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20th Sandstone, 12~It was a bloody autumn.
The day begun with my office door being kicked in. Rykue shouldered his way in and tossed the spare chair out of the way, breathing heavily. I’d asked Julius to build me a new door the had an internal lock, but he’s asked me what for and I hadn’t been able to think of an answer. If only he could see Rykue’s face now.
The woodsman’s muscular throat looked as if it was about to burst a vessel. His axe was held in both hands across his chest, gripped tightly enough to leave a light impression in the wood. I must’ve looked rather frightened, because instead of saying “Hello,” I said
“aaa?”He stood there momentarily, bathing in his consciously intimidating aura. “Mister Quinn,” he said surprisingly gently, “I’ve just had a delightful conversation with our friend Mister Bodark.”
I sat there nervously, wishing my office was longer rather than wider so that I had somewhere to retreat backwards to. As it was, I was already shrunken in my chair. “And… what did… Mister Bodark have to say?” I asked quietly.
“He was telling me about our plans for expansion. I hear we have a little imp problem.”
I was starting to see where this was going. “Well, you know, it’s not so much a problem as a temporary delay, but I appreciate your concern and—”
The axehead slammed into my desk. Deep. “Listen, you sober bastard of a dwarf. You know as well as I do that the imps need to be taken out. You know as well as I do that I’m capable enough to do it. You know as well as I do that I haven’t been able to kill a single gods damned creature in two years here.
You know as well as I do that I am about to kill something whether it is a bloody imp or not.”
My eyes were fixated on the axe, quivering gently. Half the metal head was buried beneath my papers. The desk was made of solid stone. “Well, uh… Now that you mention it, I was going to ask…”
“Yes?”
“I thought maybe if you wouldn’t mind…”
“Yes?”
“…taking care of our little imp problem?”
He grinned. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” He snatched the axe out of the desk with one hand effortlessly. “I think we’re going to get along just swell.”
The logger lumbered out, leaving my office in a state of chaos. The table looked about to snap in half simply supporting its own weight. The chair hurled against the wall was missing a leg. The door had broken a hinge. After a few minutes, I let out a long, slow breath. I’d no idea how I survived that encounter, but I felt as if the gods had handed me a beer. My mood shifted from terror to a kind of calm confidence. I exited my office and entered the communal bedrooms. Sam was there, sipping a beer while on her break. She didn’t look up as I entered.
“Hey,” I said. “Let’s up head on the roof.”
She turned her head slightly, her eyes just wide enough to betray some surprise and some curiosity. I led her up the stairs to the current roof, where we’d yet to continue construction. Most of the jungle plains were visible below us. I pointed, and said nothing. She looked.
Off in the distance, a yellow blur was visible moving between the glumprong trees, the same colour as Rykue’s yellow woodsman’s jacket. Slightly farther ahead was the flicker of a small flame. As we watched, the yellow blur reached the flicker. There was a burst of red mist, and some small shapes rose in the air slightly.
We were silent, admiring such craftsdwarfship. The blur continued to the side, barely taking time to stop. There was another flame-like flicker ahead of it. The flicker briefly began to move away from the blur, but it was too late. There was a second explosion of gore, and a small flaming head was launched across the jungle landscape.
I turned to Sam, smiling. Her eyebrows were slightly raised. “Sometimes you just have to enjoy what’s around you, you know?” I said. She smiled ever-so-quickly, and then it was gone. “Break’s over,” she said, turning and heading back downstairs. I watched her go, feeling as though I had perhaps made a little progress.
After she had disappeared down the steps, I turned back to the jungle, expecting to see Rykue triumphantly returning.
The yellow blur was nowhere to be seen.
I squinted and looked around a bit more, finally seeing it through some thick foliage near the mountain’s base. Or rather, near the mountain goat pack.
Rykue must have been running on some sort of bloodlust, and worried though I was that he’d get hurt, I was pretty glad that he was taking out some of his internal rage on not-me.
He met the four zombie mountain goats just as he reached the mountains. Chunks and bones arced poetically through the sky. It was beautiful.
Rykue returned about an hour later, hoisting half a fire imp over his shoulder, axe in the other hand by his waist. “Quinn,” he said, smiling hugely, “I love this hellhole.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. His radiant happiness was infectious. He headed off towards the stables to gather the rest of the pack to help bring in the loot.
---
Five months! Five months that Quinn and Sam have spent doing
absolutely nothing but talk to each other, and she barely even
knows him.
Argh.In that second screenie, Dermonster’s visible with Rykue. I’d originally sent them to wipe out one imp each, but Rykue made it to both before Dermonster showed up. Both were one hit kills: Rykue connected with the imp, it flew into a tree, and then the corpse and a number of body parts went flying in various directions. Oh, and Rykue also took a detour to horrifically bisect a deer, shearing its upper and lower body in different directions.
Man, that was a fun update to write. There’s still one imp in the pipe that refuses to come out, though; I don’t want to attack it because I’d much rather catch it, but despite chaining a dog to the other side of the cage traps, it hasn’t taken the bait. Grr. I will have thee, McImp.
Got a bit more of autumn left; technically it's over but I have to cover the trading and Thob's visit first.
Hah, I enjoy your writing. Keep up the good work!
Thanks, nice updates by the way, they're a good read.
Thank you both! I'm challenging myself to not half-ass any updates (although I give this morning's a mulligan taking into account the night before), which is... well, challenging, but I think it'll help me improve in the long run.
Grath, you're heading on the dorfing list as 'military.' You know why.
-ed: Whoa, six pages? This story isn't even a week old. Jeez.
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Topic: The Castle Mightygrips: Cancelled. [community] (Read 48053 times)