• Hey Trainers! Be sure to check out Corsola Beach, our newest section on the forums, in partnership with our friends at Corsola Cove! At the Beach, you can discuss the competitive side of the games, post your favorite Pokemon memes, and connect with other Pokemon creators!
  • Due to the recent changes with Twitter's API, it is no longer possible for Bulbagarden forum users to login via their Twitter account. If you signed up to Bulbagarden via Twitter and do not have another way to login, please contact us here with your Twitter username so that we can get you sorted.

TEEN: Brium: A World of Tales (Original Anthology) (Story 02 Posted)

Index / Close Encounter
Joined
Jan 29, 2014
Messages
835
Reaction score
244
Hello, dear readers! Due to me taking a creative writing class this semester at college, I am working on short stories as part of my assignments. I am planning on all of these taking place in a new original universe I created, which I call 'Brium'. I will be posting a new story roughly once a week, and they will each be around 4000 words in length. I will delightfully accept any reviews that come through!

The first of my stories is below, and as a disclaimer, they all take place in an original fantasy universe. Few creatures aside from humans already exist in some present form, fictional or nonfictional. Keep that in mind!

  1. Close Encounter (Below)
  2. Old Warriors
  3. Coming May 13
Close Encounter
Many families called the Great Equivosian Forest home—families of all species. The almighty Crescent River flowed through the center of the wood, and along the embankments, many small villages, towns, and even a city at the joining of the Slipclaw and Tremont rivers into the Crescent. Despite these many settlements, some chose to live on their own among the peaceable, if perilous, creatures of the forest, among the emerald leaves of summer, among the scent of garcei flowers, alone with the wind and one with nature.

The sun had just risen over the canopy, and the plump wellings warbled their songs from their mud nests in the creeks. They sang for the delicious grass growing on the field and between the stones of the creek. Others sung for the delectable spix that floated with the glinting Dust that filled the air. And yet other wellings sang for the Dust that settled on and warmed their mud-brown feathers.

Some abruptly quacked and dove under the water at the rush of paws along a riverbank. A pack of quartolf rushed by and howled at the sight of sauntering ajax, and in their pursuit, separated the sunlight into rainbow streams with their crystalline hides. The ajax broke branches from the trees with its enormous antlers as a means of hindering the quartolf and churned up the soil with its sharpened hooves to trip their paws. After minutes of pursuit, a quartolf lunged, the ajax wailed and tumbled. The Quartolf had their meal.

Deep beneath the earth, a golem slumbered still, turning about and shaking the stones above. Peblud skittered away under their mineral shells, afraid of an earthquake squashing their exoskeletons. A net swept across them and scooped them up. They writhed and squirmed to escape the threads, all to no avail. The net swung level with the squinting eyes of a young boy, no more than ten. He scrunched his nose. “Rocks with legs.” He stuck out his tongue. “And Ma wants to make soup out of them.” He hitched the net over his shoulder and paced away from the gravel field and toward a glade beyond the next rows of trees. “Those quartolf are lucky…”

He hiked up his loose-fitting trousers and stuffed the loose coattail of his red shirt into them, then harrumphed and ran toward the trees, narrowly avoiding stepping on the laces trailing on his shoes. He emerged into the glade and hop-skipped over the pond the pet wellings lounged in.

The cabin beyond the lake stood at a single level, with a loft at the top forming a peak. Greenish smoke drifted from the chimney and spread Dust from the concentrated sparkwood across the glade, causing hundreds of garcei blooms to sprout.

The boy hurriedly ran around back to the wooden slat fence and stone groundwork at the back of the cabin. Curled up underneath a low roof was a ball of sleek, black fur, roughly as large as the boy himself.

The boy peeked through the slats and grinned, pulling a peblud out from the net. “Kairus…” he said in a drawn-out way. The fur stirred, and a V-shaped head shot up from it, revealing a pair of black eyes and a pink nose, just above the small mouth and below the floppy, round ears.

The boy tossed the peblud in the air towards the creature, and it shot out from its hiding place, sprawling out it’s full, serpentine length with it’s four short legs. It leaped up and snatched the peblud in the air, catching it between its sharp row of canines.

Kairus curled back up on his tail and crunched the shell in a single bite, then proceeded to slurp down the insides. He crept toward the boy and pressed his nose against the slats, standing level with him.

The boy laughed and pet the nose. “Sorry boy, I have to give the rest to Ma.”

“Sein!”

The boy spun around and froze while Kairus chirped and ran back underneath his hut. Standing at the back door of the cabin was a bearded man wearing a dark green trench coat and thick leather boots, much like Sein’s. His hands were covered in sparkling Dust and grungy soot, which spread onto his cloak as he set them against his waist.

He stomped toward Sein and pulled him away from the fence. “How many times have I told you not to get that close to Kairus? He’s dangerous!”

Sein lowered the net and sputtered, “B-But Pa, you ride on him all the time, and he never hurts you!”

Sein’s father leered at Kairus’ crouched shape through the fence. “I respect him, and in turn, he respects me.” He turned to Sein. “Neither of you share that.” He turned back around and stomped past his son and back in the cabin. “Come. Your mother’s been waiting far too long for the peblud.” He disappeared into the house, and Sein stood, oblivious to his trousers’ hem sinking to his waist.

Kairus peeked his head out from under the shadows of his roost. Sein forced a smile, then trekked up the stairs, holding up his pants as he went.

He immediately entered a small mudroom, where a collection of old boots a heap of firewood stood on the floor, illuminated only by the light of the window on the door. Beyond the entrance to the left was a kitchen—or what could be called one. A mess of shelves, a chest of food, and a bucket of water lined the walls, with a rickety table and a trio of chairs in the center. To the beyond that, simple wooden frames were draped with coats of fur, making some semblance of couches surrounding a hardwood table. Antlers, horns, and heads from a myriad of beasts adorned the walls, with a hulking, shining musket as the centerpiece, missing only its crystal drive to deliver killing blows.

Sein threw off his boots in the mudroom and shuffled across the kitchen to the woman stirring a pot above the fireplace at the far end of the living room. She wore a simple brown dress and held her hair in a braid as she worked at the meal. A coat of bright orange fur hung over her shoulders, tied together with a leather string.

Sein held the net out towards her with a glum expression. She turned to him and inspected his haul. She sighed and stopped stirring the pot, then held the net. “You know what to do, son.”

Sein grabbed a large, square brick in the corner and hefted it with a grunt, while his mother set the net on the floor, held up slightly to prevent the peblud from escaping. Sein lifted the rock over the net and dropped it without care, instantly crushing the rock crabs.

He slid back the rock, and his mother unceremoniously dumped the remains into the pot, then continued to stir. Sein sat back in the couch and groaned, “Why do we have to eat rock soup? Why can’t we just go hunting for an ajax or something?”

His father emerged from a door connected to the living room, wearing only a filthy brown shirt and black leather pants. He threw a large sack over the other couch and said, “Because I don’t want to be wasting crystals on small game.” He dug through the bag, and amidst the clatter of metal, he added, “Found a new plowff hill a few miles out, and it’s a right big one. I sent word to Vice earlier this morning. They’ll be meeting me there tomorrow.” He grinned at his wife. “Then we’ll have some proper meat again!”

She smiled and stood away from the pot, crossing her arms. “High time I get to make a proper meal again. You haven’t had a good hunt in over a month, Rorik.”

Rorik chuckled and hugged her close. “Aye, that I haven’t, Gina.”

Sein shot up from his seat and landed next to the sack, aiming to peek inside. “Can I come with you? I’m old enough now!”

Rorik frowned and folded his arms, eyeing Sein. “I’m not so sure, Sein. Plowff are dangerous, and besides, we might lose track of you in the heat of the moment. I’d rather not have you squashed under a plowff’s backside.”

Gina held the pot with a cloth and set it on the table. “Rorik, you know how long he’s been wanting to go with you. It’s dangerous work, but it’s better for him to get experience out there than for him to stay here, risking fingers to Kairus and hunting peblud every day.”

Rorik tossed his head back and forth, wrestling in his mind as he and Sein sat at the table with Gina. As the bowls were being passed out, he finally slapped the table and said, “Fine! You can join the crew.” He held up a finger and narrowed his eyes. “But I’m warning you: plowff are nothing to mess around with. I want you to stay close no matter what, alright?”

Sein nodded excitedly as Gina poured the soup into the bowl, scraping the rocks at the bottom of the pot. “Do I get a rifle?”

Rorik sniffed and pointed at the bag. “I’d figured you wanted to come this time, so I packed a light oil one in there. You can put your training to good use.”

Sein gawked at the bag and stood up, only to be forced down into his seat by Gina. She gave him a stern look and said, “Finish your dinner first, then you can get the gun.”

Sein hung his head over the pale-yellow soup, eyeing the floating carapace and antenna amongst the scraps of pale meat. “…Fine.”

As they finished dinner and went to sleep that night, all Sein could think about was the thrill of the hunt he thought would come the next day.

~~~~

Sein watched as Rorik laid a long, flat saddle across Kairus’ upper back, securing the straps underneath the ferrun’s legs. He then threw a bag of supplies on the back of the saddle and tied it down with his rifle.

Sein had tied a rough length of rope around his waist in an effort to keep his pants from slipping. He slung the musket his father had gotten for him over his shoulder, which despite running from his neck down to his knees was far shorter than the one Rorik wielded. To complete his hunting gear, he wore a thick green jacket and a flat brown cap on his head, sitting neatly between his ears.

Rorik yanked on the belt under Kairus’ chest, causing him to snarl and bare his teeth. Rorik growled back and shouted, “Shut it! You and I both know it has to be tight.” He pulled himself on top of the saddle and muttered, “Don’t want to be dragged on the ground for half a mile again…” He paused, then stared at Sein. He looked behind him at the empty space on the saddle, then at Sein. “What are you waiting for? Get on!” Sein blinked and shook himself out of his stupor, then scrambled onto the saddle with a grin.

His boot scraped against Kairus’ fur, pulling at the ferrun’s skin. He growled and leered at the new passenger, whose grin fell into a cringe as he looked away. Kairus growled low and faced forward again.

Rorick took a deep breath, then turned back to Sein. “Before we go, there are a few things you must know.” He held up a finger. “One: stay behind me. Trained or not, plowff can strike quick and hard, and I’d rather be hurt than you.” He held up another finger. “Two: don’t waste your ammo. I’m giving you only one bottle of oil to use, so make every shot count.” He held up one more. “And last, but not least: never, and I repeat, never enter the tunnels. That’s Kairus’ job.” He lowered his hand onto Sein’s shoulder. “Do you understand?” They locked eyes, and Rorick’s grip grew tight. Sein quickly nodded.

Rorick let out his pent-up breath and held up the reins around Kairus’ neck. “Good.” He gave them a flick, and Kairus yipped and shot forward, setting into a brisk, bounding pace despite his short legs.

Rorick kept himself tilted forward as Kairus sprinted through the forest, his beard bristling in the wind. Sein held tight to the sides of the saddle and clenched his teeth, squinting his eyes shut as spix beat against his face. He braced his feet into the saddle belt to provide even more stability, despite his father not doing the same.

After an hour of the rush, Kairus slowed to a trot, and finally to a saunter as they came to a large mound in the middle of a cluster of trees. No vegetation surrounded the gaping black pit, and a distant scrabbling could be heard within.

Rorick hopped off and pulled his rifle off the saddle. “I collapsed the other holes the yesterday with some oil bombs; his only way out is here.” He frowned and looked about. “I was hoping Vice would be here by now, but I expect he’ll be around before long.” He turned back and said, “Go on and get off; I have to send Kairus down.” Sein nodded and pushed himself up on the saddle and swung his leg around.

The sudden movement threw momentum into the now-loosened saddle, and Sein went around with it. With the weight suddenly off his shoulders, Sein yipped and bolted toward the hole. Sein screamed and scrabbled at the ground, but with his foot still caught in the saddle, he got dragged with him.

Rorik leaped toward him and grabbed his hand. “Sein!” He kept hold of his son’s hand for just a few moments before he was dragged below, screaming.

Rorik lay on the ground, grasping the air above the hole. He clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes shut. He slammed the ground with a closed fist and said under his breath, “Solus save him.”

Down below, Sein shielded his face from the sharp rocks and moist soil as he got dragged further and further below with Kairus. He felt himself turn left and right through the tunnels, so far into them that the air grew stale and no light penetrated the darkness.

Finally, the saddle came loose, and Sein tumbled across the rough dirt floor, finally coming to a stop. He groaned and pushed himself up, and only moments after remembered his father’s warning: never enter the tunnels.

Sein paled and groped about in the darkness, finally snatching his rifle from the ground. He stood up and fumbled for the refill valve and trigger. The walls rumbled and sweat beaded on his brow.

A deep, guttural roar echoed through the tunnels, and Sein nearly dropped the rifle. He panted as he twisted the valve. Oil filled the ignition chamber, and with the final gurgle, Sein shut it, holding the butt of the rifle up to his shoulder.

The tunnel rumbled once more, and Sein’s heart hammered in his chest. The roar echoed once more, alongside a screech from who Sein guess was Kairus, but he barely thought on that. He spun around in place, struggling to find the origin of the sickening sound.

Dirt fell all around him, and a limb scraped his arm. Sein screamed and fired his rifle, sending a burst of white light jettisoning from the barrel. In the split second of luminance, he saw a colossal, matted brown coat, with blind, soulless eyes paired with monstrous incisors. And in front of that were two razor-sharp pairs of claws.

The burst met the beast with a squelch and boom, followed by another roar. A claw buffeted Sein to the wall, making his ears ring. He gasped and winced at the flare of pain in his chest. The plowff roared again, raising its claws for a final blow.

A streak of orange light shot from the darkness and hit the plowff across its face. It screeched and turned around, scrambling forward. Another flare met it, and a figure surged forward surrounded by the flame. Sein watched in fearful amazement as the figure met blows with the claws with its own made from the inferno.

Not long after, a silver ferrun burst from the direction the flaming figure emerged from and wrapped its body around the plowff, constricting it and latching down on its neck. It screeched and writhed in its struggles to escape from its grip. Finally, mere moments after the ferrun’s attack, the plowff let out one final squeak, its leg only twitching as a sign of life.

Sein remained wide-eyed in awe as the figure held up a ball of fire like a torch to examine the plowff, then toward Sein. He gasped as he saw the figure had a wolf’s feet, tail, and head, covered with silver-black fur and wearing leather clothing covered with dozens of black symbols and figures.

The wolf-man paced toward him and held out his free, paw-like-hand. In a gruff voice, he asked, “Are you going to stay in the dirt as this plowff did?” His ferrun kept a hold on the plowff, sinking her canines deep into its neck.

Sein cautiously accepted his hand, bringing his battered rifle with him. The wolf guided Sein up through the tunnels and back into the light, back into the fresh air and surface world.

Upon seeing his son, Rorick sighed in relief, fell to his knees and embraced him. He held his head close and whispered, “I thought I lost you.” After a minute or so, Rorick stood up and wiped his eyes, then turned Sein around to face the wolf. “Vice, I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me.” The wolf shrugged and crouched in front of Sein. The boy stepped back and held his father’s arm.

Vice gave him a curious look. “What? Never seen a lykai before?” Sein slowly shook his head, and Vice stood back up and pointed a claw at Rorick. “I assume you were going to tell him about my kind sooner?”

Rorick grimaced and scratched the back of his head. “I really meant to, but it’s been years since a tribe has passed through, so…”

Vice sighed, and as he did, both a black and silver ferrun dragged the carcass of the plowff up through the tunnel, each fighting for it as they did.

Rorick broke away from Sein and shouted, “Oi, so now you show up! Why I oughta—”

“Rorick.” Vice gave him a cautionary glare.

Rorick groaned and pulled at Kairus’ neck. The ferrun reluctantly released his grip on the plowff, and at a snap from Vice, the silver ferrun did so with no such signs.

Together Vice and Rorick gutted and cleaned the plowff, and after bundling it in the canvas Vice brought, he took the large portion for himself and put it on top of his ferrun’s back.

Once all was said and done, Vice and Rorick nodded toward each other. “Thank you again for coming when you did,” Rorick repeated.

“Not a problem,” Vice replied. He narrowed his gaze on Sein. “But you must also thank your son for his own survival. If it wasn’t for him firing his rifle, I wouldn’t have been able to find him before he got pulverized.” Sein grinned slightly and held his shoulders a bit higher.

“Then again, if he just rode Kairus properly, he wouldn’t have ended up down there in the first place.” Sein’s shoulders immediately drooped.

“More discipline is in order, I suppose…for both Sein and Kairus,” Rorick admitted, averting his eyes.

Vice stared for a moment, then smiled. He gently lifted a bag from a hook on his saddle and held it out to Sein. “Let me help you with that.” Sein gave it a suspicious look, and it suddenly wriggled and squeaked. Sein leaped back, shocked.

Vice pressed it closer. “Go on, open it.” Sein cautiously accepted it, and upon peering inside, gasped. A pure white ferrun no longer than his arm lay curled up inside, staring up expectantly.

Sein, openmouthed, gingerly reached inside and pet the kit’s young fur. After only a single pet, the kit snapped at his finger. Sein yowled and pulled it back, closing the sack and nursing his finger.

Both Vice and Rorick laughed, with Rorick clapping a hand on Sein’s back and saying, “I told you they’re dangerous!”

Once the laughter died, they all hopped aboard their ferruns, and before they parted ways, Vice waved to Sein and said, “Don’t disappoint me, lad. You have potential, no matter what your old man may be.” Before Rorick could object, Vice snapped his reins and sped off to the west, leaving with his share of plowff meat and Sein’s admiration and promise.

----

Thank you for reading my first story! Please comment below, and watch for my next stories!
 
Last edited:
I'll read it in full later, but seems like a good start. It feels very inspired by older fantasy works like the Hobbit/LoTR! Keep it up!
 
Old Warriors
Here's the next one of my stories! Please keep in mind that these stories are not connected to each other in any way save for the fact that they take place in the same world.

Old Warriors
Hereb, at dawn, lay still. Few roamed the streets save those retreating to their homes, or to the local pub. Stray tiktoks hooted overhead as they returned to their hivenest, ferrun mewled in their stalls as they waited for their masters’ coming for the night.

The setting sun shone through the dusty windows of a little shop in the corner of the walls of Hereb. Swords, spears, axes—weapons of all sorts stood against the racks along the walls, each shining, some brand new, and others chipped and battered. Opposite the solid oak door was a walk-around counter, and beyond that intricately decorated rifles sat on pegs along the walls, each proudly displayed. Some small, some large, others with empty oil canisters, and others more with crystal chambers waiting to be filled.

A grizzled man wearing simple clothes beneath a grease-stained apron sat in front of a desk in the back. On the weathered desk sat a long drawer set filled with coils, gears, rods, ignitions, along with a scattering of other bits and bobs across the desk itself. In the center of it all was a tekna pistol in the midst of construction, with the barrel disconnected from the handle and all the delicate insides out for the world to see.

The man squinted his eyes and set a pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose. Using a pair of tweezers, he wove a narrow rubber tube into the workings and connected the oil canister with the ignition chamber. He then pulled an opaque white crystal from a drawer and slid it in front of the firing pin. He set down his tweezers and put the cover plate over the insides, then clicked the barrel into the stock. With that, the pistol was whole.

The man grinned and disconnected the empty oil canister, then replaced it with a full one on the desk. He turned the fill valve and after a second, turned it back. He aimed it at the wick of an unlit candle across the room, then fired. The firing pin struck the crystal, sending activated Dust into the oil. The oil boiled and exploded, shooting out of the barrel and forming a thin bolt of light. It shot across the wick of the candle, lighting it, then the bolt struck a ceiling beam and left a smoking black scar.

The man chuckled and began polishing the barrel with a dirty rag. “Fine shot, as always.”

A bell rang, and the man turned around and absentmindedly said, “Welcome to Old Folks Weaponry, finest selection of new and used weapons, including handcrafted—” He stopped upon seeing the customer. He pulled off his spectacles and stared in amazement at who had just walked into his establishment.

His head was in the shape of an otter’s, complete with the short ears, large nose, and long whiskers, down to the sharp canines in his mouth. Slick, grizzled fur coated his body, from his large barrel chest to his stout tail. He wore a coarse linen kilt, an open green vest and a necklace made of numerous sea shells and trinkets. A pair of large axes hung from a thick leather strap across his shoulder, the handles nearly scraping the ceiling as he paced around the room.

The orna inspected the weapons racks curiously, rubbing his scruffy chin as he scraped his bare pads on the floor. His tail hung back as he pulled a sword out from the rack and swung it, twisting it around and getting a feel for its weight.

The man set the pistol down at the desk and crept toward the counter, still amazed at the sight of the orna. He leaned against the counter and watched him set back the sword and continue studying it, crossing his arms.

Finally, he smirked and said in a bass voice, “I would feel sorry for anyone who bought a blade from here. While they look fine enough, they have an uneven edge. Even a slice of bread would turn out uneven.”

The man leered at the orna, then he studied the axes on the orna’s back. He smirked and snidely said, “Indeed, but any of mine would be better than those rusted bits of metal you call ‘tools’.”

The orna laughed boisterously and turned to face the man. “Even after twenty years, you’re as sensitive as ever, Cairyn.”

The man beamed as he walked around the counter and laughed. “Oh, Nix, you old sea dog!” They gave each other a strong pat on the back, with Cairyn’s hand barely reaching midway to Nix’s. They stood away from each other, each smiling.

Cairyn scratched at his stubble and said, “Has it really been that long?” He stared at the orna’s belly and chuckled. “Then again, it would explain the fat.”

Nix frowned and poked at Cairyn’s chest. “You aren’t the leanest ringbean anymore either, friend. And unlike me, you haven’t had to wrestle thundsarks on a regular basis.”

Cairyn hmphed and pulled at his shirt collar. “Wearing proper clothing at least hides that.”

Nix looked down at his vest, then turned his head in the air. “Shirts cause too much drag.” He slumped his shoulders and added, “I…also haven’t found one large enough for me.”

Cairyn shrugged sighed, smiling. “Anyway…what brings you around here? I thought you were still on the Great Coast handling mercenary calls?”

Nix shrugged as well and said, “Well, I wanted some time away from all that. It’s rather tiring beating bandits senseless every other day, even if it pays well.” He stroked one of his whiskers and added, “Also, I wanted a chance to catch up with an old friend after hearing that he settled down here in Hereb.” He clapped him on the back and waved toward the door. “Let’s have a drink at the Sleeping Gatzel! We can talk about what we’ve accomplished over these long years.”

Cairyn looked down for a moment, then back up to Nix with a half-smile. “Actually…why don’t we talk here? It gets rather chaotic in there late at night, what with all the drink going around.”

Nix looked down, puzzled at first, but he nodded turned around. “Very well, I see your point.” He smacked his lips and added, “Still, I could use a drink. Had to walk a week just to get here, and I ran out of water a day ago.”

“Of course.” Cairyn led the way to the back with Nix close behind. The orna sat on the desk chair as Cairyn quietly went up the stairs hidden in the corner. Moments after, Cairyn returned with a jug and two wooden cups on a platter.

He set the platter on the desk and poured them each a drink from the pitcher, then pulled up another chair and sat across from the orna.

Nix raised the cup and said, “Thank you.” He took a sip, then frowned and looked inside. “Cloudfruit cider? What, can’t hold down your liquor in your old age?” He shrugged and took another sip. “Oh well, still good.”

Cairyn forced a smile. “I’ve just come to realize over the years that I don’t act the best when drink’s involved.” He leaned forward, hovering over his cup. “So, what have you done since we parted ways?”

Orna blew out a breath and scratched the side of his face. “Well…after getting rid of the golem, I took my reward money down to the coast and bought myself a proper ship. Not an orna-made craft, unfortunately, but it does fine.” He set his cup down on the desk and leaned back in his seat. “I just take it around and look for deeds that need doing. Hauling cargo, catching bandits, killing beasts—as we did together.” He tapped a finger on his chest. “I’ve garnered a name for myself, and while it may not look it, I have gathered quite a fortune as well. Could live well off for the rest of my life if I retired right now.”

Cairyn gave him a curious look. “Then why don’t you? We aren’t spring wellings anymore. I’m considering stepping away from my business as well.”

Nix leaned forward like Cairyn and replied, “There’s still plenty to do on the Great Coast, for one thing. And even if I did retire, what would I do? Fish alone in a hut for the rest of my life?” He shook his head. “No...I’d rather go down in a blaze of glory, make myself a legend in some sense.” He stared for a moment, then smiled slightly and nudged Cairyn’s arm. “Well, what have you done? I take it you opened this shop with your half?”

Cairyn nodded. “Sure enough. As you know, I got tired of the mercenary life and settled down here. I decided I’d follow in my father’s footsteps and become a tekna mechanic—more specifically, a firearm craftsman.” He sighed and added, “Don’t get the most business, I will admit, but I at least earn enough room and board.”

Nix hmphed and inspected the pistol on the desk. He looked down the barrel and muttered, “Never understood man’s liking of guns…”

Cairyn quickly took back the pistol and shook his head, smiling. “Same as always, aren’t you?”

Nix shrugged. “Don’t see any reason to change. I act as I please, and if someone has a problem, cheers to them—I don’t care.”

Cairyn set the pistol down on the floor and tapped the side of his cup. “You said you bought your ship.”

Nix stared at him for a moment, then scratched the back of his and said, “Well…I did try to find a girl to settle down with. Never did, even after I started getting popular on the coast. Either they didn’t care for me, or they were too strong for me.” He shook his head. “I’ve never liked that custom anyway. Giving all the ships to women is unfair to us bachelors.” Nix narrowed his eyes. “Why’d you ask?”

Cairyn stood up and shuffled to the wall. Several pictures hung from it, all of various sizes and ages. He lifted one from its hook and offered it to Nix. The orna studied it and saw a younger Cairyn standing with a woman in front of the shop. A young boy and girl stood in front of them, with a baby in Cairyn’s arms.

Nix looked up and saw Cairyn smile. He pointed at the picture. “My wife, Lynn, is staying in Saunte for my daughter’s wedding. My oldest son’s there with his wife, and my youngest is there to help with the ceremony.” He set his hands on his hips and gestured all around him. “I stayed behind to make sure the business was in good shape. I don’t want to miss a customer, after all.”

Nix stared at him for a moment, then back at the picture. “So…that’s why you don’t drink anymore.”

Cairyn nodded. “A worthwhile sacrifice.” He set a hand on a wall and rubbed the aged wood. “I plan on leaving this place to my youngest after I retire. He’s taken an interest in tekna engineering like me.”

Nix paused. After a minute, set the picture on the desk, then stood up and smiled. “You’ve done well, Cairyn. Made a right good life for yourself.” He took a deep breath, then clapped his hands and turned toward the door. “I suppose I ought to get going. Need to resupply for my trip back home.” He began to walk to the door.

Cairyn set down his cup and quickly stepped to him. “Wait, Nix.” He grabbed his arm, stopping his advance. The orna turned back with a curious look.

Cairyn let go of his arm and softly smiled. “How about we go hunting tomorrow? My wife and kids won’t be back for another few days, and I’d like to spend some time with you until then. I’d love to introduce them to you if you don’t have to go back soon.”

Nix looked up for a moment, considering the proposal. He looked back down, then grinned and side-hugged Cairyn. “You might have changed, but you’re still a good friend.” He separated from him and kept walking to the door. “I’ll go find an inn and bed down for the night. Your beds are too small for an orna like me.” He held the door and looked back. “What time, and what meat?”

“Seven o’ clock, ajax. The quartolf have had a hard time managing them as of late.”

Nix licked his lips. “It’s been a while since I’ve had venison.” He waved and said, “See you then, Cairyn the Daring.”

Cairyn waved back and shook his head with a chuckle. “No one’s called me that for years.”

“All the better then!” Nix shouted as he shut the door.

Cairyn chuckled again and returned to his desk. He pulled open a drawer under the desk and dug through it, eventually pulling out a dusty frame. He blew it away, and when the cloud cleared, he saw a young man and an Orna, wielding an oil rifle and twin axes respectively, standing atop a mound of rubble, standing back-to-back.

Cairyn nodded his head and propped up the photo on the desk, then took the pistol back from the floor and continued to polish it with his dirty rag. He continued till the sun set, where he hung the pistol with the other weapons he crafted, then bedded down for the night. Elsewhere in the city, Nix did the same, and they both fell asleep at the same time, hopeful for their time together tomorrow.
 
Please note: The thread is from 5 years ago.
Please take the age of this thread into consideration in writing your reply. Depending on what exactly you wanted to say, you may want to consider if it would be better to post a new thread instead.
Back
Top Bottom