Tag Archive | giraffecall

Questioned, a story for the Giraffe Call (@Inventrix)

For [personal profile] inventrix‘s prompt.

Mikary had heard the calling so loudly she had thought, for a moment, she was going deaf.

She had taken that calling and hitched her wagon to it, packed her whole life into two packs and gone questing.

“Why now?” her mother moaned. “The lovely boy down the street was just beginning to look at you properly.”

“Why there?” her father frowned. “There’s dangers on the road you can’t imagine, and monsters in the woods.”

“Why Andrung?” Everyone wanted to know that. “Why the Missing god, the lost god, the failed god?”

“Why Paladin?” The boy down the street was as lovely as Mikary’s mother said. “Why god-touched, why pure, why would you go adventuring at all?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. The voice of Andrung was loud in her head, so loud she could barely hear the questions anyway. She packed up what few possessions she had, and she walked.

“Why now?” Villagers could see the godhead about her, and that was enough for them to give her sustenance and shelter, to ask her for blessings and prayers. It was enough for them to ask questions. “The roads will be wet with mud and thick with brigands, now.”

“Why there?” The other Paladins she passed were generally polite enough not to sneer at her choice of faith, but her choice of locations, on the other hand… “That forest has been blasted and useless for generations.’

“Why Andrung?” Even the Paladins asked that eventually. “Why the god that left, the god that does nothing, the god with no light?”

Mikary had no answers for them, so she gave none. She gave blessings – Andrung had no light, but there was warmth aplenty. Andrung may do nothing, but the gift of the god allowed Mikary to do plenty.

On the road, at least, nobody asked “Why Paladin.”

“Why now?” The forest was dark, and the voice of the god had left her head. The only voice was the traveler in front of her – tall, taller than the tallest man in Mikary’s village, and nearly as broad as the road. “Why do you travel now, when the farms need tending?”

“Why here?” His companion stepped from the forest. Only half as tall as the first one, he was twice as wide. “Why come to the depth of the world, where the monsters live”?

“Why a paladin of Andrung?” This one was a shadow on the other side of the road, with a voice like a granny. “Why the god the world bypassed? Why the god who was thrown off?”

For them, Mikary found she had answers.

“I come now because I was called. The roads are muddy, the crops need tending, and the man back home will have found another girl when I return. But now is when Andrung called me.

“And here is where he called. I answer the voice of my god, to the forest dark and blasted and perhaps full of monsters, because the god called me here. Where else would I walk?

“And who else would I choose? Andrung chose me, when naught else would satisfy. The forsaken god, the forsworn god, perhaps, but I come here, I came now, I came for Andrung. Because Andrung called me.”

“Then come to your god.” The three spoke as one, and Mikary understood, finally, why she had come.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507478.html. You can comment here or there.

Veils, a story of the Giraffe Call for @Rix_Scaedu

To Rix’s prompt: http://aldersprig.livejournal.com/630713.html?thread=3925689#t3925689

“Why are we doing this?” Drakur tugged at the thin veils and whispy pants. “You’d look better in this than I would.”

“We both know that’s a lie.” Dortha was a stout woman, an earth-witch and a tree-wife, the strongest Drakur had ever met. She was handsome, but not lovely, not in the way that people at the auction would drool over.

Drakur. Drakur was. He looked down at himself. “Okay. I look okay, I guess.” He wasn’t big and bulky like some swords-slingers (or like some farmboys) were. He was just… skinny and rock-hard. And apparently looked really believable as a harem slave.

“You look delicious. I’d buy you myself.”

“Now just remember, the point is to not let me get bought by anyone. We just want to get in there, not to have me go off with some frighting old crone.”

“I can remember a plan. Especially one I thought up.”

“Just see that we stick to it.”

~

“Thirty-five gold, do I hear forty? Forty gold, do I hear forty-five? Forty five, do I hear fifty? Forty five, going once, going twice SOLD to the woods-witch. Come get him, lady, he’s a sharp one, isn’t he? Look at that chest, look how it shines, you’re going to have fun with him, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes I am.” Dortha grabbed the leash wrapped around Drakur’s neck. “Come on, boy.

“What happened to the plan?” He hissed it out of the side of his mouth as he stumbled along. Dortha was a double handspan shorter than he was, and she was pulling down on the leash.

“The plan succeeded. We got what we needed.”

“Then let me go!”

“Oh, no, I spent forty-five gold on you. I’m going to have fuuun.

“…shit.”

“You do look really good in the veils.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/507302.html. You can comment here or there.

March Giraffe Call: Summary

The Call (LJ)

We reached $45 in donation from three donors; there were 12 prompters. No new prompters or donors.

Oh HEY! You guys, I still owe you two setting stories from last month. What settings would you like to see expanded on?

We reached this level of donations:
At $40 in donations, everyone who donated will get an additional microfic written to their prompts. I will choose 1 non-donater at random to receive an additional microfic as well.

[personal profile] thnidu! You will get a second story written. Do you have a new prompt or should I write again from the first one?

The stories so far:
Rin/Girey
Blade (LJ)

Reiassan Early
Sword (LJ)

Science!
In Theory (LJ)

Misc: Fantasy
The Toll (LJ)
The Tower Needs (LJ)
Into the Fire (LJ)
Clean (LJ)

Fae Apoc
Zelda and Solange in the post-apoc
Short/Cut (LJ)
Teamwork (LJ)

Stranded World
Ax Fight (LJ)

Facets of Dusk
The Sword/Sorcery World
Cloaked (did not xpost)
Deep in the Autumn Air (LJ)
Thick (LJ)
Changing (LJ)

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/506497.html. You can comment here or there.

Changing, a continuation of Facets of Dusk for the Giraffe Call (@Lilfluff)

Afer Thick, after Deep in the Autumn Air, after Cloaked. To [personal profile] lilfluff‘s prompt

“Change us.” Xenia hid a twitch in an adjustment of her absurd cloak. How anyone could shoot in this, she didn’t know. (How Aerich knew she had a title she really, really didn’t know. She’d pry that out of him later. In private.) “I do not wish to be changed.”

“Sometimes such things happen despite our will.” If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought that he sounded sympathetic.

“Would you say that’s something changing us?” Cole was pointing along the road with his staff.

What they’d thought was a small village around the base of the castle was, well, a small village around the base of the castle. But now that they were closer, they could see that the town didn’t suit the genre of the world they’d stepped into.

“Is that a saloon?”

“Complete with saloon girls.”

“Is that a knight?”

“Complete with shining armour.”

The team shared a glance. “There’s a wild west town.” Cole sounded tired. Xenia didn’t blame him.

“Surrounding a medieval-style castle.” Josie sounded worried. Xenia didn’t blame her, either.

“Are we on a movie set?” Alexa stepped forward. “This doesn’t seem thin enough for a movie set.”

“Most worlds with movies don’t have this much magic.” Aerich always had to contradict Alexa. Xenia wished they’d get back to fucking and stop all the arguing.

“So.” Peter stepped forward. Good, solid, boring, reliable Peter. “So what we have is either a very strange world, or a slip between worlds. Perhaps a Door that someone else opened?”

“I’d say it bears investigating.” Xenia stepped up next to him. “Come on, Cole. Lead on, Fearless Leader.”

“You guys are nuts.” Still, Cole stepped back to the front of the group.

“That’s why you hired us.” It felt good to be nuts. It felt good to be actually exploring.

The air might be thick with magic, but Xenia was full with adventure.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/506303.html. You can comment here or there.

Thick, a continuation of Facets of Dusk for the Giraffe Call (@Rix_scaedu)

After Deep in the Autumn Air, after Cloaked. rix_Scaedu‘s commissioned continuation.

“The air is thick with magic.”

Josie had been singing, skipping down the dusty road. Suddenly, she stopped, turned three sixty, and then turned around again until she was looking at Aerich.

Aerich harrumphed. The woman insisted on assuming kinship with him.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Do the Aseteshin Rote, widdershins.”

“Counterclockwise.” He corrected her reflexively. “Wait, how do you know of the Aseteshin Rote? And why would I do it widdershins?”

“Because the moons hang in the wrong side of the sky, here.” Her placid, cheerful smile ignored the fact that she’d only answered half his question. “Do it. You’ll see.”

Aerich grumbled, because the woman had a way of doing that to him that irritated him more than anything in the world, except possibly Alexa.

And then, because she was actually an expert in her field, albeit a crazy one and one who couldn’t keep her head out of the clouds with an anvil tied to her feet, Aerich did the Aseteshin Rote. Counterclockwise.

This particular rote was, he’d thought, known only to his family. Aseteshin was a family word, at least, penned in family chronicles; he had only ever seen the rote drawn in those same tomes.

“A moment, if you would, Cole.” He’d finally unbent to first names, because the rest of the team was merciless when he didn’t.

“This is your sort of world. Do your oogy-boogy stuff.” Cole leaned against a walking stick – where he’d gotten that, Aerich didn’t want to know – and waited.

The dust of the road would do. Aerich squatted down and drew out a circle in the dirt, and then, from memory, sketched in the symbols of the Rote.

“The air,” he allowed after a moment, “is thick with magic. Thicker than any place I have ever read of. It’s not as if it is coming from a single source; it’s as if it’s another element in the atmosphere.”

“They’re breathing magic?” Peter looked less than impressed. “They’re certainly breathing something.” His infernal gadgets beeped along under his cloak.

Aerich didn’t deign to answer. Instead, he looked at Josie. He did not like to admit weakness, but it was only fair to acknowledge when she acted reasonably. “You were right.” He braced for a mindless piece of fluff.

“Thank you.” She pointed at one of the symbols of the Rote. “If you reverse that, I think you can determine the source.”

“If you are so wise in rotes-“

“Why do I do things my way? You said it yourself. Some people are born to the arcane methods of thaumaturgy, and some are merely dabblers in the art.”

“That is not what I-“

“She’s got you word for word, Aerich.” Cole sounded far too amused. “Besides, she covers areas you don’t, and you get the things she can’t. Specialization.”

“Specialization.” Aerich swept the rote away carefully. “As Ms. Carlyle indicated, there is a high concentration of magic in the atmosphere. It may affect our instruments, Dr. Hill. It may affect your weapons, Sergeant Hampton, Lady Hart. It will almost certainly affect our minds.”

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/505085.html. You can comment here or there.

Deep in the Autumn Air

To [personal profile] wyld_dandelyon‘s Prompt (here ).

After Cloaked.

The wind was blowing, just chill enough to make the wearing of cloaks pleasant. The sun was shining thinly through the clouds; although it was only a couple hours past noon, two moons hung low on the horizon already.

Cole was singing. Where he’d gotten the lute, Josie didn’t know; where he’d been hiding that singing voice, she didn’t know either. And she certainly didn’t know where he’d gotten the lyrics to the song he was crooning.

“Her eyes were sky-blue, her skin porcelain-fair.
Flowed free her magic, natural as her hair.”

Josie had once like to thing things like that. Like “Her magic flowed as free and natural as her hair.”

“Hey!” She thunked Cole in the back with her satchel.

“Hey, I’m no poet.” He turned and winked at her. “But the party needs a bard.”

“Here, give me that.” She took the lute from him and played a few chords.

“Three fair ladies went a-walking, deep in the autumn air.
Three dour lords walked a-side them, deep in the country fair.”

“Dour?” Aerich glowered at Josie, which just made her laugh and sing some more.

“Through the hills and through the valleys, into the worlds beyond,
through the stories and in the mysteries, o’er vale and pond.”

“Oh, come on, Josie. Vale and Pond?” Xenia laughed – but Josie didn’t mind. There was something about the air here. Something about the magic hanging suspended like pollen in the thick autumn air.

Like magic flowing as natural and free as Josie’s hair.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/503842.html. You can comment here or there.

Ax Fight, a story of Stranded World/Autumn for the Giraffe Call (@anke)

For [personal profile] anke‘s prompt.

“Have at thee, varlet!”

“Nay, I’ll have at thee, wench!”

Autumn and a man she knew only as The Grey One swung their wooden axes at each other, thunking and clanging in true stage-fighting fashion while they splashed up mud everywhere. A light mist was enough, after a few minutes outside, to plaster clothing to skin; Autumn and The Grey One were dripping.

“I did not know this was to be a wet-blouson contest,” The Grey One jeered. “If you’ll hold for a moment, I’ll even those odds as well.”

“I’ll hold.” Autumn stepped to the edge of the ring. “If only to see thee in thy skivvies.”

There were very few people at the Faire today, mostly die-hards and a few long-distance travelers who had not planned on rain when they booked their flights. Many of them made a loose circle around Autumn and The Grey One as they bantered; now they were whooping and hooting as Grey took off his grey jacket and grey doublet.

He did look dashing, Autumn had to admit, his linens plastered to his chest.

“Alas, I fear I shall not be able to match you on this field, or the Sherrif may lock me up.” Her bodice was keeping her in place. Barely. “And now the crowd dost truly love… duck!”

She couldn’t explain what it was she saw; it wasn’t a crisp image of the strands or even a drawing-overlay. She was not that connected to the Grey Knight (she thought). But nevertheless, she had enough warning that he and she both ducked.

The flying axe imbedded itself in Autumn’s booth, carrying with it a hank of her hair and three splinters from The Grey One’s ax. Someone had brought an ax to an ax fight.

Next: Mud Fight http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/512725.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/503493.html. You can comment here or there.

Teamwork, a story of the Faerie Apocalypse, for the Giraffe Call

For [personal profile] eseme‘s prompt, after Short/Cut.

“Solange, stop playing with him.”

Zelda perched on a tree branch, watching the fight below. Her sister-in-arms had been fighting the creature for at least an hour.

But she’d been in a strange mood lately and insisted on splitting the opponents up fairly – Solange got half, Zelda got half, and they only backed each other up if they were running into some sort of trouble. Zelda had, this time, gotten the easy one; he was bound and unconscious at the foot of the tree.

“I am… not… toying.” Her breath was coming ragged and unhappy. Zelda whispered out a healing spell, focusing on the lungs and windpipe.

To distract Solange from what she’d done, she added another taunt. “Come on, you’ve ended dragons in less time than it’s taken you to wear this one out. What’s up with you lately?”

“Your complaints are not helping.” The monster glared up at Zelda with glowing red eyes. “If you would silence and wait your turn, this could be over.”

It was a long enough distraction for Solange to get in a good gut-stab and then, before the creature could recover, a heart-shot. Or, at least, in a human, it would have been a heart shot. The monster just laughed.

“You will make a fine addition to my collection.” He grabbed Solange’s hair and yanked backwards. “Both of you will. I have been looking for someone new to entertain me.”

“Not yet, Zel.” Solange did something quick and complicated, that ended up with her holding the monster’s hand with one hand and kicking him in the wounded gut with both feet.

The creature might not have had a heart where it was supposed to go, but it had intestines in the right place. Well, it had. Now its guts were all over the ground.

Solange spat out another spell, bringing a sharp wooden blade to hand, and chopped, and chopped again. The monster fell over in a surprised heap.

Zelda kept her hands over her mouth to cover the death spell she’d whispered.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/503060.html. You can comment here or there.

The Toll

To @RealBrigang’s Prompt
There was only one road through the Black Forest, and the Forest, standing between a cliff an a desolation, was the only route between Rondval and Alathaca, the two biggest cities in the West.

Of course, someone had gotten the clever idea to set up a toll booth across the road in the middle of the Forest.

And of course Lute and the Riders needed to get to Alathaca.

“All right. You know the drill.”

“Let you do the talking. If we have something to provide, step forward and wait to be acknowledged.” Mariam’s tone was bored irritated. Lute didn’t mind. She would do what was needed.

“That. Everyone else?”

“Got it.” Tom and Robin chorused. Torvan, of course, said nothing.

The toll booth was a stone house, arching over the road into the forest on both sides, leaving a narrow tunnel just wide enough for a wagon; the tunnel, in turn, was blocked with three heavy gates. There was no rushing this toll bar.

Lute rode to the gate and pulled the bell-cord. Travelers from Alathaca had told them this was how it worked: You rang the bell, you paid your toll, you went through and didn’t look back.

But nobody had told them what the toll was. Nobody was willing to answer that simple question.

“How many in your party?” The voice was bored-sounding and disembodied.

“Five sentient beings and five horses. What is the toll?”

“All will pass through the tunnel.”

“What is the toll?”

“All will pass through the tunnel.”

“Damnit!”

The voice laughed. “Or all will stay.”

They really had to get to Alathaca.

“We’ll go through.”

“Yes, you will.” The body laughed again. “And I will take my fee.”

The gate opened and Lute rode in, followed quickly by the Riders. They really had to get to Alathaca. Preferably before the constable of Rondval noticed they were gone

“So what’s the fee?” The gate ahead of them hadn’t opened yet and the gate behind them was swinging closed. There wasn’t enough room to turn their horses, barely enough room to move.

“Ten years.”

“Ten, what?” For a moment, Lute thought they’d ridden into a constable’s trap. And then everything began vanishing from around them.

“Ten years. There are five of you. You will serve two years each”

“Serve!” There was no way out. Lute looked around him, but even the nothingness vanished.

“Have no fear. You will return to the same time as you left. But you will serve.”

Mocking laughter chased the into unconsciousness.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/502539.html. You can comment here or there.