Monday, July 30, 2018

Two Towns

These settlements go in this world, but certainly could be placed elsewhere.

Tuskinth: A village whose primary industry is nonnig husbandry. it specializes in the so-called healing breed of furry nonnig, whose purring and warmth is said to have a calming influence on the nerves which aids in healing, and of course, nonnig of any breed are highly nutritious and flavorful. The nonnig yards are composed of hill-mounds surrounded by small moats (the nonnigs avoid water). The nonnig breeders can be recognized by the mail gauntlets they wear on their left hands, to protect themselves from the sting of the mound wyrms that form a symbiotic relationship with the nonnigs and protect them from predation with the warrens. Some nonnig breeders may keep small mounds of scintilla-sniffers on the side, but the practical folk of Tuskinth look down upon treasure-seekers.

Harfo and Sons is the most prosperous of the breeders, though many in Tuskinth would opine that only the old man, Grenz Harfo has any particular head for nonnig-breeding. His eldest son, Halx, is a handsome dullard, and his youngest. Festeu, is a idler and wastrel. Of note, he does own a rare (outside of the Daor Obdurate) telesthetic hound. The poor beast is quite mad, made so by an over-sensitivity to human anxieties resulting from over-breeding. Its shrew-like snout is has a-quiver and dripping, and it's whip-like tail sways nervously.

Horbizond: Was the name of an ancient city, and also the current modest village that squats in a meager portion of it. The people of Horbizond dress in the decaying finery of the ancients and appoint their over-sized but crumbling homes in an equally ostentatious fashion. They live in holy dread of the Prismatic Man, an angular, crystalline visitant, who materializes at random intervals to isolated folk of the town. The actions of the Prismatic Man are various and strange. He has at times pointed with a glassy finger to hidden treasures. Other times, he has emitted a chiming that the hear perceived as some spiritual wisdom. Then there are the occasions when he has seemed to produce rays of color from his palms that struck an individual dead. If there is any rationale to whom the Prismatic Man favors and whom he destroys, the folk of Horbizond have yet to discern it. In fact, they believe it would be blasphemous to do so. The Hwaopt Library is willing to pay for detailed observations of the Prismatic Man, whose nature and purpose they are eager to discover.


Anne said...

Ah, I love science fantasy world!

Have you written about nonnigs before? From the image, I gather that it would be quite disastrous if they were to breech the precautions meant to keep them contained, although I don't know if that entirely comes through in the description. (I mean, there's room to infer it, but it's not especially obvious.)

Super Vancian names this time around!

Trey said...

It does need a name, doesn't it? :)

I mentioned nonnigs briefly before in a G+ post, but not here I don't think:

At a bend in the road the cart of an itinerant trader, Syrano Znefft, has lost a wheel and spilled his cargo of scintilla-sniffing nonnigs. The furry, rolly-polly creatures are crawling here and there, trilling piteously as they are chased and assaulted by squeaking sweetmeat manikins escaped from a field at the side of the road. Znefft, cursing, kicks and swats them away as he tries to gather his wares in quavering armfuls. The mannikin-tender, a farm lass with hair of pastel blue, leans against a fence post and looks on with distant amusement as she languorously chews a bite from the head and shoulders of a squirming manikin.

I spend a lot of time trying to come up with the Vancian names (or at least, more than I probably ought to), so glad they are appreciated.