Tale by Krill
Krill looks up at the sky.
Krill makes a strange face and lowers her head.
Krill opens a beer bottle and takes a mouthful before starting.
Krill says: “It was along time ago. A very long time ago. Long before the First Swarm.
It took place in the old Fyros Empire.
Well, more or less in the old Empire. At least, it was in an arid place.
Apart from that, knowing who claimed to reign on this part… The dunes probably didn’t care more than the last rain.”
Krill thinks
Krill says: “Mmmh…Maybe that’s not the best expression …
No matter…”
Krill takes a drink and resumes
Krill says: “So it was along time ago, in a most arid place of the Old Lands
There was a good Fyros, brave, if not the sharpest knife in the drawer…
But truly kind at any rate.
He didn’t deal much with the other Fyros, but he went from time to time to the oasis closest to his home to buy some trifles.
Apart from that, he spent his time between the dunes, alone, listening to the sound of the wind , or perhaps counting the particles of the Dust
I don’t know really. I doesn’t matter much for the story”
Krill takes a fresh mouthful
Krill says: “What does matter is that he hadn’t much interest in what other homins were saying
So when he left the oasis,that one time, he didn’t paid attention to the ones who were telling him not to stay outside
Wind? What wind? He was accustomed to the wind”
Krill looks up again, briefly, to the sky
Krill says: “On that night, indeed, there was quite a lot of wind in the desert
But that Fyros had survived worse before. He took shelter in his coat, settled himself in a dune’s hollow, and waited for the end of it.
In the morning, the wind was still there, but it had lessened, and the Fyros noticed a nearby yubo.
It didn’t look very robust, this yubo.
You could even say it was in a damned bad way.
When the Fyros approached him, it hardly moved an ear.
Everything else in his body, front legs, rear legs… All of it, looked shrivelled up.
The Fyros gave a bit of water for the yubo to drink while speaking gently to it.
Oh, yes, Fyros can be gentle -- sometimes.
Well, it is said they can be…
If there isn't anyone around to see them, probably…”
Krill finishes her beer bottle and puts it back in her bag.
Krill says: “The yubo drank all of the water, and the Fyros decided to take care of it
He found it a sheltered place, something to drink, to eat…
You know, it’s a lot of work finding something to drink and to eat for a sick yubo in the middle of the desert
But the Fyros knew the surroundings well,
And little by little, the yubo started to recover.
Ok, it still had the hindquarters shrivelled up, but it managed to move about with its forelegs.
And the Fyros was so happy seeing that, that he didn’t pay attention to his stiffness and the pain in his shoulders”
Krill shoots the sky a dirty look and takes a new beer bottle from her bag.
Krill says: “By dint of wandering everywhere, getting water from shookis… and water from other things, right… Well, exerting himself for his small yubo, the Fyros started to feel really tired
But he carried on, because every day the yubo seemed to get better
It was less and less shrivelled up
And more and more affectionate
If its rear legs had allowed it, it would probably have jumped to the kind Fyros face to cover it with loving licks
But for now it couldn’t
So it settled for stumbling and trying to nibble his boots
And it made the Fyros laugh, he who wasn’t used to someone going round him that way”
Krill sighs and takes a large drink, without looking at the sky this time
Krill says: “The Fyros laughed, and with that he forgot he was aching anywhere
But it was more and more difficult for him to move, to find drink and food for his small comrade
Not to mention himself
But now, the more he laughed the more it made him cough. A deep and hollow, dry, cough
On one evening, he came back to where he had left his yubo but couldn’t find it
He was exhausted, but he couldn’t let his comrade be alone in the desert
He went looking for it, under the moon and the stars
He walked, walked, walked…
He felt weak
He felt empty
He felt…
The wind started to blow, as it had not been blowing for days
And the Fyros fell to the ground, too weak to move...
Curled up...
Shriveled up.
Then the yubo leapt upon his face, and tore out his eyes
Then it tore him apart with such violence that his head was thrown far, far away, up into in the sky
And from that time to this , when the Anlor Winn is blowing, sometimes, the eyeless shrivelled head of the Fyros can be seen, up there, among the stars…”
Krill finishes her beer in one gulp
Krill grumbles: “I don’tlike Fyros stories, I prefer Tryker ones…”
Krill puts her empty bottle in her pack and goes back to her seat.
Krill suddenly realises there are lots of headless homins about tonight, and wonders...
Krill looks up at the sky.
Krill makes a strange face and lowers her head.
Krill opens a beer bottle and takes a mouthful before starting.
Krill says: “It was along time ago. A very long time ago. Long before the First Swarm.
It took place in the old Fyros Empire.
Well, more or less in the old Empire. At least, it was in an arid place.
Apart from that, knowing who claimed to reign on this part… The dunes probably didn’t care more than the last rain.”
Krill thinks
Krill says: “Mmmh…Maybe that’s not the best expression …
No matter…”
Krill takes a drink and resumes
Krill says: “So it was along time ago, in a most arid place of the Old Lands
There was a good Fyros, brave, if not the sharpest knife in the drawer…
But truly kind at any rate.
He didn’t deal much with the other Fyros, but he went from time to time to the oasis closest to his home to buy some trifles.
Apart from that, he spent his time between the dunes, alone, listening to the sound of the wind , or perhaps counting the particles of the Dust
I don’t know really. I doesn’t matter much for the story”
Krill takes a fresh mouthful
Krill says: “What does matter is that he hadn’t much interest in what other homins were saying
So when he left the oasis,that one time, he didn’t paid attention to the ones who were telling him not to stay outside
Wind? What wind? He was accustomed to the wind”
Krill looks up again, briefly, to the sky
Krill says: “On that night, indeed, there was quite a lot of wind in the desert
But that Fyros had survived worse before. He took shelter in his coat, settled himself in a dune’s hollow, and waited for the end of it.
In the morning, the wind was still there, but it had lessened, and the Fyros noticed a nearby yubo.
It didn’t look very robust, this yubo.
You could even say it was in a damned bad way.
When the Fyros approached him, it hardly moved an ear.
Everything else in his body, front legs, rear legs… All of it, looked shrivelled up.
The Fyros gave a bit of water for the yubo to drink while speaking gently to it.
Oh, yes, Fyros can be gentle -- sometimes.
Well, it is said they can be…
If there isn't anyone around to see them, probably…”
Krill finishes her beer bottle and puts it back in her bag.
Krill says: “The yubo drank all of the water, and the Fyros decided to take care of it
He found it a sheltered place, something to drink, to eat…
You know, it’s a lot of work finding something to drink and to eat for a sick yubo in the middle of the desert
But the Fyros knew the surroundings well,
And little by little, the yubo started to recover.
Ok, it still had the hindquarters shrivelled up, but it managed to move about with its forelegs.
And the Fyros was so happy seeing that, that he didn’t pay attention to his stiffness and the pain in his shoulders”
Krill shoots the sky a dirty look and takes a new beer bottle from her bag.
Krill says: “By dint of wandering everywhere, getting water from shookis… and water from other things, right… Well, exerting himself for his small yubo, the Fyros started to feel really tired
But he carried on, because every day the yubo seemed to get better
It was less and less shrivelled up
And more and more affectionate
If its rear legs had allowed it, it would probably have jumped to the kind Fyros face to cover it with loving licks
But for now it couldn’t
So it settled for stumbling and trying to nibble his boots
And it made the Fyros laugh, he who wasn’t used to someone going round him that way”
Krill sighs and takes a large drink, without looking at the sky this time
Krill says: “The Fyros laughed, and with that he forgot he was aching anywhere
But it was more and more difficult for him to move, to find drink and food for his small comrade
Not to mention himself
But now, the more he laughed the more it made him cough. A deep and hollow, dry, cough
On one evening, he came back to where he had left his yubo but couldn’t find it
He was exhausted, but he couldn’t let his comrade be alone in the desert
He went looking for it, under the moon and the stars
He walked, walked, walked…
He felt weak
He felt empty
He felt…
The wind started to blow, as it had not been blowing for days
And the Fyros fell to the ground, too weak to move...
Curled up...
Shriveled up.
Then the yubo leapt upon his face, and tore out his eyes
Then it tore him apart with such violence that his head was thrown far, far away, up into in the sky
And from that time to this , when the Anlor Winn is blowing, sometimes, the eyeless shrivelled head of the Fyros can be seen, up there, among the stars…”
Krill finishes her beer in one gulp
Krill grumbles: “I don’tlike Fyros stories, I prefer Tryker ones…”
Krill puts her empty bottle in her pack and goes back to her seat.
Krill suddenly realises there are lots of headless homins about tonight, and wonders...