m supposin that the dragons are not jest Frighteners and Flyers and Incinerators and Beasts of Strength, but also Stonemasons. Well then. Quite the creatures, they are.
Garleleth is still settin near, and I wonder if’n he’s ever not impatientlike. Flickin his tail round and shiftin his gaze on me. I mean, seein’s how old these beasts must be, a few days would be like a tic or two. Not really keen to get his arse hairs all ruffled up at me again though. So, I get meself settin up.
“Well, spose I owe yeh thanks for introducin meself to … vomitin from Way High Up…” His big ol eye blinks at me and can’t say I’ve found a trace of funny in that dragon. “…Yeh. Er. Fine stonework yeh got there. Can I walk round it a bit?”
Goblins roll off me as I get up, slow now, slow. Mug and Weedy hang onto each other. Spoiler blows a raspberry at the dragon, and when Garlth turns his gaze thataway, he eeeps and takes off round behind some rocks. The fool Flowerhead hiccups and lies there, makin ‘oooooo’ sounds at the sky, which does look nice, actuarily. I groan and stretch, me body grumpy at the handlin I’ve had. Look for a path to the site, and squint up at Garethl.
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Alais d Nitesong
- Expert Adventurer
- Posts: 861
- Joined: Sat May 15, 2004 11:52 am
- Location: Matlal, Riverbend, I' Taurn or Nitesong, depending on time of year
- Contact:
The man looked a bit green around the gills as Garl dropped him onto the only green spot on the entire island. He laid there as though trying to get his stomach and or head to cease spinning.
The pesky goblins were flung about the grass and out of no where a young blue dragon came racing across the ground in hot pursuit of the small critters. They would make tasty snacks, and the blue immediately began chasing the one called Spoiler who had spit a disgusting sound from its mouth, but as Garl turned to give it a threatening look, the blue snagged it as it darted behind a stone.
The blue held up its prize with a triumphant roar, but was quickly deflated when Garl announced that the small crunchy morsel should be returned to Rab. Garl then gave the carpenter a stony look, “keep your pets close here, I will not be responsible for their safety,”
Garl turned then and headed across the leveled plateau toward the construction site as the sun began its climb into the sky, revealing that the only patch of green visible in any direction was where Garl had landed with Rab and his companions. Everything else was laid waste, with nothing living in any direction other than the patch of green in front of the stone edifice. Most of that was simply grass and a few small shrubs, but the salmon foundation stone was different. Around it coiled a large night blooming jasmine vine that was just closing for the day. The fragrance of jasmine wafted in the morning breeze.
The big silver’s steps carried him quickly toward the structure, when Garl paused to look back for Rab. “Where do you desire to begin Master Carpenter?”
The pesky goblins were flung about the grass and out of no where a young blue dragon came racing across the ground in hot pursuit of the small critters. They would make tasty snacks, and the blue immediately began chasing the one called Spoiler who had spit a disgusting sound from its mouth, but as Garl turned to give it a threatening look, the blue snagged it as it darted behind a stone.
The blue held up its prize with a triumphant roar, but was quickly deflated when Garl announced that the small crunchy morsel should be returned to Rab. Garl then gave the carpenter a stony look, “keep your pets close here, I will not be responsible for their safety,”
Garl turned then and headed across the leveled plateau toward the construction site as the sun began its climb into the sky, revealing that the only patch of green visible in any direction was where Garl had landed with Rab and his companions. Everything else was laid waste, with nothing living in any direction other than the patch of green in front of the stone edifice. Most of that was simply grass and a few small shrubs, but the salmon foundation stone was different. Around it coiled a large night blooming jasmine vine that was just closing for the day. The fragrance of jasmine wafted in the morning breeze.
The big silver’s steps carried him quickly toward the structure, when Garl paused to look back for Rab. “Where do you desire to begin Master Carpenter?”
Lady Alais d' Arma Graham d' Nitesong Sidhe
GOBLIN STARKERS
“Watch it, then,” I says to the goblins. “They’re right ready to snack on yer poor selves. Git up here.” Spoiler hustles over, bare-arsed, as he poofed all his hair off when the blue dragon snatched him up. His eyes are big and round and so’s his mouth. The others are so close to me feet that I keep trippin on them. “Fine lot of good yeh all did, comin along like that.” Can’t help but give em a pat on the heads though.
Grarl’s headed off to the works, grumblin and glancin back at me. I hoof it on after him, me long legs no match for his four, and the goblins’ twig legs no match for mine. A string of impatients. The land’s sad, black, barrn. Nary a plant, really, and the stone they’ve laid is the cheeriest thing round. Pinkish.
Master carpenter, eh? Nicest thing the dragon’s said to me. “Er. How’s bout the ground floor, to see where the gates go, and whatever yeh’ve laid for me to set beams on. If’n yeh’ve planned for it with yer stonework…” Follow Garler up as goes onward, shakin the ground each step. One of the goblins peeps every time. I check on em, and they’re eyeballin the sky, where that blue one’s circlin round. Every last one of the bleeders is bare arse naked, with a trail of ratty green hairs markin our path. Leastwise we’ll find our way back, I spose.
“Watch it, then,” I says to the goblins. “They’re right ready to snack on yer poor selves. Git up here.” Spoiler hustles over, bare-arsed, as he poofed all his hair off when the blue dragon snatched him up. His eyes are big and round and so’s his mouth. The others are so close to me feet that I keep trippin on them. “Fine lot of good yeh all did, comin along like that.” Can’t help but give em a pat on the heads though.
Grarl’s headed off to the works, grumblin and glancin back at me. I hoof it on after him, me long legs no match for his four, and the goblins’ twig legs no match for mine. A string of impatients. The land’s sad, black, barrn. Nary a plant, really, and the stone they’ve laid is the cheeriest thing round. Pinkish.
Master carpenter, eh? Nicest thing the dragon’s said to me. “Er. How’s bout the ground floor, to see where the gates go, and whatever yeh’ve laid for me to set beams on. If’n yeh’ve planned for it with yer stonework…” Follow Garler up as goes onward, shakin the ground each step. One of the goblins peeps every time. I check on em, and they’re eyeballin the sky, where that blue one’s circlin round. Every last one of the bleeders is bare arse naked, with a trail of ratty green hairs markin our path. Leastwise we’ll find our way back, I spose.
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