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Tales From the Quinn Zaza | Episode: The Old Man and the Dragon
🕑 Added 2021-10-22 02:26:35 +0000 UTCAn airship searches for drifting drakes, soaring high above the clouds where tomorrows and yesterdays are all todays, where the hunt still goes on, and, where, here and now, the drakers still dare.
Welcome aboard…
To the decks of the Quinn Zaza.
Today’s broadcast is a retelling of a true story.
We pulled into port today, and a curious thing happened. One of our own knew one in town! Well, we were also attacked by a Dragon with a Harpoon in its side, but such is the way things happen. We will return to that dragon later.
First is this gossip though!
Our best Draker knew that town’s lighter. For those of you who do not know, a lighter is one of those people who go about in the evening to light all the street lamps. The Old Lighter was a former draker in fact! He taught our Best Draker everything he knew.
How exciting to meet the master of our Best Draker.
Former to be clear. We didn’t get much else about their history when his daughter came in to nag at him for ditching his job. The Old Man’s now a former lighter as well as a former draker.
I wish we had had more time to learn of their history before we get into the main story of this broadcast, but suffice to say, our Best Draker turned into a Young Man with his master of an Old Man, and they snuck off quite often to have discussions. We should probably have kept a better eye on them because of what would happen, but… I will admit a part of me is glad they had their time to scheme for what happened next is… quite the tale.
From an abandoned warehouse, the Old Man cultivated a strange and dangerous yearning, a madness in his bones that panged every time he stepped on the implant that replaced his foot. The Dragon with the Harpoon
Many times he had tried to harvest the dream, but time and time again, things stopped him. Weather, the watchers of the bay, his own daughter.
But he was alone then, and now someone who understood could help him.
So the Old Man asked the Young Man to help him on this last hunt. The Young Man said no. He would not be party to a death wish. The Old Man, being who he was, snapped and screamed. If the Old Man would have no help, then so be it.
He would hunt dragons regardless.
And thus the Young Man agreed. Helping someone die was not something he wished to be a part of, but Draking was a madness he had learnt from this Old Man.
The Young Man flew that small ship, that ship that held a weight unknown, for the Old Man. They flew out into the rolling clouds, running from the guardians, running from friends and family, running from sanity.
Diving into the belly of the storm to thread that needle, the two came face to face… with the Dragon, the Old Man’s Dragon, the Dragon that still Held that Harpoon.
The Young Man made to suit up, but the Old Man bade him to not. Respecting his Master’s wishes, the Young Man helped the Old Man prepare. Armored on was the thick clothes that protected drakers from cold, armed with the spear and knives so typical of the Draker’s weapons, I can only imagine it was as if a Squire was helping his teacher prepare for his final fight, this great battle.
They escaped too fast to be stopped, but were just slow enough so that we could watch, and as terrible as this moment was, all who saw beheld the majesty of the Drakers of Old.
The Old Man goes now to Drake, his daughter watching, screaming for her father to return. He loves her dearly, but he cannot hear her now, for the hunt has begun, perhaps that last hunt for this Old Man. The Young Man is watching, and the Old Man trusts him, trusts him more than the rope that ties a Draker to the ship. The rest of us could only watch, hearts pounding just as the Old Man’s must have, as we saw a life lived the way one could before dying.
It is time, the Old Man and the Dragon with the Harpoon, HIS Dragon with the Harpoon, to face off for the last time.
He leaps now, the Old Man is no more and now there is only an Old Draker. THere is no rope to tie him down to the ship, nothing to hold him back from this hunt, nothing to help him now save simply the tools of the old drakers here now for this Old Draker.
A harpoon is thrust into the side of the drake, anchoring him in as he ties his only rope off around it, the Old Draker’s only leash to the sky being the Drake itself. He unsheathes his knives, his only fangs to fight with against this dragon, and the fight, the last fight, between this Drake and this Draker has at last begun.
As they sink into the tsunami clouds, rolling too dense for us to peer and peek into, let us now sink too, sink into… the Sounding.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9d8SzG4FPyM&ab_channel=DropkickMurphys
Those in suspense, suspend no longer, the hunt was successful.
The Dragon’s corpse descended as did the Old Draker’s body, kneeling and holding the final spear triumphantly. Both were caught by all who witnessed; the Young Man, the Daughter, and all who chased the madman. One was taken to be dismembered and eaten and the other to have his final rites.
But perhaps a dragon’s dismemberment would be their final rights, no? In a sense, two funerals were had today. A Dragon and a Draker.
Indeed, the Old Draker has died alongside his Dragon with the Harpoon…
But the Old Man has lived on, eaten that meal that denotes a successful hunt. I believe it was Dragon Tartare, a mishmash of a dish scrapped together by whatever is on hand, its taste always different for every dragon downed, colored by the hunt, the spice, and the cook.
The Young Man cooked it for the Old Man, a celebration of this dangerous, wondrous hunt.
Perhaps it was the Old Man’s last hunt. It certainly was a long one, years spanning between the first and last harpoon speared into that drake, but it was a successful one. After all, the Old Man ate his fill in the end and lived once more.
It was by all accounts messy though, It was a mish mash of a hodge podge of desperation and dreams. By any reckoning, including the Old Man’s own words on the matter, it was amateur beyond belief.
But… does the word amateur not come from amore? Does it not mean to do with love? No, of course it does. Perhaps the first drakers started from base desires of need and want, survival and profit. I do not deny that drakers are pragmatic, and that there are not companies who hunt drakes in the safest manner probable, the most ruthless and efficient way possible, with pitiful poison that defouls the meat.
Still though…
We know that everyday drakers are hunting drakes, in the old ways or the new ways, drakers will be hunting dragons, but I doubt, no! I firmly believe that there will ever be another hunt like this one.
And there will never be another Draker quite as mad, quite as daring, quite as half as stubborn like Old Draker Cujo Landau.
Coming up next, the sounds of wind whistling in freefall to lull you to sleep.
Return to the clouds
and ride upon fair winds once more,
dear drakers.
Return and ride once more...
Today’s Proverb: A hunt is only done once you have returned and eaten.
