Shatir’s Last Breath

[Honathor Longreach]

Shatir’s Last Breath

52nd of Ashan
Shatir’s Last Breath
Clear Skies and Hot Weather

H

onathor had been selling the odds and ends he couldn’t use anymore from the farm, mostly junk or scrap wood, he’d got rid of half a broken down old cart by chopping it up into its materials. Someone had bought a load of his ruffage and weeds for compost, they were only weeds but they came from good land no matter what had happened to it recently! The soil was still good despite that damned Stahlmark Hadan spitting upon his land, and he still had plenty of old friends here paying a fair price, Mac Teagan looked out for its own. His son and Tobathon had helped him haul the scrap to market using the oxen, someone had wanted that too but he wasn’t so desperate to part with his one good oxen! Blast them all! Who did they think he was, some beggar!

Bidding goodbye to the two of them and the oxen with an encouraging pat on its side, Hona was carrying his fencing post hammer and long two handed axe today as usual. He’d picked up a rucksack from a local merchant, the damn man wanted a fortune for it, a fortune! By his golden beard things never got any cheaper in any lifetime did they! Hmmph. Taking a long deep breath of the air, good strong air, filling his lungs with it he looked about.

Today was a celebration of Thetros’s mount dying, and he’d given himself the day off, tomorrow morning too. Now Honathor wasn’t even a bit religious, far too concerned with a good days work to be worrying who worships what, or what one immortal wanted you to do last week. Far too busy for that nonsense! But that Thetros he was alright, and Hona had a deep respect for animals, enjoying celebrations almost as much!

Becoming one determined farmer to have a good time, he tidied up his scruffy hair, pulling a strand of straw loose as usual. It wasn’t hard to find one of his old haunts, a Mac Teagan filled tavern, other clans were welcome of course but this place was filled to the brim with his kinsmen. The Clan’s Choice was the name and a good pick the name was too! Decorated in memorabilia of times gone by, paintings of former clanners were around, as well as pages written about them, and trophies from the clanner's lives. If there was a home away from home inside the city for Mac Teagan this would be it.

“Honathor!” Someone called, a few clansmen came over to embrace him or ask how he’d been. “Farm’s a mess but she’s coming around,” Hona rocked up to the bar, and ordered the largest ale possible, dwarfing his hand, because everything was bigger in Uthaldria! "Ruddy Stahlmarks too good to farm," someone muttered nearby sympathetically, "you'll fix it right!" There was definite ale inspired agreement around him. Everyone was in a celebratory mood, the liveliest mood he’d seen for seasons, because he’d not been home in seasons and today was the day for it! The mood caught the Lotharro in the same way, and soon he was wrapped up in stories or long tales from afar.

[Honathor Longreach]

S

ettling in to what was the biggest mug of ale he’d had, someone of course produced a bigger one! By the stars that was a decent sized drink, where could he get his own? Sliding the mug up to Hona, the Lotharro opposite him on the table laughed. Honathor grunted, from his waist the drink came up to about his eye height in front of him, a good drink!

“Have you lost yer belly for it being around them pansy southerners?” One of his old friends and clanners ribbed him. That got another hmmph from Hona, eyeing the beer as a hunter might his next meal. “Sssh Sssh quiet down, this is important this is!” The drink provider shoved people and called for attention. A few of the locals huddled over to see what was going on. Still staring down the mug, Honathor breathed deep and grabbed it in both hands.

“For Shatir!” Chugging back on the ale, the froth ran down his beard but he kept on going not taking a breath, his muscled throat working overtime to get all the ale down. How many trills it took he couldn’t say, only it was getting very tough in the final third, desperate for a breath in might come out his nose! Blast it, he wasn’t being beaten by no damned drink!

Right at the end when he looked full to bursting he’d finished, slamming the two handed mug down hard on the table, and getting a cheer from those around them.

“Time?” A clanner by the wall asked.

“One Tick thirteen trills by my count.”

“Thirteen, that was at least one twenty,” someone muttered, but the disagreement was short lived. Hona’s name was chalked on the wall for the celebration, apparently they were keeping a tally and he was somewhere in third, a respectable place for someone out of practice.

“Not bad Hona!” The board owner remarked, but Hona was too busy recovering, and brewing a sizeable burp to do much more than raise his hand. Voices soon started back up, and stories were about to be flowing back and forth, that was until someone especially notable walked in for the celebrations.

“Jarl Banodor of Mac Teagan, first of his name! Slayer of the Hanshan, Eight times honoured with the blue flur for his heroism and…" the Jarl was apparently tired of waiting and had walked in anyway with a small entourage. The Fenn led the clan but the Jarl did have a large influence over Mac Teagan territory, this one was apparently senior enough to command a lot of respect. He raised his hand up about to speak, and what should happen from over the way but…

BURRRRRRRRRRRppppp, the old Jarl cut through the crowds with his look, several men parting all the way to Hona’s table by the window. Hona looked about and shrugged, clearing his throat. There were a few mutters but nobody dared say a word, it was a tense moment.

Until the old Jarl burst out laughing and about a dozen others followed. “Longreach is back then?” Someone slapped Honathor on the back heavily and roared with laughter. Hona nodded unable to stop laughing himself.

[Honathor Longreach]

“Now not that I can top that introduction!” The Jarl started to speak again and the laughing started to subside, people quietening down again. “But we are here to honor and celebrate the great Shatir, selflessly serving our patron immortal for two centuries of her life!”

“To Shatir!” Most of them said, and raised a mug, they all drunk much more respectfully than before, even Hona’s rowdy table remaining silent at the end of it.

“There’ll be a three night vigil at Farpost, held by the clan’s master of ceremonies, I expect you all to pay a visit! Especially you Longreach,” The Jarl grinned at Hona’s table. Hona looked up surprised, “be an honor,” he managed. Not knowing why in the eleven hells they’d picked him, he had sheep to tend to! Eh it was for Shatir, Ilaren’s nosehairs, alright he’ll go, she’d been a noble beast of many a tale, he could stomach a ceremony or two. Maybe there would be free food?

Speaking of food! “Now I promised you all a feast, and a feast you shall have!” The Jarl held his hand up one final time for quiet over the celebrators, “go enjoy yourselves, that’s your Jarls order!” Several trays were brought out, grapes, meat, some other fruit and ale; no weak wine around here in Mac Tegan territory, and this inn was as much their territory as anywhere! There were a couple of spirits but they were strong enough to bite your head off. The meat looked a golden brown covered in all kinds of juices and spice.

This was going to be the real test of endurance, forget smashing beasties, this was how a Mac Tegan Lotharro proved he could stand toe to toe with any other! A few said prayers to Vhalar, and many more to Thetros. Hona had no time for words, if the immortals watched deeds they would know, if they didn’t they wouldn’t and that’s how it would be for his life.

“What wisdom do you have from Ne’haer?” Someone asked him, and there was only one good answer to that.

“Wisdom?" They were asking him for wisdom? "Stay away from their chickens.” Hona remarked, and he wasn’t joking, chickens were the bane of that place.

“Chickens?” Nobody knew whether to take him seriously.

“Aye, mark my words. Chickens.”

[Honathor Longreach]

Poultry wisdom aside.

T

he feast was well received. Lotharro had more endurance than most so when they did something, they did it big. Mugs became flagons and eventually flagons became pitchers as the hall roared with laughter and song. Not the tallest man here he equaled most for body weight, so when the arm wrestling started he was keen to push his weight in the ring so to speak!

A few of them had started a mock wrestling pit in the other room, letting their more animalistic natures decide the victor in contests of strength. The contest for Honathor was a friend lining his arm up on the table. Honathor spat into his own hands and rubbed them together, getting them warm.

“Haven’t you learned yet Hona?” Varatho opposite him grinned.

Hona grunted something and levelled his arm up to grip his friend, leaning his shoulder in, their hands were allowed to grip the table but the elbow had to stay on it, so really this was about body strength as much as arm strength. There were about thirty of them competing and the prize was a folded steel and bloodmetal axe, second prize a pig and third a barrel of ale. All of three prizes looked a king’s randsom! Hona’s strength had been improving recently but he wasn’t the strongest Lotharro here, for him the prize was pride at not losing to his friend right now!

Tying their wrists together, a third Lotharro had his hand over theirs waiting to give the go ahead. “It'll be a weak day for Ilaren before I am losing to you Varatho.” They were about to release and Varatho stopped them and spoke up. “Alright. Let’s make it interesting then, your oxen against my hammer.” Hona thought about it and shook his head, he wasn’t risking his beloved oxen over a stinking hammer. “My axe and my hammer against yours.” His axe was old, the fencing post hammer was what tipped the wager. “Deal.” Varatho nodded to begin.

Their hands were released and they started in on each other. Varatho immediately leaned his full weight into the arm wrestle, getting a good turn of the shoulder, which put Honathor at a disadvantage. Gripping the side of the table firmly, it started to creak under Hona’s grip, his knuckles going white as he tried to hold his body in position.

[Honathor Longreach]

F

eeling the weight of a muscled Lotharro bearing down on his arm, Hona grunted hard and pushed back. Animal instincts could make these contests of strength ferocious, thankfully the furniture was thick and well built in here, else it just wouldn’t have lasted long. The sheer mass of Honathor’s arm made moving the thick limb a struggle for the other Lotharro, but he was doing so all the same, face tensing red as he gritted and strained against Honathor.

Hona thought of his axe, it was a stupid thing to do wagering a gift, but damn if he was listening to Varatho’s slack jaw taunt him for the next season about having backed out! That thought of it being a gift made him fight harder for this, he pushed back with all his sizeable weight and bulk, the seat beneath him creaking. Now it was Varatho who was gripping his table edge like a man possessed, feeling muscles wrench in his arm, either of them could pull one easy enough here given the strain they were under. Lotharro endurance wasn’t for nothing though, and they kept at it, breaking into a sweat.

He had him! Then he felt his shoulder pull and something give, slowly his arm was being lowered the other way. “Bonde, you should know better than to play with a Kriger!” The comment turned Hona’s stomach to gut wrenching grunt. In had walked his son and Tobathon, they’d made it after all. He’d noticed them but that comment was the last straw! “While you are off polishing yer swords, I work for a living.” Honathor roared and it was enough to give him one solid push back, slamming the other man’s knuckles hard into the table, much to both of their surprise.

Breathing heavily, Hona rolled his shoulder around hearing a click. To an outsider the arm wrestling might have looked bitter, but these two had been doing this back and forth forever. Varatho showing there were no hard feelings extended his opposite unstrained hand, which Honathor shook firmly in his; the two friends reaching an unspoken understanding not to mock each other’s livelihoods. People didn’t take kindly to their path being joked about here, it could be the cause of some vicious feuds if you weren’t careful.

“Good to see you son, what brings you here?” Hona was still rolling his tense shoulder to loosen it. “Everyone this is my boy Alondasath named after his great grandfather.” Honathor bellowed, and there were several greetings given as everyone got a look at the new Mac Teagan. The fact he was older wasn’t that unusual to Lotharro, reborn’s children could be old or young just as easily.

“Celebrations outside, they are lining up for the parade,” Alondasath said happily. The Jarl was just announcing the same thing, one big parade for Shatir to pass through the streets. Time for the big send off!

[Honathor Longreach]

R

ousing themselves, the burly crowd of Mac Teagan drunk or not made their way outside at the Jarl’s order. It took a lot of ale to really put a Lotharro down and out for the count. Most of them coming out had their balance just fine, and those that didn’t were steadied into the lines forming either side of the street.

Long lines of people there were, all shapes and sizes, path’s and skills, even some foreigners joining in to watch. Many Bonde led the parade, though Honathor’s father and grandfather had never made it to become a beastlord, it was good to see them out in strength wearing the clan markings and path colors as was right. His grandfather had obviously been a warden before becoming a bonde after losing his arm, it was said his reborn great grandfather earned that right on a hunt but the records of that time were lost to him. Memories yet to reclaim! All sobering things to think about as those marched on by. Behind the forward senior bonde, and under guard was the burial pyre of the great mount. Whether it was Shatir or a representation for the city to pay respects too Honathor didn’t know.

Everyone lowered their head as it passed, most of them raising their head afterwards to mouth the words: Honor to Shatir. Honathor said the same. His son took the queue and joined in, Tobathon usually silent said it quite loudly, the giant man moved by the event. The Jarl and his escort took his place in the parade as it passed at the rear, several others doing the same. Honathor wasn’t dressed smart or anything fancy, but heck with it, his heart was in the right place. Falling in line toward the back with the common Lotharro, those just wanting to be a part of the parade, his son and Tobathon behind him.

Hona was carrying two hammers and axe as smart as any scruffy farmer could upon himself, one on his back, one on his belt and one new steel hammer leaned upward against his shoulder. Proud to be part of the parade and proud to be home. As they passed the crowds, more and more common Lotharro gathered behind them. Today was a day no one was a common Lotharro, not those watching or those taking part. The Jarl turned to him and gave him a nod. Honathor grinned, a good day to be alive.

Fin

[Mal]

A Hunter's Review

Honothar

Story 5/5

Collaboration 0/0

Structure 5/5

10/10 Experience Awarded

Knowledge:
Intimidation: Ordering A Big Drink
Endurance: Don't Breathe, Swallow
Etiquette: Attending Religious Ceremonies
Socialization: Drinking Games
Socialization: A Friendly Competition
Gambling: Wagering Equipment
Haggling: Sweetening The Deal
Unarmed Combat (Wrestling): Arm Wrestling
Unarmed Combat (Wrestling): Leveraging Against A Surface
Strength: Using The Right Muscles For Arm Wrestling
Strength: Lotharro Instincts Enhance Strength
Strength: Winning An Arm Wrestling Match
Discipline: Keeping A Competition Friendly
Leadership: Knowing When to Fall In Line

Fame:
+1 Impressive Drinking Feat

Devotion:
+1 Thetros (Celebrating Shatir)
+1 Ilaren (Impressive Drinking Feat)

Loot:
+1 Varatho's Hammer (Good Quality)
Notes:

This was a very lovely thread. I'm surprised how easy it was for me to read, normally I struggle with threads like these! Honathor's personality is genuine and interesting, I really like the effort you've put into him in that regard. I also liked his relationship with other members of his village, and his son.

I don't really have any major criticisms. This was a really good thread.

PM me if I missed something, or if you have any questions or concerns!