YTZ#09:
The Birds Are Back
Catch up on Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 or Part 4 if you missed them.
Now on to our story.
(What follows is a fictional account.)
The Birds of the Basin, Part 5: The Rage Fest
“
They left Talpost early the following morning… Saddlebill and Demoiselle, Shoebill and Bluefoot, guided by Frigatebird of the Southern Talonguard.
In the light of the early sun, the four northerners were awestruck along their walk out of the giant talus fortress. The structure was an overwhelming feat of architecture as it hung gracefully from the sides of the massive cliff face. Swooping curves of alabaster swung this way and that like multiple wingspans of some gigantic birds clustered together in a dance and immortalized in stone. Golden statues of southern varieties of birds and talus were touted on building tops, railings, and pedestals throughout the great city-fortress.
Suddenly a shrill wail caught everyone’s attention. It blared from overheard, high above on the cliff.
“What’s that?” Saddlebill asked.
“Oh, that’s Peggy,” answered Frigatebird. “She’s a baby giant penguin that was lost and hurt. We took her in. When she’s healthy, we will be returning her to her home in the south.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Demoiselle cooed.
“It’s not like Frigate here is the one nursing her back to health,” Saddle grunted.
“Actually, I have spent some time feeding her and playing with her,” Frigate said.
“Of course you have, how nice” Dem said sweetly while glaring at Saddle, who simply crossed his wings and furrowed his brow.
The crying went on from the giant penguin. Shoe covered his ear holes and muttered, “Well, will someone shut that thing up?”
“Shoe, be nice,” said Bluefoot the booby. “She’s just a baby, after all. Poor whittle thing.”
“Blue, you do have a sensitive side,” Shoe said.
“I think that’s his only side,” Saddle joked.
A handful of cranes were seen then taking flight towards the summit of the cliff. A moment later, Peggy quieted down and could be heard softly cooing.
“Ah, that’s better,” Shoe breathed.
“Ok, here we are,” announced Frigate. “You may take flight from here. Follow the cliff face until it rounds the corner and then you will see the Basin on the other side. It won’t be hard to find the grounds for the Rage Fest. There will be plenty of colorful banners and crowds and noise to attract you. Good luck. May the Magi bless your work.”
At that he nodded and returned the way he had come, leaving the four northerners to their own devices.
“Well, there’s no time like the present,” Demoiselle said. “Let’s go.”
The northern Talonguard took off and followed the directions they were given. It was short flight to the end of the cliffside were it began to turn at a sharp angle. Coming around on the other side they were greeted by an amazing site.
The Mogra Yute Basin stretched out before them, a vast savannah of rolling grasses and hills and patches of trees. Rivers streamed and coursed their way to and fro amidst the landscape. Packs of animals and flocks of birds could be seen in droves all around. There must have been hundreds upon hundreds of creatures within their immediate view. And there was no end to the Basin as it stretched out in all directions before them.
A large ravine cut itself through the ground below. It lunged from the corner of the cliff to the south and east at a jagged angle. It followed the same direction as the cliff itself.
As the Talonguard came to bear on this region of the land, they began to perceive the Rage Fest before them. It lay nestled between the southern side of the cliff and the ravine.
“There it is!” Demoiselle shouted through the air. The four of them directed their flight towards their destination and dropped in altitude.
The closer the northerners got to the Rage Fest, the more they could begin to perceive why it was so named. The roar of competition was great, even angry sounding, and echoed off the cliffs and into the Basin.
When they were nearer still, they could make out the crowds. Hundreds, maybe thousands of voltar1. The forram bulls were crowded on one side of the fences and the targen tigers on the other. In between lay several arenas of dirt wherein the competitions were begin held.
There were games of all types: wrestling, feats of strength, discus throwing, and foot races, among others. Each field was operating on its own schedule, and every minute or so one part of the crowd would cheer for their victor while the losing side could be heard hollering in dismay.
“Cheater!” roared one of the forram after a relay race finished.
“What are you talking about, two-horn?” sneered a targen in return.
“Watch your tongue or I’ll cut it off,” the bull man thundered back. “He was clearly cheating. He handed the baton off to his teammate before he even crossed the line. I saw him do it twice!”
“Bull!” said the targen. “That’s a load of bull.” Then he exploded in laughter and all the tiger men around joined in.
“Alright! That’s it, kitty, you’ve asked for it!” The forram pulled a small axe from his belt and began to climb over the fence on his side. Some of his team cheered him on, but a couple more conscientious ones tried to grab onto him and prevent the escalation of the disagreement.
“Get off me,” he shouted to his fellows. “Which side are you on anyway?”
“What’s the matter?” chided the targen. “Are you penned in your corral over there?” More laughter.
At that, even the conscientious forram let go and allowed the first to continue. In fact, at that point, several more bull men joined in, each reaching for their own weapons.
In response, the targen began crossing their side of the fence as well, drawing blades in kind. Soon there were dozens from each side of the field marching to an impromptu battle in the middle.
The referee who was manning the field tried to intervene. “Brethren!” he tried, being forram himself. He held up his hands, “Calm yourselves. Let’s not take this any further.”
The combatants paid him no attention and kept walking. Tensions were rising fast and suddenly neighboring arenas were noticing the impending brawl, ceasing their games and turning to witness the fight.
The opposing sides neared each other and the referee, still trying to stop it, was pushed aside. Weapons were raising and bodies were poised for battle.
Mere moments before any blows, the four Talonguard swooped in from above, hovering just above the confrontation.
“Stop!” demanded Demoiselle.
“Put down your weapons!” Saddlebill added.
The bulls and tigers indeed halted, more from surprise than anything.
“Oh great, the birds,” complained a targen, putting his paws on his hips.
“They’re not from Talpost,” mentioned another. “Look at their uniforms. Especially that one,” he said, pointing towards Bluefoot whose armor was half falling off.
“Alright, alright,” Shoebill intervened. “What’s the problem, here, fellows? Don’t you know how to be sportsmen? Have some friendly competition? Why the weapons?”
“Shut your beak, bird man,” aggressed one of the bulls. “Why don’t you mind your business? We already told the others to butt out.”
“I will not shut my beak!” exclaimed Shoe. “I don’t care about the others. I’ve traveled a long way here and I intend to say my peace. I may have just arrived, but what I see is this: you’ve got a good competitive gaming event going on here, and you want to ruin it over some stupid comments. Get over yourselves. Take the heat. Play your best. Win, lose, who cares. Go home. End of story.”
There was some hissing from the targen and feet stomping amongst the forram, but no one acted on the aggression that had been there.
“Well, Shoe, I’m impressed,” Saddlebill commented quietly to his comrade. Then louder to the crowd, “I do hope you consider the words of my colleague here. We have come from Oshinora to support the efforts of our southern allies. We understand that nobody wishes to come to war. So why start now?”
“Nobody said anything about war!” one of the forram yelled out. “We just had a little disagreement about some cheating here. Tiger boy there was not playing by the rules.”
“Piss off. I was not cheating, you are just a sore loser,” cursed the accused targen.
The crowd riled up again, raising weapons anew and angrily shouting in a ruckus.
Demoiselle flapped her wings mightily then, stirring up quite a bit of air and dirt and pushing the crowds away from each other. She landed along with her three compatriots.
“Voltar of the Basin!” Dem began in her most authoritative voice. “Forram of the West, targen of the East! Listen to reason. You say you do not want war, but you still persist in starting this fight. What do you hope to gain from this? Where will it lead, when the rest of your peoples begin to join in and the anger swells? Do you really think you will avoid war? Knowing that the peace has been tentatively kept in this region only in recent times? Please, let’s not revert to the days of the infamous Basin Wars. This is a new era, and voltar across Paelstor2 are coming together in ways our ancestors could never have imagined. Be models for the future. Stop the bloodshed and tears. Your wives and children will honor you all the more for it.”
“Wow, good speech, Dem,” Saddle commented, falling more in love with her.
“Be friends, everybody!” Bluefoot added quite comically.
There was some shifting of feet and many eyes looking ashamedly towards the ground. It seemed the momentum of battle had subsided.
“Now, we hear there has been some strife in this Rage Fest. What is it that’s at the heart of it all?” Demoiselle the crane asked of the now calmed crowd.
“Ah, that’s one of the problems underlying this, true,” a forram answered her. “The heart of our problems is this: the prize for the Rage Fest… those tigers over there have the Heart of the Mountains to offer if our side wins.”
“What’s that?” Dem inquired.
“It’s a prized ruby of our clan that they stole from us! And to think that they want to offer it as a prize when it should belong to us anyways! Gra!” cursed the bull man.
The targen just glowered back at him with fierce eyes, but made no comment.
“What, cat got your tongue?” the forram instigator asked.
“What of you?” the tiger man replied then. “You have our sacred Necklace of the Forest for your prize! Where did you get that?”
“Your former chieftain gifted it to us as a peace offering decades ago, you idiot!” the bull man roared.
“Sacred necklace?” Shoebill had to ask.
“Yea, you know how much cats like dangly things,” laughed the forram collectively.
“Alright! That’s it! Enough games. Let’s fight. I’ve always hated you damn bulls anyway,” the targen erupted, raising his weapon.
“The hate is mutual,” sneered the forram, also preparing to fight. “To battle!”
But before anything could even begin between them, the arena two fields down took on its own troubles. A crowd of combatants were already starting to brawl and roll across the ground.
The scene there just spurred on this group even more. And in turn it inspired the whole Rage Fest to deteriorate into an all out brawl. It was all the four Talonguard could do to take flight and get out of the way of the blows that were flying from each side.
It was turning from calm to complete chaos.
Saddlebill, Demoiselle, Shoebill and Bluefoot regrouped on an outcropping of the cliffside. They witnessed the fighting below them in anguish. They were failing at keeping the peace. And things were worsening rapidly.
“Holy Magi, what do we do now?” Demoiselle prayed.
“I might have an idea,” Blue offered, but said no more.
“Blue…” Shoe urged him. “We are waiting…”
“Oh, right!” said Bluefoot. But instead of explaining, he took off to the skies as fast as he could, heading away from the Rage Fest and out of sight.
“Damn that bird,” Shoe spat. “His bright idea was simply to run away?”
Saddlebill shook his head and tried to breathe. “Magi help us…” he muttered.
1 Voltar is a term referring to any of the primary sentient races, including humans, shelegre (elves), fuul (dwarves), talus (bird people), forram (bull and cow people), targen (tiger people), zalts (a blended monster and human-like race with horns), gnomes, basilen (lizard people) and hraarg (orcs)
2 Paelstor is the name of the fantasy world in which the story is set
“
Read the epic conclusion now in Part 6: The Basin
Thank you for reading.
Please comment and share if you enjoyed the story.
Blessings to you,
Matthew