Disclaimer: I am not Terry Pratchett. I will never be Terry Pratchett. I have been forced, with great reluctance, to admit this. These characters and settings which achieve semblance of life in my hands, could not truly live, or at least truly achieve the undeadness that is their own, without Pratchett's words behind them.
This is my first Discworld fan fiction. Please tell me if you see the characters the same way I do.
And now, because there has been confusion, here is a list of all the characters even mentioned, and the credit due for their creation:
I have borrowed many from the twisted ingeniousness of Terry Pratchett, including: Commander Sir Samuel Vimes; Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson; Havelock Vetinari; Leonard da Quirm; Lord Downey; Darktan; Sardines; Bestbefore; Bitesize; Skrp; Wee Mad Arthur; Downspout; Keith; Malicia Grimm (seen only as Girl with Frying Pan); possibly the Librarian; and this version of DEATH. List may be amended later.
I have used the indubitable Pterry's style to create my own Discworld inhabitants, such as: Cornflakes; Apply Liberally; Mantis; Lord Trinton Bezoar Rithtake III and his Servant; Jack "Nostrils" Jackson and the associated Dwarf; Reek; Kevin; Verland Spacks and his Bodyguard; Vrrkeh; Rth; Encks; Lord Zandemere; Band of Musicians. List may be amended later.
Chapter One
***
Commander Sir Samuel Vimes and Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson walked along the streets of Ankh-Morpork. They were doing what Watchmen did best - looking, and listening, and keeping out of trouble. Of course, thought Vimes, the days are long gone when that was all we did. This city would never be anything less than a cesspit; but even they have to get mucked out once in a while. And someone's got to do the job.
Vimes glanced at the captain, walking beside him with a slight smile on his face, greeting everyone he knew, which was everyone. Carrot didn't see the city that way. He only saw the best of it, or appeared to; and he loved the city. Vimes, on the other hand, only saw the worst, or pretended to; and he loved it too.
They strolled down an alley near the Ankh, the river so dirty that it only moved faster than the ground around it because it was slightly damper. Vimes would have said the air was particularly foul, and Carrot would have commented on the unique vertiginous* growth.
[*He meant to say 'verdurous,' but he was closer the first time. 'Verdurous' means 'covered in the greenness of vegetation.' 'Vertiginous' means 'nauseating.']
Suddenly, a small furry shape darted out in front of them, bowed, and said in a squeak of a voice, "Good morning, sirs!" Vimes noticed that it was wearing a tiny gold badge on a chain. The two watchmen stopped and stared. The rat, for so it appeared to be, continued. "Lieutenant Cornflakes, Bad Blintz City Watch, at your service, sir."
"I haven't been drinking again, have I?" asked Vimes quietly.
"No, sir," said Carrot, his face a blank.
"I didn't think so. Do you see a rat wearing a badge, who says his name is Cornflakes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right, then," Vimes said, and he got down on one knee. "Good morning, Lieutenant. I'm Commander Vimes. Ah...pardon me, but I've never seen a watchman, er, watchperson, er, member of the watch of your species before."
"Yes, sir, I expect not. Even in Bad Blintz, it takes people by surprise." Cornflakes turned to Carrot. "And who is your noble companion?" he asked.
Vimes looked at the captain expectantly. Carrot was still standing, wooden-faced, staring at the small lieutenant.
"But - but you're a rat!" Carrot said with a worried expression.
"Captain Carrot, are you feeling all right?" Vimes asked in confusion. Carrot was usually the first to welcome a new face to the Watch, no matter if it had fur on, or fangs, or was two feet from the ground, or made of granite and just as thick. What was it about this particular shape that made the man act this way? Then it hit him. "Ah," he said, "You'll have to excuse the captain. He's a dwarf, by adoption."
"Dwarves!" squeaked Cornflakes, and shrunk from them in horror.
Vimes looked from one of his companions to the other. It was odd enough to be in this situation at all, but to be the one accepting it, for him, was like waking up to find that someone had stolen your skin in the night, and you were wearing someone else's. He sighed, and decided to put aside his questions for the moment. This was just like any other argument between two watchmen who decided they were too different and couldn't live in the same universe.
"All right," he said. "Everything's fine. No one is going to get eaten. We have humans, dwarves, werewolves, zombies, golems, trolls, and vampires in the watch, and we don't eat each other. Why would we start now? Right, Captain?"
Carrot started. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It's just - I'm not used to - of course all beings are entitled to - er - but a rat?"
"I'm all right, really," said the rat, breathing hard. "The city is just so - different - now. I used to always follow my instinct and run. Now I have to stop and think. It's surprising how much harder it is."
"I think," said Vimes, "I know exactly what you mean."
***
A man walked down the road outside the Thieves' Guild. He was as unremarkable as pie. He was also leaning on a windowsill. A second later, he wasn't. No one noticed.
This is my first Discworld fan fiction. Please tell me if you see the characters the same way I do.
And now, because there has been confusion, here is a list of all the characters even mentioned, and the credit due for their creation:
I have borrowed many from the twisted ingeniousness of Terry Pratchett, including: Commander Sir Samuel Vimes; Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson; Havelock Vetinari; Leonard da Quirm; Lord Downey; Darktan; Sardines; Bestbefore; Bitesize; Skrp; Wee Mad Arthur; Downspout; Keith; Malicia Grimm (seen only as Girl with Frying Pan); possibly the Librarian; and this version of DEATH. List may be amended later.
I have used the indubitable Pterry's style to create my own Discworld inhabitants, such as: Cornflakes; Apply Liberally; Mantis; Lord Trinton Bezoar Rithtake III and his Servant; Jack "Nostrils" Jackson and the associated Dwarf; Reek; Kevin; Verland Spacks and his Bodyguard; Vrrkeh; Rth; Encks; Lord Zandemere; Band of Musicians. List may be amended later.
Chapter One
***
Commander Sir Samuel Vimes and Captain Carrot Ironfoundersson walked along the streets of Ankh-Morpork. They were doing what Watchmen did best - looking, and listening, and keeping out of trouble. Of course, thought Vimes, the days are long gone when that was all we did. This city would never be anything less than a cesspit; but even they have to get mucked out once in a while. And someone's got to do the job.
Vimes glanced at the captain, walking beside him with a slight smile on his face, greeting everyone he knew, which was everyone. Carrot didn't see the city that way. He only saw the best of it, or appeared to; and he loved the city. Vimes, on the other hand, only saw the worst, or pretended to; and he loved it too.
They strolled down an alley near the Ankh, the river so dirty that it only moved faster than the ground around it because it was slightly damper. Vimes would have said the air was particularly foul, and Carrot would have commented on the unique vertiginous* growth.
[*He meant to say 'verdurous,' but he was closer the first time. 'Verdurous' means 'covered in the greenness of vegetation.' 'Vertiginous' means 'nauseating.']
Suddenly, a small furry shape darted out in front of them, bowed, and said in a squeak of a voice, "Good morning, sirs!" Vimes noticed that it was wearing a tiny gold badge on a chain. The two watchmen stopped and stared. The rat, for so it appeared to be, continued. "Lieutenant Cornflakes, Bad Blintz City Watch, at your service, sir."
"I haven't been drinking again, have I?" asked Vimes quietly.
"No, sir," said Carrot, his face a blank.
"I didn't think so. Do you see a rat wearing a badge, who says his name is Cornflakes?"
"Yes, sir."
"Right, then," Vimes said, and he got down on one knee. "Good morning, Lieutenant. I'm Commander Vimes. Ah...pardon me, but I've never seen a watchman, er, watchperson, er, member of the watch of your species before."
"Yes, sir, I expect not. Even in Bad Blintz, it takes people by surprise." Cornflakes turned to Carrot. "And who is your noble companion?" he asked.
Vimes looked at the captain expectantly. Carrot was still standing, wooden-faced, staring at the small lieutenant.
"But - but you're a rat!" Carrot said with a worried expression.
"Captain Carrot, are you feeling all right?" Vimes asked in confusion. Carrot was usually the first to welcome a new face to the Watch, no matter if it had fur on, or fangs, or was two feet from the ground, or made of granite and just as thick. What was it about this particular shape that made the man act this way? Then it hit him. "Ah," he said, "You'll have to excuse the captain. He's a dwarf, by adoption."
"Dwarves!" squeaked Cornflakes, and shrunk from them in horror.
Vimes looked from one of his companions to the other. It was odd enough to be in this situation at all, but to be the one accepting it, for him, was like waking up to find that someone had stolen your skin in the night, and you were wearing someone else's. He sighed, and decided to put aside his questions for the moment. This was just like any other argument between two watchmen who decided they were too different and couldn't live in the same universe.
"All right," he said. "Everything's fine. No one is going to get eaten. We have humans, dwarves, werewolves, zombies, golems, trolls, and vampires in the watch, and we don't eat each other. Why would we start now? Right, Captain?"
Carrot started. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It's just - I'm not used to - of course all beings are entitled to - er - but a rat?"
"I'm all right, really," said the rat, breathing hard. "The city is just so - different - now. I used to always follow my instinct and run. Now I have to stop and think. It's surprising how much harder it is."
"I think," said Vimes, "I know exactly what you mean."
***
A man walked down the road outside the Thieves' Guild. He was as unremarkable as pie. He was also leaning on a windowsill. A second later, he wasn't. No one noticed.
