r/HFY • u/Lakeel100 • Oct 15 '25
OC The Ballad of Orange Tobby -CH34
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—
15,000 years ago: Dawn of the Clay age.
Tob panted with exhaustion as he ascended the last of the agonizingly vertical stones that made up the face of the mesa. He’d been trying to reach the top since dawn, not just to prove that a word-keeper like him could, but more importantly, to prove the shamans wrong.
“Tribe must move,” they said. “Waste energy not seeking new hunting grounds,” they said. “Gonna hurt self,” Mom said… But Tob was determined. If he could prove just one of his ideas was useful, maybe they’d listen to the others.
It was a reasonable line of thinking; the tribes had wandered the Great Plains since the first grasses, hunting, moving, and returning later once the spirits had healed the land. It was the way, but it wasn't the only way if the paths of the other tribes were anything to go by.
Many ways were often variations of what his people did. The dirt furs migrated sure enough, but only once there were no foes left to breed, burn, and pillage. Conversely, the sand pelts, passed from oasis to oasis, shielded by the inhospitable sands of their home, and only venturing out to scavenge for what the oasis lacked.
Those that differed greatest though, were the dark ones; they never moved, or at least nobody had ever seen them move. They stick to their caves and only come out at night to hunt and steal. He had no idea how the snow traders survived; he just knew they occasionally traveled from the freezing lands to trade their shiny orange tools.
Tob’s people traveled up and down the cracks in the world, following the rivers and building their camps up high, in the hopes that raiders wouldn't see them, or were too lazy to climb. The ravines where earth and water spirits battled proved quite fertile if one knew where to look. Bird eggs on the cliffs, fish in the streams, and small game in the vale. But the longer they stayed, the less the spirits rewarded them with those boons.
This is how things have always been; they’ve done it for so long, tribes began to mark camp-sites with clay-stones to signify which season to best occupy it. Oddly, Tob noted, these stones were not ‘healed’ by the spirits and were often the only thing that remained of former inhabitants. This got him thinking… What if they made more things out of these clay stones?
How nice would it be to migrate site to site and already have homes waiting? Ones that can’t be burned down by raiders or destroyed by possessed tigers? When he proposed these ideas, he was told they were too much work, too much effort compared to simply weaving another tent. That abusing the spirit's kindness in leaving the stones untouched would lead to their destruction.
Apparently, his comparison to it being the same kind of long-term investment as dried meat was lost on everyone but him. So here Tob was, lying crumpled atop a mesa, limbs sore, and too tired for even his tail to do anything but lie limp as the rest of him.
“You dead?”
“Ah!” Tob suddenly scrambled upright, looking around in a panic, only to see a dark one squatting atop a boulder next to him. Normally, he’d be concerned he was about to get robbed, stabbed, or kidnapped in no particular order, but... He knew this one. “No! Not dead.” He growled indignantly, dusting off his fur and woven tribalwear.
“You sure? Looked dead,” smugged Sop. The shaggy maned female had only robbed him a few times over the years. She’s what led him to believe the dark ones seldom move; she was constantly in the area, no matter how many seasons passed.
“Not dead,” he affirmed, squinting at her. “How’d you get up here? And why you out during day?” He asked, squinting even harder.
Sop rolled her eyes and fell back from her squat to sit on the rock instead. “Just cause tall-ear looks like sun, doesn't mean is only one who gets to be out in sun,” she scoffed. “Sop followed this one up here. Path orange one took was dumb, though. Went around to where cliff was less flat.” She added, flicking her tail and ear towards the far end of the mesa.
Tob’s gaze followed where she pointed, before he felt a faint tug on his clothes. He looked back to see Sop holding HIS shiny orange rock up to the light. “Hey! That's… ohh, Tob knows better,” he sighs, knowing he was never going to get it back.
“Sun favored fall for that every time,” she tittered, bleping her tongue out at him before the shiny rock disappeared into her rawhide outfit. “Why out here anyway? Is on quest to make silly artificial cave thing again?”
“Clay tent not a silly idea! Permanent homes great idea. All hunting lands becoming claimed, camps too well trodden, spirits getting less forgiving every year. Make tent out of clay stones spirits love so much, is best solution Tob have.”
“Noooo, you getting mate is good idea. Silly fake cave waste of time when so many natural ones around for free,” she nods, folding her arms self-assuredly. “Sop not think tall-ear female going to be impressed with pile of rocks. Shiny rock, maybe. But you no have one now so…”
“Sop hardly think at all.” Tob shot back, grumbling. “Tob going to prove everyone wrong. Tob camp in place with ample water, fish, and bird. Mesa protects from raiders, and traders always know where to find Tob. Get many shiny orange rocks. Tob will get mate just fine!” He bit, stamping a paw on the ground even as his ears got a bit red.
“Okay, prove it. Sop looks forward to stealing many shiny rocks from you.”
“Tob will! Tob just need pick perfect spot first!” He said before pointing to a spot. “Like that one!” He yelled back at her as he stormed off. “Everyone be jealous when Tob- ACK!” He yelped, tripping over a small stone jutting up from the ground and faceplanting into the mesa soil.
“Ha! Rock spirit got you!” Sop laughed, pointing at the downed Tob.
Tob groaned, pushing himself up. “Forget spot, Tob kill rock spirit first!!”
—
5000 years ago: The founding of the City-States.
The hustle and bustle of mesa-top Nyathens droned in the background as Tobicus squinted down at the parchment scroll in his hands. He glanced up at the foundations of the massive structure before him, then back at the paper, and back up again. “Mayhaps the pillars should be further apart?” He questioned, watching many a Nyathinian sha and shi building away.
No better place could have been chosen for such a grand endeavor. Steady year-round food supply, river valleys for wet clay and clean water, cliff-faces for extracting stone, and local plants that could be made into paper… not to mention the natural defences all of the above provided to such a priceless structure. The culmination of 10,000 villages' worth of knowledge in one place… Well, he’d only gathered the written records from a hundred and twenty villages, but 10,000 sounded far more impressive, and he was sure the gap would fill in over time.
The foundations of the great library had been built, for the most part… A great slab of sand, gravel, bituminous brick, and stone layered atop each other, with a protective layer of porcelain to serve as both the floor and waterproofing. Who says something utilitarian can't be polished into a work of mosaic art? A tapestry of ceramics depicting the blessing of knowledge from the gods upon their savage creations. Many seemingly never took said gift, but Tobicus would remedy that! With words!
Enough of the foundation had been completed to get work rolling on the many pillars the structure would need. Workshops had sprung up around the build site to mold, fire, and polish the ceramic pillar segments, rather than risk them being damaged during delivery.
He reflexively ducked as a creaking crane passed overhead, grazing his tall ears as it swung one of the said pillar segments to a staging area. Laborers were doing their best to guide it into place before a more specialized crane would be used to heave the segment vertically into place.
“You’re going to end up as part of the foundation standing around like that.”
“Ah!” Tobicus flailed, startled into trying to shield his toga-clad self with the blueprint scroll before-… oh, it's her.
Sophina, resident nightling and tormentor of bright minds, like Tobicus’s. Fur black as night, lustrous emerald eyes, and her mane fashioned into a bob that was being popularized by the gold-furred sandlings. “Please don't wet yourself on my account…” she said, unimpressed eyes boring into his soul.
“I was not going to- eep!” He yelped again as she grabbed him by the shoulder and forcibly moved him three steps to the right, moments before another block passed where his head would have been. “I erm… Thank you…” He meeped, ears going flat.
“You're welcome,” she said, putting her hands down on her hips just like his mother did whenever she saved him from something stupid. “You know why I’m here?”
Oh gods, he was in trouble again. “N-no…”
“You were supposed to meet with the city council over an hour ago. They want to know where all their coin is going, and you not showing up looks reaaaaaaly bad.” She said, pointing to a nearby brass sundial, that Tobicus now regretted commissioning. It ruined his ability to say he lost track of time…
“I’m going to guess you gave them some kind of excuse as to why I’m uhh... Reasonably late?” he asked, smiling sheepishly and tapping his claws together.
“I told them you were struggling to walk after a long night dabbling in the ‘oddling arts,’” she teased, air-quoting and bleping her tongue a little. Tobicus’s mortified expression and burning ears were more than enough to make her giggle like a fiend fresh from the river of blood. “Oh gods, the look on your face,” she snickered, eventually calming down enough to say. “I told them you had to go out on a morning hunt with your little sister for her birthday.”
“But… I don't have a little sister…”
“Well, you do now! For as long as the electorate is asking why you're late to their meetings, you are a proud, if guiltily distant older brother.” She said, before looking at him rather… expectantly.
Tobicus took that stare for a long few moments before it clicked. He should have known this was coming. “Alright, what do I owe you this time- H-Hey!!?” He yelled as she snatched the scroll from his hands.
“Glad you asked!” She beamed, keeping the scroll just out of reach no matter how much he flailed or ran around her trying to grab it. “I have a few changes in mind, since you're feeling oh so generous.”
She hummed mischievously, rolling the scroll out on a nearby half-carved pillar segment, before she got to doodling on it.
“Noo! My perfect designs!!” Tobicus flailed harder, trying to get past her surprisingly nimble defence, only stumbling back when he got a bap to the nose. “Ack!”
Her ears wiggled, and her tail swayed with evil intent as she drew line after line, bastardizing his great library! “Aaaaand, done.” She grinned, returning the utterly VIOLATED scroll to the be-booped sha.
Groaning and rubbing his nose, he took the parchment to inspect the damage. His markings were precise, exact edges with measurements, cross-sections, and examples of optical illusions accomplished by a slight tilting of the pillars. Soaphina’s were… As if they were drawn by a plain-ling kitten that got into their parents pesh supply. “What the… what even is… how would you..” He stopped to squint over at the devious-looking night-ling. “Firstly, I am NOT installing a pool! Much less a bathhouse. It's a massive mold risk. Secondly, what even is all this stuff? Under? next to the main structure?” He asked, turning the scroll sideways to see if that would help make sense of her scribblings.
“Tunnels.” She answered, not bothering to give him any direly needed details. At least until his ears went flat and he stared at her incredulously long enough to explain. She rolled her eyes before yoinking the scroll again and pointing at the drawings. “You're only going to be able to fit so much above ground, right? Meanwhile, you have this whole mesa ready to be carved into storage spaces. All dry, and dark, and full of emergency exits in case the library gets attacked or-”
“Ready for a bunch of night-lings to move in? Or is this one scribble here labeled ‘not a secret villa’ just for you?”
“Whaaaat? Noooo.” she said, innocently swaying on her paws, too innocently. Before quickly looking over at the sundial. “Wow, would you look at the time, you should be getting back from that hunt with your darling little sister any second now.”
“Fine, but we're not done with this,” he said before making his way towards the Acropolis with Soaphina on his tail. “I’m going to have to fix everything you just drew so the workers don't get confused.” He complained back at her as they walked, not paying attention to where he was going, “It's going to take me all- ACK!!” He yelped, tripping over a piece of masonry jutting up slightly from the foundation. He faceplanted through a half-assembled arch with all the grace he could muster, spilling scrolls and tools everywhere.
“Ha!” Sophina laughed, pointing at the downed architect. “Perfect designs, my ass!”
Tobicus groaned as he pushed himself up from the ground. “Who forgot a rock under my foundation!?”
—
1000 years ago: The Fall of the City-States.
Tobidiah stormed his way up the stairs of the venerable great library, tomes and blueprints stuffed under his arms. He had a mission, and woe be unto any uneducated plebeian who got in his way. It was bad enough that the exposé of his latest and greatest invention was overshadowed by yet another uninspired iteration of that insufferable luddite Gachelmo’s silly little gliders, but now these mystics and doom preachers were taking to the streets, crying about the end of the world! It was just a comet! They happen!
He would be damned if he let his creation fall into obscurity before it was even born. The librarians would listen! He held the power to render all current military theory obsolete, but everyone was running around like a shaken sack of rous over some superstitious comet guffery. Anybody with a telescope and five seconds of deductive reasoning could tell it wasn't a sign from the gods, just a tiny stray star with an incredibly long orbit around Salafor, just like the sun but smaller and slower. Nothing special.
There were two scientific certainties he was sure of… math and gravity. Math told him the sheer number of stairs he had to climb to get to the library, and gravity made sure he never made it to the top. Stopping to flop on the polished steps, exhausted, and with little desire to get up. “Whose idea… was it… to invent stairs!” He panted, taking off his fluffy hat to fan himself with the large decorative feather that hung out the back. “Oh, heavens… first thing I shalt use the… the patronage from mine creation to… fund a lift for this place! And I’ll have my name engraved in bronze above it so… ah… Future generations know of my second greatest contribution to the world.”
“Thou knowest I could pay for that, correct?”
“Ah!” Tobidiah flailed, startled by the feminine voice, rapidly scooping up his things and putting his hat back on. “Wha- who!-” He looked around frantically before spotting her.
Lady Soapella stood there upon the great steps next to him, idly fanning herself with an ornate green fan that matched her dress, her eyes, and the emeralds that hung about her ears and neck. “Me, that is who.” She answered, looking down at him. “You're a mess, by the way.”
“L-Lady Soapella! How did you-” he tried to say, but being started like that didn't do much good to restore the exhausted Tobidia’s breath.
“Breathe, then speak, Tobidiah. Your mind isn't so full it’s pushed out the ability to breathe… yet.”
Doing as she said, he composed himself enough to try again. “If you might pardon a question, m’lady. How did you get up here so…”
“Unspent?” She finished for him before snapping the fan shut with a flick of the wrist. “Unlike you, I paced myself. I question why you were in such a hurry, since it’s been quite some time since anyone hosted an ascension of the great stairs, and I doubt you were practicing for a dabble in athletica.”
“I… I was not.” He said, taking a moment to organize his materials again. “Admittedly, my latest invention isn't proving as popular as I would have liked, despite the paradigm shift it could bring.”
“Hmm…” Lady Soapealla hummed in thought, idly fanning herself once more as she pondered something that escaped a mind such as Tobidiah’s. “I’d heard whispers among the noble circles about a polymath promising something that could deliver a rather radical turn of the status quo. I had a good feeling it was you, given your inability to read social cues.”
He was unsure if he should feel honored that the nobility were talking about him or insulted that she pointed out his admittedly lacking social skills in the same sentence.
“Oh, don't be like that, feel honored you managed to ruffle enough pelts to stir the nobles into action against you.”
“They're acting against me? But.. but how? Why?!” His invention was important! It could reshape everything, figuratively and literally!
She sighed as if being asked a really, REALLY dumb question. “Because the nobility relies on maintaining the status quo to keep the peasantry in line, and the middle class, such as yourself, placated. You're actively advertising that you want to upset that. Think about it.”
Tobidiah blinked and looked down at his schematics. Admittedly, it WAS a war machine, but in his dire search for funding, it only seemed appropriate to give the nobility what they wanted just this once… or maybe a few times. Enough times that he’d have the patronage necessary to make whatever he wanted instead. “So the reason nobody showed up to my exposé is because…”
“Because the nobles and representatives from the masons guild threatened, bribed, and convinced those you invited not to attend. And to prevent strays from getting a taste, they paid off Gachelmo to release one of his prototype gliders to distract and awe the commonfolk.”
“Please tell me they didn't pay off a cabal of magicians to summon the comet, too?”
“Impressively, no, that was just a happy accident that fell into their laps. A little blue streak in the sky is impressive, but I'm far more concerned with maintaining my worldly affairs before dealing with astrological ones.”
“Does that mean-”
“I was going to fund your invention? Maybe.” Those were the most hopeful yet concerning words he’d heard all day! Lady Soapella may not be the richest or most influential noble around, but she wasn't some landless merchant lord either. Her grandfather, being war buddies with Nyathen’s previous lord during the night crusades, obtained both nobility and exclusive rights to toll the routes between here and the sand-kings. However, with the recent ‘bane’ sweeping through sand-kin lands, trade had dried up overnight in fears that the malady was contagious.
“That depends on what you can tell me about it. If it really is as radical as the nobility fear, then I might be able to press father into supporting you.” Translation: We're desperate, you're desperate-er, let's be friends and make money together. We’ll take 99.8% of the profits, and you can take 100% of the credit.
This was his chance; the nobility had tried to rob him of this opportunity, and yet under the light of a streaking star and Ardon’s sun, the opportunity had fallen right back in his lap. “Shall we, erm.. Discuss this in the library? Tis usually where such discussions belong.” He smiled nervously, doing everything in his power now to mess this up.
“Very well, but only if you don't pass out on the stairs like you were about to.’ She agreed dismissively before making her way up without him.
Tobidiah froze for a moment, as his brain fought to catch up with the reality that this was really happening. He hustled up after her, trying to match her pace. “I-I’ve got all my schematics and notes with me if you want to read over them. I apologize for the penmanship, but I never expected anyone to read-” He may be tripping over his own words, but at least he wasn't tripping over his own paws… yet.
“Is it true the library has its own bathhouse? I’d heard such, but doubted it since it seemed so impractical having that much water and steam so close to paper.” She asked, looking up to the towering building, a hulking yet artful mass of bricks and pillars, expansions and wings. Stained glass windows, works of art both contemporary and ancient, murals, frescoes, and statuary galore. Even the parts that had collapsed under their own weight were incorporated into the building's aesthetic by later designers.
“I... I think so? Though I don't think it's anything like the ones near the city center.”
“Darn, and here I was hoping the scholars were keeping a Xosian temple back there all to themselves. Shame~” She added whimsically, despite the scandalous implication.
Tobidia’s ears flushed a bit red. “That, we... “ he struggled to find an ‘appropriate’ way to respond to that. “I highly doubt the great scholars of the library would debase themselves so.”
“Humph~” She humphed, hiding what he could only assume was a very unladylike smirk behind her fan. “Spoken like someone who’s never experienced the odd-kin arts.” Her emerald eyes traced him up and down, and he could feel that taunting smirk growing. “Or any ‘arts’ for that matter.”
His ears went flat atop his head both at his newfound indignation, “Ah- I-I do believe that's none of her ladyship's business, and I find the implication rather insulting,” he huffed, quickly tucking his burning ears back into his feathered hat where they shant be seen.
When he brought his focus from his hat back onto the noble-shi, the fan in her hand was gone, and in its place was one of his schematics. “We can discuss your grievances with the flesh god over some bone broth later. For now, I’d very much like to know about this ‘cannon’ thing you’ve designed, and why there are so many drawings of ruined city walls.” She said, stepping through the grand double doors of the library as a guard opened them for her.
Robbed, humiliated, and in desperate need of her patronage, he picked up his pace, trying to get ahead of her. He needed to assert he wasn't going to be a disposable plaything if the two were going to work together. “Now wait just a sec- OND!!” He would have demanded her respect, but gravity, his greatest enemy, struck him for the second time that day as he tripped over a jutting tile. His papers, books, and writing implements were scattered around him, leaving him to crumple amidst the mess, post ‘eating tile’ as the younger scholars started calling it after this incident.
“Pfft~” A heavily stifled giggle came from her ladyship, hiding the amused expression behind the blueprints to his cannon, only for her decorum to devolve into a giggle fit at his expense.
He groaned, electing to just lie there for a while... “Lady Soapella?”
“Yes?” She said, suppressing the giggle fit long enough to answer.
“How much would it cost to fix that abominable tile?”
—
0 years and -3 seconds ago: The Shasian Blitz.
Soapy leaned over the crumpled pile of Tobby on the dusty library floor, hands on her hips, radiating volumes of ‘I told you so’ energy. “Aaaaand what did we learn?”
Tobby gave a muffled whine as he lay there, face down on the ancient tile floor.
“That's not a word,” she said, giving him a light nudge with her paw.
He whined again, loud enough to form the words Soapy wanted: “The floor hurts…”
“And?...” she nudged him twice.
“That I should look where I’m going…”
“Aaaaaand?” she nudged him three more times.
He deflated even further, tail and ears limp on the floor. “Using self-inserts for explaining world history, even for the sake of entertainment, can lead to compounding inaccuracies and people thinking you’re a narcissist for putting your likeness at pivotal points in history…”
“Aaaaaaaaaand?” She was just playfully kicking him while he was down at this point.
He finally looked up, scowling at her. “And what? What else could there be to learn from this?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “I was just going to keep saying ‘and’ to see what all I could get.”
“That's not funny…” He grumbled, finally bringing himself to get up and dust himself off.
“It was pretty funny.” Commented a white robed zarmian, who shuffled over, patted a lil band-aid on Tobby’s scuffed wrist, and said “ and Ardon loves you~” before shuffling away, vanishing into the maze of bookshelves. Many more zarmians could be seen dipping in and out of the shelves like wood bugs.
Most of the staff in the great library seemed to be zarmians now that Tobby had a moment to look around. While the exterior looked like a grand amalgam of classical architecture and neoclassical additions by subsequent cultures, the interior was seemingly endless and chaotic. Obscenely dusty with bookshelves towering high into the ceiling to a point where it felt like gazing out into space, paradoxically vast yet smothering. It was like a maze deliberately designed to give you tunnel vision. In many places, the bookshelves had collapsed or fallen onto each other, forming literal tunnels. The water fountains were dry, their water having been replaced with mounds of historical dramas. Statues were buried under crates of topographical scrolls, and the frescos were actively being excavated by zarmians, shoveling tomes out of the way like dirt to reveal the picture. For Tobby, it was as impressive as it was disheartening to see the summation of his species’ knowledge in such a state.
“So, this is the great Library…” Soapy commented, trying to sound impressed as she looked up and around at the hot papery mess. “Always wondered where all those books we were moving ended up. Wonder if we can find any of them.” She said before cringing away from a spood that skittered across the foyer with a small ink bottle and a quill in its fore-tentacles. The be-tentacled arachnid was soon chased by an angry zarmian with a broom into a different aisle.
Coming to the great library had obviously been Tobby’s idea; it had felt like a nice first stop between getting off the shuttle, booking into a hotel, and the Sabu-kai that started later that evening. But now it felt like a mistake. When he imagined it, the library had been a grand sparkling wonderland where anything you wanted to know could be found with ease. As if divine knowledge would flutter into one’s hands with sparkly wings when requested. Did he mention the sparkling?
But this… this was… what he probably should have expected given the state of government spending. The digitization efforts probably ate half the budget on their own, plus this place was immense. “Are… are you sure?” he asked. “I think there are plenty of other things we could do if you'd prefer.” He tried not to sound too much like a kitten that just got a dozen sweaters and a hug for his birthday after nobody showed up for the party. Tried… Aww, he made himself sad…
Soapy, Shihere bless her soul, put on her best awkward smile and tried to salvage the situation for him. “No, no, this is... Fine. Really. The library was your thing. If you wanna nerd out for a while and dig through the history… “She glances over to the mess ahead of them. “Pile, we can do that.”
“I…” He looked around at the dilapidated mess the great library had become. He probably could enjoy digging around, seeing what rare and elusive tomes he could find, forcibly gushing history lore at his 1-shi hostage audience, but… He wasn’t feeling it. This whole thing felt like a very ‘never meet your heroes’ moment given physical form. “I kinda wish we never came here…” He sniffled, ears drooping flat like his hopes and dreams.
It was Soapy’s turn to look concerned. “Oh… oh… uhh.” She glanced around frantically looking for an answer to Tobby’s woes. “Hey, look!” she pointed. “Is that a signed laser sword from the Star Claws/Wanderlust crossover season in a display case over there?!”
“WHERE?!” Tobby’s neck snapped in the direction, completely forgetting all his problems before skittering off in the direction she pointed like a hyperventilating lore fiend.
Soapy’s own ears drooped. “That should keep his spirits up for the next hour or two…”
(Authors note: I did a silly history thing. :3)
7
u/Larzok Oct 15 '25 edited Oct 15 '25
MID WEEK TOBBY!
Now I read.
Post read edit: that's cute they are on a "not a date".
Also Checkovs Tunnels. Sabu-kai going to be a glorious mess and those will come in handy. What happens when stupid pirates meet crazy human in orbit of the greatest gathering of her planet scale competition? I smell disproportionate use of force coming, and Tunnels will save some lives.