Word: Paludal

 

paludal

[ puh-lood-l, pal-yuh-dl ]

 

adjective

1. of or relating to marshes.

2. produced by marshes, as miasma or disease.

**************************

               Two dozen people stood at the edge of the marsh. And it was an edge. There was no lead up to it, no warning. On one side of the boarder was normal grassland. On the other, a vast, fetid marsh. The people arranged there were preparing to venture into the unappealing place. Some readied equipment of science. Scanners, recording equipment and sampling tools were all stuffed into backpacks and clipped to unworn belts. Others prepared tools of war. Guns, grenades and knives were checked and rechecked.

               To any outsiders, it would have looked like overkill. Why bring such dangerous objects to a mission of science? One of the soldiers whispered that very question. He was overheard by one of the members of the science team.

               “Because of all the stories of this place.” The man said. “How much do you know about this place?”

               “Not a lot, doc. All I know is that we’re here to shoot anything that looks like it’ll attack.”

               “Well, if the stories and our preliminary tests are anything to go by, you’re going to be doing a lot of shooting. The locals have started calling it the Gluttonous Marsh. They say everything, and I do mean everything, wants to eat you. Not just the big animals either. Smaller animals that would normally be prey, the insects, the plants. Supposedly even the marsh itself, although most of us are skeptical about that.”

               “So pack a lot of bug spray, don’t get near big plants and shoot everything that isn’t us, got it.” The soldier said.

               “I’m not sure you do.” The scientist said. “When we were first told about this place, we thought the same as you. Just avoid the big things and we’d be fine. The people we sent in all died. To a man. Do you want to know how?”

               “How?” The soldier asked nervously.

               “Eaten. One was swarmed by insects the likes of which nobody has ever seen. Another was tangled up in vines that seemed almost sentient. Another vanished into the water. Nobody knows what ate him, but the next day the marsh had grown a millimeter all around. The big things? The ones we the team was on the lookout for? They picked through what was left after the little things ate their fill.”

               The soldier looked at the marsh and gulped. “So, uh, do we get some kind of, I don’t know, like a HAZMAT suit or something?”

               “Yes, actually. It’s required equipment going in.”

               He pointed to a tent set up nearby. Nobody seemed to want to go in, but as they watched a person in a full HAZMAT suit emerged. The solider rushed off to get his, followed closely by a few others who were within earshot.  The scientist nodded his approval. That they took his words seriously was encouraging. At least they were more likely to survive the expedition. He just hoped the rest of the soldiers would do the same. He looked at the sticking water and rotting plants within the deceptively calm marsh. And he hoped that any of them would be able to come back out.

***************************************

I'm sure they'll be fine. 

Word: Ultramafic

 

ultramafic

[ uhl-truh-maf-ik ]

 

adjective Geology.

ultrabasic.

**************************

               The alien landscape seemed to stretch on forever. An endless plain under a pale yellow-blue sky. A few distant mountains broke up the horizon, but otherwise there was little to disrupt the view of the landscape. Even though it was day, a few stars twinkled weakly in the sky, opposite the great sun that lit the distant planet. There was no moon to be seen, although there were two of them in orbit. And as far as the eye could see, there was only one living being standing upon the planet.

               Major Julian Verlian stood there, almost unmoving. His space suit made him feel confined, even in the wide-open area. His landing craft stood in solemn silence behind him, waiting to take him back to the ship whenever he needed to leave. He looked around the alien planet, the first human to set foot on a world other than Earth. As he did, words came to him. He spoke them into the comms line in his helmet.

               “Well, god damn it.”

               “Uh, care to repeat that Jules?” Said the voice on the other end. One of the ship’s crew, Kevin Reynolds. A god man. Well, mostly. At least he was a good stellar navigator.

               “God damn it.” Julian said again.

               “What’s going on down there, Major?” Kevin asked.

               “Rocks, that’s what’s happening. There’s nothing but god damned rocks down here. I mean it. There’s no plants, no animals. Not even water. Just rocks. This has got to be the most boring alien planet in the universe.”

               “Oh come on, Jules.” Another voice this time. The ship’s lead biologist, Heather Greene, said. “It can’t be that bad. Besides, it’s not like there’s a lot of others to compare it to.”

               “Oh, trust me. It’s that bad. Well, I guess Jack’ll be happy at any rate.”

               The man in question, Jack Douglas, came on the comms. “Did I hear someone calling my name?”

               “The major says he’s got a lot of rocks for you to play with.” Kevin said.

               “Nothing but, Jack.” Julian said.

               The geologist sounded almost giddy. “Really? Can you send me a sample?”

               “Yeah, hang on.”

               Julian went through the laborious process of bending down in the space suit. Then came the equally tricky task of unhooking one of the specialized sample tubes from his belt. Filling it was easy. All he had to do was run it along the ground. Pebbles and dirt filled it readily. He capped it, then plugged the tube into the analyzer built into his suit’s backpack. He heard it buzz and beep for several minutes.

               “Huh, interesting. And do all the rocks you see look like these?”

               “Just about.”

               “Interesting. These aren’t so much rocks as they are lumps of metal. Mostly iron and magnesium. Not a lot of the silicate minerals we see in Earth rocks.”

               “Okay, so they’re lumps of metal instead of rocks. Doesn’t make them more interesting to see.” Julian said.

               “Permission to disagree?”

               “Not like I can stop you.”

               “Well, in that case, I firmly disagree. An entire world with stones like these is fascinating. What processes could have gone into making them? How long did it take to form? So many questions. I can’t wait to get my hands on them in person.”

               “I’ll make sure to gift wrap a few of the bigger ones.” Julian said, rolling his eyes. He could hear the other members of the crew trying to stifle their chuckles.

               “So, what’re you going to do, Major?” Kevin asked. “You going to look around a little more, or are you coming right back up?”

               Julian shrugged. “Might as well look around for a little while. I’ve only been here for a few minutes. Maybe I’ll get lucky and see…something else. I’ll stay out for another half hour, pick up a few rocks and then head back.”

               All the crew members gave their acknowledgement. With that, Julian chose a random direction and started walking. He was not hopeful that he would actually find something, but he at least had to try. 

**************************
If you're wondering, ultrabasic refers to the kind of rocks found on this planet. Or at least, the ones in the story. Not very interesting, but it's what I had to work with.

Word: Sennachie

sennachie

[ sen-uh-kee ]

noun Chiefly Scot., Irish.

a professional storyteller of family genealogy, history, and legend.

  ********************************

               The king and his court stood in almost reverent silence as the thin man entered the room. The man was dressed in simple clothes, covered in an unadorned cloak and had a large leather pack slung over his shoulder. He looked for all the world like a normal man off the street. And yet, not a single person complained when he made no move to bow to the king. The man barely even acknowledged the other finely dressed nobles in the throne room. And yet, from the way some of them were looking at him, it seemed more like they were honored to be in his presence.

               “Your majesty.” The man said, with a small bow of his head. “I am summoned, and so I come.”

               “Indeed, Storyteller. Indeed you are.” The king said. “And I am glad that you managed to make it. I am sure it was no easy task, given your no doubt full schedule.” There was no malice or ire in the king’s voice. Merely acknowledgement of a fact.

               “I take the jobs that I feel are worth my time.” The Storyteller said. “Now then, sire, what story shall I tell to you and this fine court?”

               “My lineage.” The king said. “I would have the full story, from the first of my family line to my grandfather.”

               The Storyteller closed his eyes and nodded. “A fine story, I am sure. But a long one. Are you sure you wish the full story? Such a thing might take days, or even weeks depending on your line and their deeds.”

               “Hm, I see. That will be difficult. Perhaps only spend time on those of significance, and merely mention those of less renown.”

               “Very well. I will need a piece of you. A drop of blood would be best, but a hair or some saliva will do as well.”

               Even as he spoke, the Storyteller was unslinging his pack and taking out various tools of his trade. A large stone bowl. Various bottles of technicolor liquids. Parchment and quill. And dozens of tools those gathered had no knowledge of. The king offered an outstretched finger to the man, who took a small knife. The finger was pricked just enough to spill a single drop of blood, which was taken to the bowl. The Storyteller worked for several minutes, mixing the liquids and stirring, using various tools to do his magic. And then, when he was done, he drank the mixture. He stood for several minutes with closed eyes. And then he stood.

               He held out his hands, which glowed with magical light, and an image of a man appeared. He looked like the king in a way, although the eyes were far different.

               “This is the first of your line. The first true ancestor of your family.” The Storyteller intoned. “A simple man was he, with no great blessings. Content with his life, he tended sheep and pigs, selling when he could and buying when he needed. A good man, but a humble one. But he had friends. Friend he could count on and rely upon. It was these friends that saw him to become a leader of his small village.”

As he spoke, the images shifted to show his words, animals and people came and went. The Storyteller spoke of the ancestors few accomplishments before moving on. His words rang through the throne room, and although on the surface they held no great weight, those who listened to them could feel them resonating through their entire being. The Storyteller went on to the man’s son, who helped grow the village into a small trading town. Others were skipped, having no real achievements, merely living good lives.

He spoke of how there was a great war, and although his line were not renowned warriors, they still fought anyway. How they grew in honor and power. Until one day a poor king took the throne, and nearly ran the country into the ground. And how the king’s ancestor challenged the poor old king to a duel of honor for the throne, and won. And the Storyteller kept telling of the deeds of the new dynasty that had formed, both good bad and neither. He only stopped when he came to the current king’s grandfather.

“And so we come to your grandfather, where our story ends.” The Storyteller said. There was a moment of silence in the room, as all those in attendance thought about what they had heard. The story, the history. None of it embellished of false.

“A fine tale. A fine one indeed.” The king said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you, sire.” The Storyteller said. He was already packing up his tools and supplies. “Although it did last longer than I thought.”

None of them had noticed the time. It was now well past sunset, although the tale had started in the mid-morning.

“Ah, so it has. Then, we shall dine. Storyteller, you are more than welcome to eat with us and stay the night here before you move on in the morning.”

“Of course, sire.”

The gathering changed into a small party as food and drink were brought in. And the conversation all revolved around one man. For it was not every day that even nobles and royalty were able to speak with a true Storyteller.

********************

Not much to say about this one today. Hope you're all enjoying the nice weather. Hopefully it'll last awhile.