This is… pretty much what it says. It’s thinking about students leaving Ag after the war, and what legacy that leaves.

There were three teenagers and four toddlers at the gate of the town, with a two-horse wagon drawn by the biggest horses anyone in the town had ever seen.

The guard did not fail to notice that two of the three semi-adult people were girls, nor that the two horses came with two foals alongside. Those facts alone meant the travelers were due some consideration. Then the shorter of the two women began to speak, her voice pitched to carry over the wall.

“We were trained at the Addergoole school. I am a doctor and educator; my companions are a metalworker-and-veterinarian and a linguist-and-weapons-expert.”

The man stepped up beside her and repeated this in the three most common languages for this area, while the third stayed in the background. The woman continued.

“We seek a place to set up business, and a place to shelter with our children.”

The guards had sent a runner to the Mayor the minute the woman said “Addergoole School.” As the translator was finishing up the round of languages, the mayor spoke up.

“Will you swear the oath?”

Even from the top of the wall, they could see the woman stiffen. They reached for their weapons. “What oath?”

“Swear that you seek to work with us and for us, not against us.”

“I will swear that we will offer no harm unless attacked, that we will work as members of your town.”

“A doctor, you said? And a veterinarian, and a weapons-master?” The Mayor knew, better than most, the needs of his town.

“Yes.”

“That oath will do. Enter, then. We can find you a place to live for starters.”

~~

The world ended in 2011. For thirty years since then, students had been leaving Addergoole.

Many of them went back to their parents, at least to start – especially those raised on the Ranch, in the Castle, in the Burrow or the Cave, Forest Manor or Cabal’s Mountain or the Eyrie. Some stayed in the Village for a year, for a few years, until their children were grown. A few went to work for the school, or for one of the affiliated groups.

But many – almost all, in the long run – went out into the world, looking to make a place for themselves. They traveled on foot, on wing, in cars and wagons, on horseback, by teleportation, however they could make it, until they found a town that looked suitable, for whatever definition of “suitable” they were using.

And, eventually, it would come out – not from all, not even from most, but from enough of them – where they’d gotten the wagon, the horse, the training, the children. Addergoole.

Addergoole.

Addergoole.

The name meant trouble, sometimes – teenagers with more power than sense, angry kids, scared kids, hungry kids – and the towns had learned to beware, and to ask for assurances. But, often enough that they were not entirely turned off of the name, it meant help. Medical training. Book training. Mechanical training.

“It’s a school,” their benefactors would hedge. “My parents went there.”

And so, thirty years after the apocalypse, the name Addergoole elicited envy and bitterness, fear and gratitude, and more than a bit of confusion.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/646453.html. You can comment here or there.

This ficlet was written after looking at this sketch by silvertales, with their permission. He looked like someone out of a sub-line of a bloodline of Addergoole (Although the horns had to have come from his mother’s side of the family…), so I asked @Kissofjudas to name him, since ri’s named most of Astarot’s line.

This was actually an experiment in how much I could write the mood without revealing the plot.

“No.”

Mormo was unimpressed.

“Yes.”

To be fair, everyone in the room was unimpressed.

“I said no, damnit.” Mormo glared across the room. One hoof scuffed the floor, and the tracework of lights that was part of his Change lit up his forehead and cheeks. “This is my last year of school. There’s no way.”

“It has to be done.” Now it had turned into a three-way argument. Tempers were only going to get hotter. I stayed in a corner, watched the three of them, and said nothing at all. This might be about me, but it didn’t involve me.

The glow from Mormo’s forehead was threatening to blind the rest of the room. “There is no way. No way that you are going to talk me into that. And especially not with her.“

“Nobody is asking your opinion on the matter. We’re telling you how things are going down.”

I wanted to say something. I really did. Her? Like I was some sort of non-entity?

But they had pushed Mormo too far, and that was about when everything exploded.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/641571.html. You can comment here or there.

To Raka Metz’s request on Facebook in response to my December Drabbles call.

Mid-Year 6 of the Addergoole School

“No! No, I’m not going to… let go of me!” A flash of lightning ripped through the hallway; the lights flickered and burnt out, leaving only the dim “Hell Night” red emergency lights.

“I think you should leave him alone.” The lights flickered but did not turn back on, as a second voice – one that bore a strong resemblance to the first – chimed in.

“She might seem nice now, but she’s not stable, and it’s not a healthy situation.” The third speaker released his quarry, however, and stepped back until he was silhouetted against one of the red lights. “Rory, I’m just saying…”

“Do you think I don’t know all that?” The boy – Rory – backed up another few steps. “What’s more, do you think it matters? Really? Of course she’s unstable. Wouldn’t you be, after what she went through?”

“I’m just trying to help…”

“Don’t.” This time, the two boys standing there spoke at the same time.

A third voice chimed in, right on their heels – feminine, but sounding much the same. “I’d listen to what they said.”

The upperclassman sighed. “I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

The lightning flashed from three sets of fingers. “Maybe you ought to back off, then.”

“Backing off… but I’d fix those lights before Luke gets here.” With a much-put-upon sound, the upperclassman – Nikolai – took his leave. If the Aelfgar-get wanted to stay in bad situations, he wasn’t going to take on a whole family of electrical madmen to help them.

Rory muttered up a light and stared at the two other Sixth Cohorts. “Thanks. Now, um…”

“Um, indeed.” Arnbjorg looked up at the lights overhead and muttered a Working. “I think you just blew a fuse.”

“Just?”

“It could be a lot worse…” she glanced at the third of them, their half-brother (or at least they all assumed.) Leo was staring at the light fixture, grinning. “Right. So, if it’s a fuse, we just need to Idu our way to a fuse box and hope we beat Luke there.”

“Too late.” On the plus side, at least the gym teacher sounded amused.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/622354.html. You can comment here or there.

Posted here – http://www.addergoole.com/9/2013/12/december-drabble-so-you-knew/

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/622149.html. You can comment here or there.

Posted here.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/619089.html. You can comment here or there.