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AuthorTopic: The tavern of Geglash  (Read 59532 times)

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Offline Ramierez

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #315 on: September 15, 2009, 12:44:27 pm »
well if you also serve drinks without alcohol i don't mind to pay a visit  :drinks:
Laut Joe ist eins der 7 Übel in Diablo Arielle die Meerjungfrau
Farin Urlaub: Ich bin vieleicht nicht lustig, aber ich wäre ein spitzen Diktator.
TUM Mensa Aktionsessen: Gekochtes Fleisch in brauner Soße
George W. Bush: Gesunde Kinder brauchen keine Krankenversicherung
Neun von zehn Stimmen in meinen Kopf sagen ich bin nicht verrückt. Die andere summt die Melodie von Tetris...
http://www.lmgtfy.com/?q=chaos%20empire

Offline ChaosEmpireTopic starter

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #316 on: September 15, 2009, 09:43:56 pm »
ok, here is some milk just fresh taken from a cow in the labyrinth


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Offline Ramierez

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #317 on: September 17, 2009, 01:04:54 am »
*looks sceptical at his glass*

Joe there is no cow in the Labyrinth, only a bull
Laut Joe ist eins der 7 Übel in Diablo Arielle die Meerjungfrau
Farin Urlaub: Ich bin vieleicht nicht lustig, aber ich wäre ein spitzen Diktator.
TUM Mensa Aktionsessen: Gekochtes Fleisch in brauner Soße
George W. Bush: Gesunde Kinder brauchen keine Krankenversicherung
Neun von zehn Stimmen in meinen Kopf sagen ich bin nicht verrückt. Die andere summt die Melodie von Tetris...
http://www.lmgtfy.com/?q=chaos%20empire

Offline ChaosEmpireTopic starter

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #318 on: September 17, 2009, 01:46:53 am »
drink it before it get cold...after that, think about the drink  :girl_wacko:


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Offline Ramierez

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #319 on: September 17, 2009, 10:36:17 am »
better at least reheat it a bit, to kill everthing "allive" :violent5:

 :girl_crazy: <-- also wants to read the story about the planets
Laut Joe ist eins der 7 Übel in Diablo Arielle die Meerjungfrau
Farin Urlaub: Ich bin vieleicht nicht lustig, aber ich wäre ein spitzen Diktator.
TUM Mensa Aktionsessen: Gekochtes Fleisch in brauner Soße
George W. Bush: Gesunde Kinder brauchen keine Krankenversicherung
Neun von zehn Stimmen in meinen Kopf sagen ich bin nicht verrückt. Die andere summt die Melodie von Tetris...
http://www.lmgtfy.com/?q=chaos%20empire

Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #320 on: September 17, 2009, 04:13:33 pm »
Oh hi there sailor. What you doing here by your self.

That Joe is always running of somewhere.

We gots beer, spirits, wet and dry, coffee , milk and cookies we keep for Joe.

The lug has to be careful, one beer ans the floor says hello.  :girl_wacko:

 :welcome:

Get back in the kitchen and make a fresh pot of coffee. Sorry about the wacko, she is a good cook. Likes Joe too. Roll a smoke and sit a spell, the coffee be ready shortly unless you want a drink. Snacks you have to get yourself.

So you want to hear more about the planets?

Well they circle the stars in the night sky, a little hard to see.

Oh you want one of the stories I wore the keyboards out on, let alone all the mice. They too long to put here besides maybe I can get a few coins for them. I see if I find a short one. Now its mine, don't go filing off the serial numbers. Its mine, but you can read it.

Ah, I found one that is not too long or racy. This is mine and I hope you respect that. Now If i could only find a publisher... Oh well here it is.



                                          A Trek Packers Journal

                                       A Planet RR 453 short tale!
                                                          by
                                           William Robert Smith
                                          08/16/08  11:16:18 PM

          This is an abridged translated version of a journal that came into my hands lately.
                               It is as a true verbatim copy as I could make it.

   The little girl, Leena, was leading the twelve mixed pack animals on a long legged, huge, smart, stud mule. A twenty ball carbine thrower across her saddle. Two animals back, her dad was slumped in his saddle. He was busted up after being kicked. Old Gramps was ridding drag.

   It would be two long days to the next homestead. Christ's Backyard was thinly populated, mostly by loner types, sick of noseyparkers. Christs Backyard was a mostly temperate planet with a thin tropical zone at the equator. Winter in the northern or southern latitudes could be a bitch thou.

   The main cash crop for the homesteaders was a mild smoking, rich red burley leaf tobacco. The leaf was packed out in bulky fifty pound water tight packs, compressed into a blocky shape for packing. Two traders serviced the planet, every other year, trading with the Coop Factor for the leaf. The factor had a list of things the different families wanted.

   The trek packers, ran their different routes, some thousands of miles, bring the trade goods out and the leaf in to the trade factor. A few dried spices were starting to trade good. Extra grain and pack food were also moved to those with a need, animals permitting.

   “Two more days.” Leena thinks as she watches the brush, never knew when a beastie would want a free lunch. “Wish the brothers were with us. Well keep wishing, Sis. Best think of stopping, to let them blow.”

   A fairly clear, clearing lets them let the animals rest and graze a little.

   “Leena you stopped us early.”

   “Help me see to pa and I'll loosen the cinches.”

   “These extra stops are no good for him.”

   “Ridding all day is no good either.”

   Dad is off his horse and made comfortable with a couple soft packs. Gramps makes a small pot of weak coffee, while I loosen the cinches and stake out the animals. The coffee tastes good and pa manages to get some of the pain killer down. Just a drop in the full cup.

   We let dad doze as we get the animals ready. It takes two of us to get him in the saddle. We both hope the bandages will hold him together, those broke ribs will be a while mending. He holds tight to the saddle as we mount. We would stop two more times before we camp that night.

   By the end of the second day we were still short of the next stop.

   “In the morning for sure. Its better for him to rest, than push on to day.”

   Gramps reasons why we should stop now. I agree with him and start to fire to cook over. Then we have to off load all the packs and stack the pack saddles. Dad is sitting up now, trying to keep watch.

   The stock get to roll and a quick brush settles them to graze. A crick had water for them and us. A thin soup, stew was what we had, left over from last night. Dad don't eat much. I get to stay up and watch as I clean up.

   I let a pot of cracked grain soak for a hot gruel in the morning. Gramps hates gruel. I still have some extras to make it go down. A nudge has Gramps up to watch and I roll in to get what sleep I can.

   Morning comes with a light mist, making a damp start. Gramps has the gruel bubbling and thinned a little. A pot of tea, is strong and sweet. We eat letting the animals get some water. A whistle gets most back. The stud mule has the stragglers moving back. “Morin.” Was his garbled greeting.

   I scratch between his ears as he nuzzles out the dried carrot, treat. The brush and comb dry his back before he is saddled. He blows good and I pull the cinch snug. The hackamore lead is looped up on the saddle.

   It takes more than a hour to get the pack saddles on with all the packs tied. Dad has managed a second bowl. Gramps and me pick up the camp and have the fire out before we get dad up on his horse. Gramps checks to see if we left anything as I lead out.

   “Boy do I miss the dumb brothers and the dogs. Mom is sure to be pissed that we'll have to leave dad to mend.”

   By midmorning we are at the homestead. The couple right away help get dad down and find a bed for him. The wife undresses him and bandages him up again. The husband helps put the packs in the barn after we turned the stock out to graze.

   The tobacco barn scents the air with curing tobacco. He has eight bails ready for us to take back to the main pack train. A fifty pound bag of a new sweet corn seed has him smiling. A hundred of hard winter wheat would have him getting a field ready. Two sacks of flour wheat would help feed dad while he got better.

   We swapped a few things for the house and made sure the packs of goods were what they wanted. She had wanted a better selection of cotton and wool cloth. A bag of goose down had her smiles. A small packet of flight feathers would make good fletchings.

   They made sure we would thank the Hagit family for the feathers. She had a paper sack of herb seeds to pass on. We thanked them for that. Someone could always use some herb seeds. Gramps had a hard cured hide for soles if they needed it.

   “Don't need it took a couple wild mooies (Might be a form of wild cattle?) last week. Do you need some meat?”

   “No we're good. The stomach will help with the meat.” Gramps nods at pa, dozing.

   “He can help keep tract of the two little ones.” She says.

   “Even with dads horse we'll need an extra pack animal.” I say to them.

   “Thats a problem. All I have to spare, is a flighty two year old mare. Shes on the light side too.” He tells us.

   “So we pack her light, that is if you have a pack frame.” Gramps tells of the need.

   “I'm sure we could make up some thing.”

   “We do have the tough hide,”

   “I have an old cinch thats fairly good.”

   “Well go to the barn and see what ya can make.” She shoos them out of the house.

   Then we get to do some baking, after sharing out our starters. She was feeding one with cracked rye that made a tangy biscuit. We tried that to start and make up some extra bread dough, to rise. I noticed that they could use a better stove.

   I dug out the catalog of iron goods. A seventy eight pound cast iron stove would be bigger than the sheet metal stove she had. It was an easy one to pack, all in a flat wood box. They would have to put it together. She thought that stove pipe, damper and wind top would be good to have. A couple boxes of mason jars, extra rings and tops were put on the wish list.

   A good supper for the men, made for an easier sell of the cast iron stove and pipe. The thought of a covered back porch as a summer kitchen to cook on was a hard sell. She did mention they would be needing more room and the porch could be enclosed latter. This got her a maybe, which she smiled at.

   Dad was able to sit up after the little ones were put to bed, over a second cup of tea. He did mention a rocker rip saw, would make cutting lumber easier. Gramps put it on the must list for them and he would pay for it. He wrote no cost and signed after it.   

   Gramps knew how to stare them down and they agreed finally.

   “Its only fair for the use of the filly.” He tells them.

   Dad is nodding off about then and we get him settled for the night. The stove is banked and the rest of us turn in. Just bedrolls for me and Gramps. He grumbles good naturally.

   She was up with me to start a breakfast. Gramps goes and helps with the chores and works on the pack saddle till called for breakfast. A couple hen eggs make johnny cakes, to go with butter and a touch of honey. The little ones like that a whole lot.

   Then it was fix a lunch and then a supper, to do it over again the next day. Thats the day we checked the packs and lead the filly around with the light packs in the morning. An early light lunch and we were off again. Dad hanging on to a porch upright, watching us go.

   Now Gramps and me had are work cut out for us. It was six long days to the next homestead up over a low pass, with fourteen pack animals now. The filly caused a little problem till Gramps had a talk with her. He had a way of talking to an animal as he would comb them out. The brush worked out kinks and eased any problems from a pack saddle.

   He checked the pack frame and had to reset a few nails. A thicker blanket helped the filly settle down them. But we had a late start that morning and would not make it up easy. We were running three days late now with two extra animals packing.

   “Don't figure you can push them hard now.” He warns me.

   I know he is right. Morning meals are light and can be ate in the saddle. He grumbles about my lack of cooking skills. We eat late after dark, do to the cooking time. After a few days we eat when we change watches. We both get to sleep more and eat better for one meal.

   We make the next homestead in just over six days and right into a packers nightmare. More to pack and not enough animals to pack it. They had four heavy sacks of corn for the Brenner family, our next stop, two days away. They had lost most of the young corn to a herd of wild mooies. He did take a couple but still lost the corn.

   He was in the middle of cutting his wheat, with the wife and kids sick, so he would not have a chance to pack the extra corn to them. The three heavy packs for them still left us short, if we were to pack out his seven bails of leaf.

   Gramps and me packed the two lightest packs and packed the rest on the animals. The smart mule was upset tell Gramps talked to him as we got the others ready. The filly did not like the heavier load but we manage to tote it all on to the Brenner's.

   It was three days of walking to their homestead. They got the last of the goods and kept us walking with the leaf they had. At least we didn't have back packs now. We now kept the filly tied to the smart mule, since she packed our food and camp gear. Gramps grumbled all the way to the main trail and we hoped the main pack train. Mom would not be happy. We missed them at the main trail. They were a couple days ahead of us. It took us twelve days of brisk walking to over take them.

   A hundred plus animal pack train moves slower than a small pack train. One of the horse herd drags seen us and brought us two horses to ride. Even bare back, it was nice to ride. We would soon be making the turn to head back to the trade factor and winter camp at home.
08/17/08  01:55:04 AM  08/17/08  12:27:17 PM

   Mom was pissed as I figured, but not just because of dad. The brothers and a few of the younger packers wanted to get more wagons. Mom was hard to talk to for days.

   It was the one high pass that proved her point, getting the grub wagon and tent carts took an extra three days. Leaving us all eating dried meat and weak coffee, no hot meals. With them over we got the rest of the pack animals across and stretched out across a slightly drier savanna.

   More scouts were out ahead looking for good water, the last regular water hole was almost dry. We dug it out some and did get more water, not too good though. I can't believe we left dad just a month and half ago. Most of the animals are packing leaf now, a good crop this year.

   The grub wagon broke an axle to day, with no spare. Gramps and me rode cross country to some distant trees. A day of looking found a dead one for a new axle. Finished the day cutting a couple sections to make an axle from. Gramps wanted the extras for encase.

   It took us two days to get back. The pack train was way ahead of us now. The broke axle was apart now with the iron core beat straight. I found out why Gramps wanted extras. The first split crooked and was fire wood. The second was split okay but Gramps had them split a third.

   That one was better and they grooved out the splits for the iron axle core. They wrapped the center with leather straps, to shave it down to bed the iron bands. The center iron sleeve was next. A few minutes of hard hitting had it set in place and spiked.

   The wheel journals took a day of careful whittling and bastard file work with the normal amount of curses. A wrap of greased leather made a snug fit to the wheels. A late evenings work, had the axle back under the grub wagon.

   Up early the next morning, the pack train was six or more days gone now. It would be a short four days to catch them, traveling light like we were. Two more extras and the split were tied to the sides of the grub wagon. Cook was glad to see the wagon again, she hated to ride.

   Mom had all the wheels pulled and greased. The tent carts got greased too. A ground digger hole and large stone had broke the axle. There were a few slippery people till we got to good water. The grub wagon and tent carts were out ahead again and we all had a good hot meal that night. Breakfast was good too.

   The organized chaos of breaking camp was something. Gramps made me watch this morning and learn how it was done. Breakfast was almost ready as the stock were brought in to a long picket line. One by one they were lead to the pack tents to be saddled and the packs tied on. A weather tarp covered the packs and pulled tight.

   A few would stop to eat. Once a tent was empty, it would be struck, folded and put on a cart. With in an hour the pack animals would be ready for the trail. Most had ate breakfast now and the saddle stock were lined up and saddled. The last few ate as the tent carts were made ready.

   Now cook and the helpers were cleaning up, getting the grub wagon to move. The pack train was stretched out and moving, each rider leading ten to twelve pack animals. The tent carts were waiting for the grub wagon to start. Gramps and me go to help the horse wranglers with the loose stock. We ate dust that day.

   The next few weeks seen the last of the packed goods off to the homesteads with extra animals. It had been a good year for the burley leaf tobacco. Forty packs of mixed spices were a nice addition. A hundred and thirty some animals pack the trade items now. Mon is happier now with the good year.

   Little more than a mouth left till we get back home. Mom keeps the days marches shorter. Letting the stock graze up some for the winter months ahead. Some of us would be out minding the herd that winter as usual. The grub wagons and tent carts would make for warm camps.

   We were in time to get the winter wheat planted and help finish the last of the harvest. We trekkers grow grain, run some cattle and cows. Granddad Phillips was working to setup his second small still, all summer. Getting wood aging barrels was still a problem for him. Mom like a sip now and then but didn't want moon out in the trekker families. Cut aged whiskey was better.

   The factor made a good trade on coffee and tea this spring, two pounds of coffee for a pound of leaf and four of tea to one and a half of of the leaf. Nearly all the items on the old trade list was brought, with just a few items missing, by the free trader. Trade clinchers and extras would go to those who need them.

   Mom got the families a couple more heavy sewing machines. Tents and clothes would be easier to mend and make. The looms were not brought. Mom had a few sharp words with the coop factor. It was rumored that it would be. “No looms, no leaf, next year.” Mom did have away about her, thats why she lead the trekkers at such a young age.

   The looms were for a few families with flocks of wool sheep. Their homemade looms were hard to use and had traded nearly forty bails of leaf for them all ready.

   Mom was on the com that night talking with the other trekker heads. None dared to say what was said, even if they listened in. It was heard that the the coop factors had a few short com calls the next day. They had a cushy job and could loss them in a heart beat if the families chose to make a change. Failure to get items needed or traded for was the quickest way.

   The next trader ship didn't get to trade the next month before we left after spring planting. The coop factor there had plenty to trade we know. It seems a message was sent asking for different traders to call.

   We were gone that summer when a Family Free Trade landed. Hot Mountain Coffee, chilies, spices, seeds and thirty gaming tables were off loaded for a mere hundred bales of leaf. Then the factors were making calls and a list of items that had not been delivered and traded for was made. Names and times were listed. The Family Trader was light on house hold goods, having just come from a new Hermit planet, where they got the coffee.

   The trader had been up front about where the coffee was from. I was to find it was better than what we have been getting. The families were all gossiping about what the new trader ship had brought. Mom had to be firm with the families she talked to. The gaming tables would go to the most isolated families. All would get some of the rest.

   Dad was back with us and had trouble riding, not all of the ribs knit right. He heads on home with a couple riders and packs.

   Mom was in a foul mood most of that summer, again more of the burley leaf took up extra animals. Nearly fifty large bales of carded wool was a new item for trade. The sheep herders had run out of room to store the extra wool without the looms. They were also making extra cheese and had some cows for more cheese.

   Both would be heavy to pack but the rest of the families would like the extra food items. The year was slow to end for us, nearly two thirds of the animals were packing loads. That was over two hundred animals. Every morning and evening was slow hard work, making each days march short.

   We finally get home after the fall panting and harvest. We were dusted with snow two days from home. It would be a hard winter for the stock heard, snows and fast thaws made for poor winter graze. Mom decides for a late start the next year with extra help. All winter she was hard to live with.

   The stock was in good shape after a spring of grazing on the new grass. Com calls let us know we would need more animals to pack out trade items. A short two hundred would ride that year with an extra grub wagon.

   We trekked in two sections then, this year. Gramps headed the second section, I was his extra eyes and hands. We would pack out the items for trade. Leaf, now more wool and cheese. Families had used the goat cheese to start making cheese from the extra milk they had.

   Being the second section, the packers to the homesteads stayed with us to the half way point of the trek. Then we split into three sections, with the last of the goods going on ahead. The trailing sections moved better with the extra help. We were all making good time now, for the long run home.

   The high passes were behind us and we were crossing the dry savanna now. The water holes were good this year with fairly good graze for the stock. The first section was nearly three days ahead of us now. We were doing twenty to thirty um a day now.

   We sat out a nasty dust storm today. All the stock is tied to doubled picket lines with some of us talking to the stock. A cloth keeps their eyes clear of the dust. The storm dies at sun down and we water all the stock. We spend the last of the light brushing out the stock.

   The night herders were doubled to keep the stock close for a quicker start in the morning. Hot gruel with a few extras was breakfast for a quicker start. Off were were for a thirty plus um day.

   Gramps was proud of our march that day. We caught up to mom that evening. A hot supper filled us all up and had us ready for a quick start in the morning. We were able to trek side by side with moms section and we would stay together making good time, letting more of the stock get a days rest.

   The brothers were down to thirty some odd pack animals, when a group of beasties made a run at the horse heard. They camped for several days letting us catch up while they tended the hurt animals. The dogs were fed good now and nearly twenty pelts were scraped and drying.

   The stud, smart mule was tore up some but he left his mark on four of the pelts. His trekking days were over, one leg was chewed some. He would be lead home at an easy walk, following us. Mom was proud of the old guy.

   The stock had killed most of the beasties. The brothers were chewed on some by mom. They had kept a light watch on the herd and now paid for it. They rode night herd every night now and drag during the day. That got smiles from a few. Mom knew how to get points across.

   We were home in time to help with the last of the harvest. Both of the traders were back. One had looms that were ordered and a few extra. They both wanted to keep the leaf trade, but the cost of the leaf was higher now.

   An old epsilon in need of repairs landed and off loaded things from the Family Traders. It made hops to all the factor compounds till the holds were empty. House hold goods, more coffee, not Hot Mountain, darn, several types of teas and an assortment of rebuilt gaming tables.

   The crusty old captain had not wanted anything for the goods, since they were heading on for repairs. The factors made sure some leaf, cheese, and spirits found away aboard. The factor at the ships last stop knew the old ship would be back in a few years ready to take more of the trade items.

   The next years were good for trekkers with the increased trade. Mom was worried and checked the families credit with the factor. Com calls had a few of the other trekking families pooling the credit. Rebuilt twelve and sixteen seat speedsters and two shuttles were put on order. The credit would cover three quarters of the cost.

   The following ten years had them paid off as some were delivered. Five speedsters were first to arrive. A old woman came with them to teach the pilots. The trekking way of live was changing now. Mom had seen it coming and dragged the trekking families to use speeders and shuttles, to move goods.

   Now we maned regional stations now to collect trade goods for the speedsters and shuttles to take on to the factor compounds. Now all the families would get what they needed sooner. The speedsters and shuttles would help with birthing now or take the mothers to one of the new medical clinics.

   A small repair shop was started to repair the speedsters and was expanded to work on the shuttles. We now supplied some preserved fruit, cheese, packed meat, solid furniture, leaf and what else would trade to a few mechanized worlds. The repair shop would grow to a small ships repair facility. The family would see to it that they had help to train the techs.

   We are celebrating this year. The planet is now a Mover Rendezvous Planet. My second grand daughter just had her third son. We are now RR 9683, Christ's Backyard. Mom and Gramps would be proud of us. The Movers helped us party some, by having a Rendezvous here this year of 2856897, what ever that means. We just know its great to be alive. The children fill my days.

                 It is hard to end it here as they go on to be a strong trading planet.
                        A few ships of their own, would be for the star seekers.
             The human frontier keeps expanding into the unknown as this journal shows.
         Leena has left out the deaths in her journal wanting to remember the better times.
                       I stopped when a second person started make the entries.
          Life on the edge has its dangers, even in this late year, how ever you count them.
                                            08/17/08   03:35:26 PM

I'm tired now. All the typing has worn me out. Enjoy reading the short story. just a ten peeny thriller, it is not.

                              :sarcastic:

 :girl_haha:    :drinks:













« Last Edit: September 17, 2009, 04:53:45 pm by bdpf »
.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline ChaosEmpireTopic starter

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #321 on: September 18, 2009, 09:41:20 am »
you really need to find a publisher


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Offline mrmud

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #322 on: December 16, 2009, 07:23:38 am »
The OLD Gummy General sure gets loooong winded .... I do believe he needs to have a few more beers, as a matter of fact Gummy get start playing multi

Posted on: December 16, 2009, 07:21:52 AM
:shout: Has anyone seen Slayer-Sly??????????????
Schlamm ist eine wundervalle Form des SpaBes.
As the winter day goes by and rain sinks into the ground, behold the wonder of Mud, so simple yet so complex, it is just how you mold it .... splat!

   
"Sing auf Seraph. Finden Sie die Ruhe in die Seele.
     Bringen uns näher an die Flamme, dass führt uns zu Hause. "

Seraph wird in dem Song "The Flame Die Guides Us Home" von der Band Demon Hunter von ihrem Album "Triptychon".

Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #323 on: January 11, 2010, 02:24:12 am »
Ah heck, I dropped in to dust off the bar top and put some fresh milk in the cooler for Joe.  :s513:
Who is the brigand that drank my whiskey? :girl_werewolf:
I always have trouble keeping a bottle of sipping whiskey, handy.
Look at this beauty, they over looked the single malt. Ha Ha. Now  get a clean glass, roll a smoke and a cool stein. This is liven, good. Good sipping with a gentle wash. :drinks:

That was good, time to clean up the old tavern for tomorrow. Need to get a few more kegs, I see. Got fresh milk for Joe, need to get more coffee, plenty of tea left. Maybe I'll bring a sack of cookies, the next.

Better put my beauty away for the night.

As for playing online, the lack of spare coin keeps the old Gummy poking on the keyboard making up tall tales and playing, single play. I do check out what the retired ladder players have equipped. :)

My new stash takes over five minutes to load. Plenty of time to get a cup of coffee and roll a smoke. The beer is kept handy, by my chair. :nyam:

Now I'll post this and see what other tales I can come up with. Bye!  :diablo:

Post Merge: January 11, 2010, 04:15:24 am



                                                             New World 154
by
William Robert Smith
This start of a short story is for your reading pleasure, here, not to be copied or reproduced.
This is my original work and should be considered as copyright protected.
I have a large knobby club that says itis!
                                                 Enjoy reading. 01/10/10wrs

04/18/09 02:21:33 PM

   Nothing grew in the torrid wet heat of New World 154! Then the second major phase of its terraforming began. The terraforming team of twenty were the first to set foot on NW154 since the first evaluation teams. Their task was to make NW154 at least a Class B world.

   I was following the sweat soaked shorts of Zibbie Darlene, up the steep path, to the higher ground. That is me, John Darlene, expert terraformer, lusting after, focusing on Zib's sweat soaked shorts,below her bulging back pack, on the steep trail. We're just moving base camp up higher, away from the growing flood plain, by the creek.Just two of the twenty expert terraformer field agents, trying to save the base camp supplies. “Quit watching, my ass, John.”“Right!”


   It really started when the powers to be, decided that NW154, Class D-minus Planet was too much of a rich prize, to terraform the old fashioned way. They used neutron deployment to kill off the animal life and anew, self terminating, herbicide to kill off the plant life. All ofthat was to kill off all forms of live on the planet. “Yep, that was suppose to do it!”

   Airborne seeding of plants and microbes started two years latter, changingNW154 from a lifeless globe to a born again planet. Certain insect types were then spread for pollination of the plants. The normal cycles of seeding new life forms were followed for the next twenty years, all monitored from orbit. Field work was then started to fine tune the planet's change of class, which put us the first terraform team on the ground.

   “John, keep up.” “Yes Zibbie. You need to rest?” “No!”

   Twenty of us were put down on this coastal plain, at the start of the dry season,which was all right, then. “Man, her sweat covered, tanned,muscular legs look good.” “John, quit day dreaming.” We were to monitor the adaptation of the life forms seeded. Everything seemed to be going good, we only had a few minor equipment failures. The tests proved that the fish and land animals were fine to consume and tasty.

   The predators were keeping the life forms in balance. The upland forests were maturing into a fine resource. All seemed to be going fine on NW154.The original plant forms had decayed back into the soil, allowing the new plants to control erosion and feed off the decaying plant matter.

   That left us,six months latter, with most of our powered equipment now non functioning at the start of the wet season. Humidity and heat, were off the scale. Daily rains made the original base camp a swamp with insect pests. Something was eating most of the synthetic parts of our gear, only natural parts seemed to be immune to the bug. We're now quarantined till we can find the cause and fix the problem. Nothing that touches down would be allowed to leave. Low and high orbital drops were planned to resupply us.

   “Okay John, lets rest for five.” “Great! Let me help with your pack.” “Just taking five, frisky!” “Yes, Zibbie. Ah, Zib your right boot is falling apart.”

   “Damn! Damn! The stitching, is failing.”

   “Drop your pack and lets get them off.”

   “No! You undo the laces and carry them.”

   “Your no fun any more.”

   “Latter to night, I promises.”

   “Just watch where you step.”

   The new base camp was where the large eight place lifter failed. It was gutted nowand cleaned up. Peg helps us with the packs. Zib's boots were put with the others. Peg carefully checks the E-rat rations we packed. A poke has me looking for more fire wood.

   Out past the graves, I trot, before the rains start again. My feet leave muddy bare foot prints, behind. “Ah, a few of us died when the four place speedster crashed, last month. It was the last of the working transports.” I get my thoughts back to gathering fire wood.

   “Peg, whats to eat?”

   “Stewed E-rats, what else!”

   I put the wood next to the fire as Peg stirs the stew in the salvaged drive cover.Peg dishes out the food and weak tea. Zib gets me to eat, I was watching Peg again. Sally had cut out the last of the festering inhibitors from the girls. Bix was bitching again, trying to scratch under the mud and plaster cast, on his leg.

   “Do I have to tie up your hands, Bix.” Sally warns him again.

   It starts to rain again. We carry Bix back into the lifter shell. Sally checks the cast. “Try to sleep Bix.”

   “Light enough to drag in a few more logs.”

   With ax and rope, we went to the cut trees for a shelter. The last of the branches were trimmed off and we started to drag the next log back to camp. We all cursed the mud as we slipped and slide along. Thou logs did slide better on the mud. Us males managed to drag back two logs before dark and the nightly thunder storm.

   The girls had the haunch of a Trihorn grazer, roasting on the spit. Trihorns were an unplanned mutation that was good to eat. It has three horns as the name suggests. Sally supervised the roasting. She would only let us have well done meat. Sally was the only medical doctor we had, now. Patrick, died when the speedster crashed.

   It was after dark when Sally let us have some of the roasted meat. Zibbie and I stayed up to tend the fire and the last of the haunch. Zib also managed to take care of my ragging hormones, too. She almost crushed me at the end. She chased me out into the rain to wash of the mud. It was fun squeegeeing the mud off her, my hands just loved the feel of her body.

   A few hard pokes had me back by the fire to dry. We took turns nodding off, to keep a low fire under the last of the haunch. It would be done, come morning.

   After eating,Peg lead off back to the base camp, packs empty, water bottles full.Peg's skirt of wool blanket didn't cover much and had me panting along after her. It barely covered the cheeks of her ass.

   Zibbie had stayed behind to make crude sandals out of the soles of her boots.Roger and Charley had gone off hunting again, being the best with thebows that we made. Maribeth or Beth for short, was right behind me with a heavy walking stick. She had her orders to keep me well behaved.

   Peg and Beth were barely showing, Sally was at least six weeks pregnant. Zibbie hadn't caught, same as Gail and Janet. “Yep the women out numbered us males and ruled us with a firm fist. They had too!” A poke of the stick had me watching where I was stepping. We arrived back at the old base camp by mid morning.

   Now it was sort out what we could pack and protect what else we could salvage latter. The water in the creek was higher now. We tied off water proof metal cases to the bigger trees before we left, packs full of canned goods, most of the labels were washed off. I followed Peg up the trail.

   It was too much, the view that is, I took the walking stick away from Beth and had Peg's pack off, skirt pushed out of the way. Beth knocked me out with a can of beans. I found that out latter after I woke up. Peg's tits were staring at me when I woke up as Beth topped me off with five fingers.

   We were all muddy when we started off again. Peg now had a heavy club. They followed me, now with a poke to keep me moving. I was their beast of burden, now. Sweat washed off most of the mud as we climbed to thetop of the trail. “Keep moving John!” We only stopped when we got to the camp.

   Zibbie helped with the packs, noticing the new bruises on Peg and Beth. Her hard fists took my wind and gave me a sore jaw. Peg stopped her from hitting me. Beth pushed me out into the soft rain to wash off.

   “Fire wood!”Was the next command. Off for wood I went, nursing a sore jaw. Four heavy loads latter, I was allowed rest.

04/19/09 04:22:51 PM

Gail and Janet were forming arrow shafts, I was allowed to knock stone points, had to conserve the ammo for the simple weapons that still worked.

   The last ofthe team came back from clearing the Big Cross in the woods. The cross was the mark for orbital drops of supplies. It also showed that some of the team were still alive. Old Max, the last of the three survivalist, went back to his crude crystal transmitter. He had Peg crank the magneto, for power. He worked the spark gap for fifteen or so minutes. Old Max was not sure he remembered the Morse Code correctly, it had been a hobby when he was a youngster.

   “Time to eat John, quit day dreaming.”

   Ten days have past. The old base camp was salvaged mess of decaying synthetics.Everything else had been lugged up to the new camp. The light metal cases had been the hardest to move.

   Peg had made cloth masks for the men, coated with a scent of evergreen, this helped us from falling prey to our male hormones. Old Max just dabbed some on his mustache. Facial hair would soon be the norm as the depilatory treatments ended. No more evergreen scented bandits chasing the females.

07/14/09   10:01:58 PM

   Sally told us all of the girls were pregnant now. She waved a stick at us males to keep us focused on the words of warning. “With next to no medical supplies I'll have to deliver them. Which one of you will help with mine?” She asked.

   “Now Sally don't be so mad!” Peg tells her.

   “Quite! I'm in charge of keeping you healthy.” Sally stops to wipe away some tears.

   The girls take Sally away to calm down, end of medical lecture.

   The next two years were a nightmare. The only good thing was none of the women died in child birth. Just try to imagine how hard it is to burn wet wood, let alone start a fire with wet wood. Two fires had to be kept smoldering under crude split wood shelters, lest one or both would go out.

   The one way supply drops had to be made from space not low or high orbit. The synthetic eating bug was present at the top of the atmosphere. Only remote controlled drop vehicles nearly free of synthetics had a chance of hitting our drop zone. One nearly landed in the camp, digging a hole in one of our meager fields.

Growing food was an unending battle with the rain and mold. No root vegetables lasted to maturity or could be stored long. Onions and such grew quickly and had to be pulled young. Beans grew well year around but could not be dried for storage. They would sprout several weeks after they were harvested. Sprouts were part of nearly every meal. Grains grew with large heads of seeds that mostly dropped from the stalk when touched. Fire dried grain was all that we had, boiled into a gruel.

   The last of the inert synthetics turned to mush, boot soles, belts, etc, six months after we moved base camp. Metals and natural items were resistant to the bug. Metal rusted, while the cotton and wool fabric rotted, growing moldy.

   The supply drops kept us alive, the first two years, as we slowly adjusted to the new wet conditions of the planet. By middle of the third year,medical supplies designed for the planet conditions were dropped to us. Sally then was able to clear up most of the wet condition infections and trench foot. Sally was able to rest more and keep more of the children alive past the first year.

   The addition of four medical and scientific volunteers, to our growing population, helped us adapt, change, our way of life. Wet tropical foods expanded our diet, for the better. Our over all heath improved. Less time was spent just surviving, letting us construct better shelters from the nearly continuous rain. The two dry seasons lasted but a few weeks.

   Better bows and the fact that trihorns like to graze in the fields, let us have a good supply of meat. E-rat were only used as a diet supplement now.Raw wool garments were now the rule. The natural oils kept the wool nearly water resistant and mold free, longer. A few sheep were dropped and did poorly in all the wet, at first. Third generation lambs did well, growing to be good wool producers and tough when eaten.

   Wet weather tanning and curing of hides, was a chalenge, improving our shelters into homes. Flattened light metal supply cases made a good, if noisy roof. Communication improved when several comm sets survived the drop and exposure to the synthetic bug.

   “John your turn to get more fire wood.”

   “Yes Zibbie. Are you coming?”

   “Since you asked, no!”

   “Ah Zib, I'll pull the sled."

   “And I'll have my club.”

   A day of collecting fire wood, lead to a safe romp with Zibbie. We only had to stop twice to care for the kids. The children now out numbered the adults two to one. The oldest were just six years old. Bix's limp was now a thing of the past.

                                                     Fifty Years Latter

The base camp has been moved three times to get away from the raising water. This part of the continent was sinking. The last move was made with two shuttles and a handful of speedsters, made for our world. These new designs would be used on other worlds being terraformed. Our world was credited with a royalty for each one manufactured / built.

   The synthetic eating bug was dying out, ah starving it seems. At  least that is what Holdemson has told us. A positive cure for the problem was still years away. A high orbital quarantine station now let some of us off planet. Mostly children that had to be removed from the wet. Not all of the children were able to adapt to the wet weather.

   The medics now were able to control the fertility of the women without inhibitors. They no longer became pregnant after one or two sexual encounters. More free time lead again to better living conditions. Our homes were now fired brick and stone with wide over hanging metal roofs. Most of the yards and courts had some form of roof to protect us from the rains. The maturing hardwood forests have finely slowed the rains and let the dry seasons become longer.

   Twelve new volunteers arrived today. One commented on our darker complexions. Peg looked at the light skinned volunteer, shocked at the comment. Sally just undid her skirt belt revealing her lighter skin, protected by her wool skirt.

   “Hope you don't burn. The sun puts out plenty of UV rays so stay covered up as much as you can.” Sally warns the new comers.

   “Why wasn't this reported?” One asked.

   “Had no time or realized that it had happened. You can report it now.” Peg tells the new comers.

   “You will have to adapt like you were trained to the conditions here.” Zibbie continues to tell them of some changes to the training they had received.

   “At least you will be able to leave.” Bix comments sharply. He was not able to pass through the quarantine on the orbital station and had to return to the surface.

   “You hope!”Peg adds.

   That sobered up the new volunteers. They started to reread the list changes to the training.

   “You'll have time to study the changes latter. The medics need to check you out now.” Sally tells them.

   The dozen were on the planet to set up a separate research station. A few of us were assigned to baby sit them for the first six months. Zibbie would not let me loose amongst the females of the group. Her polished club was once again hanging on her belt. She reaped her strict attitude during the following nights. I did like having extra romps with her.

07/14/09 Bed  11:47:30 PM

Okay you whiskey thieves, brigands, the above is the start of a short tale that you may read while you look for the single malt.
Ah,Joe, left you a pitcher of home made eggnog in the cooler. You best drink some before the others get to it.
Just remember this is for you to read and enjoy on the forum, in the tavern. It is not fair if you file off the serial numbers and claim the story as your own. I just hope someone will be interested enough to want to publish my ramblings. Yes, I know they need to be polished before they can be published.

I never did pass English Literature 101! :)
William Robert Smith
The Generalist
Old Gummy
bdpf


 :wece:
« Last Edit: January 11, 2010, 08:49:08 am by bdpf »
.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #324 on: January 16, 2010, 10:02:44 am »
 :girl_wacko: :drinks: :comando:
        NEWS IS WHERE YOU FIND IT OR WHAT YOU MAKE UP! (Modern new truth of facts!)

                                                               :girl_werewolf:

News flash: Tavern ofGeglash is damaged by brigands! More at ten.
This is your 10 o'clockNews
Brought to you by BamTool Works
Tools with more bang!
News Flash: News castergoes missing!
Moreon the Morning News.


Your Morning News
AcmeHot mush builds strong bodies.
Youngnews caster still missing, while covering reports of damage to theTavern of Geglash!
Couldbe the start of something!


This Day on the News.
Peace Keepers report.
Youngnews caster still missing. The search broadens as fears increase forhis safety.
A door to door search hasbeen started.
Broughtto you by
Krupp Doors
Krupp plastic- steeldoors keep your home safe in these trouble times.


This Evenings News
brought to you by
Internal State MoneyCorp. INK.
Aprivate monetary holding company.
CoinageYou Can Trust. To take care of your interest.
Young News Caster Found!
Fullreport at ten.


Clipfrom 10 o'clock News.
Tavern of Geglash Damaged
01/13/10 12:49:38 PM
by
William Robert Smith
Himself, Old Gummy & many others, declare this isa copyrighted work.
“By Thor's Hammer! I declare this to becopyrighted.” Himself proclaims.
“My knobby club, puts it's seal on this work offiction.” Mumbles Old Gummy.
“Who you want stuck?” An eager great, great,great, Granddaughter asks.
“Not yet! Maybe latter and I'm not your Gramps.”

“So what are you gentlemen doing here?” A nosy news casterasks, smiles at the vid recorder.
“Go away!” A gray haired man says as he helps remove the brokein door.
“Would you please say a few words.”
“Less talk, more work! Here hold this.” The broken door isshoved into his hands.
A large hammer, strikes and trues up the door framing. The benthinges had been tossed aside. “Dam those brigands!” Was a softlymumbled curse heard by the news caster.
“Did brigands break in?” He cheerfully asks.
“Hold thedoor steady, have to peg the side rail.” A brace and bit bites intothe wood. Old Gummy blows out the bored holes and dribbles smellyglue into the holes. An other, uses a large hammer to tap, whittledpegs home. A shinny blade, trims the pegs flush. “Don't cut theyoung fella.” The Old One warns.
The tavern door is worked on and made stronger. A small crowdwatches. Idle hands are put to work, helping clean up the damage andmess. A chain mailed, tall drink of water, brings a heavy bullockhide. The thick hide is measured against the door and cut to fit. Abox speedster arrives, saw horses are arranged so the door could befinished.
The work continues, as smelly glue, perfumes the air. Others workjust inside the doorway. Hardly a word is spoken. Old hand tools areused by old callused hands. The door is reenforced by the bullockhide and now has a continuous hide hinge. Hands and wedges hold thedoor in place, while the hinge is fastened to the door frame. A heavyhardwood, ripped plank is pegged to the frame and rough doorwayframing. A cleaver counter weight and pulley, keeps the door fromsagging.
The lock is soon replaced and the lock side of frame is treatedlike the hinge side. The new lock will keep honest people out andtake care of the dishonest. They gnaw on a pair of fresh bones. Alarge black cat, wanders by looking for a snack. A smoked fish isdaintily carried to a dim corner.
“They'll work good at keeping the tavern safe now.” Himselfrumbles.
“And only cost scrapes.” Adds the red, gray haired woman.
“Whats for lunch?”
“What ever is thrown at you.”
“Ya touchy, again?”
“What ever you think, with you being gone for years.”
“This is not the place for this. Let me draw you a beer.”
“Is there any beer left? I'll make some coffee.”
“Gummy the beer is gone!” Is  shout by a red bearded dwarf.
“Did you check the cellar?”
“Empty and bare.” Answers a woman with a long bow.
A comm call was made as the heavy window was replaced. A stream ofleather clad people carry things into the tavern. Coffee, tea, andcool milk are put out on the cleaned off bar top. A spit creaks inthe large fire place hearth. The large elk hunch scents the air as itroasts. An old granny brushes a sauce on the hunch. A stepped on cupof mint tea can be scented by those if who care to sniff the air.
The back bar is picked up and cleaned. A beauty of a bottle isfound and Old Gummy sips for a tick. Broken chairs and tables werebeing repaired or disposed of. A few new knockdown tables and newchair parts were brought in. Nimble hands were putting the piecestogether, with glue and pegs. The news caster sips coffee with asticky hand. The old granny is chatting him up after touching up hiscoffee. She will probably have a warmer bed that night.
The work soon ends as the sun slips below the horizon. All whohave helped repair the tavern enjoy the indoor cookout. A freshsupply of prime beers is consumed. A second delivery was expected,shortly. Fresh fruit juices and cookies were for the young children,along with milk. Babies cried and were changed while others danced tothe music. The large elk hunch was now gone, the bones given to thedoor lock.
The party died as the torches grew dim. Old Gummy showed he stillnew how to us a swab. Tables and floor were now clean, ready for themorning. Two girls had the bar ready too. The fire was banked withthe fire screen in place. The door swings closed as the last personleaves. The black cat stretches in the dim corner and makes a circuitof the tavern. The elk bones are crunched by the two Snow Rock hybridwolfs.
The Snow Rock Wolf Security sign, glows on the doorof Tavern of Geglash,
in a city, some where out there, where like mindsplay.
The black cat snarls and bats a large rodent into thewall.
The nightly news cast failed to have news concerningthe Tavern of Geglash.
A bed was warmer that night, week, month, year.
Latter a book is written.

More patrons would enjoy tall tales oversipped beer and snacks. Coffee and tea could be had from the kitchen,along with cool milk and cookies. (Have to keep Old Joe happy.) Mealswere as catch can, depending what ya brought. Music and dancing wasprovided by those willing to play and dance. The Tavern of Geglashwas now a good place to gossip and listen to tall tales. Storytellers were always welcome and tended to drink for free, if thestories were good.

Come and spin a good tale for us. Allare welcome. Have one on Old Joe.
He keeps a good cellar. Just mind howyou pet the lock. Ha! Ha!
Be sure to count your fingers!

.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #325 on: May 15, 2013, 06:21:37 am »
 :welcome: Welcome to the Tavern Geglash


Back by unpopular demand, a sober scribbler will post a rambling story, produced while sipping at the Tavern Geglash.

Joe also wanted me to post more stories for your pleasure.

Ah Joe the cookies were baked today. Gee it was hot in the kitchen with all the hot sun and warm winds.

How hot it was, you ask. 90s to day and not a cold one in sight.


Here comes the story. Remember it is protected by the Noby Walking Stick!

 
 
Bare Ass Stupid
Planet RR 453 Tale

 
by
William Robert Smith
01/11/08 09:50:46 PM

 
   The seep was a drying mud hole. The Boss had sent me to check on it. I turned the hard mouthed hammerhead horse back to the round up camp. I was stuck with it or we'd be eating it for a week.

   The horse wrangler told me I was the last chance for the hard mouth horse. It has been in all the other strings and no one wanted it. I didn't like the horse so I said I'd take it as a remount.

 
   Now I was ridding back to camp, hoping I wouldn't be digging out the mud hole. The Boss heard the condition of the mud hole and I was sent back to clean it out good. So now I was riding back with a shovel, to do the dirty job.

 
   I popped the bit free of the horse's mouth, to let it graze as I worked. I knew it would stay close, it was trained to do that at least. Someone else had treated it rough, making it a hard mouth hammerhead.

 
   I waded in and started to dig out the seep. It was hot brutal work digging out the wet mud taking stops for water and to pick myself up out of the mud. I had the seep dug out five or six hours latter. I was more or less mud head to foot. That was the start of all the trouble.

 
   Stopping at the cook wagon, the cook told me I needed to wash up.

 
   “Don't look at my water barrels. Go through the yonder tree line down into the gulley.” The cook tells me handing me a cup of coffee. He went off with a sack and got me a change of my cloths. Soap and a wash rag were added and I was off to the gulley on the horse.

 
   I had at least two hours before sunset when I got down into the gulley. I let the horse graze again as I got out of the mud encased cloths. The boots would have to be dried and cleaned up latter. Even my hat was covered in mud.

 
   They made a muddy pile before I start to wallow in the crick. The soap and rag soon had me halfway clean. I was getting the last of the dirt out of my hair, when I noticed three girls watching me. Well you see I'm a little shy around girls, never having any sisters.

 
   Two were off their horses, getting undressed. Well I headed across the crick as fast as I could go. The one on the horse let out a yell and spurred her horse after me. The other two were soon mounted following, I learned latter, I was too busy running now, the wrong way, yep away from camp, to look.

 
   These girls had been discussed over the camp fire a few times. They were man hungry having grown up out on this back edge of the range. They tended to be wild now that their momma died. All the sisters had been working the dry ranch for years.

 
   Well I was running hard up out of the gulley, just at the top when the rope snaked out around me. Back I went down into the gulley.  She had me hog tied real slick. Her horse kept the rope snug and I knew not to fight the rope.
   “Look what I caught, sisters.”

 
   “We flushed him!” One says.

 
   “Yep that we did. I say we keep him.”

 
   “Not at the main house, we'd hardly get to use him!”

 
   “Right the south line shack, then.”

 
   “That will be good. Get his horse and things.”

 
   “He sure is a fish belly.” An other says with a chuckle.

 
   “Won't the other be pissed?”

 
   “They didn't share last time.

 
   “Serves them right! This ones younger, might last longer.”

 
   They had me tied to my saddle then, with my things tied to it. They did put the muddy hat on my head. They took me on up the gulley. It was near dark before we got to a line shack and small hay shed.

 
   The first thing they did was wash me in the horse trough. Well two of then did, the other fixed something to eat. It was as good as the cooks eats. It was made clear to me I would not be going anywhere soon. I eyed the door as we ate. The oldest pegged the door closed. The windows didn't open.

 
   Two cleaned up the bunks while one kept an eye on me. One did wash out my muddy things latter, but that was in the morning. it was full dark when they blew out the lamp. I was at the door in a flash. One was there ahead of me. A hard hand stumbling back.

 
   Then it got interesting and hectic, in minutes. I was surrounded by bare flesh, demanding attention. Never really got to sleep that first night. I was bruised and a little bloody in the morning. I sleep the morning through and was feed by the one who watched me, the other two were off working.

 
   It was like that for a few days, busy nights for me and a sleepy morning. they had my cloths put away some where. The hammerhead was stacked out to graze. I did have to pitch hay up into the hay loft a couple times, which got me into sweating wrestling matches with the girls.

 
   I was finally accepting my fate and starting to enjoy the three. This ended abruptly when four other woman rode up one afternoon. There was a cat fight and I was used up hard for the next night and day. I was so sore and tired I could hardly move. They still wanted more for me. The first three had been sent away.

 
   I lost count of the days about them with night and day running together. A fresh washed woman would wake me and make me preform for her. One would feed me what was made, not too good most of the time. I'd doze off and an other would use me. I never got to sleep good in those days.

 
   Then the three were back, running off the older four. They washed me and feed me good. I got to sleep for a couple days it seems. Then it was an easy night with me waking with the youngest waiting for me. A shy kiss lead to things and a wash in the horse trough. She had my things for me to put on.

   She was dressed to now and waited by the hammerhead, all saddled. She caught me for a final kiss and hug. I mounted up and she slapped the horses rump hard. I was off with her yelling behind me.

 
   It was nearly sundown before I found the roundup camp. It had been moved thirty mile further on. I stopped by the cook wagon for something to eat and give back the soap and rag. The cook just smiled some and feed me good. He said my bedroll was in the tack wagon. I turned the horse out to graze with the horse herd and spread my bedroll.

 
   The sun was up past sun rise and the Boss was kicking me out of the bed roll.

 
   “Get something to eat! There is a seep off east of here that needs cleaning.” He says.

 
   “No sir! I'm leaving, need whats due me.”

 
   He is laughing hard now with the cook. He sits me down by the cooks fire, a cup of coffee and breakfast beans were good.

 
   “The seep has been cleaned! Need someone to look after the horse herd, the wrangler is missing.” The Boss tells me as I eat.

 
The end! Or is it? Ha! Ha!
11/24/12 Edited some  10:13:23 PM

 
Hope you enjoyed the short story. Post replies if you want more.

 :wece: bdpf
.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline ChaosEmpireTopic starter

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #326 on: May 16, 2013, 07:36:34 pm »
you really shoukld sell your stories


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Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #327 on: July 15, 2013, 03:10:47 am »
I would like to sell them.

Any offers out there?  :telephone:    :welcome: :wece:

And now for the latest my not so nimble fingers produced, really fresh!


Boggy Bottom Plank Road
by
William Robert Smith
07/14/13 03:18:19 PM

 
   My name is Christoffer, call Ris, for short. This is how we got the Boggy Plank Road. It all started after we settled in the lower end of Broad Valley. The first few years, we didn't have much need to go to what was the nearest town, just too busy making ends meet on the table. There was seven of us whit two more baking so to speak.
   Now to get to town it was a hard two day trip, up valley and over the ridge, by way of the low saddle. Two days, if you traveled light, that is. With a loaded wagon, near a week going and coming back. It was a wearing trip on a wagon over the track, two ruts you followed hoping you didn't get bogged down, stuck.
   Now we was needing some supplies and not having much to trade, just some clean salt, 600 pounds and near twice that of gypsum rock. The salt was from a protected seam, clean, free of debris. The boys got carried away and dug more than we needed to seal the trimmed logs of the cabins. Yep, we had three cabins and a large barn the forth year.
   Ya, see we men didn't mind a let extra hard work. We cut and skidded out the trees we cut, to clear a few fields, rather than slash and burn. The slab cut, squared logs, will mostly square, made solid walls, if a little drafty. Now Dag, for Dag-nab-it, my brother, knew if you heated crushed gypsum, dry clay and mixed with water to make a thick mud, it wold seal the cracks nice. Now we had found the salt seam and clay was easy to find just dig about any wheres. Dag remembered seeing the grayish white soft rocks near the salt seam.
   Ya see, the women didn't like the drafty first cabin we built and it was crowded, too. Well Dag went and looked at the gray white soft rock after his ear was gnawed on some. He found it was easy to break up and dig. He brought back some and dug a hole for some clay. Luckily it was warm and sunny so the clumps of clay dried some real quick. Well, Dag had us crushing a grinding up the soft rock and clay. It was tire some sorting out the small pebbles and stones out of the clay.
   Dag had me build a hot fire under the big wash pot so he could heat the clay and gypsum. Dag nearly caught his bibs on fire, stirring the pot. Nell nearly put a lump on his head, when he used the good wash tub to mix up the first batch of mud. He calmed Nell down and got the women to push the warm mud into the bigger cracks. Us men went for more of the soft rock. Three pack loads we fetched the first time.
   Now we were doing all this extra work and still doing the chores we had plus tending to the fields. Always seemed like there was more weeds to hoe. OH, my sore back! Those first twelve, fourteen years were a little hard, then the kids were old enough to help. Things were a little easier.
   Well, the next summer had us building a second larger cabin with a hight loft. We were good at slab cutting the logs square. Trimming the edges of the slab cuts straight provided planks for the floors, better than dirt. We used split wood dowels to pin the squared logs tight over a layer of the warm mud. We good good at making up the mud after Nell suggested we add some lye to the mud. It would set up better and harder. Nell had talked up some extra work for the women. They would now make up extra lye.
   The next two years we built two more cabins, nice and tight, hardly had to burn much wood to keep them warm in the winter months. The mud was good for lining the fire places and chimneys when coarse sand was added. Tad, the smallest of us, had fun plastering the insides of the chimneys. Two coats built up to three or more inches. It was after we started to plaster the chimneys that the boys packed back way too much gypsum rock. “It dug out easy.” They said.
   Now it was the forth year and wheat flour was very dear. We had plenty of barley, and oat flour along with corn meal. In the last two years, we lost the wheat to a blight and burned the fields. The cows and steers grazed those fields. The two bulls had their own pasture, both hand raised and gentle. They broke virgin sod real easy with the big steel plow.
   Oh, yes the flour! Now the women knew how to get what they wanted and it was wheat flour or else. Dag and me got the job of getting flour. We took stock of what we had to sell and trade, it was not much. A couple cured steer  hides, a couple spare bags of barley, thou it would be better if we planted more. A couple kegs of beer, if it traveled well and some canned fruit and such. Nell limited us on what we could take. Peg, her cousin, nixed the idea of trading wool. She added the need of a ram, since old Butts Head was killed by a varmint. I had forgot about that. Peg was weaving some heavy wool blankets.
   Sitting in the old cabin, sipping, Dag and me talked some, not getting anywheres to finding more things to trade. Only one wagon was fit enough to make the trip up over the low saddle.
   “We go out the bottom of the valley.” Says Dag.
   “Soft and wet ground, that way.” I says.
   “Its been dry the last three weeks.” Dag counters.
   “But we need more to trade.”
   “We take the soft rock and the extra salt. Salt will trade good.” Dag comes up with what we need.
   “Need to take two wagons.”
   “There is two of us.”
   “And the stock?”
   “Take all we can handle. Their just eat grass getting fat.”
   “What about the haying?” I ask.
   “We do that first and go. Then we'll have time to fix up the wagons.” Dag has all the answers, it seems.
   Haying and fixing up the wagons takes a week with some rain added for good measure. We start out one morning with two span on each wagon and a string of extra stock tie off to each wagon. It was a day till we got to the bottom of the valley and softer ground. We stopped early and rode out a ways to see which was the best way. We had tools but didn't want to use then unless we had to. Cutting brush and trees is hard work.
   The next day, we kept to the slight slope dodging trees and brush above the low ground. The teams handled the wagons easy, neither one was loaded heavy. Then we had to stop and clear some heavy brush staying the night. Each day was a repeat of the last till we had to take to the softer ground.
   “Well Dag-nab-it thats a mud hole we have to cross.”
   “Good thing we cut all that brush, then. Lets off load a wagon and get all we can.”
   “You planned that, did ya?”
   “Na! But we'll need the brush and probably have to split some logs, too.”
   Now I stand there looking at the hundred feet of cattail bog we had to cross. It was doable for us. Beyond the bog was a spit of dry ground cover with thick woods. We would cut a track through that too. It was good that we had plenty of food, beans and corn meal.
   Two wagon loads of brush latter, we started to cut trees down, out of the way. Cross cut the trunks up and split them up. Using the mules, we snaked the splits back to the the brush spread out on the cattail bog. Then we spread two layers of split trunks on the brush, stacked in place. Then we used the tree tops and cut brush to cover more of the bog. Cut more trees and repeat, till you can cross the cattail bog.
   Four days latter, Dag lead the first wagon across, to a cleared spot where he could stop. The horses didn't like the shifting split logs. We got the second wagon across to set up camp. We then used hand axes to mark tree that had to be cut for us to continue. A five foot wide crick blocked the way at the end of the spit of dry ground. Dag and I marked four trees to drop across the crick and drag into place.
   Back we went then to start clearing trees out of the way. We were lucky to drop most of the trees clear of the wagon track and cut the stumps down to clear the wagon axles. It took a whole day from can see to no see, to bridge the crick. A cracked ax handle slowed us some. A whittled green handle, was a poor replacement, thou.
   None of the stock would cross the bridge. We forded the crick with them and used ropes to pull the wagons across, that was an other day lost. Time wise we would have been better off going the other way. I looked at the wagons and started to make a wheel spoke. Dag chuckled and tightened some pegs. We worked on the wagons while cooking. The timber was thinner on the softer ground. Didn't have to clear much out of the way.
   Three days latter we climbed a slight slope, cutting a few trees clear. Two days latter. We came to the wagon track going the other way. We stopped, checked the wagons and stock. Two easy days latter in town, we were trying to trade for what we needed. Wheat flour was dear and cost twice what it did normally. The blight had ruined the crop for three years.
   I traded the salt for three hundred pound bags of rice, three gallon crocks of good lard, half dozen hens and a rooster, large bag of coffee, two of tea, two rams and a ewe. Dag got assorted hardware, new ax and a bag of sugar for the hides and grain we had. It was a hard trade all along.
   Dag showed the blacksmith how to mix up the gypsum to make plaster. The two younger sons of the smiths would line the forge chimney the next day. The blacksmith traded horse shoes, steel wedges, small keg of cut nails and a used plow in good repair for all of the gypsum.
   “Bring more gypsum to trade.” He says.
   “We will next year.” Dag tells him.
   “How about more this year. I would like to plaster the forge for the winter.” He says.
   “Its doable, for you.” I says.
   “Res, we got the harvest to get in.” Dag reminds me.
   “If we had help, it would not be a problem.” I look at the smith. “And some wheat flour would keep the wives happy.”
   “Yes, it is always the wife. If you got more barley and corn to trade, I might be able to find some wheat flour.” He says.
   “We brought what we had extra.” Dag says.
   “Maybe we could spare a bag or two of each. More coffee and sugar would be nice too.” I say.
   “Did you trade the canned stuff?” Dag asks.
   “You canned them good?” Asks the smith.
   “I eat them!” Dag says, put out a little.
   “You'll get coffee and sugar with replacement jars, rings and lids, new.” The smith says. “The wife didn't get much canned last year.”
   “Done then! And some help?” I ask.
   “Second eldest, don't like working the forge much and a younger brother and his twin sister. They need to broaden their horizons and be gone for a while.”
   “They in trouble?”
   “Nope and want to keep it that way. They need to be older before they pair off.”
   “No worries about that back home, ours are way too young.”
   “Hope your right. You leaving in the morning?”
   “Seems like the thing to do.” Dag says.
   “I'll send the kids with supper and the gear, then.”
   Dag and I thank him and unload what was traded. The Blacksmith smile at the selection of canned goods. The bags of gypsum made a small stack. The need for more bags was mentioned. The smith had two bundles he gave us. We put the stock in the coral, tossing some hay for them. I secured the chicken cages, feed the sheep and watered them. The kids came with canning stuff, sugar and coffee. A small bag of tobacco was there too.  I bumped a shin on a beer keg.
   “Dag the two kegs of beer.” I say.
   “Could you get your father?” Dag asks the cute, twin sister, all of fifteen or sixteen.
   The girl runs off to get her father.
   “How did you forget about the beer?” I ask Dag.
   “How well did it travel?” He asks.
   “You know I haven't tried it!”
   “Easy Res!”
   The smith returns with supper born on younger feet. Lets get comfortable while we eat.” The smith says filling a cup with yeasty beer.
   Now we get down to some swapping. We were to keep all the spare barley and plant as much as we can. More sugar, coffee and tobacco was given for the kegs of beer. Keg staves, hoops and ends were offered. Asked used kegs, instead.
Got three used and scalded. A pick and shovel was given to help dig out the gypsum and salt.
   “It needs to rest before trying.” Says the Blacksmith, Hammarskjold. “Just call me Ham or Hammer.” He smiles.
   “Thats why we didn't try it.” Dag says.
   “You like hard liquor, spirits?” Ham asks.
   “We do, but the wives,,,”
   “traded the still for supplies.” Dag finishes.
   “Ah yes, mans burden, the wife.” Ham nods. “I think I can provide a small used still that is gathering dust.”
   “Does it have a dent on the side, about so long?” Dag asks.
   “I believe it does.”
   “Dad's old still!” I say.
   “Sounds like it.”
   The stew and corn bread is long gone as we continue to talk with some beer. The young help are sleeping under a wagon. Tobacco smoke drifts away. Ham bids us good night going off to sleep.
   “It seems we'll have to be back sooner than we thought.”
   “Fair trading it has been. Maybe better next time.”
   “Sleep, Dag.”
   “Night.”
   Morning starts with hot coffee, black, cornbread, gingersnaps and milk. A sharp tongued woman get the youngsters ready to go. Dag and I have to hurry to be ready. Coffee and cornbread was nice but a fresh gingersnap was heaven. The three get hugs and kisses at the last instant and were off, heading home.
   We stopped at the crick bridge to make it better. Two logs provide a curb at the edges while packed dirt tightened the split wood deck. All the bags Ham gave us, let us move the dirt quickly. A good lunch finished the stop at the crick bridge. We pushed on home after that, not stopping to improve anything more.
   “Have to work on the bog fords when we go back.” Dag reminds me as he just misses a cut off stump.
   “Better bring extra wheels!”
   “You better whittle more spokes then.”
   “Do what we have to, like always.”
   “Yep.”

 
More latter, maybe.
bdpf

 


.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline bdpf

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #328 on: September 20, 2013, 06:15:34 pm »
 :welcome:


Old Gummy here, to vent a little!
Saved my nickles and bought a new computer, for a long time, years. :cray:

I received the wrong computer, darn it! :hysteric:

Spent days setting it up to run D2 LOD & CE MOD. :sarcastic: :cray: :skull:
D2 LOD has problems, running on newer computers. :oops:

Now I have to wait for the vender to decide what to do. :diablo: :girl_werewolf: :suicide: :BangHead:

 :wece:
and we shall over come all problems, by hook or crook.  :s513: :3some: :bangin:

Done venting for now. Hope to be on line soon, fingers crossed.

bye
bdpf
.\\||||||//.
:) +  + ;)   Don't Bite now, Lost my teeth
      /\         So now I tell rambling stories!
  / === \      Grumpy, I is
 ! /|||||\ !      Older than dirt, Piped God
 /||||||||\  aboard this here Sky boat called Earth.
          Roll my own cigarettes, strong tobacco
        Drink anything that don't kill me.
   Cleaned my musket, sharpened the blades
Long Bow is strong,  arrows heads sharp, start running
Wannabe wordsmith, stories fabricated.
Don't call me late for lunch

Offline ChaosEmpireTopic starter

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Re: The tavern of Geglash
« Reply #329 on: November 05, 2013, 11:05:56 am »
Hi
you have to options, try to start d2 ce 100times, until it starts, as we all have the issue, or set up a virtual machine with windows xp, its fast enough normally on new computers
for win7 microsoft has offered a pre configured win xp environment for free, and as far as i remember you can also download the virtual pc soft from them for free
so a computer inside your compouter is the easiest solution i think


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Chaos Empire® is a registered Trademark of Hans-Jürgen Ohler ©2003-2012

 

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