Computer-Games > International Support
The tavern of Geglash
bdpf:
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:
ChaosEmpire:
you really need to find a publisher
mrmud:
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??????????????
bdpf:
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 154byWilliam Robert SmithThis 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:
bdpf:
: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 Damaged01/13/10 12:49:38 PM
byWilliam Robert SmithHimself, 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!
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page
[*] Previous page
Go to full version