“Da, didsha see that ash when Law got the reverse boardwalk? She finally got it!”
“Aye, kop ghash, Lawry.” – Top marks, Lawry.
Lawrah blushed. Eager to take the attention away from herself, Lawrah scooted to face Zahul, “That was nothing compared to your wave, Master Thraxes! And the way you carried Githie up just before, now that was durb!” – Now that ruled! So that wave indeed had a witness! Zahul beamed with pride.
“Yeah, but he also yeeted me away to take that coverup all for himself,” complained Githarie, not realizing it was for her own safety. “Dinnae even make!” But Zahul had surfed so many waves in his long life that he took no offense, least of all from his beloved dolphin.
Zahul tousled Githarie’s hair, “Dinnae matter how short sha are, nakaz zug,” he teased, “We cannae both fit!”
While Zahul had, in the beginning, found it strange that Githarie chose to be short, when the rest of her family, save for Zhak, who took after her, were all hulking – hell even Lawrah transmogrified herself tall! – he eventually accepted that Githarie was determined to forge her own path, that she prided herself on solving problems with finesse and grace, instead of the typical orcan way of brute force. The truth was, in a way, he was very proud of his stubborn daughter for this. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t tease her for it, of course. He really would do anything for her. And Zhak. Zholl and Zhon, on the other hand- well, he reasoned that the twins were old enough not to need his protection anymore. It was beyond his control, what with the trouble they got into after joining up with the local gang. They had to learn the consequences of their actions.
“Yeah, yeah, well, I want to hear that again the next time sha bonk your head on a rafter, olog!” and Lawrah could not help but giggle. “And you too! Sha lanky orc!” The giggling abruptly stopped, and Lawrah gave Githarie an unimpressed deadpan.
“Language, dolphin!” Zahul of course, usually cursed far more than Githarie, but usually out of earshot of his children.
“It’s okay, ser,” Lawrah grabbed Githarie by the armpits and began tickling her mercilessly, “It takes one to know one, right, Githie?”
And Githarie broke into painful, gasping laughs as she tried to bat Lawrah away. “Stop it! Stop! Hai! Stop please, stop-haha! Stop!”
Lawrah knew Githarie’s weakness was her ticklishness, same as her mother, same as Zhon. And before long, ever the troll, Zahul joined in too.
“Gah-ha-haha! Stop! Sha globs! Ee-hee-hee-! Stop! Seriously!”
As the tickling continued, Zahul craned his neck back to the cabin, to make sure Raigo was well gone.
He then tiptoed as stealthy as a big orc could and helped himself to Raigo’s bar. He popped open a stone flask of whisky, and poured some into his teacup, and into Lawrah’s as well, holding one finger to his lips. Immediately Lawrah and Githarie stopped their play-fighting. Githarie now looked at the flask with the same moony eyes that Crunchie used. Well, they were all in cahoots now. Daughter’s birth-rote only came once a revolution, so what the hell. Zahul gave his daughter a look – don’t you snitch to your mother now – and Githarie grinned widely as he gave her a frugal pour. Being so small, she got drunk a lot faster, and she’d give them away!
Githarie grabbed her teacup, glanced left at her father, glanced right at her best friend, and then all three, in a low voice, just low enough that Chief Raigo – who was well known to not care much for booze – could not hear, said in unison “Yum bui [飲杯]!” And the three clinked their teacups and threw the amber liquid back.
“Ai-sha- that burns.” It had quite a peppery kick.
Getting her drink on with Da and Lawrah. “Now this is ting,” said Githarie.
“Ting?” Zahul wasn’t that familiar with that bit of orcish, invented by the youth.
“Means chilled out,” Lawrah added, “If it’s really, really chilled, you say ting ting.”
“Heh. Haven’t heard that one before. Learn somethin’ new every rote,” … “So, we tingin’!”
“No, no, Da, it’s not used like that.”
“Eh? Why not?”
“It just isn’t!” Githarie didn’t quite have the words to explain.
Lawrah did. “It’s like the opposite of tang.”
Zahul took a second to register this, but then it clicked, “OH! I see, I see. Got it.”
“So, nakaz Law,” Zahul said slowly after another swig, “Would sha Dad mind if Dolphin and I tried the hot tub?” Lawrah straightened her back and, in that same infectious contralto sing-song voice that Gnosta spread to her children – it was quite infectious indeed – replied, “Sure thing, Master Thraxes!”
They surreptitiously stole away to further back, to the aft. In the middle was a deep, circular depression on the deck, the wood shaped to curve smoothly inwards. Small holes lined the edge of the depression and with a flick of a switch, hot bubbly water flowed forth while bubbles emanated from small jacuzzi jet nozzles hidden along the midline of the tub, and soon the tub was filled with steaming water.
Lawrah and Githarie stripped off their wetsuits – Lawrah wore a bikini underneath, Githarie nothing at all – and sauntered in first. Zahul, already not wearing very much save for his trousers and pants, which were already wet as usual anyway, lowered himself in after. The weariness in their limbs dissolved away.
“Ahhh…” Zahul sighed and closed his eyes. He thanked the Gods of Fire for bringing them the bubhosh ghash, the holy fire, for he knew not how much ghash was needed to heat up this hot tub.
Githarie glanced at Lawrah, who had one arm curiously perched outside of the tub to keep dry. She kept staring intently at Zahul.
She could immediately tell that Lawrah was up to something, so she sibilated softly, “Wassup?”
Lawrah took a while before responding. Cupped her hand around Githarie’s ear and whispered, “Sha think your father’s asleep yet?”
Zahul began snoring loudly. “Yes. Gesh it.” – Believe it.
Lawrah then nimbly raised herself out of the tub. She wiped her wet hand on a nearby hung towel, hastily dropped a bundle she had snuck from her cabin to the edge of the tub and then reached into the folds of the pockets. She gave Githarie a sly smile, “I grabbed spinsum” – I grabbed something – “when I went to put Crunchie away.” She lifted out something wrapped tightly in a large leaf.
Lawrah unfurled the leaf, pulling out a smaller leaf from within, and showed Githarie. Cannabis buds!
“Gurl!” Githarie tried her best to hush her exclamation, “We’ll be rekdar” – beaten to death – “by yer Da if he-”
“Which is why sha not going to say anything, right?” Lawrah raised an eyebrow. She sprinkled a little bit of crushed bud into the leaf, and licked the edge, rolling it into a joint.
Githarie pinched her fingers together and dragged them across her pursed lips.
“Have a bubhosh birth-rote, sha beautiful zug.”
“Terima kasih, sha beautiful zug.”
“Sama sama, babe.”
Lawrah opened a hatch under the hot tub to reveal the open flame stoves that heated the water, stuck a long twig, also from the bundle of contraband, so that the end caught flame, and then lowered herself back into the tub. With the flickering flame at the end of the twig, she lit the end of the joint, and took two quick drags, before handing it to Githarie. Githarie took it, and took one, then two puffs, before handing it back. She started coughing, which then broke into an uncontrollable chortle. She felt herself soak ever deeper into the swirling cauldron of soothing water.
Just as Lawrah was about to take the joint back, Zahul sniffed. The two gurls froze in terror.
The sharku peeked one eye open, “Rude not to offer me a hit, sha beautiful zugs.”
Lawrah and Githarie cracked up into another fit of laughter, before Githarie handed it off to her dad. “Sorry, Da,” she whispered. Zahul nestled the joint between his right tusk and right canine, and inhaled sharply, the ember on the end of the joint glowing bright as he did. He passed it back to Lawrah. Soon, he was snoring again.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Kop kek, Gith. Your dad is so cool.”
Githarie smirked. Already she was feeling tipsy, but the weed only lit her up even more.
“Yeah, he is,” but of course being an adolescent, she felt awkward praising her father,
“Let’s move back there, we’re going to stink the deck up nuk-nuk,” she gestured to the aft railing.
They got up out of the water and shivered, wrapping their arms tightly around their bodies. Lawrah grabbed two towels and they wrapped themselves up from the breast down.
Lawrah took another hit, glancing peripherally at the sun – rising up again now after its nadir – then her eyes wandered over to the viridescent streaks of aurora australis now penetrating the gradient sky, each streak trailed by dancing, flickering steves of mauve and magenta, hints of stars at the edges of darkness. She looked back at Githarie.
“Now this is ting ting.” She was vibing now, mesmerized by the streaks of atmospheric plasma.
“Kop ting ting,” Githarie reached back for the joint, “This stuff is so dank. Where’d sha get it?”
With a mischievous smirk as she took it back, Lawrah said, “I grew it myself.”
“Get outta here, gurl.” Githarie didn’t believe it.
Lawrah didn’t care if she didn’t, she was proud of herself- more so for getting away with it than her green thumb. “Believe what sha want, Githie.”
And that was all it took for Githarie to be convinced, and she squealed, “So gof!” – So badass! – “Look at sha, Lawrah Varoka, Durban’s gurl gone bad!”
Lawrah just puffed in smug silence, and they shared a fist bump.
After a moment, “Sha goin’ to the razza, yea?” – You’re going to the festival, yea? Said Lawrah as she passed the joint back to Githarie.
“Mog. Gesh it.” – Bet. You know it. – Puff. “Atul be there, zug, sha can’t miss out.” Puff. She passed it back.
Lawrah now looked glum. “Skai, fat chance that father will let me go. Sha know how he is.” She had rummaged her mind through all the possibilities for exfiltration since her flirtation with Zholl but still could think of none. She took a few consolatory puffs.
Githarie pursed her lips, “Piss off with that talk, Law. If I’m going, sha going. Mog that.” – I promise you that. She snatched the joint from Lawrah’s hands. Githarie was adamant. Just like the twins, when she was up to no good, there was no stopping her. She took a big hit, thinking hard.
“But how?”
“Hai! Thinking!” But she could not think of anything yet.
“Hai- I.”, she paused, as she put in the missing puzzle piece, “I’ll tell Uncle Raigo that I feel a nakaz nuk-nuk that sha left out.” – I feel a little bad that you’re left out – “I’ll tell him we’ll spend a quiet late rote, uh-” she scratched her head, “Playing board games with Young Master Zhakkathan?”, she aped that olog Master Striglin with an exaggerated accent as she said her didi [弟弟]’s formal title.
“Kek,” she guessed, “Striglin?” correctly, as she took the joint back, “But-” she paused, thinking-
“Father won’t believe that, c’mon.” She took a puff, “He knows sha bad as the twins. I mean, your grades-”
And then Githarie gave Lawrah a smug look as she concocted the perfect idea to get her bestie away from her strict dad, “-Geshzugas!” – I got it! – “I’ll tell him we’re going to ronk up to study! That I need sha both to tutor me.” Again, she nabbed the joint back, but before Lawrah could take her second puff.
Lawrah brushed her mohawk, incredulous of Githarie’s cheekiness, but she had to admit, “that might actually work-work.”
“It will. Trust me.” She took a self-congratulatory drag.
She looked back at her friend.
“This late gonna be fiyah.” But now the joint had fizzled away. She flicked it into the ocean.
Lawrah shook her head and smiled. She had learned long ago never to doubt the cheeky runt. Somehow, perhaps her unassuming form, her feigned innocence, she always managed to get away with stuff. She turned to face her soul sister.
“Is sha birth-rote, gurl, it’s gonna be holy fiyah.”
“Wo-ord to that, sistah.”
And then they gave each other a low five, and returned to the hot tub, where Zahul was now deep the dreamless slumber of his siesta.
All was well and they were free.
He had not. This was a lie.
‘Durb’, orcish. Formally ‘durb’ meant ‘to rule’ but could also be used like the word ‘ghash’, as in ‘that rules’.
A closeout barrel with no escape – certain death – a coffin.
Between all the extortion rackets and narcotrafficking that the Lions got into, not to mention the secrecy, Zahul had sadly resigned to the fact that Zholl and Zhon were not his bois anymore, but full grown orcans, in charge of their own fate. Githarie and Zhak, however, would never be allowed to come of age, not if he had any say in the matter.
And yet he would still constantly find himself praying that they wouldn’t do anything stupid. Even as he continued to tax their stupidity, and only every once in a while yelling at them to stop. While he refused to admit it, secretly he was quite proud of his bois, and plus, he really needed that income.
Orcans rarely had the patience to age whisky, so the pure rye mash had been aged no more than two revolutions.
Really Zahul was just thirsty for the Chief’s good booze.
For an orcan, which would be roughly a fifth of a fifth of a gallon. (Dare me to drive?) Around a hundred and fifty milliliters, that is, three shots.
The Thraxes family had been passed down this Jhiryese cheers from Gnosta’s Lower Jhiryan heritage. Gnosta was one of the few remaining fluent speakers of Cantonese on Reath.
‘Ting’ should not be used as a gerund. The corrected usage would be ‘We ting ting’.
‘Tang’ - to ‘go hard’. ‘Tang Tang’ - to ‘go hard as a motherfucker’.
Prometheus, Hephaestus, Xiuhtecuhti, Huracan, Hestia, Kagu-tsuchi, Kōjin, Chantico, Adranus, Zhurong
A bit excessive? Lawrah could get so paranoid when she got high.
‘Gesh it’ - ‘know it’, or perhaps ‘believe it’, was something Githarie said often.
Cannabis sativa and cannabis indica – an old Reathean plant – was a hardy weed, however, that could grow just about anywhere, and offered a plethora of uses, from fiber to nutrition through the plant’s seeds, and in this instant, as an intoxicant. The problem was, of course, keeping the cannabis away from the hemp. If the hemp cross-pollinated with cannabis, then the cannabis would be ruined, its essence at cross-purposes. Being the primary source for fiber for the Horde, with a hemp crop guaranteed to be planted in practically every household, preventing this was no small feat. Lawrah must have secreted away a small plant somewhere in the Chief’s massive garden.
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‘Rekdar’, orcish for ‘killed’, ‘murdered’, ‘slain’, ‘beaten to death’.
As was custom: puff, puff, pass.
‘Kek’, orcish for funny if used as an adjective, meaning ‘laugh out loud’ as a verb. ‘Top kek’ - very funny, also meaning ‘rolling on the floor laughing my ass off’ if used as a verb.
Strong Thermal Emission Velocity Enhancement. These, as well as the aurora australis, flared all the brighter on this rotation, due to Reath's magnetic field being angled more favorably towards solar winds to receive them upon the equinoxes, a phenomenon known as the Russell-McPherron effect.
Well said, Rie Rie.
Taught this simple Jhiryese by her mother, she sometimes called Zhak this. It was also why she called her father Da instead of daddy, because if she didn’t, she would be always getting ‘daddy’ and ‘didi’ confused.
‘Geshzugas’, orcish meaning wise, could also be used as an exclamation, much like ‘eureka!’
Orcans were prone to saying ‘work-work’, instead of just ‘work’.
Go shorty, it’s your birthday. We’re gonna party like it’s your birthday.
Caused not by psionic enforcement, as Vilithe’s dreamlessness was, but simply by the rapid eye movement phase disrupting effects of tetrahydrocannabinol.
To keep up with his grueling schedule Zahul had long ago trained to sleep biphasically, and this would be his first sleep of the rote, to be followed by his second before waking up again for witching hour duties.