Episode 18
Travelling Light E018S01 Transcript
H.R. Owen
Hello friends, Hero here. First up, a quick announcement that next week's episode will be releasing on Saturday instead of Friday. And on this week's episode, we're shouting out BathFinder, an all-new tabletop RPG rulebook from Even Footing Games. BathFinder is the third campaign book in Even Footing's Babies and Broadswords series, a d6-based narrative game founded on the simple premise that kids get away with a lot of nonsense and being an adult sucks. See the show notes for links and stick around to the end of the credits to hear their trailer.
[Title music: rhythmic electronic folk.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light: Episode Eighteen.
[The music fades out.]
The Traveller
Entry NI85001-2: Concerning a curious custom of the Augurians known as bone chimes.
Key words: Augurians; bone chimes; death and mourning; ethnography; flora and fauna; philosophy and theology.
Notes:
The Augurian species is not one I had encountered before leaving Serran. In looks they remind me somewhat of the avian people of Peteimos, for they have a similarly bird-like appearance.
Their feathers, which I have seen in all manner of shades and hues, sprout in patches along the face and body, interspersed with stretches of skin. The colours vary depending on genetics, diet, and where the individual has been raised.
Many Augurians on Verkaren have quite dark feathers, perhaps to absorb as much of the weak sunlight here as possible. Their cousins, whom I have seen upon other planets, tend to be more inclined to brighter plumage.
The Augurians' hands and feet are clawed, and their wings are not quite full wings. They sprout from their arms rather than being independent limbs, and I do not know if they can support actual flight. However, it is not their appearance that I wish to tell you about. Rather, I am interested in two gifts the Augurians possess.
First is the ability to communicate with all manner of birds. And I do not mean sapient avians. I mean ordinary birds – the bethans of the hedgerow, the sprits of the seashore, the swooping, turning starlings.
The relationship between Augurians and birds is so established, it is practically expected for an Augurian to go about their life with a feathered friend sitting upon their shoulder, chirping away together in low tones and giggling at inside jokes as they roam the world.
The second gift the Augurians enjoy is the gift of foresight. For brief flashes, certain Augurians are able to catch glimpses of the future. These bursts of insight are only possible, however, when the individual in question is speaking with the birds.
It is a delightful puzzle for xenobiologists and physicists alike, and nobody has yet been able to explain quite how this ability functions. Augurians themselves understand it as linked somehow to the avian aspects of their own nature.
Augurian seers who wish to devote themselves to the mysteries of the future often settle into aviaries, whether natural or created. There is little enough insight forthcoming from them, however, as they generally spend more time chittering in birdsong than relaying any of their findings.
The close relationship between an Augurian and their birds persists even after death. When a particularly beloved bird dies, Augurians are known to fashion the honeycomb bones of their friends into sets of bone chimes
They hang these chimes wherever they can be rattled by the wind, or by the air vents if the individual happens to live in an enclosed structure like a ship, a station or an underground city, where wind may be hard to come by.
Augurian bone-smiths are masters of their craft. The chimes are carved so intricately that when the flowing air catches them right, they mimic the fluttering calls of the bird in life right alongside the rattle of bone against bone. It is a sound quite as strange as it is sweet.
Augurian culture understands reality as a great, everlasting song that transcends time and space. As such, the song of death is considered simply another part in the complex, interwoven harmony of the world.
It would be enough note the poignancy of fashioning chimes so you may hear the song of your friend long after they are gone. But here, the matter of Augurian foresight rises once again.
Augurians receive their insights about the future by listening to the song of their companions birds. And bone chimes continue that song beyond death. Augurians have been known to receive some of the strangest, most powerful revelations not from living birds, but from the chimes made from their bones.
The bone chimes serve not only as a fond reminder of a friend since passed, but as a powerful divinatory tool that has been said to relay omens of death, birth, disaster, and miracles.
As Augurian seers add to their bone chimes collection, their homes transform from living aviaries, fluttering with song and the sound of beating wings, into grim spectacles of bone and wind, whispering secrets of the future on the air.
Perhaps some day, scientists will find a definitive answer for how the Augurians capture snatches of the songs of the future from their companions. For now though, we must be content to walk amongst them and reflect upon what their little birds may tell us.
[The sound of the data stick whirring fades in, cutting out when the data stick is removed with a click.]
The Traveller
1st Nisa 850, continued.
My companions and I reached the surface life in good time, despite the winding city streets. There, we took possession of the cold weather clothing which the City Tourism Board insists be worn by visitors travelling to the surface. Óli watched the rest of us clambering into our thermal suits with a doubtful expression.
“Can I not have something like hers?” they asked the clerk, nodding to Annaliese.
She had been given a large, fleece-lined, sleeved poncho sort of thing that covered her and most of her chair. It was designed to protect the mechanical elements of the chair while keeping Annaliese's hands and arms free, and I must confess, it looked very comfortable.
“No you may not,” Annaliese said, before the desk clerk could answer. “What if someone else comes along in chair like mine, and they can't go up to the surface because you've taken their poncho? All because you don't like wearing trousers.”
“These are not trousers,” Óli snapped. “These are hideous.”
“I think you look very nice,” I offered as we clambered into the lift with a dozen or so others, locals and tourists alike. “It gives you a charmingly adventurous air.”
“Do not patronise me,” Óli sniffed. Then, “...do they really?”
“You look ready for anything.”
This mollified them. They smiled quietly and made a pleased little sound. “Hmm. You look like a teapot.”
Finally we stepped, blinking and gasping, into the cold, bright air of Verkaren's surface, ready at last to see the famous Verkaren harps.
“There is a transport to the nearest harp departing in five minutes time,” Aman announced, “and then again at every quarter past the hour.”
“Do you memorise the transport schedule for every city we visit?” asked Duytren.
Aman either did not hear or chose to ignore the sarcasm in Duytren's tone. “Most of them,” she answered. “It passes the time.”
Duytren grinned. “You're a fascinating woman, Aman.”
I shall attach an archive entry to cover the harps in more detail, as they deserve far more room than I have in this letter. Besides, it is hard to convey what it was like to see these fabulous structures in person. They loomed above our heads in glittering curves, white against the blueness of the sky.
On very windy days, it is dangerous to get close to the harps because of the sheer volume of their voices. But today we were able to get right up close and even saw the marks that the carving tools had left on the ice.
Suddenly, Wolph announced loudly, “Ears out!”
It took me a moment to understand, until I saw him tugging off his hearing aids. Then, quite unselfconscious, he leant his big body against the sculpture and closed his eyes. A slow, broad smile spread over his face like a dawning sun.
He opened his eyes and saw me looking at him. I have been learning a little sign language in the last few weeks, and managed to ask, “Feels good?”
He beamed back at me. “Brilliant!”
We spent a little longer walking among the harps, enjoying the sounds – and in Wolph's case, the sensations – and admiring the craftsmanship. I tugged my hood down to hear better, the cold more refreshing than unpleasant, when Óli sidled up beside me.
“I did not see much of Serran before we left,” they said. “Does it have much snow?”
“In some parts. But the city where I am from is quite temperate though, so we only see it very rarely. What about you? Come to think of it, I do not think I have ever asked you where you are from.”
But Óli was distracted. They squinted, pointing off into the distance. “What is that, over there? Can you see?”
I looked, scrunching my nose to try and make out what it was they were pointing at. “I do not see anything…” I began, but was cut off when Óli shoved a handful of snow right down the back of my suit.
[laughing] “Got you!” Óli laughed, dancing away and leaving me spluttering in shock.
“Oh, you menace, you craven little beast! Come back here, I shall have your eyes!”
I chased after them, slipping in the snow and grabbing up fistfuls to fling at them as I went. One of my throws went awry, hitting Aman square in the back.
“Sorry!” I gasped.
“You will be,” she retorted, gathering snow in her fists and sending it whipping past my head. But her throw, too, swung wide, and hit Annaliese instead.
[laughing] “Oh, you did not! Wolph, help me out here!”
Delighted to join the fray, Wolph bounced over, scooping an armful of snow into Annaliese's lap so she would not have to lean out of her chair to join in.
Immediately, and with more precision than I would have expected, she nailed Duytren in the chest with a snowball as big as her fist. And with that, the teams were formed – me, Wolph and Annaliese versus Óli, Aman and Duytren, while Hesje and Tsabec beat a hasty retreat.
Naturally, I focused most of my volleys on Óli, and they squealed bloody murder every time they got hit, as if they were an innocent bystander and not the self-same little hallion who had started this whole thing!
[laughing] “It is not fair, you must let me have a chance to hit you!” they laughed.
“You should have thought of that before,” I said, packing another snowball to fling at them.
Wolph and Aman set their sights on one other, and fought with astonishing ferocity. It was quite something to see Aman's usual buttoned-up dignity give way to feral, child-like delight as she and Wolph wrestled each other to the ground.
I took a spill not far from where they were tangled, and called over as I caught my breath. [breathless] “Are you two alright?”
They looked up, quite unconcerned despite the fact Aman had Wolph in a leg-lock and Wolph was diligently shoving snow down the neck of her suit. “Cousins,” they said, in unison.
[breathless] “Oh!” I said. “I never knew.”
I did not have time to pursue the conversation though, because Annaliese had wheeled her chair around and lobbed a snowball at my head.
“I am on your team!” I objected.
[laughing] “Then act like it – stop dilly-dallying and help me get Duytren.”
Duytren was the real prize, I knew. She had a fast arm and vicious aim, and seemed able to make snowballs almost as quickly as she threw them. I ducked behind the harp to take cover and Annaliese zipped round to join me.
“I need more snow,” she said, and I lifted some into her lap as we planned our attack. “I'll come out first and distract her. I'm fast enough that I think I can avoid taking too many hits.”
“What about Óli?”
Annaliese rolled her eyes. “Ugh, Óli! One square hit and they'll be down for five minutes complaining about it. Are you ready?”
I packed some snowballs for myself and tucked them into the crook of my elbow so I would have them as I ran. Then, I nodded.
“On three. One, two, three!”
Annaliese whirled out from behind the harp, taking Duytren by surprise. Duytren took the bait, winging snowball after snowball at her, never quite managing to do more than clip the back of her chair.
With Duytren distracted, I ran out on the other side, ready to take my chance. Óli saw me coming, and I saw their eyes widened as they realised our plan. But one of my snowballs burst against their chest and, just as Annaliese predicted, they went down, face twisting with disappointment.
“That's not fair!”
But I wasn't listening. My blood was up, my heart pounding in my chest. Óli was down. Wolph had taken care of Aman. And now, it was Duytren's turn. I hefted my snowball in my palm, pulled back my arm and let it fly, straight and true – and directly into Duytren's face.
The snowball exploded. And in a sudden shock of blood, so did Duytren's nose.
“Ow!” she cried, pressing a hand to her face. I dropped my snowballs and ran over, absolutely mortified.
“Oh, by the light, Duytren, I am so sorry!”
Annaliese rushed over to join us. “What did you do?!”
“I-It was an accident!”
“Was there a chunk of ice in the ball? Duytren, stop being silly, let me see.”
Reluctantly, Duytren pulled her hands away and let Annaliese assess the damage. “It wasn't ice,” she managed. “It was just bloody good aim. Or bad, I suppose. God's blood, you've got one hell of an arm!”
“And you've got one hell of a broken nose,” said Annaliese.
“Broken? Oh, Duytren, I am so, so sorry! I-I got carried away...!”
She tried to laugh, and flinched. “Agh. It's alright. Accidents happen. I never knew you had such a competitive streak.” [laughs weakly]
“You have never played gwychyl with them,” said Annaliese, rummaging around in her poncho to find Duytren some tissues.
Unsurprisingly, this brought our excursion to a rather hasty end. We headed back to the transport to get Duytren some medical care. I spent most of the trip back with my head in my hands, wondering if I would ever be finished apologising.
“Well,” said Óli, sitting beside me. “I suppose I should be grateful you did not see me as a threat.”
“Óli…!” I groaned. “How am I ever going to make it up to her?”
“Oh, just buy her some flowers and a box of sweets.”
“I broke her nose! I think that goes beyond sweets.”
They laughed and leant their head against my shoulder. “Two boxes, then. And a bottle of wine.” Then, at a sudden thought, they laughed. [laughing] “You know, I always thought your religion was generally against violence.”
[sighing] “Ugh… You must think I am an absolute brute.”
They slipped their hand into mine and gave it a squeeze, a comforting touch even through the thickness of our gloves. “I do not think that. I just think you are an idiot.”
I laughed, feeling better despite myself. [laughing] “Well. That is alright then.”
[Title music: rhythmic instrumental folk. It plays throughout the closing credits.]
H.R. Owen
Travelling Light was created by H.R. Owen and Matt McDyre, and is a Monstrous Productions podcast. This episode was written and performed by H.R. Owen.
This week’s entry to the archives was based on an idea by Paperwizards, with accompanying artwork available on our social media accounts.
If you've got an idea for an archive entry, we want to hear it. You can send us anything from a one line prompt to a fully written entry through our website, by email, or on social media. For more information, see the show notes.
If you want to support Travelling Light, please consider leaving a review on your podcast platform of choice. You can also make a one-off donation or sign up for a monthly subscription at ko-fi.com/monstrousproductions.
Supporters will receive bonus artwork and additional content, the ability to vote on audience decisions, and an invitation to the Monstrous Productions Discord server. Almost all our rewards are now available for as little as £1 a month, so please, if you're enjoying the show, consider supporting us.
This podcast is distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. The theme tune is by Vinca.
[Fade to silence.]
[Babies and Broadswords: BathFinder! trailer begins]
[Piratical music plays throughout]
ANNOUNCER: Ahoy, Mateys. Keep an eye on the horizon for the biggest adventure to sail the Stinky Seas. Even Footing Games presents BathFinder! the newest, and dampest, addition to the Babies and Broadswords TTRPG series. Gather up your crew of tricksy toddlers and plunder your way down the Big Stinky River in this beautifully illustrated, cleverly designed, and brilliantly written campaign. Customize your Ship, cannonball some sea monsters, and hoist those dirty diapers high for Bathfinder, live now on Kickstarter. Don’t miss your chance to join the crew and check us out at EvenFootingGames.Com.
[Music fades out].
--END TRANSCRIPT--
