I do remember the Council of Nastiness, and looking back over some of my posts on them (from about five years back in a lot of cases!) they seem a bit one-dimensional, so maybe they should get an exploration of what they're really like. I am more tempted by a How the Best was Won tale though... Red, Ben, Jimmy and Shanghai Suzie. I'm thinking that Jimmy's dad probably never made it out of the original tale (though we never quite finished it). Any thoughts yourself?
The hunter and the hunted "..and that's when the horse walked into the bedroom!" Laughter erupted around the square, dry chuckles from old men who were careful about laughing too hard in case they cracked a rib or fell off their chair. h'Alfred, Alf to his friend (singular: he permitted himself exactly one friend at any given time) smiled, and then his smile broadened further as the wine-bar owner brought out another carafe of wine for him, paid for by the grateful patrons enjoying his jokes and tales. "Persimmon wine," he said, reading the label. "As in, actual persimmons?" "No," said the owner, a middle-aged man neatly dressed in a way that suggested he was much stronger and more athletic than a wine-bar owner needed to be. "Persimmon is a local grape variety. They say that the land here was fertilised by dragons back in the day." "Any dragons now?" "No." The owner shrugged. "No dragons anywhere, from what I hear. People like you pass through and tell tales, but no-one's seen or killed a dragon in the last ten. No cockatrices, no manticores, not even a bone-golem and there are tombs to the west that adventures used to go disturbing twice a week. I don't know if the world is getting quieter or if you've all killed all the exotic monsters." "Monsters is the right word," said h'Alfred. "They don't fit into the ecosystems." "That's probably why they don't come back then," said the owner. "All hunted out by the hunters. There was a Witcher came through a month back though, he said he was looking for ghouls." "Did he find them?" The owner stared up into the sky for a moment. "I think he must have done," he said. "The thing about hunters is, though, if you don't mind my opinion, that they tend to assume that they're on top. Superior. That they hold all the cards." "Aye," said h'Alfred. "But if you don't hold all the cards then it's not hunting is it? It's playing dice." "Is it? Well, maybe you're right. But I think it's the assumption that's the problem, you know. If you looked carefully to begin with, you might see what's really there. Ah, I have a customer wanting my attention, excuse me." h'Alfred poured a fresh glass of wine, and tasted it. The wine was a little acidic, with more bite than he really liked, but the flavour was pleasant, and after a moment the alcoholic-glow in his stomach made him relax. He looked around the square, thinking about what the owner had said. All the old men were sitting there, leaning on sticks, quite large sticks in some cases, or slumped down in their seats. Some of them had left weapons within easy reach, that, now he thought about it, was a little odd. They could hardly be a militia at their age. And there was one, practically collapsed over his table, with a white streak in their hair like a badger... or a Witcher. He stood, suddenly realising where the ghouls were, and reached behind him for his sword, only to find that it had been picked up already by a very old man, too old for a human, who was grinning at him with cracked yellow teeth and crazed eyes.
Greg - five years ago? Okay, I don't feel so bad about being vague on the details now.
I would definitely be in favor of some western tomfoolery. I might even be tempted to join in occasionally, once you've written enough for me to remember what the characters are actually like.
I am pleased that you went the Witcher route with this. And you've handled it masterfully. I heard they're doing another season of the show, but filming is on hold right now because of the pandemic. But I've got lots of other things to watch still, so I've no room to complain.
2 comments:
I do remember the Council of Nastiness, and looking back over some of my posts on them (from about five years back in a lot of cases!) they seem a bit one-dimensional, so maybe they should get an exploration of what they're really like. I am more tempted by a How the Best was Won tale though... Red, Ben, Jimmy and Shanghai Suzie. I'm thinking that Jimmy's dad probably never made it out of the original tale (though we never quite finished it). Any thoughts yourself?
The hunter and the hunted
"..and that's when the horse walked into the bedroom!"
Laughter erupted around the square, dry chuckles from old men who were careful about laughing too hard in case they cracked a rib or fell off their chair. h'Alfred, Alf to his friend (singular: he permitted himself exactly one friend at any given time) smiled, and then his smile broadened further as the wine-bar owner brought out another carafe of wine for him, paid for by the grateful patrons enjoying his jokes and tales.
"Persimmon wine," he said, reading the label. "As in, actual persimmons?"
"No," said the owner, a middle-aged man neatly dressed in a way that suggested he was much stronger and more athletic than a wine-bar owner needed to be. "Persimmon is a local grape variety. They say that the land here was fertilised by dragons back in the day."
"Any dragons now?"
"No." The owner shrugged. "No dragons anywhere, from what I hear. People like you pass through and tell tales, but no-one's seen or killed a dragon in the last ten. No cockatrices, no manticores, not even a bone-golem and there are tombs to the west that adventures used to go disturbing twice a week. I don't know if the world is getting quieter or if you've all killed all the exotic monsters."
"Monsters is the right word," said h'Alfred. "They don't fit into the ecosystems."
"That's probably why they don't come back then," said the owner. "All hunted out by the hunters. There was a Witcher came through a month back though, he said he was looking for ghouls."
"Did he find them?"
The owner stared up into the sky for a moment. "I think he must have done," he said. "The thing about hunters is, though, if you don't mind my opinion, that they tend to assume that they're on top. Superior. That they hold all the cards."
"Aye," said h'Alfred. "But if you don't hold all the cards then it's not hunting is it? It's playing dice."
"Is it? Well, maybe you're right. But I think it's the assumption that's the problem, you know. If you looked carefully to begin with, you might see what's really there. Ah, I have a customer wanting my attention, excuse me."
h'Alfred poured a fresh glass of wine, and tasted it. The wine was a little acidic, with more bite than he really liked, but the flavour was pleasant, and after a moment the alcoholic-glow in his stomach made him relax. He looked around the square, thinking about what the owner had said. All the old men were sitting there, leaning on sticks, quite large sticks in some cases, or slumped down in their seats. Some of them had left weapons within easy reach, that, now he thought about it, was a little odd. They could hardly be a militia at their age. And there was one, practically collapsed over his table, with a white streak in their hair like a badger... or a Witcher.
He stood, suddenly realising where the ghouls were, and reached behind him for his sword, only to find that it had been picked up already by a very old man, too old for a human, who was grinning at him with cracked yellow teeth and crazed eyes.
Greg - five years ago? Okay, I don't feel so bad about being vague on the details now.
I would definitely be in favor of some western tomfoolery. I might even be tempted to join in occasionally, once you've written enough for me to remember what the characters are actually like.
I am pleased that you went the Witcher route with this. And you've handled it masterfully. I heard they're doing another season of the show, but filming is on hold right now because of the pandemic. But I've got lots of other things to watch still, so I've no room to complain.
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