Tag: microfiction

An afternoon with Prva Metzr caretaker of the Everflow

Prva rows in the heat of a summer swelter. The water isn’t choppy. He’s still struggling a bit. Deep, pulling cuts to get to the Font of Two Paths quickly.

Most of the other font-kids stay in when it’s this hot. Prva knows he can make a few coin, and safely because Vrda his river otter companion will splash through the lake to make it more comfortable.

Most thems with birds and dogs won’t get the splashies. Vrda is the reason Prva can work a day with this sun.

A quick j-stroke stops the boat, right near the Font. He tosses a knotted rope to the otter who chomps a big knotted end. Then the work of getting the jars ready starts.

Already set in order. Lids off. Getting them ready for pure waters of the Everflow direct from the Font as it falls from cliffside. An attempt to stay stable underneath kind of works, mostly because the little otter is pushing the small boat back towards the fall.

Prva bows his head. His lips moving.

That big rush of noise under the fall with the rough waters would obscure his words if anyone was close. No one is close though — the heat.

They wouldn’t hear him anyway. He’s performing, not praying. He learned long ago that Quar didn’t care about prayers or belief. The pure waters heal.

But he still pretends to pray. It’s a job. The performance matters.

All the jars are full. Flip caps are on.

Then the row back to Quar’s dock, where the acolytes hand the harvested Everflow off to the Orthodox Church of Quar. It’s a trip he’ll make a few more times today. There’s a small bonus when he’s willing and other ain’t.

Boat isn’t his. That’s tied off for the next one to do the work, the jar racks now empty.

Vrda crawls up the quay side. Dripping the waters of the lack behind them. They’re off for some fish and a chilled tisane of pine and limon from Daoud.

Legendary magic was big and powerful, life changing. Modern magic is a cold drink on a hot day after heavy labor. Modern magic is also the ability to make oneself just a little big wet during the worst heats.

This narrative slice of life was an attempt at Tuesday Afternoon, a technique to test world building to see if the created world makes sense for normal people.

Telse and the Western Wildes j

Telse was the center of my first 5e campaigns. It is the source of the Everflow, the healing waters that feed into the Font of Two Paths. The Church of Quar controls access to the lake, the Font and the Everflow. That mercantile-faith is the origin of the common tongue in the World of the Everflow.

Once part of the empire of Sheljar, Telse is now a free city like most of the Western Wildes. Both the Orthodox and Reformed Churches of Quar are based in the town. Despite being a small city or large town, Telse has embassies from the other kingdoms and free cities due to its healing waters.

Prva Metzr is an acolyte of Quar with a river otter bonded companion named Vrda. Metzr is a human in their mid-20s. He considers his faith a job more than a duty or calling.
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June 25, 2026
An afternoon with the cooper Sudes Rudes

Walking past Idarak’s I grab a fresh peach off one of his trees. Nightbridge tends to have more of the old fruits and Idarak’s family keeps a small grove. Plus Edarra wants a white bucket soon, with some falls from the Dead Forest (obviously not the red oak or black maple — other trees seem to be seeding too).

Visiting the Dead Forest now is this weird mix of Council Guard, elves, dwarves, Daoudians, Kirtin-ish — crowded and uncommon. We Rudes need to go there because our buckets and casks are expected to have staves and finishes from the Forest. That may not last. Craft has to change and if dragons come back I do not need that risk. Maybe something from the island or up toward Kirtin proper.

Anyway, I’m off to see if it’s safe.

This is a daily assessment in Kirtin-on-the-Lake. There’s so many competing interests. The old neighborhoods and walls don’t mean as much. If dragonken settle in a few blocks that’s a new neighborhood — with magic everywhere.

Refugees from the destruction in Kirtin-in-the-Sky are trying to move in with cousins they ain’t seen in decades. Kirtin is a mess.

The peach is good, though. Really good.

Yaffy’s cackle-call echoes through the street from behind. Yaff hates visiting the forest, because those trees are not for him. He’ll always find a way to dilly-dally on the way. I think he ‘reads’ the neighborhood more than Kyrik, my little ratting dog that stays home, always.

I’m not of the born generation. I don’t have magicks.

The forest seems to refuse us and accept the youngsters with their elementalisms, enchantments and energies. This works in my favor. A few copper to the youth you have these abilities for each of the sticks I can turn into staves.

That peach is already gone. It’s three bites for an old stoney like me. Apple’d be two, but the pit gets in the way. I toss the pit to Yaffy as I sit down on a bench.

Casking for someone up in The Rise means gathering stick for art, proper wood carving ‘ll be needed too. I’ll see if maybe I can convince a dragonken to do it, mayb an elf. Edarra will pay.

Blues and whites without paints thanks to the woods from those trees come from a few kids. Those dragontrees seem to be shedding. There will be new dragons soon.

I shudder.

In-the-sky went from mighty city to flooded caverns with most bridges fallen into the waters.

Douad ain’t to protect us. Kirtin is a fighting force over on the Slope, but without leadership. Is it going to fall like Sheljar to the Necromancer? Broadsheets say the West is many cities without a kingdom now.

I need another peach. Or tea. Or ice cream (magicks are great for a few new discoveries). Or a game.

My mind wanders under this constant pressure of not knowing how this city will fall further into disrepair or if maybe it can rise like Sheljar under the Free City movement.

I stick the staves and falls into my basket. Yaffy leading the way to church. Quar’s followers have the Everflow — that’s better than wine, it’ll heal, even a broken soul.

Then it’s back to work.

This narrative slice of life was an attempt at Tuesday Afternoon, a technique to test world building to see if the created world makes sense for normal people.

Kirstin-on-the-Lake was the center of the Uprising & Rebellion campaign. It is the former winter capital of Kirtin, but was conquered by Daoud for most of the past several centuries. It is now controlled by neither nation with influences of both, with the new council system taking over governance while the Dragons come back to the Dead Forest, goblins land at their airxip tower, and the visitors from Sheljar.

Sudes Rudes is a cooper. His animal companion is a green woodpecker named Yaffy. He also has a non-bonded ratting dog Kryrik. Sudes is a goliath with Kirtin-ish heritage (stone) whose beard is tinged with the blue-greys (wave) more common in Daoud.

May 6, 2026
Storytime as Moons Rise – a short story

Sweat dripping from my brow, I head back towards home. Dinodas bounds towards me, shifting to walk on the customary left side as we stroll. My hand reaches up to scratch that comfortable spot behind his ear. It’s an instinctive move now, for both of us.

We’re kin for many years now, this massive hound and little me, a halfling from Kirtin, just off Slope.

Drew by Airwolfhound (CC BY-SA 2.0)

On certain days in the field he’s closer to me than others. On rising full Glibbon he knows I’m going to cut wood and brush. The physical exertion helps me focus, or unfocus — whatever. Those things that happened down Slope, and the years after, normally sit back in my head, but since the Hornjaws started visiting on full moons I’m unable to avoid the thoughts.

Don’t know how they got me to open up — probably something to do with how well they treat Dinodas. He likes them, so I like them. It’s typical for a bond. Meeting Belni and Terdu was good for him, probably good for me too.

I don’t like thinking about those times. I don’t want to remember the decision I made.

So that’s why when a moon rises full I cut brush and start a burn pile. Because this evening I’m going to share some stories. Daytime cannot be about Down Slope and regrets. That’s what moons rise is for.

I think back to the week-moon Feylf’s rise in Autumn. Belni was at the door. I didn’t have the rituals then, no stories. Just a drink from second mug. First mug is for caf in morning; second mug is ale in evenings. I lost third mug a while ago, that’s the one that Serg’nt gave me with the bottle. The fire was blazing, a bit too hot for this time of the year. Din’s at my feet when the knock comes.

Wrong time of day for a visitor.

Fire and sickle by Enrico Francese (CC BY-ND 2.0)

Out here in Cold Creek things are pretty spread out. Down by Iron Road they be more city types. Here we’re alone at night, and that’s why I live by Creek.

“Ho. Door’s open.”

I set second mug down. Looking towards the door, one eye on the dusty sword that hangs to its right. Dinodas lifts one ear, one eye. The old hound is apathetic.

“Sir, ‘s Belni. I been looking for Terdu. He late from bonds-day.”

I helped the older Hornjaw look for his younger brother. They human, Belni with a solid herding dog. Good size to his bond, smaller than Din.

We searched for a few hours, the light of Feylf helped, and a few hours after sunset the month-moon Glibbon rose too. That made things easier. We found Terdu crying in a briar. He was embarrassed. His bond were two little sheep — two little fluffy wool sheep.

So I talked and talked and talked. I told tale to Terdu of all the kin and their bonds I met Down Slope. Many dogs, horses too. But when you’re on the northern front you see a bit of everything. Cold Creek doesn’t have a lot of people. Most of their bonds are herding dogs, we’re a herding community and then Iron Road nearsby has the ford. Still mostall the bonds have purpose.

Telling Terdu and Belni about the bigger world helped. Terdu was willing to go home. Belni, his dog, the two floof-sheep and the now prideful Terdu waved away. On that first night I didn’t know they’d come back. They’ve been back five Glibbons now.

Winter on the Slope and Rise gets cold, so the fire rages and the Hornjaws started to bring their friends.

There’s a first-timer tonight. Someone from Iron Road? Not from Creek, that’s certain.

He’s with a pony, carrying a lance and shield. Oh, and the helm of a new conscript. Older than the Hornjaws. Hmmm.

Island Rock Fire and Moon by Michael Rael (CC BY 2.0)

Feylf and Glibbon are both rising now, full. Kin is three-quarters too. It’s a bright night, but bitter cold. The Dragon is tucked behind a cloud and years from being full.

“Terdu, is this everyone you invited?”

“Yessi.. I mean, yes.” They’d stopped calling me sir. I’m just a man, and a dog, and a past that interests them.

There’s three girls, not the same families, as one is a goliath. She’s got a flutter of sparrows round her, several braiding her beard while she sits and waits.

“Belni, serve the cider. Tonight I’m going to talk about Fer and his bull. Fer came from out east. Getting to know Fer was probably the best thing about serving Down Slope. Warm soul who knew warm songs, and would always smile.”

The new one is clearly disinterested.

“It was Fer who taught me talking-drum. I never picked it up the speed he could do, but didn’t matter. He made me practice. Made me good in the head. Hitting that little drum meant not thinking about the lines across the river with the people of Az and Sel, their mastiffs, their rage…”

New kid stops muttering to himself and just interrupts.

“How was he at fighting?!” He shouts.

“Fer would sing too. Not a deep voice, not falsetto — just that type of voice that is confident in itself and willing to share…”

“His fighting! Was he a master at the sword, or bow, or an axeman?” Another interuption.

It’s going to be one of those nights. This isn’t the first time a near-child has wanted the focus to be on the violence in the front. It most certainly won’t be the last.

“Others may tell you those stories. My tales are of the friendships made, the acquaintances held close, and the connections lost. I no longer swing a sword or throw my spear. But I still think warmly about the women and men with whom I serve.

“They are what I miss. They are my regrets. The people and their bonds are the only thing worth my time, for any other thought is sorrow and pain.

“Maybe you’ll find another to tell you your tales. Here, at my fire, under the full moons, my stories are of them, because these are the stories I have.”

Chided, the man-child laughs and storms off. No one joins him.

“Another custom Fer taught me…” I continue with my tale of my friend, the story I have.

November 11, 2023
Expeditionary fleet of Airxip Ixkon leaves Kon

Laurelyn looked over her works. Her funds sending a flight out over the Spires of Xelgar were larger than any other. It is her town that gets to host the final rising of the airxips; her vassals that operate the Ship of the Fleet and its three carrax; her pamphleteers that will write the story of these days. Other families had more money, fame, power, but the Ixkon discovered the anti-sink balloons and taut-line messaging that is needed for such a large expedition.

There are two other models like her Airxip Ixkon (of course she gave it the family name), one is slightly larger and with an additional two tenders. Gerarldine played the game well, but proximity to the High Mother could not earn her more than the vital discoveries necessary to cross the Spires. The third broadxip, Arx Golmul, comes from the North. With just two carrax helping it over the Spire it is most likely to struggle with the winds. But the northern community harvests the fuel trees for the bellows and they are experimenting in granting mulkon the right to vote. If the High Mother sees Arx Golmul do well major changes could be forced. It is likely that the Mothers Parliament were outmaneuvered when they approved that flight. No matter for Laurelyn, she is focused on earning her family, all of her family, more money.

Her artists turned out great posters for the launch. Sales are going well and the non-Ixkon living nearby continue to fall under her sway. There was a need for last minute recruits, and the posters helped.

What a perfect day. The winds are blowing towards the Spires. Normally that’s a problem, but today it’s what they need. Two Feyelfs (weeks) floating to those harsh isles and then the steep rise after extensive fishing. After the rise the ships will cross towards a land unseen for centuries, if the math is right the expedition will float for just a Glibbon (month) before landfall.

Captain Yerxian walks beside Laurelyn

“Ma’am, you’ll have to leave or this xip will not float. It is our time, the winds are right and the crew ready.”

“Certainly Captain. You have the cares and wishes of all of Kon behind you. Bring us something wonderful. This is your fleet now.”

There are no large speeches. The High Mother’s words were in every gobkon, hobkon and mulkon’s wallets, pockets or hands. That pamphlet is half orders and half inspiration to be as great as Kon can be. Each ship has a press so that new pamphlets can be made, and with the taut-line messaging system those can be more easily coordinated when at altitude.

November 10, 2015
Stumbling towards Sheljar

It’s been a few days since that awful incident at the shack. They’d left some people dead, with just piles of stones on them and then moved on to the west. Crazy Rohan cast his lot with the escaped goliath Piyu. Teegan was not going to abandon her brother and Master Kellamon could be guilty too.

Estrella thought about leaving, but it would be her and Ashley in this rough wilderness. A glassblower and a messenger pigeon alone in the rough mountains of Western Kirtin would be doomed. She can repair things, but that isn’t useful if you don’t have things. Plus where would she go? How would she find it?

They’re on tight rations now. Finding forage for Teegan’s ram Ha-Lim isn’t easy. Fani’s finding more than enough fish for the meat eaters, but this is rough land. Moving through it is hard.

Ha-Lim slows them down. Everyone deals with it. He’s as much one of them as the rest. It’s an odd group. Two dogs, a terrier that never stops barking and a hound without a sent to follow. Ashley is her pigeon. He could find Korlott, Kirtin-in-the-Sky and home no matter where he is. He’s so smart. But if she sends him off to let the family know what’s happened he’s gone. The group is going to keep moving.

She’d never met a bonded ram before Ha-Lim. Then there’s the heron Fani. What a magnificent creature. It just soars and soars on those huge wings. Can I teach a heron messaging? That might be fun.

They’re also kind of lost – again. It’s easy to think “head west” and know that Sheljar is that way. The Land of Two Rivers is always fascinating, but constantly embroiled in internal strife. Sheljar never offered to help Kirtin, and only one trade family from Qin responded to requests for aid. Estrella doesn’t hate Sheljar for this, but she certainly isn’t excited about the Empire with its guilds, families, companies all competing for power.

“‘Strella, come here!” It’s Rohan. The boy is fascinating. He keeps learning how to apply these funky powers. She runs across the camp.

“What?”

“Look, look” and a he makes a flower unbloom. “Now watch” and it blooms again. He plucks it and puts it behind her ear.

“Get ready to move children,” Master Kellamon says with a smile. A tiny moment of pleasure is necessary. These kids have been away from home for about a week. “Fani indicates to Piyu that the Norther River Everflow is just over that rise and downslope. There’s a town there. We’ll be in the Sheljar Empire tonight. Once we get there we have the protection of the Emperor, but will need to find a guild or family to take us as members.”

Teegan asks, “Which guild is going to take us?”

“I do not know. There are guilds and families based on craft, or trade, or faith, or location. Piyu’s skills with Fani will likely get him attention. Sheljar City has need for birds. He’ll try to connect with a goliath family that raises waterfowl.”

Estrella is happy. Any decent village of Kin needs a messenger. She’s seen dogs do this, but really, nothing is better than a pigeon. She’d find a place, then she’d tell her parents where she was. Maybe Rohan would be in the same town.

The youngsters strike camp. Piyu returns with the weather above his head, another dry day with light clouds. It’s like that massive storm emptied all the waters from the skies. Kell likes that. They should be in that town tonight.

October 18, 2015