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STORY TIME STORY OF A HAIRBALL by Xazappith ------------------ The harsh rays of the noonday sun beat on the cat's resting body. Troubled by the constant heat, his amber eyes opened slowly. Suddenly, the cat was on guard, to his left, he heard some agitated chirping, and with a sniff of air he could smell the sweet scent of an easy meal. Within a moment, he was within the tall grasses by his home, following the scent and sound of his prey before he saw them. His sandpaper tongue licked his lips, the taste of the rodent he had eaten before his nap only adding to his hunger. The birds for their part were oblivious to their danger, their beaks pushing aside the blades of grass in search of insects for their own meals. Still the cat waited, they were too far, and attacking now would scare them away. His tail began to twitch as a plump one moved closer to him. Abruptly the feline's eyes widened. Something was happening to him. His chest began heaving and he let out a frightful hiss, as if that would stop whatever was attacking him. His meal, hearing this shout took to the air, screeching warnings to any other birds about that a danger was near, but the cat took little notice. He had bigger problems to deal with. He started rocking back and forth and with a loud complain the source of his irritation revealed itself. The animal started at the ball of fur that had come from his mouth. He slowly walked towards it and sniffed it. Yes. It was the rat, down to its tiny claws, which were barely visible on the edges of the mess. Now, however he was in real predicament, his previous meal was inedible in front of him and his current was in the sky somewhere. He had only one option left. He turned back towards his home, trotting purposefully to the wooden door. He let out a plaintive cry and within moments the door opened for him. The old man who kept him dry on rainy nights reached down his rough hand and the cat rubbed against it, meowing once more. The man smiled and carried him inside where, as the cat knew it would be, his dinner was waiting. Fresh fish. No fur nor feathers to upset his stomach nor any work that he had to do to get it. He grabbed his perfect supper and ran back out the door, under the shade of the tree. The birds would soon return, and then he could have both his hunt and his meal. RUTABAGA by Runath -------- As everyone probably knows, Rashan the farmer has been making a tidy living selling a plant that is unfit for human consumption. He has operated from Solace for many years now, selling produce that nobody has actually seen naturally growing anywhere in Thera. Of course, that would be because it grows underground - being a close cousin of the turnip. Yet unlike the loveable turnip that has been used in recipes for centuries, the rutabaga is grown in the twisted forests of Grimwood - where it is prey to moles with very sharp teeth. This dangerous root has nothing but ill in store for those that eat it. Yet even so, many still inevitably fall upon this plant and can't help taking a bite. Stories of men being driven into madness by the three weeks spent with a leathery tongue are not at all unheard of - even after its horrifying effects have long passed. (dysentery, the inability to speak, and in some cases,.. shudder.. 30 hours detect magic). Rutabaga is clearly an item of consumption to be wary of. However, it is not the plant itself that does the harm - it did not ask to be eaten. It is just a plant, with effects that help it to avoid the plate. One should understand why they became a victim. Eating a plant without first gaining an idea of its properties is a lapse of judgment, and this is to be avoided. A man who never considers the consequence of his actions will certainly fall prey to fates far worse than the defense mechanism of the rutabaga. |
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