#67 - Crises

Ambassadors of Rummammalos: Mountains That Think

-- By Teel James, Raconteur for the Chronicles of Inné and Innéthel and their environs, Late Winter

The two Ambassadors, Didara, the Curious and Jagunjagun, the Fierce have been met by the joined forces of Cylak and Inné, with assistance from Riga.  On their journey to Innéthel the sister and brother were attacked by bandits and with their escort successfully fought off the miscreants.

First let me describe the ambassadors.  They stand on four limbs, like a dog or a horse, though their feet are round and thick enough that I cannot span their girth with my two hands.  Their skin is grey and they have ears the size of bed-sheets on either side of their heads.  In the centre of their faces is a limb that might be called a nose but it reaches to the ground and is prehensile with two fingers at the tip.  This is strong enough to pick a man off the ground and hurl him five hundred paces away.  I pause at this point to reassure my faithful reader that I, personally, witnessed this action, though the Horse Guard were more than a thousand paces away.  I swear on my liquid self to Liryan that this is true and factual to the absolute best of my powers of description.

To continue.  The ambassadors have a family member with them who is a human, though their relationship is difficult to describe.  The so-called ‘iti-igi’, which is also one of their names for their nose-tentacle, is raised with the young elephants and this gentleman, by the name of Ologbon, is if the height of a rather typical ten year old Innéan, only coming to my waist.  He speaks excellent Rigan and Cylak and passable Innéan which is improving rapidly.

To return to the ambassadors.  They both have two enormous tusks protruding from their mouths on either side of their noses, that have been elaborately decorated.  More so in the case of Didara than her little brother Jagunjagun.

We are currently taking refuge in the village of Champ de Navet, in their largest turnip barn, since that is the only enclosed space large enough to house the ambassadors out of the cold.  Jagunjagun is in his second surgery, with his sister the only one able to restrain him, since none of our healers know how to anaesthetize a creature so large and the Rummummalos themselves have never considered such an idea.

Jagunjagun was struck by several musketoon rounds during the battle and despite their robust skin and the boiled wool of their winter coats, was injured, with at least three balls penetrating his skin.  There is an Imaryan healer and the chirurgeon of the Horse Guard and the House of the Hand both working on the ambassador.  We shall be resting here until the younger ambassador is well enough to travel.

I am, Teel James, your most faithful raconteur of the latest news of Inné.

 

The Alien Emperor In Crisis

-- By Teel James, Raconteur for the Chronicles of Inné and Innéthel and their environs, Late Winter

Ahrimaz, who was given lead of this rescue operation of the Ambassadors of Rummammalos, on his most urgent request, most successfully guided the Horse Guard and His Belling Lordliness, Pelahir, Stag Lord, to Up Ford, on the edge of the Grim Mire, where the Rummammalos had just successfully fought off a bandit ambush with their escort. (see other story “Mountains that Think").

In the process of attempted assistance, Ahrimaz was minorly injured (merely a bloody nose) and in the course of the clearing up of the battle, ceased to speak.  At least he ceased to speak Innéan.

In the turnip barn where the ambassadors currently reside, he sits as close to one or the other elephant as he can, but when they move away, he does not follow, but sits, staring into the middle distance.  He does not resist if someone leads him to the necessary, or places a bowl of stew in his hands, though he must be urged to eat. He—

Teel dropped his pen and threw both of his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to block the sound as Jagunjagun moaned. It wasn’t as bad as him screaming but still shook everyone in the building. He was refusing to scream but had failed several times.  In the ring of heat the young priest was praying for, the elephant lay on his side, with both Etienne and Limyé at his elbow, though the young chirurgeon was wearily climbing to his feet as Limyé finished tying off the bandage.   

“He should be all right, Ahrimaz,” Etienne said, going over to where he sat, staring, Pel with bowl and spoon urging him to eat.

He put a hand on Ahrimaz’s shoulder and the man flung himself out from under it, Pel snatching the bowl out of the way, Ahrimaz laying prostrate on the ground arms wrapped around his head as Jagunjagun moaned once more, the broken form of the young man somehow echoing the broken form of the young elephant.