Kettle carefully inspected the soft detritus she had gathered to line the bottom of the chest, a collection of pelts, flea-ridden blankets, and bloodstained clothing. It was an excellent start to a nest vault, she felt. The green scaled broodmother nodded once and shut the chest, trotting over to collect a handful of painted clay jars.
She couldn’t help a low chittering of excitement, drumming her claws on the lids. It was not time (yet) to open them; the nest was not ready, she did not have enough food stores laid in. The All-Watcher needed reminding to eat fresh, red meats rather than simply sustaining herself on her cleverness... And there was still the matter of the Temple. She was certain that The Dragon Queen would prefer to have Her power established more firmly in Andunor before Kettle started to try and bring new, young blood into the tribe.
She carefully transferred the jars into the nest-vault and gave each a gentle pat. Yes. Soon, but not yet. When the temple was ready, Kettle would break open the seals make certain that her All-Watcher and the Embertooth were fit, fertile, and well fed.
The chest and vault door were carefully locked before Kettle trotted towards the stairs, clicking and hissing cheerfully to herself. Very soon. The Embertooth was dutiful, he would not need persuading. “All-Watcher is indusssstrious… will take time,” she murmured into the dimness of the stairwell. “Kettle will start there.”
Goidrdrchi: An Industrious Broodtender
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NoodlesWithTea
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Goidrdrchi: More than She Could Chew
Goidrdrchi hissed in pain as she bound her wound, huddled in a filthy corner of the gibberling nests. Blood was still trickling from her hip, but the poultice was working- she couldn’t feel the pain any longer. She licked her teeth anxiously and cast her eyes around the area as she shifted further back into the darkness.
Her heart was still pounding, pulse roaring in her ears like a great wrym, breath burning her throat. She had been very prideful, presuming she was a match for a horde of gibberlings- even with the power of the Dragon Queen on her side, and a summoned warrior to guard her in the absence of the Ger or one of the sootsnouts. She could still hear the gibberlings nearby, hooting and chittering, but fading slowly.
The wound didn’t hurt, but her body ached from the tumble she had taken over the ridge into one of the many, many midden piles that covered the caves. She leaned against the slimy, rocky wall and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. The way she had come in was not… too far, but it would feel much further with her leg mangled. Her mind felt foggy with fatigue, and her stomach was beginning to knot with hunger. She would need to rest, and pray, and hope that the Dragon Queen would see fit to heal her.
She used her staff to lever aside a few larger bones and congealed chunks of rot, wriggling herself into the divot and dragging the midden back over herself to hide. The smell was awful, but it was nothing new for a Broodtender. Hatchlings were hardly the cleanest creatures in the Underdark…
Sleep came even more easily than she had expected, exhausted as she was, the warm, dank dimness reminding her faintly of the swampy nests she had raised her first clutches. Her thoughts continued to drift towards those times as she slept, until dreams took her. She dreamed of the mines she had been hatched in, of cracking shells and tiny, angry growls of hungry hatchlings.
Snapping bones woke her, the midden that had kept her hidden abruptly wrenched away by a gibberling who seemed nearly as surprised and alarmed as Dreechi. Both of them yelped and scrambled away- but it was never just one gibberling.
The two filthy gibberlings behind the first swiped with their claws, one landing a strike on her hip hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground snout-first. Dreechi struggled to turn over, fumbling with her staff and dizzy with confusion and pain as her vision blurred and darkened. The world slowed.
No.
Dreechi felt a jolt, a lance of power down her spine, searing her from the inside out. Tiamat’s power burned in her veins, under her scales, painpainpain but she was up, she was moving, she was alive and sprinting away far more quickly than a broken hip should have allowed. She stumbled through the caverns, barely thinking beyond the need to be away and temple, staggering through the city gates and flopping into a heap by the barracks.
She coughed and spat a few mouthfuls of blood and muck, shaking with adrenaline. Good that no other Rosemaw were near. Dreechi was too weak, then. A priestess should never be seen to be so weak. But she smiled. Weak, perhaps, but still Favored. More than she had dreamed. The Dragon Queen had saved her, there was no doubt in her mind. Dreechi would make a suitable sacrifice, a humble thanks to the Mother of Wyrms...
Adrenaline trickled away and left her shaky, and even more exhausted than before. Her knees buckled when she tried to stand. The Deep Gate blurred and spun out of focus as Dreechi pitched backward into an unconscious heap. Tiamat's sacrifice would have to wait until her servant woke.
Her heart was still pounding, pulse roaring in her ears like a great wrym, breath burning her throat. She had been very prideful, presuming she was a match for a horde of gibberlings- even with the power of the Dragon Queen on her side, and a summoned warrior to guard her in the absence of the Ger or one of the sootsnouts. She could still hear the gibberlings nearby, hooting and chittering, but fading slowly.
The wound didn’t hurt, but her body ached from the tumble she had taken over the ridge into one of the many, many midden piles that covered the caves. She leaned against the slimy, rocky wall and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think. The way she had come in was not… too far, but it would feel much further with her leg mangled. Her mind felt foggy with fatigue, and her stomach was beginning to knot with hunger. She would need to rest, and pray, and hope that the Dragon Queen would see fit to heal her.
She used her staff to lever aside a few larger bones and congealed chunks of rot, wriggling herself into the divot and dragging the midden back over herself to hide. The smell was awful, but it was nothing new for a Broodtender. Hatchlings were hardly the cleanest creatures in the Underdark…
Sleep came even more easily than she had expected, exhausted as she was, the warm, dank dimness reminding her faintly of the swampy nests she had raised her first clutches. Her thoughts continued to drift towards those times as she slept, until dreams took her. She dreamed of the mines she had been hatched in, of cracking shells and tiny, angry growls of hungry hatchlings.
Snapping bones woke her, the midden that had kept her hidden abruptly wrenched away by a gibberling who seemed nearly as surprised and alarmed as Dreechi. Both of them yelped and scrambled away- but it was never just one gibberling.
The two filthy gibberlings behind the first swiped with their claws, one landing a strike on her hip hard enough to send her tumbling to the ground snout-first. Dreechi struggled to turn over, fumbling with her staff and dizzy with confusion and pain as her vision blurred and darkened. The world slowed.
No.
Dreechi felt a jolt, a lance of power down her spine, searing her from the inside out. Tiamat’s power burned in her veins, under her scales, painpainpain but she was up, she was moving, she was alive and sprinting away far more quickly than a broken hip should have allowed. She stumbled through the caverns, barely thinking beyond the need to be away and temple, staggering through the city gates and flopping into a heap by the barracks.
She coughed and spat a few mouthfuls of blood and muck, shaking with adrenaline. Good that no other Rosemaw were near. Dreechi was too weak, then. A priestess should never be seen to be so weak. But she smiled. Weak, perhaps, but still Favored. More than she had dreamed. The Dragon Queen had saved her, there was no doubt in her mind. Dreechi would make a suitable sacrifice, a humble thanks to the Mother of Wyrms...
Adrenaline trickled away and left her shaky, and even more exhausted than before. Her knees buckled when she tried to stand. The Deep Gate blurred and spun out of focus as Dreechi pitched backward into an unconscious heap. Tiamat's sacrifice would have to wait until her servant woke.
Dreechi
Nae'ali
Nae'ali
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NoodlesWithTea
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"Pie"
The Sharps Temple always carried a strong scent of ash and hot stones, but now it was laced faintly with the richness of charring meat and the warm earthiness of herbal spices as Goidrdrchi worked her Industry, carving fatty rothe shank into neat chunks and packing them into a wide mushroom cap with shreds of ripplebark fungus and a thick, hearty gravy. It wasn’t… quite a pie, but it was the right shape and general structure, and perhaps easily mistaken as such. She had made pies before, with ironbread crumbs and lard for the crust, but the All-Watcher would need energy and reserves to carry eggs.
She clicked her jaws together, shunting the meal into the oven and snapping the door shut with the end of her Listening Stick, and settled down to wait.
Yes. The temple was an excellent thing. Plenty of space, a good sturdy door… she would keep her quarter at the bank, for extra security. It would serve as a nursery while the hatchlings were still learning their voices, and once they had learned to obey their Broodtender, she would move them to the temple’s lower level. More space for them to learn to be Industrious little Rosemaw.
And more room for the inevitable flinging of sparks and fire, when the All-Watcher’s potent blood made itself apparent in their tiny bodies.
Goidrdrchi nodded to herself and gingerly checked the progress of the wound on her hip, prodding the uneven scales and the rope of scar tissue beneath with a faint hiss. She would not be able to carry eggs herself until it was fully mended, lest she risk the leg giving way entirely under the extra weight… Or perhaps she could order the Hungry to carry her about?
Food for thought.
The Mikkru would be a decent pair to the Sootsnout, perhaps. Goidrdrchi would prefer another favored of Tiamat, or even Kurtulmak for herself, but the Embertooth would also be suitable… She drummed her claws against the haft of her Listening Stick as she considered. There was also the slave to think about. If the All-Watcher truly intended to free them and bring them into the Rosemaw, Goidrdrchi would need to investigate their Industry and their blood, to find an adequate match.
She sniffed the air to check the “pie” and hauled herself up, trotting over to a low shelf and collecting her precious painted jars, breaking the seal of the deep red clay and shaking a handful of small nuts into a mortar before replacing the lid. Old, old recipes, passed from tender to tender, tribe to tribe, for ensuring good carrying and strong shells. Bark and minerals and fungi that could double a clutch, or help to lay the eggs early, should the tribe need to replenish their number in the wake of disaster.
Goidrdrchi huffed and began to grind the nuts into a fine, spicy-smelling powder. There were too many females in Andunor- good for laying, but too many nests from the same males could lead to bad blood. She did not think her body would change, not unless the Hungry or the Ger were removed. But anything was possible. She would pray, and listen for guidance from the Great Queen.
Pulling the oven open once more, she hurriedly tossed the powder over the bubbling surface of the pie, breathing in the warm, savory smell. Yes. She would pray, and then she would go and find the All-Watcher at the library and ensure that she ate every bite.
Assuming she didn’t flee as soon as she noticed the Broodtender approaching (again.)
She clicked her jaws together, shunting the meal into the oven and snapping the door shut with the end of her Listening Stick, and settled down to wait.
Yes. The temple was an excellent thing. Plenty of space, a good sturdy door… she would keep her quarter at the bank, for extra security. It would serve as a nursery while the hatchlings were still learning their voices, and once they had learned to obey their Broodtender, she would move them to the temple’s lower level. More space for them to learn to be Industrious little Rosemaw.
And more room for the inevitable flinging of sparks and fire, when the All-Watcher’s potent blood made itself apparent in their tiny bodies.
Goidrdrchi nodded to herself and gingerly checked the progress of the wound on her hip, prodding the uneven scales and the rope of scar tissue beneath with a faint hiss. She would not be able to carry eggs herself until it was fully mended, lest she risk the leg giving way entirely under the extra weight… Or perhaps she could order the Hungry to carry her about?
Food for thought.
The Mikkru would be a decent pair to the Sootsnout, perhaps. Goidrdrchi would prefer another favored of Tiamat, or even Kurtulmak for herself, but the Embertooth would also be suitable… She drummed her claws against the haft of her Listening Stick as she considered. There was also the slave to think about. If the All-Watcher truly intended to free them and bring them into the Rosemaw, Goidrdrchi would need to investigate their Industry and their blood, to find an adequate match.
She sniffed the air to check the “pie” and hauled herself up, trotting over to a low shelf and collecting her precious painted jars, breaking the seal of the deep red clay and shaking a handful of small nuts into a mortar before replacing the lid. Old, old recipes, passed from tender to tender, tribe to tribe, for ensuring good carrying and strong shells. Bark and minerals and fungi that could double a clutch, or help to lay the eggs early, should the tribe need to replenish their number in the wake of disaster.
Goidrdrchi huffed and began to grind the nuts into a fine, spicy-smelling powder. There were too many females in Andunor- good for laying, but too many nests from the same males could lead to bad blood. She did not think her body would change, not unless the Hungry or the Ger were removed. But anything was possible. She would pray, and listen for guidance from the Great Queen.
Pulling the oven open once more, she hurriedly tossed the powder over the bubbling surface of the pie, breathing in the warm, savory smell. Yes. She would pray, and then she would go and find the All-Watcher at the library and ensure that she ate every bite.
Assuming she didn’t flee as soon as she noticed the Broodtender approaching (again.)
Dreechi
Nae'ali
Nae'ali