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Snargfargle

The Pall (Part 2)

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Note: If you have not yet, read Part 1, please read it first.

On his way to meet with @Dr_Venture and @CompassRose, the Snargfargle startled a covey of @Crokodone, which began to scamper away into the woods. The Snargfargle's mouth began to water, for although he was the protector of The Forest and its inhabitants, he also was part of the cycle of life. The Snargfargle had been eating meat before he and other proto-humans even knew how to cook it. He was especially fond of roast Crokodone, and nobody's roast Crokodone tasted any better than that prepared by CompassRose. The Snargfargle picked out a fat buck Crokodone and flung the @BrushWolf 's skull he carried, more for show than as weapon. Of course, with thousands of years of practice his aim was perfect and the Crokodone expired painlessly, it's brainstem crushed.  

The Snargfargles true weapon was the Staff of Ages, though he kept its abilities hidden, even from his closest friends. To them it was just an old stick decorated with an odd assortment of parts from long-extinct animals. However, the Staff of Ages was a weapon, and a powerful one indeed. With it the Snargfargle could have defeated entire armies. In fact, he had done just this in the past. 

"Snarg the Hunter," he thought. He again chuckled to himself, for he had actually once been known by that name, until he had picked up another one because he would often rather think and experiment than hunt. The Snargfargle recalled a companion who, in ages past, had hunted by his side. She had been a wild thing, more a creature of the woods than a human herself, and a mighty huntress in her own right. She had invented a weapon with which she could send sharpened sticks to a great distance, and with a great deal of accuracy, once one had practiced enough with it. Many the @Quaffer (a type of large proto-Crokodone that had long since gone extinct) had she she brought back from a hunt for the Snargfargle to clean and cook for their supper. The Staff of Ages had kept her alive as well, for thousands of years. However, as she ventured farther and farther afield, as was her wont, she eventually aged and died. The Snargfargle still mourned her loss. The tribe had called her "Artie" but the humans had another name for her, as they did for the Snargfargle, in the ancient writings of Man she was known as Artemis.

The Snargfargle still remembered how pleased she had been that day when lightning struck a dead tree and it fell, in flames, onto a bull Quaffer. The scorched meat had a pleasant taste indeed. The Snargfargle had collected a burning branch and kept the fire alive by feeding it other branches and logs. Soon, everyone in the tribe was coming to roast their meat on Snarg and Artie's fire. However, the day came when the earth shook and the hut collapsed, dousing the fire. The Snargfargle thought long and hard on how to obtain another fire. There must be another way than to wait until a lightning bolt to hit a dead tree.

Then, one evening, about the time he had gotten used to the taste of raw meat again, his companion cried out in pain. She had been sharpening one of her hunting sticks sticks by twirling it against a log. The Snargfargle, who in those days was just “Snarg the Thinker,” (a somewhat derisive name given to him when he started hunting less and thinking more by a tribe that considered the best acton to just be reaction) found that the end of the stick was hot, very hot. In fact, the stick was blackened as if it had been in a fire itself, although the Snargfargle knew it hadn't because he had seen his companion cut the twig from its branch only moments before.

With some trial and error (and no help from the Staff of Ages, for this was many years before the Snargfargle and Artemis discovered it when they went to investigate the strange, fiery boulder that fell from the sky), he discovered that the faster he twirled the stick the hotter it got. But how to twirl it fast enough to set it ablaze? The Snargfargle pondered this for several days, until he one day he figured out the trick as he was watching his companion string her bow. Ah, ha! He quickly grabbed the bow, eliciting a thwack on the head from his companion (did I not tell you she was a wild thing) and a tirade of disapproval in the rudimentary language they both shared. That is, until he showed her what he was thinking of.

The snargfargle twisted the string of the bow around an arrow stick and then, using a piece of bone to protect his hand, pressed it hard against a dead log, while spinning it with the bow as fast as he could. Soon, smoke appeared, and then the glow of an ember. The Snargfargle knew how to nourish an ember as he had done so many times while keeping the tribe's precious fire alive. He fed the tiny ember it's favorite food, dried plant fluff, and blew the breath of life into it until a tiny flame appeared. The tribe once again had a fire!

The Snargfargle and his companion were not reticent either about sharing their newfound knowledge for they were intuitive teachers. They freely shared anything they learned that might help the tribe. Soon, most of the members of the tribe were fashioning bows and arrows and making fire for themselves. The word spread to other tribes, who sent emissaries to the couple to learn their secrets. Soon “Snarg, the thinker” was known far and wide as The Snargfargle, “fargle” being the tribe's word for a great shaman. Another tribe (one which would, thousands of years hence, develop a culture that eventually would span half the known world), called him "Thinks Before," in reference to his habit of thinking before he acted. In their language, the word for forethought was "prometheus."

 

Edited by Snargfargle
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Snarfgargle the Writer strikes again.

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1 minute ago, Chobittsu said:

Put your fan writings in the fan works subforum

They shall reside where the are until I am told otherwise by the Admins and Mods, who have told me that they are fine exactly where they are.

On a side note, you seem to be a talented person; it's not becoming of talent to scoff. My paltry parodies and musings are no danger to your work. It's been years since I picked up an artist's brush.  Of course, it had been years since I picked up an author's pen too.

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12 minutes ago, Snargfargle said:

 

 

So you praise me then insult me literally in the same sentence...

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40 minutes ago, Chobittsu said:

So you praise me then insult me literally in the same sentence...

I think you tend to see things that are not there but I'd rather not argue with you so I'll just leave it at that. Though I find you a bit thin-skinned, if not somewhat arrogant and condescending, I do enjoy your art. You have considerable talent where graphics arts concerned. 

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6 minutes ago, Snargfargle said:

 

 

Yet you insult me and refuse to see even the most basic of reasoning.

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Wow, I have been immortalized as the orig of spam.  Thank's for including me.

 

 

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25 minutes ago, WolfofWarship said:

I'm honestly hooked. Can't wait to read on :D

I hope you enjoy the rest of the story. The story continues in "The Voyage of the Transylvania." Also, the side-story "Operation Killer Whale" takes place in the same literary universe. 

 

Edited by Snargfargle
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