Tag Archives: Mandaria

Beagle’s Blot 12 | Leaving Mandaria

It turns out that escaping Mallis was nowhere near as troublesome as I had feared. I needn’t have stayed so long. Then again, without my stay, my pockets would not have rattled with so much coinage, and so I’m not disappointed. It is good to feel flush.

I now have several golds in my pocket, interspersed amongst a host of silver and iron. Lots of sizes and weights, good for honest cash transactions. But I am no fool any longer. Most of my golds and all of my steels are stashed in private places – my underwear for example. Society may be the pinnacle of civilisation, but poverty is still a problem. And a poor man will go to extraordinary lengths.

After all, I’m now fleeing my home for that very reason. It would be a lie to say that this isn’t unnerving. It is. Very.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 12 | Leaving Mandaria

Beagle’s Blot 10 | The Lady

What follows is a transcript of the meeting between myself and the Lady.  I still tingle at the experience.


[Beagle]: Good afternoon, my Lady.  It is an honour.  I have heard so much about you, and yet I never imagined I’d have the privilege.  You honour me.

[The Lady] On the contrary.  It is only correct to dignify your eloquent letter with an audience.

But you must get hundreds of audience requests?

Oh, nonsense.  Who would want to come and see this wisp of a woman.  I am not lonely by choice.

But…

Don’t be silly.  And anyway, I have heard much about you too.  I have been eager to make your acquaintance.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 10 | The Lady

Beagle’s Blot 8 | Essol Ranella

I’m moving once more!  Yes; yes – I’m back on the move.  Two seasons I have been holed up in the home of the merchant, but I find myself in a much stronger position.  I am ready this time.

And I am sated.  Certainly that.

The female hospitality on offer truly was delicious, and my living wage was enough to keep me in flesh for a long time to come.  But that is my old life – that is the mark of Callij – and I am trying to break free of that mould.  Yes indeed; I have grown my friends.  Grown!

That being said, it was mighty hard to pull my path thus.  I really have enjoyed my time.

“Are you certain you want to leave?  You have been mighty valuable to us.”

My esteemed employer evidently values my wok highly, too.  Oh my goodness, it is hard to leave this comfort.  In Callij I was a failed architect, but out here, in the Between, I am almost a master engineer.  It is praise I could get used to, but there is one small problem.

I know the reality of it.

“I must continue my journey.  That is my true differentiator.”

And the journey is my differentiator.  I am not a spectacular architect – I am barely mediocre.  In the wilderness I may cause merchants to go bleary-eyed with demand, but in Callij – or any hub for that matter – I am merely an underqualified noble.

But I am also blotting my way across Society.  That is different, and that is unique.  That is the path I must follow.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 8 | Essol Ranella

Beagle’s Blot 7 | Celestia

Two full cycles of Unthara I have been here now.  Two full cycles.  That is the best part of forty days and nights.  Two full cycles.

But then, that may have been by design.  I almost feel human again.

It is strange, readers, but I may have actually forgotten why I was doing this journey in the fist place.  All the toil of the Adunas Mahija seemed to wipe my head of its purpose, draining me of the very reason for this voyage.  I kept writing, yes I did, but that was almost mechanical.  I have written all my life if truth be told.

But now I am a guest, and I am approaching social acceptability.  I have retained my harder, heavier edge, but I now hold the soft look of nobility once more.  I’m not entirely convinced I like it, but then again, as I lay in this soft bed looking upon the nightscape without, I realise that I do like the comfort.  I don’t like the idea of comfort, but I do like it nonetheless.  We Mandari are weak creatures at heart.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 7 | Celestia

Beagle’s Blot 6 | Malhorn

My goal is Mallis.  I yearn to see the great spear that is the lonely home of the Grey Lady.  The Jinq may be the master architects, but the Mallahn managed their own statement.  That will be a magnificent sight – I am sure of it – but it remains elusive.  It turns out that this island of ours is much bigger than I anticipated.

Three cycles of the sun took us clear of the southern mountains of the Adunas Mahija and up the peninsula that is the ancestral home of the Mallahn.  But there is plenty of peninsula still to go.  All that pain and ache; all the scrubbing; all the gruel; all of that and I still can’t see my goal.  I will have to walk some more, and as I realise this, my feet groaned.

My goodness I have become maudlin.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 6 | Malhorn

Beagle’s Blot 5 | The Blue

Today was the first time I truly recognised the value of formal credit.  With nothing to my person but the clothes hanging off my shoulders and the sad sack on my back, transit was not going to be easy to arrange.  All I had was my name.

But my family is a litter of Callij, and beyond those boundaries the name carries no weight.  So, of course, when I approached the merchants, they scoffed at my offer of promised payment upon the safe delivery of my person to a preagreed destination.  There was simply no reason for them to trust me.

And this was, therefore, the most common response I received; “throw your scrawny arse into the drink, you scavenger.”  And that from the civilised merchants.

Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 5 | The Blue

Beagle’s Blot 4 | Namcalla

It was worth it.  All the pain; it was all ruddy worth it!  I feel like I could fly right now.

Which would be useful, if only to ease the burden on my poor feet.  Damn – I shall spend some time here, that is for certain.  And what a chore that will be.

Where the man meets the sea.

Namcalla.

Beautiful.

My smile is unbreakable. Continue reading Beagle’s Blot 4 | Namcalla

Beagle’s Blot One | Callij

The boot and my arse connected in perfect harmony, and my trajectory was thus rather spectacular.  Such is my sense of bodily self-control that it was my face that contacted the cobbles first.  Damn and bugger.

I was literally spitting curses.

“You professional hooligan!  You should never have been left out of your mother’s womb!  Let alone whatever pit you were scraped from.”

He started after me, so I took the only reasonable course of action.  I ran.  After all, he was much bigger than I was. Continue reading Beagle’s Blot One | Callij