late-night drabbles strike again
This one not only goes to the heathen-god appeasement, but it fits this week's discworld100 challenge.
Luck
When someone sets fire to your home because of some old gold coin you kept for luck, the most you can do is pick yourself up and move on.
This becomes difficult when you finally realize whatever you’re moving with, it isn’t your body. It’s still attached to said body, in some manner you can’t quite define. And loath as you are to trust a walking skeleton at this point, that seems to be the only viable option.
A WORD TO THE WISE, you hear as you fade out. THINGS WITH SKULLS ON THEM RARELY MAKE FOR GOOD LUCK TOKENS.
And no, I do not know where this one came from.
Hot Sausages
He looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He positively piled various sauces on the poor defenseless sausage, even after ordering it with onions, and yet it didn’t seem to be enough. Strangest of all, he handed over an actual gold coin without having to be talked into it first.
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler got the feeling that this was one bit of gold even his greedy merchant’s heart wouldn’t want around for very long, though there wasn’t much he could do to solve that at the moment.
“Sausages! Hot sausages! Inna bun! So fresh the pig hasn’t even noticed they’re gone!”
But THIS one... I know exactly where it came from. And when you get right down to it, props to schiarire for the inspiration as to who's talking.
Holy Wood Dreams
“What’s this?”
“It’s from something the dwarves are working on. About cursed gold, or something like that.”
“They really go in for authenticity, don’t they?”
“When it comes to gold, they’re experts. I’m a bit surprised Uncle didn’t come up with this one. Looks like it’s going to be good.”
“Funny, he hasn’t mentioned it yet.”
“He has a habit of not mentioning anything that’s a sore point with him, Vic.”
“True. Should we take this back over to their place, then?”
“Leave it. They’ll find it soon enough.”
The coin fell to the sand, and Holy Wood dreamed on.
Luck
When someone sets fire to your home because of some old gold coin you kept for luck, the most you can do is pick yourself up and move on.
This becomes difficult when you finally realize whatever you’re moving with, it isn’t your body. It’s still attached to said body, in some manner you can’t quite define. And loath as you are to trust a walking skeleton at this point, that seems to be the only viable option.
A WORD TO THE WISE, you hear as you fade out. THINGS WITH SKULLS ON THEM RARELY MAKE FOR GOOD LUCK TOKENS.
And no, I do not know where this one came from.
Hot Sausages
He looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks. He positively piled various sauces on the poor defenseless sausage, even after ordering it with onions, and yet it didn’t seem to be enough. Strangest of all, he handed over an actual gold coin without having to be talked into it first.
Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler got the feeling that this was one bit of gold even his greedy merchant’s heart wouldn’t want around for very long, though there wasn’t much he could do to solve that at the moment.
“Sausages! Hot sausages! Inna bun! So fresh the pig hasn’t even noticed they’re gone!”
But THIS one... I know exactly where it came from. And when you get right down to it, props to schiarire for the inspiration as to who's talking.
Holy Wood Dreams
“What’s this?”
“It’s from something the dwarves are working on. About cursed gold, or something like that.”
“They really go in for authenticity, don’t they?”
“When it comes to gold, they’re experts. I’m a bit surprised Uncle didn’t come up with this one. Looks like it’s going to be good.”
“Funny, he hasn’t mentioned it yet.”
“He has a habit of not mentioning anything that’s a sore point with him, Vic.”
“True. Should we take this back over to their place, then?”
“Leave it. They’ll find it soon enough.”
The coin fell to the sand, and Holy Wood dreamed on.