Fiction Getting Ahead in the Railroad Business (Directors Cut)

Getting Ahead in the Railroad Business (Full Version)

The two feathered lizard men rode their culchans alongside the railroad tracks. The skink priest normally didn’t pay much attention to the human’s railroad lines before, but these tracks gleamed in the harsh sun. He had never seen fresh railroad tracks before.

The Bad Lands were rocky and rugged with very uneven ground. The Culchans were ideal for covering uneven ground, but the skink quietly marveled at the railroad tracks which were perfectly straight. By pick axe, dynamite and shovel, the milk suckers had straightened the land of the Badlands, at least near the tracks.

His companion turned to him.

“Hardly any game out here. I can only eat dry biscuits and bacon for so long. If’n we don’t run out of prog entirely. Yuqal'Cho-ax, I hope whatever the Breeders have to offer is worth us going this far into the mahrlect Badlands. ”

“I reckon it will be Kai’ax. The railroad man said we’d get 10 gold eagles each just to talk. If he’s willing to spend two hundred bucks just for a chin wag, whatever job he wants us to do has got to be BIG! Hopefully the humans will have some fresh vittles too by the bye.”

The larger skink grinned. After a few moments riding in silence he spoke again.

“Do you know why the humans are building a railroad into the Badlands?”

“I reckon they don’t want to go into the Badlands, they want to go through the Badlands. A lot shorter trip to Fog City than going around it.”

“These tracks seem to go on forever. If the map they gave us is good and I read the stars right, I reckon we should reach their camp by nightfall.”
“Who needs a map, we are looking for a railroad workers camp. We follow till the tracks end.”

A few minutes later the skinks saw the dust of approaching riders. Three men on horseback approached them with carbines at the ready. The middle human spoke first.

“Halt state your business Liz’uns!”

The human nearest him grabbed the iron out of his hand.

“Don’t attitudinize them you stupid gump! The boss man invited the rangos”
“First orcs, now rangos.” The first human muttered.

The smaller skink addressed the humans.

“I take it, we are close to camp then.”

A human scratched the stubble on his sweaty chin.

“Nah, about four hours actually.”

The taller skink cocked his feathery head.

“Three outriders with repeating carbines on eight hour long range patrols? You boys are pretty well-heeled for a bunch of rail workers. Did you Breeders start another Civil War while I wasn’t looking?”

“There’s this—” the youngest human started before he was cut off with a dirty look.

Ah, their boss told them to keep their mouth shut.

Kai’ax turned to his companion and addressed him in Old Saurian.

“I say we listen to their pitch, take the two hundred bucks, say ‘no’ and make our own tracks right out of here.”
“Maybe, but I am curious to hear what he has to say.”

The Skink priest switched to the human tongue and addressed the men in Riekspiel.

“Lead on good sirs! To camp.”

The party reached the camp about an hour before dusk. There were at least a hundred tents and fifty wagons. Along the tracks ahead there was an engine with several cars hitched behind it. A lot of the men were armed but judging by the way they nervously held their guns, they didn’t seem particularly well trained or battle hardened. Dusty haggard humans in a variety of skin tones milled about. There were a few halflings and dwarfs mixed in.

A group of humans were gathering and singing in a human language the Skink didn’t know. By their skin tone and manner of dress, Yuqal'Cho-ax thought they must be Cathayans. Wait that’s not singing, they’re praying.

He addressed his companion.

“That’s a human funeral. If each shroud is for a dead man that’s a lot of dead.”

The taller Skink just nodded.

More armed humans came out to greet them. A light skinned human stepped forward. By the way he carried himself and was slightly better dressed, he was probably the foreman. He gestured at the culchans the Skinks were riding.

“Welcome! Welcome to our camp! You’ll need to hitch up your ridin’ chickens somewhere isolated. Best away from the Cathayans. The Catts spook easily and if they get hungry they might try to eat your noble steeds.”

The Skinks hitched up their rides at the edge of the camp and allowed themselves to be lead to the train cars. There were more guards around the train than the camp perimeter. Two of the cars was embossed with large letters: LG

A medium toned human held up two sacks.

“Check your irons and blades please, gentlemen.”

The Skink priest deposited in a rifle, a pistol, and a knife. Reluctantly the larger Skink followed suit with a rifle, three pistols and two knives into the other sack.

Yuqal'Cho-ax grunted and bobbed his head at his companion.

Kai’ax pulled out a concealed derringer and put in the sack.

After an awkward pause and more angry head bobbing from his companion, Kai’ax took off his left boot and pulled out a small knife, depositing it in the sack. He turned to his companion waspishly.

“You are going to put your lightning in the sack too.”
“Only if they ask politely.” he replied with a grin.

Once let inside it was obvious the boss’ cars had a wide variety of things one wouldn’t expect to find in a derelict workers’ camp including a crystal chandelier, an ice box, a piano, several books, a dwarf made premium coffee grinder, several oil paintings of railroads, and an ornate humidor. They hadn’t even seen the second car.

A large dark skinned man, dark well-tailored suit, and an eye patch let them into the second car. The first thing apparent was a fully stocked bar with a mustached man behind it in suspenders. The second thing the Skinks noticed was the boss.

Across a mahogany desk sat a well-groomed drwarf at least as fancy as his railroad car. He had a silk top hat and a hand tailored suit that probably came from the Old World. He checked his gold pocket watch and waved at the Lizardmen cordially.

“Rangos! You are a day or two earlier than I was expecting. That’s good! My name’s Lordroid Goldmann he said.”

The skinks were mildly taken aback but Kai’ax hid his surprise with a retort.

“Oh yes, we saw your initials on the train car…”

“Barky, skink the Skinks a drink. You rango’s like tequila, right?” the dwarf continued as if the skink had not spoken.

“We invented tequila.” Yuqal'Cho-ax said with a smile waving for a glass.

The other Skink shook his head.

“I can get cactus juice anytime I want. Got anything imported from the Old World?”
“The forty-five Brettonian Bordeaux is from the Old World…..sir” the bartender said.
“I never drank anything from Brettonia before.”

The bartender looked towards his boss who nodded. He poured the Skink a glass which he quaffed without bothering to smell or savor first. He made a sour face but then smiled.

“Tastes expensive. Give me another glass!”

The dwarf smiled indulgently though the smile did not reach his eyes.

“Just leave the bottle, Sam, you can go.”

The servant shuffled out.

Goldmann refilled the Skink’s glass and poured himself one. He took a slow sip. Then lit a cigar and began puffing on it, deliberately milking the silence until it became painful.

Kai’ax looked like he wanted to say something smart, but his companion silenced him with a look before staring intently at the dwarf waiting for him to speak first.

“I reckon you boys are curious as to know why I asked you to come all this way.”
“I am curious as to why the richest dwarf in the West is willing to be this close to the front lines in Monster Country” Said Yuqal'Cho-ax
“I’m curious when we get our two hundred dollars hard money.” said Kai’ax.

The dwarf grinned and pulled a large bag of coins out of his desk. He counted twenty ten dollar gold coins.

“I didn’t get to be this rich because I wasn’t willing to get my hands dirty.”
“He got that rich from cheating his business partners.” Kai’ax said in an undertone.
“Don’t bite the coin in front of him.” Yuqal'Cho-ax whispered to his friend.

“I heard tell you two boys helped find and bring a Win-deggo in Hammer Gulch last year.”
“You heard a story about something we did for a small village four states away?” Yuqal'Cho-ax asked.
“I keep an ear to the ground for unusual things. I got me a Win-deggo gone done et nearly two dozen men, not counting Cattys and goblins. Funeral costs are breaking me, I need you to put the Win-deggo in the ground.” The dwarf replied
“A wendigo is not going to be this far south in mid-Summer.” Yuqal'Cho-ax corrected him.
“I’m sure you can handle more than just ice daemons. When you got a monster problem, you call Yuckel chow and Kalax the Rango monster hunters,” the dwarf replied.
“How is one monster above your bend? Don’t you have minions to handle this sort of thing?” Kai’ax asked.

The dwarf pulled a blood smeared tattered half a hat from underneath his desk.

“Monster et six of my best men. Do you think I usually settle for my right hand man only having one eye?”

The one-eyed human was still in the room and clearly heard this. He tried and failed to mask his irritation.

“Then I done hired some orcs. Monster et them too.” The wealthy dwarf continued
“Did any workers or soldiers come back to say what the monster looks like?”

The wealthy dwarf shook his head.

“Mystery monsters cost extra,” said the priest.
“How’s five thousand dollars sound?” the dwarf asked.

Kai’ax’s mouth dropped.

“Mahrlect Breeder cannot be serious. A lot of people he owed money to had unusual accidents or ‘suicides,’” he said to his friend.

Lordroid Goldmann laughed.

“I believe Breeder or Breeder is a term referred to humans. The word you are looking for is ‘mahrlect Stunty'.”

“Stunty is something the goblins say. We don’t actually have a Saurian insult term for dwarves.” The priest corrected.

“I suppose we could call him a mahrlect milksucker. That would be inclusive with humans, elves, dwarves, and halflings among others. Milk drinking, yuck” the warrior said.

“You can speak Old Saurian?” Yuqal'Cho-ax asked.

“No, but I know insults and cuss words in twelve languages. So do you puddle brains accept my deal? Five thousand to bed this mystery monster down.”
“Plus expenses,” the priest said.
“Plus expenses,” replied the dwarf.
“We need to make sure he doesn’t cheat us, make him swear an oath. What’s the most sacred oath for dwarves?” Kai’ax asked the other skink.
“Swear to this deal on your beard,” said the priest.
“I swear on my b—”
“Swear in front of the whole camp,” said the warrior.

Kai’ax only knew cuss words in five languages, but one of those five languages was Khalazid. He learned one or two new words.

********************************************************************************************

“And therefore I Lordroid Goldmann swear on my beard to pay these fine Saurios five thousand dollars and to cover their expenses for removing the monster for us.”

The assorted workers gave some unenthusiastic haphazard applause.

“And they have sworn to me by their gods to destroy the monster or die trying!”

The crowd applauded considerably more enthusiastically.

“That last part is new.” Kai’ax muttered.
“Well you wanted him to swear in front of the whole camp…” Yuqal'Cho-ax replied.
“Well, the big boss is covering our supplies, let’s see what kind of fixins’ the pot rustler’s got, I’m hungry.” The Skink warrior rubbed his stomach.

After the skinks left the chuck wagon with a sack of foodstuffs. Kai’ax also bought a buffalo rifle. Goldmann wouldn’t give it away but they were able to buy it at a steep discount. As Kai’ax was checking his new iron, a Cathayan timidly approached them.

“Mr. Rango, sir. Before the monster came when we dynamited into a mountain side. We found this on a stone nearby.”

Another Cathayan surreptitiously pulled a stone from underneath his cloak.

“It’s old Saurian glyphs….can you read it?” Kai’ax asked.

Yuqal'Cho-ax took the stone gingerly.

“I was not the best student on Old Saurian. A lot of these glyphs are faint from centuries of erosion too. It’s hard to read.”

He pointed to the largest, deepest carved glyph on top.

“That says ‘danger.’ The rest I’m not sure of,” Explained the priest.
“The rest of it probably says. “Do not dynamite, there is a monster inside.” Kai’ax said.
“Thank you for this stone.” Yuqal'Cho-ax addressed the Cathayans before giving them ten dollars each.
“We’ll rest tonight and head to the site of the violence at dawn. Should be easy to find, we just follow the railroad tracks till they stop.”

A Cathayan turned around nervously.

“One more thing Rango, sir. I never saw the monster but I heard its voice echoing on the wind. It said ‘I need food.’ And it spoke in my language.”

*********************************************************

Besides scattered tools and firearms rusting in the dust and an untouched pile of rails. The ground was strewn with scattered pieces of cloths.

Kai’ax examined a rifle.

“Orcish make. Looks like it still works. Orc weapons might not be the most accurate but they can take a beating and still work.”

He looked around and picked up a very large dusty revolver.

“This belong to Goldmann’s boys. This is not working, but it might be fixable. Worth a nice chunk of change if we can get it work. Not a lot of stoppin’ power but the fastest fire rate of any revolver.”

“Ugh, what is that?” Yuqual’Cho-ax asked pointing towards a large slimy lump.

Kai’ax picked up a shovel and poked it.

“It’s like an owl pellet when owls upchuck whatever they cannot digest. Only it ain’t mouse bones in it.”

He exposed a cracked orc skull with his shovel.

“There are a lot of round craters in the ground. Like boulders pelting the ground. Could a giant squig make these marks?” Yuqual’Cho-ax.
“I hear squigs can reach great size in the Badlands, but I don’t reckon it’s a squig.” the warrior kicked the ground and brought up a small cloud of dust.
“The ground is not very soft here. Squigs aren’t heavy enough to make marks this deep in soil this heavy. Over there the gaps between the holes are too wide for a hopping squig, over here there are a bit narrow. And here….”

He paused for effect.

“The boulder monster rolled. Squigs don’t roll like that. And even giant squigs aren’t bullet proof.”
“Squigs don’t talk in Cathayan either,” the priest muttered quietly to himself.

The skink priest froze.

“You know what we are dealing with, don’t you?” his friend asked.
“I hope I’m wrong. I reckon we are dealing with a floating head.”

The larger skink fingered his buffalo rifle nervously.

“Mahrlect, like from ancient times? I’m not sure this Big Fifty will get the job done. How did our ancestors deal with floating heads?”

“Usually a slann would smite them.”
“Fresh out of slann.”
“The legendary Oldblood Ralesk slew the foul disembodied head with his enchanted obstinite blade.”
“Ain’t got no oldbloods or enchanted blades neither.”

A booming voice rumbled in Saurian.

“I HUNGER!!!!”

A sphere flew towards them. It looked like a humanoid face sculpted by a potter who only had a vague idea what humanoid heads look liked and was not very detail oriented. Half-flying, half jumping as it came closer the details of the roughhewn face became more hideously apparent revealing yellow blood shot eyes and a mouth of misshapen and irregular teeth, some pointy some flat.

Kai’ax aimed his buffalo rifle. It was high caliber but only had one shot. He couldn’t afford to miss. Yuqual’Cho-ax began an incantation/prayer.

“Old Ones of our ancestors grant me your might. Give me eyes of Huanchi god of night, Tlazcotl lend me give me the strength of the land, Tepok guide my hand. Chotec split the sky with your power bright. SOTEK MANIFEST YOUR BITE!”

The hairy head was about eight feet in diameter. Kai’ax hit the giant head in the cheek a split second before a thunderbolt pierced the sky and flashed in front of the creatures face. Kai’ax knew what was coming and shielded his eyes.

Kai’ax knew as impressive as Sotek Fang’s were, they were more flash than substance. A small puncture wound in the floating head’s cheek dribbled a bit of blood. A faint red burn mark marked on the forehead where the bolt struck but the monster barely seemed hurt at all.

Floating in midair it flailed about in all directions.

“BRIGHT LIGHT HURTS! CAN”T SEE!”
“He’s buffaloed but it won’t last” the priest said staggering with exhaustion from the spell he cast.
“HEAR YOU! SMELL YOU! EAT YOU!”

The floating head switched from Saurian to Riekspiel seemingly in response to the skink switching languages. It leapt toward the pair of skinks landing between them and making a large dent in the ground then plowed a trench as it rolled with its mouth open trying to catch the skinks but only getting a mouthful of dirt. The monster inhaled deeply through its bulbous nose as if trying to smell them out blinking its dilated eyes.

“Can barely stand…You run.” Yuqual’Cho-ax moaned.
“No the food packs.”

He helped his friend hobble to the where their culchans were tethered and grabbed one of their sacks of food and dumped it on the ground. Then dumped the other in another direction.

As hoped, the half-blind monster went for the food first, giving them enough time to mount their steeds and escape. It seemed to really enjoy eating the blood sausage.

As the two skinks rode towards camp. Kai’ax spoke.

“The best weapons we had couldn’t hurt it…Not really. Maybe ten buffalo guns. Good thing it liked the blood sausage better than us. If we don’t have legendary weapons, how do we beat this thing?”
“Use its hunger and stupidity against it. I heard a legend about an ancient skink priest sacrificing himself to lure such a creature to a cave and sealing it. I think that’s what the stone glyphs tried to explain.”

As they got back to the camp, a large group met them, including Goldmann who stepped forward.

“I take it from your exhausted terrified faces the monster has ya’ll licked.”

Kai’ax resisted the urge to verbally lash out.

“We know what it is now and can form a plan now.”

A rumbling was heard in the distance

“I am hungry!”
“I am hungry”
"¡Estoy hambriento!”
“Wǒ èle!”
“Mjög svangur”

“Sakes alive, they lured it here!” screamed one of the foreman.
“If you are working on a plan, you better make it quick!” said he wealthy dwarf.

Kai’ax was speechless, but Yuqual’Cho-ax brisked up and spoke.

“We need dynamite…and blood sausage.”

Goldmann was struck dumb.

“JUST DO IT!” Kai’ax shouted.

“Get the damn rangos their sausage and dynamite!” Goldmann shouted to some workers nearby.

He turned towards those with weapons.

“You guys with guys with guns, form a line or somethin’! Get a wiggle on! Don’t let the varmit through!”

“I EAT YOU!”
“¡te comeré!”

The monster was some distance away but its voice carried far announcing its plan to eat everyone in Saurian, Riekspiel, Cathayan, Khazalid, and Estalian.

Kai’ax and Yuqual’Cho-ax positioned themselves forward ahead of the milk suckers with their secret weapon.

“This is the stupidest plan I ever heard.” Kai’ax said.
“I didn’t hear you come up with a better plan.” his friend answered.
“Well my plan was cannons but Goldmann didn’t have any.”

The floating head flew towards the skinks and stopped blinking its eyes in confusion.

“Why no running! Why no screaming? Why no shooting?” the monster asked.
“We thought you might want to eat this blood sausage instead of all the folks here.” Yuqual’Cho-ax said waiving a piece of sausage.

“I do like blood sausage….Feathered men give me sausage?”
“But you have to promise to leave everyone alone afterwards.” The priest said.
“Hmmm, I can eat blood sausage and THEN eat the people.”

The floating head paused awkwardly, then looked at the Skinks and the cowering humans and dwarfs behind them.

“No wait. You give me the sausage and I will NOT eat the people. Yes, that. You can trust me.”
“Sounds like a deal!” Kai’ax said, “But there’s a trick to make it taste even better. Light this fuse and let it burn to the end. Then eat the sausage.”

Kai’ax lit the fuse on his blood sausage and let burn down then, then ate it, choking down the hot nub of the fuse, coughing slightly.

“Delicious! But you can’t start to chew it until the fuse burns down.” the Skink said.

The monster looked happy and greedy but then furrowed it’s brow in frustration.

“Hmmm, don’t have hands, can’t light sausage! YOU, you light sausage for me or I eat you!”

“Well, okay, if you insist…”

Goldmann and the humans nearby watched with baited breath as the Skinks inserted four lit sticks of dynamite into the monster’s mouth as if they were giant cigars.

“Yummy! I like—“

BOOOOOOMMM!!!

The skinks were splattered in brains and skull fragments as the onlookers cheered.

“Maybe we can ask Goldmann for a bonus.”
“I wouldn’t count on it.”

 

My original draft was about 1100 words larger than what I posted to the July-August 2020 Contest.

Spoiler: The Short Version of the Story I entered into the contest

Getting Ahead in the Railroad Business


The two feathered lizardmen rode their culchans alongside the freshly laid railroad tracks glinting in the harsh sun.

It was fortunate that culchans are so sure footed since the Badlands were rocky and rugged with very uneven ground. Despite this, the railroad tracks were flat and even. By pickaxe, dynamite and shovel, the milk drinkers had straightened the land underneath the tracks.

The larger skink spoke.

“Yuqal'Cho-ax, I hope whatever the Breeders have to offer is worth us going this far into the mahrlect Badlands.”

“I reckon it will be Kai’ax. The railroad man said we’d get 10 gold eagles each just to talk. If he’s willing to spend two hundred bucks just for a chin wag, whatever job he wants us to do has got to be BIG!”

“Do you know why the humans are building a railroad into the Badlands?”
“I reckon they don’t want to go into the Badlands, they want to go through the Badlands. A lot shorter trip to Fog City than going around it.”

The skinks reached the work camp about an hour before dusk, at least a hundred tents and fifty wagons. Along the tracks ahead there was an engine with several cars hitched behind it. Dusty haggard humans in a variety of skin tones milled about with a few halflings and dwarfs mixed in. A lot of the men were armed but judging by the way they nervously held their guns, they didn’t seem particularly well trained or battle hardened.

“The boys are pretty well-heeled for a bunch of rail workers. Did the Breeders start another Civil War while I wasn’t looking?”

Once they were greeted by the workers, Kai’ax switched to speaking Saurian.

“I say we listen to their pitch, take the two hundred bucks, say ‘no’ and make our own tracks right out of here.”
“Maybe, but I am curious to hear what he has to say.”

The skinks hitched up their rides at the edge of the camp and allowed themselves to be led to the train cars which had even more armed guards. Two of the cars was embossed with large letters: LG

The skinks reluctantly checked their weapons before entering.

Once let inside it was obvious the boss’ cars had a wide variety of things one wouldn’t expect to find in a rail workers’ camp including a crystal chandelier, an ice box, a piano, several books, a premium coffee grinder, several oil paintings of railroads, and an ornate humidor.

A large dark skinned man wearing a well-tailored suit and an eye patch let them into the second car. The first thing apparent was a fully stocked bar with a pale mustached man behind it in suspenders. The second thing the Skinks noticed was the boss.

Across a mahogany desk sat a well-groomed dwarf at least as fancy as his railroad car. He had a silk top hat and a hand tailored suit that probably came from the Old World. He checked his gold pocket watch and waved at the lizards cordially.

“Rangos! You are a day or two earlier than I was expecting. That’s good! My name’s Lordroid Goldmann” he said.

“Oh yes, we saw your initials on the train car…” Kai’ax replied.
“Barky, skink the Skinks a drink. You rango’s like tequila, right?” the dwarf continued as if the skink had not spoken.
“We invented tequila.” Yuqal'Cho-ax said with a smile waving for a glass.

The other Skink shook his head.

“I can get cactus juice anytime I want. Got anything imported from the Old World?”
“The forty-five Brettonian Bordeaux is from the Old World…..sir” the bartender said.
“I never drank anything from Brettonia before.”

The bartender looked towards his boss who nodded. He poured the skink a glass which he quaffed without bothering to smell or savor first. He made a sour face but then smiled.

“Tastes expensive. Give me another glass!”

The dwarf smiled indulgently though the smile did not reach his eyes.

“Just leave the bottle, Sam, you can go.”

The servant shuffled out.

Goldmann refilled the Skink’s glass and poured himself one. He took a slow sip. Then lit a cigar and began puffing on it, deliberately milking the silence until it became painful.

“I reckon you boys are curious as to know why I asked you to come all this way.”
“I am curious as to why the richest dwarf in the West is willing to be this close to the front lines in Monster Country” Said Yuqal'Cho-ax
“I’m curious when we get our two hundred dollars hard money.” said Kai’ax.

The dwarf pulled a large bag of coins out of his desk. He counted twenty ten dollar gold coins.

“I didn’t get to be this rich because I wasn’t willing to get my hands dirty.”
“He got that rich from cheating his business partners.” Kai’ax said in an undertone.

“I heard tell you two boys helped down a Win-deggo in Hammer Gulch last year.”
“You heard a story about something we did four states away?” Yuqal'Cho-ax asked.
“I keep an ear to the ground for unusual things. I got me a Win-deggo gone done et nearly two dozen men. I need you to put the Win-deggo in the ground.” The dwarf replied
“A wendigo is not going to be this far south in mid-Summer.” Yuqal'Cho-ax corrected him.
“I’m sure you can handle more than wendigo. When you got a monster problem, you call Yuckel chow and Kalax the Rango monster hunters,” the dwarf replied.
“How is one monster above your bend? Don’t you have minions to handle this sort of thing?” Kai’ax asked.

The dwarf pulled a blood smeared tattered half a hat from underneath his desk.

“Monster et six of my best men. Then I done hired some orcs. Monster et them too.”
“Did any workers or soldiers come back to say what the monster looks like?” the warrior asked.

The wealthy dwarf shook his head.

“Mystery monsters cost extra,” said the priest.
“How’s five thousand dollars sound?” the dwarf asked.

Kai’ax’s mouth dropped.

“Mahrlect Breeder cannot be serious. A lot of people he owed money to had unusual accidents or ‘suicides,’” he said to his friend.
“So do you accept my deal? Five thousand to bed this mystery monster down.”
“Plus expenses,” the priest said.
“Plus expenses,” replied the dwarf.
“We need to make sure he doesn’t cheat us, make him swear an oath. What’s the most sacred oath for dwarves?” Kai’ax asked the other skink.
“Swear to this deal on your beard,” said the priest.
“I swear on my—”
“Swear in front of the whole camp,” said the warrior.

********************************************************************************************
“And therefore, I, Lordroid Goldmann swear on my beard to pay these fine Saurios five thousand dollars and to cover their expenses for removing the monster for us.”

The workers gave some unenthusiastic haphazard applause.

“And they have sworn to me by their gods to destroy the monster or die trying!”

The crowd applauded considerably more enthusiastically.

“That last part is new.” Kai’ax muttered.
“Well you wanted him to swear in front of the whole camp…” Yuqal'Cho-ax replied.
“Well, the big boss is covering our supplies, let’s see what kind of fixins’ the pot rustler’s got, I’m hungry.” The Skink warrior rubbed his stomach.

After the skinks left the chuck wagon with a sack of foodstuffs. Kai’ax also bought a high caliber buffalo rifle.

********************************************************************

Besides scattered tools and firearms rusting in the dust and an untouched pile of rails. The ground was strewn with scattered pieces of ripped cloth.

“Ugh, what is that?” Yuqual’Cho-ax asked pointing towards a large slimy lump.

Kai’ax picked up a shovel and poked it.

“It’s like an owl pellet when owls upchuck whatever they cannot digest. Only it ain’t mouse bones in it.”

He exposed a cracked orc skull with his shovel.

“There are a lot of round craters in the ground. Like boulders pelting the ground. Could a giant squig make these marks?” Yuqual’Cho-ax.
“I don’t reckon it’s a squig.”

The warrior kicked the ground.

“The ground is not very soft. Squigs ain’t heavy enough to make marks this deep. And here….The boulder monster rolled. Squigs don’t roll. And even giant squigs aren’t bullet proof.”

The skink priest froze.

“You know what we are dealing with, don’t you?” his friend asked.
“I hope I’m wrong. I reckon we are dealing with a floating head.”

The larger skink fingered his buffalo rifle nervously.

“Mahrlect! Like from ancient times? I’m not sure this Big Fifty will get the job done. How did our ancestors deal with floating heads?”

“Usually a slann would smite them.”
“Fresh out of slann...”
“The legendary Oldblood Ralesk slew the foul disembodied head with his enchanted obstinite blade.”
“Ain’t got no oldbloods or enchanted blades neither.”

A booming voice rumbled in explicably in Saurian.

“I HUNGER!!!!”

A sphere flew towards them. It looked like a humanoid face sculpted by a potter who only had a vague idea what humanoid heads look liked and was not very detail oriented. The hairy head was about eight feet in diameter. Half-flying, half jumping as it came closer the details of the roughhewn face became more hideously apparent revealing yellow blood shot eyes and a mouth of misshapen teeth.

Kai’ax aimed his buffalo rifle. Yuqual’Cho-ax began an incantation/prayer.

“Old Ones of our ancestors grant me your might. Give me eyes of Huanchi, god of night, Tlazcotl lend me give me the strength of the land, Tepok guide my hand. Chotec split the sky with your power bright. SOTEK MANIFEST YOUR BITE!”

Kai’ax hit the giant head in the cheek a split second before a thunderbolt pierced the sky and flashed in front of the creatures face. Kai’ax knew what was coming and shielded his eyes.

Kai’ax knew as impressive as Sotek's Fang was, it was more flash than substance. A small puncture wound in the floating head’s cheek dribbled a bit of blood from the fifty caliber round. A faint red burn mark marked on the forehead where the bolt struck.

Floating in midair, it flailed about in all directions.

“BRIGHT LIGHT HURTS! CAN”T SEE!”

“He’s buffaloed but it won’t last” the priest said staggering with exhaustion from summoning lightning.

“HEAR YOU! SMELL YOU! EAT YOU!”

The floating head switched from Saurian to Riekspiel seemingly in response to the skink switching languages. It leapt toward the pair of skinks landing between them and making a large dent in the ground then plowed a trench as it rolled with its mouth open trying to catch the skinks but only getting a mouthful of dirt. The monster inhaled deeply through its bulbous nose as itrying to smell them out blinking its dilated eyes.

“Can barely stand…You run.” Yuqual’Cho-ax moaned.
“No, the food packs.”

He helped his friend hobble to the where their culchans were tethered and grabbed one of their sacks of food and dumped it on the ground. Then dumped the other in another direction.

As hoped, the half-blind monster went for the food first, giving them enough time to mount their steeds and escape. It seemed to really enjoy eating the blood sausage.

As the two skinks rode towards camp. Kai’ax spoke.

“The best attacks we had couldn’t hurt it. Good thing it liked the blood sausage better than us. How do we beat this thing?”
“Use its hunger and stupidity against it. I heard a legend about an ancient skink priest sacrificing himself to lure such a creature to a cave and sealing it in. Might be where this one came from.”

As they got back to the camp, a large group met them, including Goldmann.

“I take it from your exhausted terrified faces the monster has ya’ll licked.”
“We know what it is now and can form a plan now.” Kai’ax replied.

A rumbling was heard in the distance

“I am hungry!”
“I am hungry”
"¡Estoy hambriento!”
“Wǒ èle!”
“Mjög svangur!”

“Sakes alive, they lured it here!” screamed one of the foreman.
“If you are working on a plan, you better make it quick!” said the wealthy dwarf.

Kai’ax was speechless, but Yuqual’Cho-ax brisked up and spoke.

“We need dynamite…and blood sausage.”

Goldmann was struck dumb.

“JUST DO IT!” Kai’ax shouted.

“Get the damn rangos their sausage and dynamite!” Goldmann shouted to some workers nearby. “You guys with guys with guns, form a line or somethin’! Get a wiggle on! Don’t let the varmit through!”

The monster was some distance away but its voice carried far announcing its plan to eat everyone in several languages.

Kai’ax and Yuqual’Cho-ax positioned themselves forward ahead of the milk suckers with their secret weapon.

“This is the stupidest plan I ever heard.” Kai’ax said.
“I didn’t hear you come up with a better plan.” his friend answered.

The floating head flew towards the skinks and stopped blinking its eyes in confusion.

“Why no running! Why no screaming? Why no shooting?” the monster asked.

“We thought you might want to eat this blood sausage instead of all the folks here.” Yuqual’Cho-ax said waiving a piece of sausage.

“I do like blood sausage….Feathered men give me sausage?”
“But you have to promise to leave everyone alone afterwards,” the priest said.
“Hmmm, I can eat blood sausage and THEN eat the people.”

The floating head paused awkwardly, then looked at the skinks and the cowering people behind them.

“No wait. You give me the sausage and I will NOT eat the people. Yes, that. You can trust me.”
“Sounds like a deal!” Kai’ax said, “But there’s a trick to make it taste even better. Light this fuse and let it burn to the end. Then eat the sausage.”

Kai’ax lit the fuse on his blood sausage and let burn down then, then ate it, choking down the hot nub of the fuse, coughing slightly.

“Delicious! But you can’t start to chew it until the fuse burns down.” the Skink said.

The monster furrowed it’s brow in frustration.

“Hmmm, don’t have hands, can’t light sausage! YOU, you light sausage for me or I eat you!”
“Well, okay, if you insist…”

Goldmann and the humans nearby watched with baited breath as the Skinks inserted four lit sticks of dynamite into the monster’s mouth as if they were giant cigars.

“Yummy! I like—“

BOOOOOOMMM!!!

The skinks were splattered in brains and skull fragments as the onlookers cheered.

I am curious. I know it was theoretically an anonymous contest but did ANYBODY not figure out I wrote this? This was my second piece written in the Westhammer setting with the same two rangos.

I didn't get a lot of votes and it's probably because I tried to cram too much in it. A general guideline for writing short stories, is that if a sentence does not further the plot of reveal character than it probably should be omitted. Because Westhammer is a very new and largely unestablished setting the temptation is to stuff each story full of setting details.

Most of the stuff that got cut was factional friction details. The Rangos called the humans Breeders as a slur and they called all warmbloods in general "milk drinkers." I established that Cathayans were not treated well by the more western humans but they had somewhat better repertoire with the Lizardmen.

“I am hungry!”
“I am hungry”
"¡Estoy hambriento!”
“Wǒ èle!”
“Mjög svangur!”

That is English, underlined English, Spanish, Mandarin and old Norse respectively.

In universe this represents Riekspiel, Saurian, Estalian, Cathayan, and Khazalid. I always liked the idea that Chaos Daemons can speak all languages and Floating Heads are an ancient Chaos powered monster.

So I wanted to tell a story with floating heads, or rolling heads, or hopping heads. Different versions of Native American folklore have different variations. Sometimes they levitate and sometimes they have wings. Sometimes they roll and sometimes they hop. I consulted @Y'ttar Scaletail on many details of this story. When I asked if the monster should levitate, hop, or roll he wisely suggested all three modes of transportation for maximum threat.

One commonality in Native American monster stories about disembodied giant flesh eating heads is that they are too strong to overcome with brute force, but they are dumb and slaves to their hunger so they are often easily tricked. My favorite story involved a flesh eating head being tricked into eating hot coals thinking they were chestnuts. That was the inspiration for my story. I figured nothing says technological progress in the Wild West like an expanding railroad so I figure I'd have a railroad crew awaken a monster.

I also wanted to showcase Lorddroid Goldmann, that was the main thing I wrote to Y'ttar about.

We had some more discussions about minor things, Y'ttar helped edit my piece, but the thrust of our conversation was this:

Spoiler: Brainstorming Mr. Goldmann

Lordroid Goldmann is still a work in progress. I wasn't sure if I wanted to make him a Southern dandy, a East Coast dandy, an Old World immigrant (as western slang goes, an "Anglomaniac") or a thoroughly Westernized person. Either way, I gave Mr. Goldmann his own faction in Westhammer. Lordroid Goldmann might not be the richest robber baron in the world but he is the richest robber baron in the geographic region that Westhammer takes place.

Hypothetically, if Westhammer became the basis for a Mordheim like setting, Goldmann's Bulls would be one of the teams you could play as and Goldmann himself would be a special character. I'm not sure what special powers he'd have in-game (Westhammer doesn't even rules), but I always envisioned Mr. Goldmann as a liar and a cheat, but he's not a coward. He is willing to get his hands dirty to get what he wants. I suppose this means he should really be Westernized and not be a East Coast or Southern dandy.

I feel like I need to develop him more. He is the single most important non-godlike character I have in the setting so far.

The important thing is to know that he lies like a rug and he was mean enough to steal a coin off a dead man’s eyes. I used this site for inspiration by the way.

 

You wouldn't believe this, but I had to leave stuff out of even the director's cut. I sadly was only able to put in a fraction of Y'ttar's suggestions for making Goldmann out to be a thoroughly unlikeable fella who was so mean he'd steal a fly from a blind spider.

Nothing set in stone in Westhammer yet, but as of right now I figured warpstone would not exist in Westhammer or it would be much rarer. In the backstory for Westhammer was that after the Chaos gods were "defeated" in the Old World, magic was weakened to a fraction of it's former power. The skaven suffered when their warpstone was depowered.

That said, I'm sure the Westhammer Skaven would have some kind of weapon capable of hurting a Floating Head.


My own review did not really add any great insight.

I think you are being fussy I wish we had more reviews. I tend to judge stories mainly on how efficiently constructed they are and how much I feel for the characters. I noticed you, Killer Angel, judge stories heavily on their adherence to the theme. I generally only judge a piece based on it's adherence to theme if I need to break a tie between two pieces.

But nevertheless, there are lots of flaws in my story but I wouldn't say adherence to the theme was a flaw. Allow me to be modest here. I wouldn't say it's an easy route so much as a brilliant route given how the symbolism of railroad expansion into the Badlands adheres to the theme and reinforces the conflicts and characterization of the story.

 

...which is perfectly fine.
It goes on personal tastes. IMO the theme dictates what the story should include. If the theme becomes a relevant element of the story, it's perfect… the more you drive away from it, the less you were able to bend your skills around a given concept.
And in the end we usually have so many good pieces, that i can afford the luxury to discriminate also using the adherence to the theme, and not only to break a possible tie.

Touché.

 

Succinct synposis, per usual.

It felt like a crossover between Warhammer and the Wild West because it was a crossover. I was using this thread for the source material. Until and unless someone comes up with a better name, I have been calling the setting Westhammer.
.
And this piece was a direct sequel to my story "The Wendigo" from the October-November 2019 which had the theme alternate settings, so it was less of a stretch to include it there.

Spoiler: Story One: "The Wendigo"

The Wendigo

The two Skinks rode their culchans through the snow with a string of rabbits they caught. Their tribe would eat well.

The smaller Skink paused and scratched his feathered chin.

“Look over there, Kai’ax”
“Through those trees is a farmhouse. A family of humans live there. We should give them a wide berth, lest they start hollering ‘the Liz’uns are attacking’”
“Do they live there?”
“Are you speaking riddles, priest.”
“This close, we should be able to smell and see smoke from their hearth. No smoke means no fire. No fire means no humans.”
“So?”
“I aims to find out why they are gone.”

The farmhouse was dark and quiet. The door was in splinters, but the rest of the house was intact; snow billowing in. When the two Saurios entered the house, they were shielded from the wind, but the inside somehow felt much colder than the outside. They found disheveled bones and tatters of clothing scattered about the entry way. There was very little flesh on the bones. Judging by the more intact clothes fragments, it was an adult male human. Not far from the heap of bones was a rifle. The larger Skink checked the firearm.

“This is still loaded. Whatever took him out killed him before he could take a shot.”

The priest looked around the cabin. There were cans, jars, and barrels of assorted food, enough for a good sized family to last the rest of the winter. After only a few minutes of searching, he found silver coins, ammunition, spirits, and medicine. He spoke out loud.

“Nothing was stolen. This wasn’t a robbery.”

They found the bedroom door was knocked off its hinges. Behind it were far more tattered bones and tattered clothing. Four new skulls with rotting eyes and bits of skin hanging on them.

“The father guarded the door, the mother took the children here,” the priest said.

The larger Skink picked up a revolver and opened it.

“Four shots in a six shooter. No bullet holes in the walls. The attacker kept going after eating two bullets. No way these bodies could rot to the bone that fast.”

He picked up a femur and examined it.

“The bones were gnawed on. The blood stains are pretty small for five deaths. The blood was lapped up,” he said.
“Skaven and greenskins will eat the flesh of the people they bushwack…” the priest replied, almost hopefully.

The larger Skink picked up a full can of beans and waved it at the rest of the food stores.

“Whatever did this ate the people and left the food and shinies. What kind of cross-grained varmit does that?”
“A wendigo does that,” said the priest.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

About twenty men and a half a dozen women crowded in Hammer Gulch’s town hall building, standing closer together than normal due to the cold.

“I think everyone who is willing to come out here is already here,” said the general store owner.
“Just get started!” said Widow Ivanov shivering.
“Alright then,” said the sheriff in a slow drawl.

The grey haired man stepped away from the crowd and the fire so he could be seen and heard better. Despite being cold as everyone else, he didn’t shiver or show any signs of discomfort.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a situation. The Millers are dead….”
“Serves them right for hording all the food from everyone else in our harshest winter…lost two brothers in arms from exposure, not enough food.” Private Dimitri muttered getting some dirty looks from those nearest him.

The sheriff continued as if he didn’t hear him.

“So are the Turgenevs and the Lopezes. They were killed in their homes. Men, women and children.”

The crowd erupted in inarticulate expressions of grief, anger and fear. Followed by recriminations.

“The Estalians did it!”
“Why would they kill the Lopezes?”
“Shriznak’s Boys did it.”
“Yeah, the goblins did it! String up their green necks.”

As more people called for the goblins’ heads, the sheriff glared.

“Quiet!”

The crowd continued to shout, their anger finally making them all warm.

“QUIET!”

“Ain’t no goblins done this. Whoever did this treated the corpses as their chuck.”

Most of the expressions of horror were silent.

“I heard Goblins will eat man flesh!” Shouted Private Dimitri.

The sheriff was quiet and stern, milking a pregnant pause.

“Whoever killed those families, ate them folks up down to the bone and left the foodstores. They left the money, they left the whiskey, they left the irons. Ain’t no goblin passes up that kind of unguarded treasure.”

The crowd erupted in confusion and fear. Reverend Jonas stepped away from the crowd and all eyes turned toward him. He tried and failed to repress a shiver.

“The Four Horsemen of Chaos rode forth and sent a monster to plague us!” he exclaimed dramatically.

“Sigmar save us!” shouted a woman in the crowd.
“Kill the monster!” shouted another man.

The sheriff held up a hand for silence.

“I cotton to kill the monster, sir. We don’t know what we are dealing with. Reverend?”
“Winter like this, Famine is strong. Whatever it is has a great hunger, a hunger not satisfied by ordinary vittles.”
“Oh dear!” shouted a woman in the crowd.

The lone dwarf stepped away from the crowd to be better seen. The stout mining foreman preened his threads pompously before speaking.

“Now we all cannot have no business with a monster knocking around. A thousand dollars gold, split up evenly to any man who brings this creature’s head.”

Private Dimitri perked up.

“But how do we find this monster? We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”

The door swung open dramatically. A feathered lizard in a Stetson hat strode in.

“I’m your huckleberry.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Three horses and two culchans rode out of Hammer Gulch.

Private Dimitri proudly wore his faded Union army winter jacket. Deputy Schneider, who insisted the sheriff defend the town, was bundled up like a mummy against the cold. Next to him was the headstrong Becker boy who shivered; eager to get two hundred dollars and make a name for himself. None of the men dared take their eyes off the two Saurios riding ahead.

Eventually Dimitri got bored and rode alongside the Skink priest.

“So Rango, I have a question.”
“Don’t call him Rango,” admonished the deputy. “He has a real name. It's Yukelshow.”
“It’s actually Yuqal'Cho-ax” replied the priest, “But that’s hard for your kind to pronounce so ‘Rango’ is fine.”

The larger Skink snorted in derision.

“What’s your name then, big feller?” Dimitri asked.
“Rango,” he said.

Becker broke into nervous laughter.

Dimitri turned back towards the smaller Skink.

“So Rango, why do you ride them giant prairie chickens? Even greenskins learnt to ride horses. Horses are faster.”
“Culchans handle the winter cold and summer heat better than horses.” He replied calmly.
“Bah, we don’t ride chickens, we eat them. I can’t believe the sheriff and the reverend condones working with Liz’uns on this.” Dimitri retorted.
“I cannot believe Yuqal'Cho-ax convinced me to take on a wendigo to help a bunch of lukewarm bloods.” The Skink replied.
“Four hundred dollars buys a lot of irons and bullets.” The priest replied.

Dimitri seemed like he was struck silent by the Skink’s retort, his face was briefly contorted with rage as if in a trance.

“There!” the Skink priest pointed to some fresh tracks in the snow. A cross between a naked human foot and the talons of an owl.

“Damn! Those tracks are heading away from the Johnsons’ homestead,” said the deputy.
“Too late for them, let’s get the damn windy-go!” said Dimitri.
“Agreed,” said the smaller of the two Rangos.

All five unlikely riding companions turned and rode as one.

Hours passed as the five riders rode deeper into the woods. As the terrain got rougher, the culchans fared a lot better than the horses, but neither of the Skinks paused to gloat. The sun was setting rapidly and the temperature was dropping even faster. The horses whinnied nervously. Even the culchans seemed rattled.

“It’s near…” whispered the Skink priest.

The riders looked in the dusk in all directions.

“It’s too dark to see nuthin’.” Becker muttered.

Yuqal'Cho-ax began muttering a prayer in ancient Saurian.

Those creatures with hair felt it stand up straight as a wave of static washed over them. The nearby forest was bathed in soft light, as if from lightning but not dissipating. The riders looked nervously in all directions. All directions except above them.

A dark figure swooped down from a tree and slashed Becker’s throat. He didn’t even have time to scream.

“Mahrlect!” Kai’ax pulled his rifle and fired, but was too slow.

The skink pulled some torches off his belt and magically lit the first one with a small burst of electricity, then used the first torch to light the others. He handed them out to his colleagues as quickly as he could.

“Wendigos hate fire.”

The deputy was the last to get the torch. As he was reaching for one, a dark shape descended and slashed its talons at his horse’s front legs. The bleeding mare cried out in pain and bent forward, spilling the deputy onto the snow. Dimitri's horse bucked him off, though the army veteran somehow landed on his feet. The two Skinks opted to dismount voluntarily.

Schneider got up unhurt, though a little staggered, for the snow cushioned his fall. He shook the snow off his torch before the flame was extinguished.

“Circle up!” he ordered. They formed a loose circle around the culchans and the one uninjured horse which hadn’t bolted.

In the flickering torch light the wendigo was finally able to be seen clearly. Over six feet tall, it was emaciated thin with arms longer than a human would have. Its eyes were red, full of malice and greed. The creature’s fingers were even longer and thinner, ending in owl-like talons. It wasn’t a true skeleton, but the creature’s coal black skin was stretched grotesquely over a very thin frame and skin that was nearly translucent. Its gums were rotted, giving it the appearance of a corpse's grin. It sucked in a deep breath through its teeth, making a noise that was a cross between a death rattle and the winter wind trying to sneak below a doorframe.

It approached Dimitri who froze, staring at the monster in silent awe. The wendigo went around him and rounded on the deputy. The deputy fired his six shooter into the monster but the bullet only created a very small mark of glowing blue blood, the wound sealing up rapidly. The wendigo swiped his talons at the man’s chest and sent him sprawling to the ground. The wendigo licked its withered lips as if savoring the meal it was about to enjoy.

“RAAAAARR!” bellowed the larger Skink as he rushed forward, thrusting his torch into the monster’s chest. The beast burst into flames so fast it was as if the wendigo was soaked in kerosene, but the flare up was brief. The fire was out but the wendigo was staggering as if winded.

“Shoot now!” the skink priest shouted.

Dimitri and the two lizards pulled their long arms and fired. The shots that hit the burned wendigo struck true and caused much bleeding. The wendigo did not rise again. They shot it some more just to be sure.

Yuqal'Cho-ax cleaned up the deputy’s chest wound.

“It’s not deep. Your three coats took most of the talons. It will hurt like hell for a few weeks, but you’ll live.”

He turned to the others who had just finished gathering up the stray horses.

“We need to build a big bonfire to burn it. We cannot stop until the wendigo’s icy heart melts. The horse and Becker too, we need to burn them lest they bear the mark of the wendigo.”
“Poor kid. He was just between hay and grass,” the deputy said.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Becker didn’t do anything but die. It seemed unfair that his family got a full share of the thousand bucks. Still, it’s not every day that Dimitri had two hundred dollars in his pocket. A month or so later when winter was finally turning to spring, Dimitri was riding to the nearest real town to spend his reward when he saw there was a cloaked rider on a midnight black horse in his path up ahead.

“Dimitri….” the rider's voice was little more than a harsh whisper but it carried on the wind across an almost impossible distance.

“What? Who are you?”

The rider came closer.

“You have betrayed your brothers in arms, “came the dry hissing voice.
"No, I didn’t, they died on their own!”

“You have tasted your brothers' flesh," the voice hissed; the words seeming to coalesce in Dimitri’s body.

The rider approached closer again.

“I had to survive. They were already dead, and I didn’t want to join them!” Dimitri exclaimed.

The Cold washed over him as the veteran clutched his chest in pain. Dimitri screamed as he felt his heart turn to ice. The rider was almost within touching distance now.

“Your heart belongs to me. All of you belongs to me.”
“No, I…I won’t…I…I hunger.”
“Indeed, but now is not the time to sate your hunger. Spring is here.”

The rider touched his brow and Dimitri dismounted his horse and lay on the ground comatose. The ghastly rider smiled.

“Sleep well, my wendigo. Your time will come.”

Disembodied carnivorous heads is one of my favorite monsters from Native American folklore (even more so than wendigo). I'm glad I was able to do the legend justice.

This is a problem I have been working on for years. I'm pretty verbose so I struggle to meet maximum word counts. That means I end up truncating the end of my stories a lot.

I am not sure I understand what you mean by this comment.

 

"Humans" is the polite referential term.

"Breeders" is the derogatory term used for humans. Rangos did not invent the term, but they adopted the term (as did orcs and goblins though they often say "Humies"). "Breeders" is a term coined by elves and dwarves. They say the humans are the numerically dominant race because they breed indiscriminately.

"Milk drinkers" is a a derogatory term for humans that the Rangos invented. It also applies to all mammals. Rangos find the concept of a being, especially a sapient being suckling milk from it's mother as gross and offensive.

I wanted the different derogatory names to highlight tensions between different groups.

 

I switched terminology so I could show to readers that I was using "Breeders" as a term for "humans." It would be unfair to invent new slang terms and not explain them.

Also people don't always use the same words when talking about other people.

 

Brilliant details. Things as these bring true life to a fictional setting.

 

Well, "Breeders" was the nickname that orks, dwarves, elves, and trolls gave humans in Shadowrun. Not exactly the best nickname when you consider that in Shadowrun, orks give birth to twins more often than single births and they are posed to surpass humans in demographics in forty years.

I figured "Breeders" would work in a western setting.

"Milk drinkers" I pulled from Dark Ages: Fae. The True Born and Elemental Fae look down on the Changelings (and the humans they are related to) for drinking milk and call the milklings. Also I guess in Men in Black, the villain referred to humans as "milk suckers!" at least once. In my fluff pieces I have been running with the notion that Lizardmen find the idea of drinking milk gross and I don't see why the attitude would not carry over to Wild West Rangos.