I would like to know the stories of such love teams/couples that started in-game ^_^ Tell me, aye? >w<
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I would like to know the stories of such love teams/couples that started in-game ^_^ Tell me, aye? >w<
Hope they aren't minors. Lmao.
There was this couple called Jack and Jill, they both went up a hill, Jack fell down, broke his crown, and Jill came tumbling after. That was at level 41 tho, aint seen them since :/
I did hear of a Dish running away with a Spoon (does that count as a couple) and the cow jumping over the moon, must be a lix I never heard of - I hope it's tradable.
I don't know much about stories behind in-game couples, but this is what I've gleaned from the rumor mills about the torrid love affairs of the NPCs.
Milla the stash girl and the unnamed guy by the mast in the Guild Ship.
Milla used to be an aide to a Kraag field marshal during the Dead City campaign. Field commanders and their entourage were more likely to survive lost battles and messy retreats. So on the eve of big critical battles, soldiers often came to her and palmed her small items to pass to their loved ones in the event of their death. There were trinkets like rings and talismans, scarves knitted by sweethearts, handkerchiefs with embroidered initials in the corner, painted photos on tarnished lockets, and letters for parents and wives and children. And so Milla went from battlefields to battlefields, from skirmishes to skirmishes, carrying an ever growing pack of mementos from soldiers, some of whom had been lost, died, or worse, taken captive by the Undead. From time to time Milla would see them: young men or veterans, still wearing tattered Kraag commando gear, maggots crawling in their eye socket, gray rotting flesh peeling off their bones, unintelligible snarls coming out of their mouth as they charged at their former brothers-in-arms. And yet afterward, in tiny rooms full of grieving family all over Kraag, Milla would sit in front of a mother, a wife, the entrusted little memento on the table between them, and say, with absolute conviction, "He died bravely among his troops. We interred his remains in a safe hallowed ground and said prayers for him. The Undeads will never claim him."
Milla completed her tour of duty and went into guild asset protection business. But you can leave the war behind and it will never leave you alone and instead follow you in your nightmares, in your memories. Milla would pass a butcher shop and remember the stench of blood and ordure on the ground where men had been hacked, their entrails spilling out of their belly, trampled by unheeding combatants. She would pass the blacksmith shop and remember the mingled smell of gun powder and singed flesh and the scream of soldiers whose limbs were amputated in crude field hospitals without anesthetics.
So the unnamed guy in the Guild Ship came as a breath of fresh air. Sure he had no memory of anything, not even his name, but Milla thought she too would welcome forgetfulness as a divine blessing when the alternative is being haunted by visions so broken and vivid that they seem more solid and real than the happy peaceful normalcy around you.
The first time she met the unnamed guy, he was eating from a plate given to him by Eva. He chewed thoughtfully, looking rapt and ecstatic. "What is this?" he asked. He had crumbs on his smiling lips.
"Sugar cookie," said Eva.
"Fantastic! This is my favorite cookie!" he said.
"Yesterday it was macaron," giggled Eva to Milla in a whisper.
Milla smiled and thought how refreshing it would be to start every day with a blank sheet of memory, to be filled with things that are always fresh discovery, to be awed every day with wonders that never lose their magic and glamor.
"I don't remember my name," the guy said when Eva introduced Milla to him. "Why don't you give me a name?"
"Hmm, you look like a...a...Peter," said Milla lamely. The name only came to her because she had seen a flying banner that morning and remembered Peter, the marshal's banner bearer, who struggled to keep the Kraag flag from falling to the ground even though the enemy had hacked off his forearms and he was kneeling in a muddy pool of his own blood.
"Nice! Hello Milla, I'm Peter. Nice to meet you," he said smiling.
And for a day Peter was alive and well and they went to town and discovered the wonder of puppet show in the park, fed the pigeons in the plaza, bought paper lanterns and sent them lit up into the night sky. They kissed when they said goodbye for the night.
The next day the guy discovered he loved almond cookies and happily accepted the name Tristan for himself. The Tristan Milla remembered was a frightened boy who lied about his age to join the army so he could be with his older brother. The boy had taken thirteen arrows and died with his head three feet from his corpse, in a desperate charge to cut off Rutger's supply line.
"He won't remember you're his girlfriend tomorrow," warned Eva.
"That's all right," said Milla, fondly watching Tristan throwing bread crumbs to the ducks in the park lake. "That just means he will fall in love with me all over again every day."
Just keep the stories coming. Gosh, I'm having fun reading them xD
Sent from my A37f using Tapatalk
Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey, along came a Spider, sat down beside her, and they both teamed up to farm OP set gear.Quote:
Originally Posted by Rikochhan
legend says they're still farming the antignome sets til today T.T
P.S What the heck is a tuffet? Also curds n whey????? Fish and chipshop is just across the road and you're eating curds n whey! You on a diet love ?
AL COUPLES : The Story
Tank met a Rogue, they fell in love, eloped, married, had kids, divorced, then dieded.
THE END.
This one is more tl;dr and schmoopy.
Gruu the Exile and Auvin (you can see them in Tindirin, the Wilds).
At first it was unthinkable, coming over to the outsiders camp. It was a betrayal, of course, even a sin. The Arlorians had no respect for the living ancestors. They slay the dragkins, killed the snakes, and used the scales for armor. Sacrilege upon blasphemy upon trespass. No wonder the ancestors had become even more restless in their lair up on Rockhorn Summit.
The tribal elders had taken to send in more virgins to the mountains to appease the chief ancestor, Lord Rendtail. Gruu had helped in preparing these dragon brides, weaving the flowers for their crown and lei, washing their hair in perfumed coconut oil, wiping their tears and hugging them, giving them the sweet drink that would make them calm and sleepy on the journey to the mountains. Gruu was always dutiful. It would not do to anger the living ancestors.
But then one day the elders came to her hut and spoke to her parents. When they left, her father called Gruu and her sister Aigar. His voice was heavy, and he wouldn't look them in the eyes when he spoke. He said the elders had come for Aigar. She was to be anointed as Lord Rendtail's bride in a moon's time.
Gruu knew it was a blessing for Aigar to be chosen. She had always been jealous of her older sister's beauty, her singing voice, the way she made young men turn to stare when she walked down the beach. She should be jealous of Aigar's fate too, of course, because her body would be made holy by her sacrifice, her soul sanctified, and she would be reborn with wings, as a dragon.
But that night as she held her sobbing sister, Gruu realized that she didn't want to lose Aigar, especially to the ancestors. The elders kept talking about the mingling of human and dragon blood, how this tie kept the heart of the island beating, how the sacrificial pyres would free the flesh, let the wings unfurl, and transform a woman into a dragon. But everyone knew that it was all mere hogwash. That in truth the girls were taken to the mountains to be fed to the dragons.
Gruu had seen the ancestors descend into battles in the lowland once. She saw one snatching a slender Arlorian rogue and snapping her body into two broken pieces in a single crunch of its powerful jaw. Gruu had stayed awake all night holding her sister thinking Not Aigar, not Aigar, please not my sister.
So they planned an escape. It was unthinkable of course, because if they were caught, their whole tribe would have to pay the price: they would all be enslaved. And there was really nowhere else to run but to go to the Arlorian camp. Anywhere else on the island would be dangerous. And getting a boat ready in secret would take more than a moon.
Gruu worked out the route and the time, on the darkest night, just eight days before Aigar was due to be taken. They packed rope and daggers, some dried fruits and fish for provision, and flint and tinder to make fire.
Then one morning, just two days before their scheduled flight, the elders came to take Aigar. The ancestors, they said, required that she joined them immediately, sooner than expected, how fortunate of her! The elders came with spearmen. They ringed the house to make escape impossible. Aigar was white with fear and fury but she did not cry. She said she would prepare herself and went to her sleeping room.
Gruu helped her with the white wraparound and flowers. Her hand shook as she gave Aigar the cup of coconut milk laced with the sleeping draught. Aigar drank deep then said she would like to see the garden one last time.
The guards watched as Aigar made a circuit of the family garden, touching trees and bushes as if giving them her final blessing. Then the elder said they had to leave for they have to be at the mountain top at sunup the next day.
Aigar joined them without a word, without looking at anyone. Her hand trailed one last time at the hibiscus bush on the edge of their gardens. Only Gruu saw her palm open and the black spider that scuttled away along the fingers into the foliage.
She bit her trembling lip as she watched Aigar walk away. Two, three hours at most, she remembered the village shaman telling the children about the deadly spider venom. Aigar would not feel the pain because of the numbing potion she had drunk in her coconut milk. They would think she was asleep in her palanquin. But she would be cold and stiff when the time came for her to be presented to the ancestors. A futile defiance, but the only one she could make.
Gruu left for the Expedition Camp that night.
***
She did not think about what would happen to her when she got there. She was not prepared to be hauled by two rough looking Arlorians into a hut, where more grim Arlorians talked to her in their harsh strange language for hours. Her satchel was examined thoroughly. When they left, an Arlorian woman came to strip her grass skirt and chest plate, gave Gruu a set of clothes like the ones she wore, then left her alone in the hut.
The sun rose and crested. At sundown, Auvin came into the hut. The first thing he said was, "Are you hungry? Did they give you anything to eat?"
Gruu was so surprised to hear someone speak in her native language she almost broke down and cried. Auvin called for some food and water. Gruu was worried that the food would be bizarre, or worse, forbidden. But the tray that came was filled with foods she was familiar with: roast breadfruit wedges, grilled fish, and some fruit slices.
As she ate, Auvin began to talk. "I'm sorry my people treated you badly last night. The camp is in uproar. The tribe (and here he used the word that could also be translated into "our people") reacted to the desecration of the egg by sending in waves of assassins."
Gruu shivered. She had heard, of course, of the destruction of the sacred egg, but she found she was no longer horrified and enraged by it. She wondered if by leaving her people she had destroyed her soul for she could feel nothing, not fear, not sadness, nothing. When she was alone she tried to remember Aigar and her straight-backed walk into death. But all she felt in her heart was numb emptiness.
"Some traders came in with a cart of coconuts, " Auvin went on, "and we found out too late that those in the bottom were steeped in oil. They set the whole thing on fire, leaped screaming into it and sent it burning into some tents."
"And two days ago we had three people dead and nine very sick from fish we bought from tribe fishermen."
Gruu stopped eating and stared at the lump of fish on her tray. Auvin laughed. "No, this one is good. We caught it ourselves. Well, some of the men did anyway. I'm not good at fishing in water that's not solid."
Gruu frowned at that. Solid water?
"How did the men die, who ate the fish?" Gruu asked.
"They just dropped to the ground, stiff as a board. They still breathed for a few minutes but then that stopped too. Those who only got sick managed to throw the fish back up in time, but our doctor said they are paralyzed now, some from the neck down, some from the waist down, some only on one side."
"Oh," said Gruu. "It's the moon fish poison."
"Moon fish?"
Gruu described it to him. "Some of the tribe warriors smear it on their weapon. It dries out, and not much of it get absorbed by the skin unless it touches an open wound, so the effect isn't as potent as when you ingest it. But still it makes you temporarily paralyzed."
"Interesting," Auvin said slowly. "How do you know so much about this?"
"I'm in training to be a tribe shaman," she said. "At least I was, until yesterday."
***
When they were not talking about customs, warfare tactics, lay of the land and other issues that could be of use to the Arlorian in their fight against the tribe, they talked about each other. In the beginning though, it was mostly Gruu who asked the questions. She did not feel like talking about herself, her family, and least of all Aigar.
Auvin, she found out, came from a city called Stronghold.
"What's it like there?"
"It's cold most of the time. We have snow six to eight months a year."
"Snow?"
Auvin laughed. "Ice particles."
"Ice."
"Solid water. Snow is like chalk powder, but cold. Ice is like glass but very cold."
Gruu tried to contemplate this. "And you said fish live in it? That you can catch?"
"Well, some streams and lake may have ice on the surface but the water still flows underneath it. Sometimes we break a patch of the ice, drop a fish line in, and if we're lucky, catch something."
"Ah, like catching catfish in mud flats in very dry season?"
"Ah, I don't know. We never have dry mud flats in Nordr."
"Do you have dragons in Stronghold?" she said.
"We know of Syrillax in the northern mountains of Ursume," said Auvin. "In fact, I had come here to study tribe language and customs because we've had a dragon invasion under Tarlok. Back then we knew nothing of it. I was sent here to learn as much as I could so we could fight back the next time something like that happened."
"So that's how you learn to speak our language."
"Yes."
"Was it hard?"
"Your language, like most of the island, is light and gentle. The sounds are easy on the tongue, the intonation like music. Only the words about dragons, the living ancestors, are hard and harsh and sharp. They hurt my throat when I say them."
"I know," said Gruu, looking away. She did not speak again.
***
"Don't you want to get out sometimes?" asked Auvin one day. "Some of the lads are partying on the beach tonight. There might be music, dancing. Aren't you tired of this poky hut?"
She had been in camp some five or six weeks but other than Auvin and a number of people who talked to her (with Auvin interpreting) about military matters, she had not met many people and she did not want to.
She tried to explain it to Auvin. "It's like I still think of this, my staying in the camp, as temporary. It's not my home. I will be going away again. And I don't feel like making acquaintances that I will only leave soon."
Auvin stared at her. "Do you want to come home to your tribe, Gruu?" he asked quietly.
She looked down at her lap. And shook her head. "I don't have a home there anymore. I can't go back."
"You have your parents there."
"Yes. And everything I know, everyone I know. Including the ancestors. And I can't, I won't go back to that."
"So where do you want to go from here?" The question was tentative. Like walking on a sheet of glass, Gruu thought.
"I don't know," she muttered. She raised her eyes, laughed a tentative laugh. "Maybe I can come with you to Stronghold. I want to see the snow."
Auvin smiled a little. "I would love to show you the snow on the mountain tops. And take you skating on the frozen lake. But when this war is over I'm not going back to Stronghold."
He is going to stay in Tindirin, Gruu thought. And I would have to stay in this cursed island too because I can't live anywhere else if Auvin isn't there. The realization hit her with a shocking force. And it hurt. After weeks of floating in gray numbness, feeling nothing, having to choose between Auvin and leaving the land she had loathed with all her being, pierced her with a pain so new and raw it was almost exquisite. Auvin had told her about the cold that took away all sensations, and how, when blood returned to these frozen extremities, the first thing you feel was pain, sharp, burning, sweet pain, that told you that your body was still alive.
"Why not?" she managed to croak.
"I have no home there anymore," he said flatly.
"No family?"
She dragged the story out of him. He was the youngest of five boys. His father died in battle before he was even born. His brothers had been called to war, one by one. And one by one the letters with the royal crest had come back in their stead. His mother had gone out when the fourth arrived. "She wasn't wearing any coat, or even shoes. It was the middle of winter. There was a blizzard and everything was white," his voice was bitter. "We didn't find her until two days later."
"And yet you yourself had gone to war. Why?"
Auvin was silent for a long time. "It's the way of the Nordr. When the king summons, you go and do your duty," he finally said.
"It seems to me," Gruu mused, "that you have living ancestors too in your homeland. Except you call them the king."
Auvin looked away.
"So where do you want to live after the war?" Gruu ventured, wondering if she could take the answer.
"I haven't decided," said Auvin, looking pensive. "But somewhere warm. Somewhere sunny."
"Like Tindirin?"
He shook his head. "No," he said. "I was thinking Garetta. It's a big busy town. I could open a bakery."
Gruu smiled. "A bakery?"
"Yes, why not? People always need bread. I can make pies too, and cakes. My place will be warm and smell of baked pastry all day."
"That sounds lovely," said Gruu. Peaceful, she thought. "Do you...do you think I can come with you? I can help with the kneading. I have quite strong arms."
To her surprise Auvin took her hands in his. He squeezed them, raised them and looked at them closely. "Good baker hands," he said grinning. "Yes. Come with me. Come with me."
AL COUPLES : My Story
A lady, who I love
From the heavens she came like a dove
She flew not so slow, landed on my toe
So I kicked her back above!
.................
I once was with a lady called Trish
She loved eating pickled fish
She touched her toes, let out a fart
And now we live apart.
How long took you to write that :OQuote:
Originally Posted by ilhanna
On and off about three hours maybe, I wasn't paying attention because I started this while watching MotoGP live TV broadcast LOL.Quote:
Originally Posted by Atlas
This technically not a couple but....
The cat and the fiddle,
Quibble, twiddle and tickle,
Little by little they riddle, squibble and go hey-diddle-diddle.
......and then that stupid cow jumps over the moon.
This is the last one. Lots of schmoop in the end. You've been warned.
General Priska and Bodie the Beastmaster (you can see them in Paradise Piers)
General Priska knew there was a beastmaster among the Kolga. People went to one when their companion was ill or when they wanted to buy a new one; that much she knew. But the Beastmaster was never included in any of her tactical meetings and planning. The only beasts she was concerned about in a very marginal, distant way was the bullocks and goats that were needed for provisioning long range battle and patrol ships. Other than that, animals were superfluous on board a military vessel and pets were a luxury she couldn't afford to have when all her attention must be focused on purging Bloodhammer and his Aegir pirates from Kraken Isles.
So when the Beastmaster walked into her office one very hot humid day, she had no idea what he wanted with her or the war council. Especially since he came carrying a stinking bulky bundle wrapped in dirty tarpaulin with dark damp patches. The man put down the package over Priska's maps and papers; her aide had to rush to rescue them.
"What is this, Beastmaster?" asked Priska coldly.
The Beastmaster moved the flaps of tarpaulin aside without a word. Inside lay a very large dead turtle. Its head was attached to the body by what little of its neck that had not been gouged and torn by deep bloody bite marks. One hind flipper and a third of the carapace was missing. The underside gaped open, showing lumps of shredded entrails. Tiny crabs crawled across the macerated organs, picking bits off with sharp claws. There were blood-stained gray white orbs nestled amid the wreckage. Turtle eggs.
Priska met the Beastmaster's grim eyes. "Explain."
"They've been killing nesting turtles, General," said the Beastmaster. "This is the third I've found today. There were six last week, nine the week before. Eighteen last month."
He turned the carcass over and pointed at the gashes on the shell. "Shark. And yet this is found on the beach, not in the waters. So it's Bloodhammer and his ilk."
"They weren't killed for food either, but for sport. All of the turtles were left to bleed to death," he went on, mercifully drawing the tarpaulin back over the broken body.
"I see," said Priska. "I understand you're upset but I don't see how this is any of the Navy's concern."
The Beastmaster sighed then launched into a long-winded lecture on the turtle's role in maintaining the seabed where fish feed and breed and how the turtle's decomposing unhatched eggs helped nourish the beach so that vegetation could grow to fortify the area against the pounding surf.
"If we lose more turtles, there will be less fish for our fishermen to catch, the beaches will be eroded and we will lose some of our islands," he concluded. "You're fighting the Aegir to save the Kolga way of life. But if we let them get away with killing turtles, we will have fought for nothing. It takes years to mend any kind of damage to the environment. Our children will have to pay the price too, and their children as well."
Priska refrained from commenting that in her line of work there was little chance of her having to worry about her future offsprings suffering.
"You make a convincing point," she said. "But the fact remains that the Navy do not have enough resources to guard every island in the archipelago. Our fleet and troops are stretched thin as it is."
"You don't understand, General," the Beastmaster said. "I'm not here to ask for your help. I'm offering you mine."
***
At first Priska thought what he was proposing was something along the line of strap explosives on dolphins, light fuse, let dolphins swim to enemy ship, kaboom.
The Beastmaster had listened to this with eyes growing wide with horror. "That is barbaric!" he hissed. "The shock wave will kill everything in the vicinity."
"But that's the point, right?" said Priska.
The Beastmaster shook his head in disgust.
What he actually suggested was something less dramatic. Priska was skeptical but agreed to try it.
The Aegir pirates attacked in groups, using two or three light, fast and easily maneuverable skiffs. And they always struck at night.
The group had targeted the merchant vessel Danila which was seen leaving Paradise Piers in the afternoon, heavy in the waters, rumored to be carrying a rich cargo of timber, spices and pearls.
The night was moonless, the sea calm. The pirate captain led the charge. Soon his men were climbing the rope ladders. And then he heard the first scream.
The captain was halfway up the ladder when he saw his men climb over the railing in shrieking panic and plunge headlong into the water. Then his fingers touched a cold sleek object that slithered up his arm. There was only the dim light from the ship lamp above him but it was enough to let him see the brightly striped sea serpent that began to coil around his arm, mouth opening, tiny fangs bared. The captain screamed and let go of the ladder. The water that engulfed him as he splashed into the sea was not very cold, but in the dark he could sense that it was crowded. There were too many bodies, and some were too sleek with sandpaper skin...
***
Priska listened to the report in silence.
"In this way we have managed in the last six days to subdue five groups of pirates," said Commodore Winston. He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "However the sharks...have left us no prisoner for interrogation."
She dismissed the commodore and turned to the Beastmaster. "These sea snakes," she said. "Every sailor knows they are the deadliest serpents. One bite and within minutes your skin turns blue, your tongue black and swollen, and you die in pure agony. How is it that you didn't die when they bit you?"
The Beastmaster assumed his lecturer voice again and spoke at length about animals who mimicked the coloration of their more dangerous relatives to fool predators into thinking that they are venomous. "When in truth they are harmless," he concluded. "It was falling into the water swimming with sharks that killed those pirates. We are lucky they all died so this information didn't leak out to the other pirates. But we can't continue to rely on luck."
Priska nodded. "You have one nasty mind, Beastmaster," she said. "I'm glad you're on our side. So what next?"
***
"Clyde," said the Beastmaster. "And that is George. This is Konga. And that one is Amy."
"Monkeys," said Priska doubtfully.
"Trained monkeys," said the Beastmaster with a censorious frown.
"Lovely. Then I need not worry about them pooping on deck."
The Beastmaster vented a desperate sigh. "These monkeys," he said, speaking with deliberate slowness as if she was a child with limited intelligence, "came from islands where the Aegir had hunted them for sport and cruelty. Some of the groups survive by developing skills that allow them to fight back and then passing these on to their children. These four lead packs that can hold their own against armed men."
"Splendid. So they can strategically throw banana peel and trip pirates, I presume," murmured Priska. The Beastmaster glared at her.
***
The Navy had harried the pirates from the small atolls where they lurked awaiting prey. With many of their smaller vessels gone, the pirates fleet now consisted of a number of middle sized and larger ships, all boasting cannons and a few sporting battering rams.
The battle went hot and fast, churning the sea as ships turned in tight maneuvers for boarding and cannon balls splashed exploding sending great sprays of water. The pirates were ready for the Navy's strike but nothing prepared them for onslaught of furry screeching creatures who skittered across the boards in lightning speed, climbing everywhere, unraveling ropes, snatching weapons, or wrapping lithe limbs around one's head, biting nose, pulling hair, screaming in one's ear. They were quick and agile and their darting movement was confusing. The Navy took advantage of the chaos, crossed into the pirate ships and took over. It took less than fifteen minutes.
But one ship, a fast ten-gun schooner, had drawn away from the melee in time to make its getaway. Priska signed for a chase but the pirate ship had had a chance to make several miles lead while the Navy ships arranged themselves to point in the right direction.
The Beastmaster stood beside her at the bow of the command ship, peering through his own spyglass.
Priska turned to him and smiled. "Your monkeys did very well," she said.
"Thanks, but they're not mine," grunted the Beastmaster.
"I don't suppose they like getting paid in gold," mused Priska.
The Beastmaster gave her a pained look. "No. And not in bananas either, before you ask."
"So what are we going to do about them then?"
"There are some islands to the northeast, dense forest, largely unoccupied. If we can clear the pirates from these islands, the monkeys can live there in peace. It's their home."
Priska nodded. "I'll see it done."
The Beastmaster inclined his head by way of thanks. He pointed with his chin at the speck on the horizon. "Do you think we can catch up with it?"
Priska looked grim. "We have to," she said. "Those schooners have shallow hulls and can easily hide in sheltered bays that are too dangerous for vessels of this size."
She turned to the Beastmaster. "I don't suppose you can call up the Kraken to sink them, can you?"
The Beastmaster looked aghast as he mutely shook his head.
"Oh well," sighed Priska, "one can only hope."
Two hours later the speck in the horizon only got even smaller. The sun was setting in an hour or so. Soon it would be too dark to see.
Priska was considering jettisoning some cargo to lighten the ship when she heard the Beastmaster gasp. He was peering through his spyglass but his lips were moving and what she heard him say was "No, no, no, oh no...."
He tore himself from the spgylass, his eyes were mad and frantic. "General, tell the ships to turn back. Now!"
"What? Don't be absurd, we have to capture that ship."
"Trust me, you don't want to be where that ship is now, General, we're going to be slaughtered!"
Priska raised her own glasses. The pirate schooner was barely visible in the distance, riding on choppy waters with tall sprays white around it obscuring further view.
The weather had held fair and the wind steady. There were no signs of storm. She suddenly remembered snippets of a tale she once heard when she was little. When the sea turned bubbly, and fish rose in abundance to the surface, beware the Kraken. In the story she remembered, the beast had risen to demolish a ship, then as it sank back into the deep, its weight had created a vast whirpool that sucked in all the other vessels nearby.
"General," whispered the Beastmaster, "turn back now, turn back."
It was a gamble. It might cost her her career. It might make her the laughingstock of the war council. She looked at the Beastmaster's pale face and gave her order.
***
Later that night they found the wreckage of the schooner. The pirates had clearly tried to flee the stricken ship in light cutters. But these too, had been destroyed to smithereens. Whatever was left of the pirates, the hungry wild sharks had taken care of.
"Sweet Himingleva," whispered Priska. "May the sea have mercy on their souls."
In her private cabin late that night as they made their way back to Paradise Piers she spoke to the Beastmaster. "You have saved the lives of hundreds and six ships of the Navy. Whatever you asked of us you'll get it, even though I think we can be opening the coffers and showering you with all the gold and jewels in it, and we will still be in your debt."
"Then they will be indebted to you too. It was your decision to turn back. I know it must have been difficult."
She raised her wine glass in acknowledgment. "Of course I can bring you to court for treason if it turned out you have caused me the most embarrassing error of judgment in naval history. But that wasn't the case, fortunately, for both of us. I would hate to see you hang."
He smiled as he inclined his head. "So would I."
"Oh, so you can smile after all," she smiled in return. "That was a first."
"We have all been tense," he conceded.
She nodded. "So what are you going to do now? The pirates are much reduced and scattered. We can now divert more ships to patrolling and defending the smaller islands for your precious turtles. But what about you? I don't suppose you'd like to join the Navy," she went on quietly.
The Beastmaster shook his head. "Thank you, General. But for now I'm just happy I can return to my beach and continue my study of the animals."
Priska nodded. She twirled the glass in her hand. "Tell me," she said finally, diffident. "I've sailed these waters for most of my life and seen creatures of the deep too bizarre for words. But I know these seas like a friend, like a lover. How is it that I never knew, never heard that a kraken lives here, devouring ships?"
The Beastmaster shook his head. "It was no kraken, General. That ship was rammed by whales."
Priska stared at him. "Don't mock me. I know whales and they don't destroy ships."
"This time of year the whales migrate to their feeding ground with their young, babies born last winter. The ship ploughed into a large pod of these migrating families. They were...merely protecting their young."
Priska nodded slowly. "I don't know whether I should be glad that there is no kraken in these waters, or disappointed." She smiled and rose. "Thank you, Beastmaster, for a most enlightening talk."
"A pleasure, General," the Beastmaster said as he stepped toward the door.
"General is much too formal tonight," Priska said carefully. "Call me Priska."
The Beastmaster paused by the door. "Very well," he shrugged. "Good night, Priska." Then he left.
"Good night, Bodie," she said softly to the closing door.
***
The Beastmaster house was empty when Priska arrived. Several animals in cages watched her with wary eyes as she circled the small shabby wooden cottage, calling for him.
In the end she decided to stroll to the beach and wait for him there.
The gust of sea wind carried with it a foul stink. She took a perfumed handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it against her nose but it did nothing to keep out the powerful stench.
And then she saw it.
"Stars above, what is this?" she asked Bodie.
"Manatee poop," he said laconically. He was busy shoveling sand over the line of dark, slimy lumps.
"You must be joking! What animal poops this much! It must be a mile long!"
"There must be a pod of them out there on migration," he said.
"And they all had upset tummy," Priska muttered. "This happen a lot?"
"No. But there was strong wind last night and I supposed they got blown over here."
Priska shook her head in amazement. "Do you have another shovel?"
They inched their way across the sand burying manatee poop. He talked about the primate sanctuary in the northeast isles and the turtle nurseries along the coast. She vented about appropriations meetings where she had been fighting the council over budget cuts.
After a while she realized he had not said anything for some time. She turned and saw him standing looking at her with both hands on the handle of his shovel.
“Hello,” she said trying to smother the awkwardness. “We still have half a mile of poop to inter.”
He smiled. “I'm just wondering why you're here.”
She swallowed, ran a hand across her sweaty brow to stall.
“It's half a day trip here from the Piers,” he went on. “If you're here to berate the councilors for being pinchpennies with the Kolga’s security you could've sent me a dispatch. And even so, what could I possibly do in the situation? I'm not in the council.”
She smiled wryly. “You couldn't maybe send them some ticks? Blood sucking leeches? No?”
He walked over to her side. “You can't possibly have come here just to help me with poop control.”
That got a laugh out of her. “No,” she admitted. “I imagined many things. A walk on the beach. A swim in the lagoon. A boat trip and picnic on a sand bar. Not...this”--she waved her hand over the poopy sand.
“The truth is I wanted to see you,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I'm at a loss really. I've penetrated some of the most tightly guarded smuggling rings, planned combat drops in remote hostile islands, brought a ship safely through four days of storm, freed slaves from monsters. But I don't know what to do about you.”
“I don't need liberating, or rescuing,” he smiled gently.
“I know,” she sighed. “I've gotten so used to getting everything I want. I'm not used to people and situations I can't control. At the headquarters all I have to do is bark an order and it's done. It's true in the council I have to argue, bargain, compromise, but I don't have to like them. Or….”--she stared at him--”...want them to like me.”
“I suppose I'm here because you have showed me a world outside the barracks and the decks. It's wild and strange and magnificent. And I want to see more of it. And I need a guide. If you want to,” she trailed hoarsely. “If you will have me.”
He smiled and reached to tuck a wayward strand of her hair. “I've heard people go for poetry and flowers when they're courting,” he said.
“I can do flowers,” she said quickly. “If...if that's what you want.”
He laughed. “Nah. I like it better like this.”
She let out a giddy laugh. “Phew! Good then. I'm hopeless with poetry.” She tiptoed, really daring, and planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He tilted her face up and kissed her on her lips.
“All right,” she said breathlessly after. “Let's shovel more turd.”
“How romantic,” he said with a chuckle, giving her hand a warm squeeze before reaching for his shovel.
AL COUPLES : The meeting of two hearts
He thrust himself upon her, holding her tight. She gripped him hard, tears swelling in her eyes, face with a hue of red. He looked into her eyes, she looked into his and said...........GET OF MY FOOT YA BLITHERING BAR-STEWARD!
[emoji23] [emoji23] [emoji23] [emoji23] [emoji14]Quote:
Originally Posted by Terminhater
😂😂😂
Sent from my A37f using Tapatalk
AL COUPLES : The Questioning
Tank : Can I just ask a question ?
Rogue : You just have!
Tank : Can I ask another one ?
Rogue : You just did!
They all lived happily ever after. No questions asked.
AL Couples : The Stalkering
He looked into her eyes, and she looked into his and said...Who the heck are you! POLICE HALP!!!