Raid

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Khaled Hosseini writing is haunting and powerful, I'm humbled you'd think mine is like his. Thanks.

And will do.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Done. Hope the time line in which I put Esra makes sense (essentially she'll be technically MIA for the main briefing, but her son will be there).

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

A proper introduction.

Shahid stands next to the men in the courtyard. He sticks his chin out just so and stares at each new member, appraising their weapons and clothing and gait. He is nothing like them. For starters, he is missing a sleeve. Torn at the shoulder, the fabric is lost in a pile of bloody, wet cloth once used to soothe the pain of burn victims. The clothes he’s wearing aren’t even his. Also, he is unarmed. Not even a grand stick. And with most of Sintra reduced to sticks, he had his pick of them. Due to circumstances beyond his control his must crane his neck to see any of the wrinkles or graying hairs of the men, reminding him of the great height distances between him and—well—everyone else. Oh, and there’s the detail that he’s seven years old and fearing the wrath of his mother once she realizes he slipped away. The temporary hospital set up in the back of the castle is no place for a boy like him anyways.

Shahid tries not to stare too long at one man, but every where he looks he sees Captain Sharkas lurking below the face of each person gathered. Whether it is the twitch of a sword hand or a side glance that doesn’t show any whites of the eyes, Shahid imagines the captain of the Al-Qari’a, a ship who’s namesake comes from a description from God through his messenger Mohamed (peace and blessings be upon him). Captain Sharkas is dead though. Another person who mother could not save. Like his father, Othman. She couldn’t save him either.

Shahid spends his time in the courtyard gawking, mouth slack and tongue tracing the tops of his teeth, tasting ash from last night. He thinks about the reds and purples and golds. Colors. Black. Is that still a color?

He likes the way the newest man stands with loose joints and in clothes with none of the flair as others. Shahid forgets about why he is here in this courtyard and instead tries to mimic the confidence each of these men portray in how they stand (maybe it’s through having one should cocked a tick higher or by standing with feet directly beneath their hips).

)o(
They are not men.

Esra dribbles water between cracked lips by twisting a damp rag over the faces of her patients. Some are women and she can’t explain to the monks and nuns that she can’t take care of the men. It would be easy to use her religion as an excuse. (”I am Muslim, thus I cannot handle a man’s body who is not my husband or son or father.” If she could speak Portuguese fluently, this is what she would say to them.) But that’s an excuse. Six years of medical training and she does not have the experience nor the confidence in caring for male patients. Yet she straps Deena, her youngest, to her back, orders Shahid to watch his twin brothers where she stashed them in a horses stall with warm manure shoved in the corner, and moves from bed to bed offering what assistance she can while stopping to adjust her scarf.

The monks only stop her to point to another patient or to give her smelling salts to help awaken a mother who still holds the remaining half of her baby’s body against her tit.
Deena pushes her feet against Esra’s back. How long has it been since she’s eaten? Last night. In a private dining room that was offered to Captain Sharkas and his accompaniments during his stay at Sintra until his business was completed with whomever man had the money to fund the castle. She grunts as she rises from her crouch next to an older woman who twitches with the brush of the wind against her burned skin. Her sagging breasts were burned off. Esra doesn’t expect her to survive until the night.
Trailing back into the horse stalls that are now occupied by humans (some alive, some dead), she searches out her children. A monk is already there, handing them chunks of bread and fish. When he sees her, he give her extra helpings, smiling at her stomach. She cannot hide six months of pregnancy by sewing more and more fabric into her djellaba. When she takes the food she does not smile. She does not sit until the man leaves. Samy and Ahmad, the twins with good curling hair, peer at their sister who sits in her basket, content as her mother feeds her chewed bits of bread. It’s a peaceful procedure for Esra. Quiet. A few moments pass. It is quiet.

“Where is your brother, Shahid?” Esra asks the twins in Arabic. Samy smiles, flecks of fish on his tongue.

Even as she makes her way through the castle, her five year olds trailing after their mother who grapples to hold both her daughter and her scarf in place, those gathered in the courtyard are being briefed, including her eldest son. She will not be able to stop what has already been done. Like the death of her husband. Like the death of her lover.

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Peik said
Is it like, sharing the post or merely collaborating through PM?

Using TitanPad or Google Docs is better than PMs because it's easier to keep track of who's written what and you don't have to go through and compile everything. In my opinion at least.

13 Colonies (A Survival Story) (FiroIV & Raid)

Blech. So what I put up isn't much. But I'm trying to push us towards ending this post and moving on (unless there's something missing that needs to be covered), In the future I'll pull more weight, I promise, but for now, my characters are just helpless little babies who can't do much.

I figured Deepti and Summer could collaborate to get a bearing on where they might be exactly and how to get to shore instead of staying stuck in the tide.

Is there some type of motor on the boat or is there only oars...or neither or both?

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

Just got back from work. I'm creating a post now.

In the future, would people be interested in collabing on certain posts where there might be extended dialogue between characters or high action scenes?

13 Colonies (A Survival Story) (FiroIV & Raid)

So, I started putting some things up this morning, but I don't think I'm quite finished yet. (hence, no "freckle" in the post).
Do you have an idea of when you want to wrap up this collab post? Because I know RPG actually has a word limit for their post (IDK what it is though).

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

In which it is made official.

13 Colonies (A Survival Story) (FiroIV & Raid)

Ah, transfers can be rough at times. To save money (and to allow me to be less stressed) I took summer courses at my local community college and it was always tricky to find a course that translated between the college and my university.

And we will continue moving (I'm anxious to get them on land, really!).

Spiritum Aeternum; or The Ramshackle Monster Hunters

In advance, I apologize for any grammar mistakes/historical conflicts. While I study Muslim religion, my knowledge of this time period in these particular places is weak. Edits can be made.

Esra

Name: Esra Gad El Rab

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Birthplace: Tafilet, Morocco

Religious Affiliation: Muslim

Secular Affiliation: House of Alaoui

Level of education: attended many classes and lectures at her mosque in Tafilet & Rabat;
trained as a healer

Social status: middle class (in Morocco)

Occupation: midwife & healer, mother & wife

Appearance: It’s a joke between Othman, her husband, and Esra that she is the better looking of the two. One because it is not hard to look more attractive than her club-footed husband who also sports drooping eyes and poor teeth. Two because Esra isn’t horribly attractive herself. She has too many freckles on her face and her bottom lip is too fat to be considered “pouty.” Her eyebrows are thick (almost identical to Othman’s) and her small nose is almost as wide as it is long. As a child, she couldn’t wait to wear a hajib because of scar behind her left ear that left a large bald spot. Othman helps comb out her black hair at night. She’s got the type of body babies like to bury their faces into; soft and warm and fleshy. Othman says this is her most attractive feature (even more so than her green eyes).

Personality: Esra doesn’t like to be interrupted. Even when dealing with her four children, she becomes frustrated if cut off when speaking or forced to stop a chore before she was finished. She appreciates routine as any healer would who has had to deal with the results of a break in routine (a dead mother or a maimed child). She might admit that she likes stories too much. But she also might begin to tell a story about why she likes stories so much. She likes broken, lopsided things more than perfect, smooth things. After getting something new, she likes to knick or tear it. Othman hates her tendency to stare at a person’s knees as she talks to them. When on a ship, she brings along her own spices and ingredients to cook with. She never asks if this okay to use the kitchen. But if brought food from the cook, she will eat it all and give thanks for their generosity. She won’t let her children or husband have any of it.

Skill set: Familiar with oils & tonics & herbs for aliments; she’s assisted with the occasional surgery; sewing, cleaning, cooking, & the general know-all of mothering.

Languages: Arabic (fluent) & Berber (fluent)

Bio: Tafilalt is no place to grow-up. Rabat was no place to have a family either. But both places are home to Esra. Her father did her best to shield his family from the anarchy of Tafilalt. He balanced the books of several date palm merchants for a small commission when traders came through the Shara either west towards the Barbary pirates or east towards the Algerians (though Sultan Ali Cherif and his son Sultan ibn Sharif attempted to turn the cluster of ruins and anarchy into something resembling its previous glory over three hundred years ago). The job is appropriate to a man who is as flavorful as khobz. His employers could be Shi’a Muslims or Jews and he’d get along just fine with his bent back and down cast eyes. Omar never knew how to handle his children, though, even the boys. He would squint at them as if he’s not entirely sure what they were doing in his household each meal time he came home.

Her mother, however, knew just exactly how to handle the mischievous boys and the catty girls. Three older brothers and three younger sisters set Esra in the middle. For five years she assumed the position of the one and only little sister. When her sisters came along she was confused by the amount of attention they received and dumbfounded by the responsibilities now attributed to her because she became the eldest daughter. For the thirteen years she lived in Tafilalt with her family, she didn’t have a good relationship with her sisters and often fought with them.

She married her cousin, Othman, when she was fourteen and he was twenty. She only met him a handful of times, but she enjoyed how he hobbled around already with a cane he carved himself. He had a good voice for storytelling. Esra knows this is what led her to fall in love with him. Othman explained to her on their trip from Tafilalt to Rabat after their wedding that he was a carpenter. A simple carpenter who was contracted by Barbary pirates to make repairs to their ships. Esra explained to Othman that her father was a banker for date palm farmers. A simple banker who’s money was made off the backs of slaves.

If she wasn’t living with Othman’s father and two wives she was on the ships with Othman. Esra’s first child was born in the cabin of a ship with a French name and a Captain who wasn’t Muslim, but respected the religion nonetheless. She was there to accompany the Captain’s wife (a Spanish woman that wore too much lace) as they journeyed into the Mediterranean to sell European slaves along the Algerian and Tunis coast. Often as the only woman on a ship she learned how to take care of herself (how to wrap rolled ankle or what helped her stomach during bad waves). That translated over to her time on land as well when she started working at Rabat’s hospitals in the women’s ward.

With her four children either strapped to her back or toddling after her, Esra became proficient in healing and child birth on and off the sea. Despite her time in questionable company, Esra never knew real danger. Her births were always smooth. Her children always strong. Othman temper is fair and the Captain’s of the ships she was on respected Othman’s work so much that they and the crew never harassed her.

During her travels along the coast collecting slaves for the Ottoman empire or illegal goods for whoever had deep pockets at the time, not once had she ever stepped foot on foreign soil. She always stayed in her family’s cabin until the cargo was loaded and they were out to sea again. It wasn’t until Portugal 1666 that she got off a ship when docked. Little dingies brought them to the shore of Sintra. They were supposed to dock in Lisboa. She wished the Captain stuck to his plan.

Notes: Although she is a healer, she primarily took care of women due to gender segregation as outlined in the Qur’an.