Legend of Ransera

Glade 15th, 121. Hahseu, Midden

The wind was knocked out of his lungs as he hit the dusty stone floor. Jostled from his sleep, he sat up with a start and winced as a cramp shot through his ribs. With blurred eyes he saw Nik, Sreek, Vrig, and Thok, only a few of his siblings, hanging from the edge of his overturned hammock. Their tittering laughs only made his waking more unpleasant.

“Get outta here!”, Nok wheezed, slowly rising from the floor, “Can't I get any sleep?!”

“Mama says you need to wake up already, lazy bones!”, Sreek jeered, swinging in place.

“Yeah!”, Thok chimed in, “It's almost noon! She thought you were already up!”

“You got chores today dontcha know?!”, Nik added. Vrig was about to say something but lost her grip and fell. Her squealing sobs pierced the air.

It was clear they were parroting their mother's words along with her annoyed tone. Nok groaned and pulled on his hat, dreading the day. He pushed aside the curtain that separated the sleeping quarters from the rest of the shanty and saw his mother sitting at the table smoking a musty cigar. Five gracklings, too young to have names, fought each other as they nursed.

“Took you long enough! You know Mama's got things for you to do today!”She smacked her lips and dropped the cigar into a glass of cloudy water, extinguishing it. With a swift hand she scooped up the glass and downed her drink, cigar and all.

“Yes, Mother, I'm sorry, Mother”, Nok sighed.

“What, you too good to call me 'Mama' now?”, she grunted, letting the gracklings fall from her lap as she stood. They skittered after her, gibbering and grasping at her ragged dress with sharp, tiny claws.

“It just feels a little joo-vinyle.”, Nok protested.

“Always with the Common”, the haggard Grackle woman rolled her eyes, shoving a package into Nok's hands, “Aint impressing anyone here. Now go take that over to Krovka. It's something I owe her.”

He chewed the inside of his lip. He was not trying to impress anyone, it was just that the perfect words were always in Common. She could stand to practice anyway.

His mother nudged the litter of infants that clustered around her with her foot.“These ones have been running me ragged. Take the Namelings with you too while you're at it, get'em outta the house”.

At that, the young Grackles who had accosted him earlier cheered in excitement and crowded around their older brother. Several more came down from the loft and joined them, jumping around him.

“Can we check the traps?!”, Nik asked eagerly.

Nok gave a weak nod and they scrambled ahead of him through the door. Just as he was about to follow, his mother grabbed him by the arm.

“Hey--your Daddy wants to talk to you later. He's got a big hunt planned out and wants to use one of your tricks, so you better be back before sundown.”

“Ugh!” Nok pulled his arm away, “They're not tricks, Mama! It's MAGIC!”. He snapped his fingers ,producing a spark like that of steel hitting rock.

His mother smirked and pushed her son out the door, “Too old to call me “Mama”, huh? Now get your ass out of here, you're stinking up the place with that attitude.”

Nok's siblings were already through half of the traps by the time he caught up. It looked as though a fair amount had been successful as most of the children were busy eating or playing with the dead rodents. Checking for rats had once been exciting for him too, but at his age it had lost its appeal. Still, watching them pry open traps like a human child might unwrap a present reminded Nok of the joy it once brought him.

“Hey! Come look at this one! It's got two heads!”

Gronb, one of his brothers, was bent over a trap that had caught a particularly large rat. One head had been crushed and looked quite dead, but the other was squeaking furiously and weakly pulled along the sprung trap.

“What?!”, Nok whipped his head around. He pushed through his brother and sisters who had gathered around the strange sight.

As the rat continued to struggle, another head pushed through the skin, hairless and raw with black mottled skin stretched around a gaping mouth. It began to gnaw at the crushed head in the trap and even the wretched children recoiled at the sight. Gronb, still curious, began to poke it.

“Don't touch that thing!” Nok shouted. He picked up the abomination of a rat by its tail and using all his strength lobed it into a nearby Waterway. They watched as it was swept away with the current, the wooden base bobbing at the surface.

“Mama's gonna be mad that you threw away a trap”, Vrig said plainly.

Nok huffed, “Tell her it broke. Now come on. I got things to do.”

Glade 15th, 121. Hahseu, Midden

A recent bout of heavy rain had flooded the channel that ran along the Grackle district of Hahseu, leaving behind great amounts of litter washed down from Kalzasi, Lake Udori, and other parts of the Midden. “Glade Tidings” such floods were called, and much like rich loam churned up on a river bed the debris promised life for those that live along the channel. As such, the byways were alive with scavengers, making for a dense crowd to navigate. Grackles of every age rummaged through the harvest and fought each other for the most choice finds, be it trash or treasure. Such excitement was hard to resist and soon Nok noticed that his siblings began to lag further behind as they waded through. He wondered for a moment if this was why his mother had sent them along.

There was no use in expecting the young Grackles to behave so he allowed them to catch up to him, their arms and pockets already full of whatever spoils they would later argue over. He roughly pulled them together to get their attention for the short time that he could manage.

“Alright, you know what we need. Clothes, spoons, forks, shoes, pots, bags—useful things. Go and get it”

There was a groan in response. “All that stuff is gone now!”, Sreek whined.

“Doesn't matter, go find it.”, He pushed them back into the crowd and they quickly rejoined the frenzy.

Nik and Vrig stuck to Nok's side, seemingly more interested in Nok's business than fighting over garbage, but he didn't mind. It was two less to worry about.

It seemed like every Grackle was out in the street today and he worried if Krovka would even be home, but then he remembered that Krovka was always home. One of them was at least, if not the matron then one of her daughters, or her granddaughters. A strange tradition for a strange family, but it was best to stay on their good side.

Their house was a landmark in the district, massive by Hahseu standards. It had once been a single shack like so many others, but rooms built on rooms over generations had created a cobbled mess that seemed to defy gravity. Hairless cats, the sewer mousers that Krovka bred, prowled the grounds and lounged in open windows. They scattered at Nok's approach, their raspy calls alerting the household to his presence. A few women peeked out the windows and tittered.

“Hiiii, Nokkk~”, they called out in a sing-song voice that made his skin crawl. He knew he was a joke to them, but then again most males were. He sneered and spat.

“I need to see Krovka!”. Nok yelled up at them, waving the package in his hand. More laughter, followed by unintelligible chatter. Krovka's tenants were always the worst part about visiting her. Testing the lock, Nok banged his fist on the moldering wooden door and called out again. Only laughter mixed with curses answered him.

Nok sighed in frustration and leaned back against a ramshackle wall next to the house. It looked as though he was on Krovka's time. There was no telling how long it would be. A light tug on his pant leg caught his attention and he looked down to see Vrig holding a gnarled stick that must have washed in with the flood. She used it to point at the generous backside of a male sewer cat that stood several feet away.

“What happens if I poke him?”, she asked plainly.

“He'll get mad”, Nok rolled his eyes. Vrigg nodded vacantly and ambled towards the cat, the stick in her hand outstretched.

A familiar face caught his attention and he felt his mood lift for the first time that day. It was Mord, an old friend of his and one that he hadn't seen for quite a long time. It looked like he'd grown, in both height and width. Behind him he pulled a cart filled with what looked to be pelts. Nok waved down his friend and ran up to him. Mord blinked dully and wiped his nose before perking up.

“Oh, Nok! Hey there, mate. Been awhile, huh?”

“Indeed it has, indeed it has”, Nok smirked. He looked at friend's cart. “Seems you've been busy.”

“Oh yeah, got a bunch of rat pelts. Me and Dad skinned them. Other funny things too--that people brought in. Don't know what, but the fur's real nice. Krovka wanted a bunch”. Mord flipped through the heap, showing off pelts of various patterns and textures. “Your Dad hasn't been by. Rough season?”

Nok frowned and pondered his next words. He always found it difficult to lie to Mord, not because he was particularly discerning but because he was so accepting of what anyone told him. And even when Mord caught onto a lie, he was easy to forgive it, a virtue that was rare in Grackles. Many considered this to be a symptom of his stupidity, which it was, but it was gracious none the less. Still, the truth did not favor the nature of his family's current business.

“Yeah, almost all of the big rats we now catch were touched by that mist. It thins out the pelt, makes the meat bad--”

“Meat can't be that bad--”, Mord blurted out.

Nok shook his head, “It even makes us sick.”

“Oh--that's bad”

“Quite”, Nok continued, idly picking his nails, “Dad happened to strike a deal with someone who pays to have them killed. Hopefully we can clear them out before Searing. Maybe then we'll finally start to find some healthy ones.”

Mord ran his hand through the pelts in his cart, “Others must be lucky then. I'll ask where they're finding the good ones.”

“Thanks”, Nok forced a smile. Even if his father found a whole nest of fat, healthy rats, he'd still go for those twisted abominations. The money had become too tempting.

Just then, the sound of rusty metal hinges squealed as the front door opened, followed by a stampede of dozens upon dozens of tiny bare feet that splashed through the standing water. A swarm of nameless Gracklings with hungry, gaping mouths full of fresh teeth surrounded the two adolescents and began to claw at their skin and clothes.

“DA-DEEEE!! DA-DEEEE!! DA-DEEEEE!!!”, they chanted between screams, throwing a tantrum as they begged.

Mord patiently dug through his pockets, dropping whatever scraps he found into the rabble to be voraciously consumed. Nok, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be rid of these creatures. Rummaging in his cloak, he produced an illusionary treat—a sausage glistening with grease. The Gracklings that recognized it flew into a frenzy while the others followed suit out of greed. He threw it some feet away and they chased after the construct, collapsing into a squirming pile where it seemingly landed. It disappeared upon hitting the ground, but the Gracklings continued to fight each other for it.

Nok chuckled, satisfied with his trick, but he soon felt a hand roughly shake his shoulder. It was Krovka, maybe a granddaugther, but there was no mistaking those yellow-green eyes. They all had them.

“Now what's so important?”