From Tapaciore, the online grimoire
For the late-Rioren Dynasty politician, see Gorpen, Governor Eigeran
“Eigeran” and “Yarlen Eigeran” redirect here. For other uses, see Eigeran (disambiguation) and Yarlen Eigeran (disambiguation)
Yarlen Eigeran Gwymden of Prówit Nod, Lord by the King’s Writ, BE 812-902, [see Deklegion methods of formal address] was a Deklegion courtier most well known for his part in circumventing/averting the Dekleg–Elherion Empire war in the years of 847-852. He is also renowned (although less so in his own nation) for his work in poetry. Eigeran invented three new poetic forms/styles, one in his native Deklegion dialect of Shoktu and two in Middle Elherith (having spent much of his later life living in the Elherion Empire).
Among his best-known works and accomplishments are the Treaty of the Cliff, a diplomatic treatise in four languages (Shoktu, Deklegia, Middle Elherith, and Carruph) which is credited not only with ending the conflict at hand but solving several entrenched problems in both Dekleg and in the Elherion Empire. Because the Treaty was considered a diplomatically manipulative document as well as a translation, he was called The Thief of the Cliff or The Lord of Lies both in life and for many decades after his death. The latter title gained him a resurgence of interest from younger generations in both Elherion and in Dekleg twice — in the 18th century and then again in the 24th century. Continue reading
The big cat had been chasing Pren for heart-rending minutes when she managed to skid into a cave she’d never seen before. She shimmied through a hole that was barely big enough for her and scooted up into a little ledge area. The cat might wait for hours for her, so she made herself comfortably before she pulled out the flint and steel and lit her torch.
The walls of the cave glittered and shone the way that sometimes a small piece of rock would. The whole area was smooth, rounded, like she had scooted up from the cave into something even less natural than her tree-house.
On the far side of the room was a lever. Pren looked at the lever. At least, it was a stick poking out of the wall at an angle. Her mother had shown her how to use things like that to set traps for animals, when she had been small. When her mother had been around. It might dump her into a net or drop something on her, although both the floor and ceiling looked sturdy enough in the torchlight. It might drop something on the cat.
The cat was trying to get up the hole she had slipped through. One clawed paw batted upwards, bigger than Pren’s foot.
She scooted backwards and pulled the lever. Even a trap was better than being eaten by a cat.
She fell backwards as the wall opened up, into a brightly and smooth room full of strangers and shining lights.
a story for my New Year’s Prompt Call, which you should go prompt at please, here.
Warning… a wee bit maudlin.
The snow had finally melted. It had been a long winter – slow-starting but then dumping buckets of snow on us all of February and March and most of April.
It was May 5th, and I could finally see all of the grass, or at least the parts that had survived. I could see, too, my poor bushes, which had not done well but which were, now, trying to put out the buds they normally would have put out in early March. Continue reading
Written to Rix-Scaedu’s prompt to my new “WTF?” Prompt Call. This is definitely a Science! story, complete with the Boss – Liam – and his plucky second-in-command.
The raid had taken down three scientists working outside the bounds of the law, morality, or common sense, along with seven “assistants”, mostly grad students, who would probably not be charged, as having to find another research position might be punishment enough for anyone.
It had also found several references to “the farm office,” which, once the proper grad student was interrogated, appeared to be an old veterinary clinic sitting in a small farm town half an hour outside the city.
Liam, who had no official government or law-enforcement position, and Cara, who was, on paper, at least, his second-in-command, were along on both trips. Liam had already recruited the most sensible of the scientists (along with hiring her a lawyer) and the three grad students Cara had hand-picked. Now – now they got to see what the farm office was. Continue reading
Headmaster Baarbaarbaar looked at the Tower. Barely fifty years old, it had stood with the name of the third Head of School for that entire time.
Next to him, the Head of the Martial school looked on thoughtfully. “Do you think it’s appropriate?”
“I think…” Baarbaarbaar spoke slowly, letting the thoughts circulate. “I believe that we have always put the names of our most prideworthy graduates at pertinent places in the school. And now that we have the Towers for each school, it makes sense to let their names, too, change with the pride of the school.”
“But…” Allizh was a staid and placid-seeming woman who thought slowly but with great deliberation. “This is the sort of thing that War house is proud of, yes. BUt is it the sort of thing that the Academy is proud of?” Continue reading