Author:
Ulilliaka Swifteye
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 21:27:45 05/31/04 Mon
In reply to:
Ulilliaka Swifteye
's message, "Ulli's first fanfic! I think... =D" on 21:09:52 05/31/04 Mon
Pronounciation:
Rygu: RIE-joo (as in rye bread)
Kuhga: KOO-gah (as in kugar with no r)
Gahlchot: GALL-chot (gall as in hall)
Chetyk Askasprik: cheh-TEEK (as in peak) AZ-kah-sprik
Dyda: DIE-duh
Chapter 1, The Warning~
The Gahlchot charged on through the calm seas, its fleet of pirate ships following in its wake. Ryju strode down from his roomy, richly decorated cabin with a casual swagger.
"Blakkuch?" He shouted down to a carved-up looking, scarred stoat at the tiller.
Blakkuch quickly snapped to attention, "Aye, Cap'n! What 'er yer orders terday?"
Ryju smiled slowly as he plotted in his mind where to go. "Eh, head 'er eas' ward. I wanna take this shoredog holt. Bashty says it's a good place fer plunderin', aye Bashty?" A female, mute fox nodded quickly and tapped her paw furiously on a map. "Aye. Good work. Swing 'er eas' ward den, Blakkuch."
Immediatly obeying, the stoat hurried off to his task.
The marten strode off to the empty cabin that they converted to a training room. Once there he noticed his son, Kuhga, stainding in the middle of the room, the walls lined with several types of swords and other weapons. Mainly the types pirates used most like cutlasses. Kuhga was swirling his personal jewled scimitar in a quick, neat fasion. Ryju held up his paw and his son immediatly halted and stood in a stiff, proper, solder-like stance, the scimitar across his back.
"Aye, Da. Attention is yours." he reported in a monotone voice.
"Right, step fow'rd, fighting stance, swing one two, swing one two," the black marten shouted as his son performed gracefully around the room with the scimitar. He was very skilled for his young age, about maybe eight seasons old. "BAD, ye fool, bad!! Stop right where ye are, STOP!" He hustled over to his son and yanked the sword from his paws. "Here's how ye do it, now get it right!!" he danced skillfully around the room, swinging and slashing in a confusing manner. He handed Kuhga the scimitar and ordered sharply, "Ye do it now. Slash up down left down right SLASH! Get it right or I feed ye to the fishes, yarr!" He sat down edgily on a detailedly carved wooden chair in the corner and watched his son sweat with exhaustion as he swung the sword about.
~
Chetyk Ashkasprik the white squirrelmaid with dazzling golden eyes and her companion, a pudgy mole sat at a fire burning low in the morning.
"Brekkers, Gubbunk!" the pretty squirrel called to the the mole, as he rolled off of his cloak sleepilly.
"Oi baint waked up yut, hurr, nay," he settled in front of a large shell-bowl filled with a brand new stew the the squirrel invented. She was allways coming up with new meals. Gubbunk slurped the stew heartilly and smacked his lips, "Yurr, spoicy zoop. I waked up naiow!" he blinked tears out of his eyes. "Wots in yon spoicy zoop?"
Chetyk just chuckled,"I found some hotroot in our packs, found a few little fish, and viola!" She never was really big on long discriptions. Liked to keep things vague and simple. "We best get goin' soon. The turnin' leaves are almost all off the trees. We wanna get to Castle Rokaset 'afore winter!" She began packing supplies. She picked up her sturdy spear, feathers of all sorts of birds hanging from the base of the blade, and donned her long, red cloak with a green and golden maze winding across it. She also wore a green tunic. She says that she killed an ermine chieftain in a band of vermin once and got he cloak and the spear, wich seemed very possible, sence they looked so strange and tribal. Gubbunk wore a tan tunic and a blue cloak, fringed with brown, and had a huge, double sided axe. They grabbed their belongings and continued their journy to Castle Rokaset.
It was midday when they set up camp beside a huge rock ledge poking out of a hill. They were in a wide, golden prairy when they stopped. The southern sun beemed down on them cheerilly, but the air was crisp and fridgid. Chetyk pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders as she sipped some warmed tea from a pot near the fire.
"Brrr, Gubbunk, winter's comin' up fast. I hope we get to Floret in time afore it starts snowin' on us," She watched her friend sniffing the air with his long snout. He had an amazing ability to predict the weather.
"Hurr, Oi 'spect thurr to be boitin' chilly winds cummin' oop thart away.." He waved his grimy digging claws westward, "An gurt rainy claowd cummin' up frum the Saowth. Gurt waters, though, over west, we'm be scapin' thoin rainy claowd if'n's we goes thartaway, burr aye."
So it was settled. They would head West, towards the coast.
~
Dyda Saltrudder sat on the rocky coast of his holt. His holt was a very big one, and he was on lookout for pirate ships. They would easily be able to fend off one pirate ship, because of their numbers and trained warriors. Dyda was leaning heavilly on his staff, awaiting the end of his shift. He was wearing a simple, worn looking tunic. His eyes were dark brown, and he had the regular brown otter fur. The sun glinted off the slow waved into his eyes, and his head slowly drooped, untill it rested on his chest in a comfertable positon.
Dyda, Dyda, a voice echoed in his head.
"Who's there? My shift over?" He looked up to see the shimmering, translucent figure of a badger. His warm, black eyes seemed comforting, but his voice was eargent and worried.
Dyda, trust in the carrier of the Aggoz. Warn the others of the black lightning! Suddenly the badger vanished in a whisp of smoke, and Dyda was shaken roughly awake.
"Dyda, mate, what'er ye still doin' out here? It's mealtime! I never new ye to miss a meal, now, did I?" His friend, Yudd, a tall, lean looking tawny otter was shaking his shoulder none to gently. "Yew 'wake yet, mate?"
"Oy, get'cher paws offa me!" Grinning, Dyda tackled his pal, and they trotted off to the huge settlement of tents they called home.
A huge, brightly painted tent loomed over the rest of the village. Inside was a long table, with an army of hungery otters sitting around waiting for the cooks to bring in the food. This tent was used for a dining room for all the holt to gather around and have a meal. Some of the times, though, it was used as a meeting place for the elders and warriors during times of war. Now, there was a cheery aura hovering around the place. All faces had a smile. Dyda sat allong the long, wooden bench next to Yudd and a shorter female, probably a teenager.
"'Oy, Dyda, yer lookin' a bit down, what's wrong with ye, mate?" Yudd nudged him, his silly grin fading.
"Nuthin', Yudd, I'm fine, thank ye," He said, with a fake cheeriness to his voice. "Oy, here comes the cooks!" Many paws reached out to help the cooks lift heavy trays of food to the table. There was salty bits of trout on a huge platter, cauldrons of steaming Hot-root soup, an otters favorite food of all, and plates piled high with smoked shrimp. There were several huge pies, from cherry to turnip-n-tater pie. There were flans and scones and a huge meadowcream cake towered over everything on the table. Otters filled their beakers with mint tea, strawberry cordial, and a new creation of the celler-dog, Pumpkin'n'cinnemon ale. But of all the great things on the table, nothing compaired to the huge, fried swordfish in the center of the table. It was cooked with hotroot to make it just a tad spicy, and it also gave it a scarlet color. Digging in with full will, the otters didn't mutter a word, but instead satisfied their huge appitites.
Dyda rolled off the bench rubbing his stomach, "Awrrr, my stomach. I think I ate too much o' that swordfish, aye, mate?" Yudd nodded, not daring to open his mout h for fear that the food he just ate might not stay down. They both wandered off to their tents to sleep untill the morning, Dyda's dream completely forgotten.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
|
Feedback: 