I request a SPOT D: I shall make.... A BARD!
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- Tangletail 10 yrs ago
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8 yrs ago
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Game halfway done: but on pause
8 yrs ago
Programming a Wasteland/Fallout 1&2 style game. Going so and so.
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This looks fun... Might go full weird on the advisor and send a bard
A looot of female soldiers... I might change my character to male at this rate XD.
Who'd thought writing a background for a Mass Effect Character would be a long and arduous journey :U.
Almost done with the Human Engineer. A female brick house named Tammi.
Almost done with the Human Engineer. A female brick house named Tammi.
Quite a few Infiltrators o.o And two soldiers? There's not enough gun...
I'm gonna roll with an Engineer. Make em a strong defensive specialist when they need to defend objectives. Heavy focus on bunkering with turrets and defensive boost, plus some specialist tools.
I'm gonna roll with an Engineer. Make em a strong defensive specialist when they need to defend objectives. Heavy focus on bunkering with turrets and defensive boost, plus some specialist tools.
It had been only some small amount of time since Raux and the other beastkin monk had ended their conversation. Curiously, she found herself wondering on her own existance once more. Not over an existential questions like she had in the past, about what she was… or what she looked like. But more over what the monk had meant when he asked her if she thought she was blind. It was a strange question to ask. If she were to remove the wraps from her eyes, and open them. She’d see nothing.
Well… that was not entirely true. There were some things she -could- see. And not by senses, but with her eyes. She could not see the trees, people, animals, or any other objects. But she could see… something when she looked up towards the sky. In an endless void were an array of speckles that breaks up the dominating dark mass. She’d call them stars… if only by the description of what she was told about them. Vibrant, beautiful, and always fixed in place. Yet these specs cared not for the time of day.
She’d always find new ones hovering over places she’d deem important. Or something that she’d like to visit again in the future. And that often meant that a city had a small cluster of ‘stars’ over them that can be seen in the horizon.
Her whiskers twitched as her thoughts finally ran away from her… bringing her back to reality. It was nice to have companions again in traveling. But.. unlike the delightful company of the bard she had been with previously. This lot seemed short spoken, grim faced, and not likely to speak unless spoken too. So… she quickly hurried up to the large creature and asked for a lift.
When it was granted, she had an akward climb up. One reason...was that she had never climbed on something’s back. Two… she had completely mispredicted how large the capybikin was, and managed to slam her own muzzle into his side. But eventually, she had clambered up after feeling his body for a moment to guage his height… and to appreciate the solid mass along with fluff.
A moment later, and she had the lute out that her old companion had given her. She strummed through several notes at once… and allowed them to drift through the air. Her ears flickered as she listened to each of the notes, ready to tune what ever did not sound correct. However… she paused when a note returned to her a bit distorted. She remained silent… and soon she heard additional footsteps. She pursed her lips… but played a song anyways.
The air was alive with an energetic song that sought only to break the silence… if only for a few minutes. And when the song was finally over… she listened once more. There were those footsteps again… but… it sounded like thre was another pair. Wandering away?
“Be advised, my companions,” she hummed softly as she continued to play her song. “I hear footsteps that do not belong to any of us. We’re not alone.”
Well… that was not entirely true. There were some things she -could- see. And not by senses, but with her eyes. She could not see the trees, people, animals, or any other objects. But she could see… something when she looked up towards the sky. In an endless void were an array of speckles that breaks up the dominating dark mass. She’d call them stars… if only by the description of what she was told about them. Vibrant, beautiful, and always fixed in place. Yet these specs cared not for the time of day.
She’d always find new ones hovering over places she’d deem important. Or something that she’d like to visit again in the future. And that often meant that a city had a small cluster of ‘stars’ over them that can be seen in the horizon.
Her whiskers twitched as her thoughts finally ran away from her… bringing her back to reality. It was nice to have companions again in traveling. But.. unlike the delightful company of the bard she had been with previously. This lot seemed short spoken, grim faced, and not likely to speak unless spoken too. So… she quickly hurried up to the large creature and asked for a lift.
When it was granted, she had an akward climb up. One reason...was that she had never climbed on something’s back. Two… she had completely mispredicted how large the capybikin was, and managed to slam her own muzzle into his side. But eventually, she had clambered up after feeling his body for a moment to guage his height… and to appreciate the solid mass along with fluff.
A moment later, and she had the lute out that her old companion had given her. She strummed through several notes at once… and allowed them to drift through the air. Her ears flickered as she listened to each of the notes, ready to tune what ever did not sound correct. However… she paused when a note returned to her a bit distorted. She remained silent… and soon she heard additional footsteps. She pursed her lips… but played a song anyways.
The air was alive with an energetic song that sought only to break the silence… if only for a few minutes. And when the song was finally over… she listened once more. There were those footsteps again… but… it sounded like thre was another pair. Wandering away?
“Be advised, my companions,” she hummed softly as she continued to play her song. “I hear footsteps that do not belong to any of us. We’re not alone.”
The words of Raux’s master echoed through her head. She took the lesson to heart in the past, and is now relaying such valuable wisdom onto an unwilling student. The lesson? Pain is an excellent teacher. Though subtle, she gave the poor fool a fair warning. Her choice of wording, describing herself as a cornered animal, or prey, was meant as a soft hint to not be taken so lightly. And it seems that the age of a dark elf, not that she’d know he’s a dark elf, did not grant such wisdom.
One by one her fist struck home with a sickening crack. She smelt blood in the air. She felt droplets that had been sprayed from lacerations she created. After one final strike, she planted her arm into the grass and flipped her body through the air to reposition herself. She was no longer straddling the man,but instead was positioned hovering over his head with a fist raised high for one final and fatal blow. The muscles in her arm quivered with energy as she drew on her full strength.
But the fist did not fall. The sound of quick feet and shuffling instilled a moment of hesitation. The sounds of pitiful struggling was quick to completely capture the beastkin’s attention. Her fist lowered and her head lifted. Her ears frantically swiveling to pick up the disturbance's direction. That was when she heard a voice. Talk of someone’s execution. Raux had quickly clutched the drow, who kindly introduced himself as Sorna by the throat and prepped to raise him for ransome for the captive’s lives. But… that seemed unnecessary. She felt him struggle, and heard a hand raise into the air.
This… was a moment in her life if any where she hated her blindness. He could not see what he was doing, and instinct forced her to raise a hand and quickly clutch the arm. Normally… she’d waste no time in breaking it. But the feeling of the muscles felt completely off. Was he not reaching for a knife? Her jaws parted in a look of bewilderment, and frustration. Her body quivered with adrenaline and the anticipation of an assault… but nothing came. Instead she only heard a sigh of relief. Did the men back off? She smelt no fresh blood being drawn, the air did not taste anymore of iron, and there were no sounds of choking gasps of air.
Raux, unable to completely discern the situation, set her jaws and released the defeated drow. A sign of mercy, choosing not to destroy a possible threat for what might be a display of kindess. She rose to her feet, and gave the bloodied gentleman a bow. A sign of respect. Despite the pummeling, a fight was still a fight, and he had displayed honor by openly challenging him. Even if she had killed him, he would not forget him, and she’d bury him herself.
She lifted herself and her staff from the ground, and turned her nose towards the grew of thugs and the two girls. She gave a sniff. They all smelled strongly of salt, water, and baked skin. All of them were men of the sea. She couldn’t identify any of them apart, as not a one had spoken a word. She sighed, and shook her head. Two individuals in this mass were nearly in danger, this wasn’t something she would be allowed to ignore.
She craned her head and spoke out. Her voice was soft, and spoke of a gentleheart somewhere despite the brutal display. But it carried through the air very clearly, and with the charisma of a priest’s apprentice. “To those whom’s executions were waylaid, you are welcome to come with me at the price of simply stating your name. You may find me odd, but at least a small step up from your current company. Anyone who wishes to stop them from chosing their own fate, I will personally relieve of and strangle you with your intestines. That is no threat, it is a promise.”
With that she spun on her heels and felt her way back to the group, with both scent and touch. And when she retuned, she had found that there were new additions. The capybkin who was trying to convince the warlord to come. And a man who’s behavior was nostalgic and inspired homesickness. He reminded her heavily of one of her caretaker’s and master’s back in the monestary. A shrewd and blunt man who disliked screwing around. The Raksha couldn’t help but feel embarassed. Her ears spun and laid flat on her skull as she looked away.
It wasn’t their fault that some lot decided to attack a group she decided to follow without permission. Soon she looked up when she heard two leave. She took a sniff in the air… the man who had scolded them, and the one dressed in a full harness on horse back. She turned back to the capybkin, and slowly tilted her head.
“My sincerest apologies for stepping out of line, and speaking over matters I have no knowledge of. But I am afraid that persuasion only works on those who wishes to be persuaded. I can not see his face… but his scent… his scent and heartbeat is that of a man who’s been defeated in a war not possible in the physical realm. I do not believe mere words will persuade him. This is a wound he'll need to heal himself.”
One by one her fist struck home with a sickening crack. She smelt blood in the air. She felt droplets that had been sprayed from lacerations she created. After one final strike, she planted her arm into the grass and flipped her body through the air to reposition herself. She was no longer straddling the man,but instead was positioned hovering over his head with a fist raised high for one final and fatal blow. The muscles in her arm quivered with energy as she drew on her full strength.
But the fist did not fall. The sound of quick feet and shuffling instilled a moment of hesitation. The sounds of pitiful struggling was quick to completely capture the beastkin’s attention. Her fist lowered and her head lifted. Her ears frantically swiveling to pick up the disturbance's direction. That was when she heard a voice. Talk of someone’s execution. Raux had quickly clutched the drow, who kindly introduced himself as Sorna by the throat and prepped to raise him for ransome for the captive’s lives. But… that seemed unnecessary. She felt him struggle, and heard a hand raise into the air.
This… was a moment in her life if any where she hated her blindness. He could not see what he was doing, and instinct forced her to raise a hand and quickly clutch the arm. Normally… she’d waste no time in breaking it. But the feeling of the muscles felt completely off. Was he not reaching for a knife? Her jaws parted in a look of bewilderment, and frustration. Her body quivered with adrenaline and the anticipation of an assault… but nothing came. Instead she only heard a sigh of relief. Did the men back off? She smelt no fresh blood being drawn, the air did not taste anymore of iron, and there were no sounds of choking gasps of air.
Raux, unable to completely discern the situation, set her jaws and released the defeated drow. A sign of mercy, choosing not to destroy a possible threat for what might be a display of kindess. She rose to her feet, and gave the bloodied gentleman a bow. A sign of respect. Despite the pummeling, a fight was still a fight, and he had displayed honor by openly challenging him. Even if she had killed him, he would not forget him, and she’d bury him herself.
She lifted herself and her staff from the ground, and turned her nose towards the grew of thugs and the two girls. She gave a sniff. They all smelled strongly of salt, water, and baked skin. All of them were men of the sea. She couldn’t identify any of them apart, as not a one had spoken a word. She sighed, and shook her head. Two individuals in this mass were nearly in danger, this wasn’t something she would be allowed to ignore.
She craned her head and spoke out. Her voice was soft, and spoke of a gentleheart somewhere despite the brutal display. But it carried through the air very clearly, and with the charisma of a priest’s apprentice. “To those whom’s executions were waylaid, you are welcome to come with me at the price of simply stating your name. You may find me odd, but at least a small step up from your current company. Anyone who wishes to stop them from chosing their own fate, I will personally relieve of and strangle you with your intestines. That is no threat, it is a promise.”
With that she spun on her heels and felt her way back to the group, with both scent and touch. And when she retuned, she had found that there were new additions. The capybkin who was trying to convince the warlord to come. And a man who’s behavior was nostalgic and inspired homesickness. He reminded her heavily of one of her caretaker’s and master’s back in the monestary. A shrewd and blunt man who disliked screwing around. The Raksha couldn’t help but feel embarassed. Her ears spun and laid flat on her skull as she looked away.
It wasn’t their fault that some lot decided to attack a group she decided to follow without permission. Soon she looked up when she heard two leave. She took a sniff in the air… the man who had scolded them, and the one dressed in a full harness on horse back. She turned back to the capybkin, and slowly tilted her head.
“My sincerest apologies for stepping out of line, and speaking over matters I have no knowledge of. But I am afraid that persuasion only works on those who wishes to be persuaded. I can not see his face… but his scent… his scent and heartbeat is that of a man who’s been defeated in a war not possible in the physical realm. I do not believe mere words will persuade him. This is a wound he'll need to heal himself.”
Ok, this seems like a fun and hilarious RP. Got any room for one more? I'm thinking of a Kobold Tinkerer.
Kobold = Tiny 3-4ft tall bipedal dragon worshiping lizard thing.
Kobold = Tiny 3-4ft tall bipedal dragon worshiping lizard thing.
Not now? What did this older gentleman mean not now? It was very important for her to know someone’s name. She could not describe someone to another by their scent. What was she to say exactly? Tell him that she was looking for a rough sounding man that smells like iron and bitterness? She wouldn’t be able to see the person’s expression.. But she had an idea. And by an idea… she really wasn’t sure anymore. But it must be very unkind. “Yes. Now. A name is your face, and body to a blind woman.”
She politely refrained from responding to Leouric, and only spared him a look before turning her head onto the sound of numerous feet pounding the muck. Among the barking and cawing of voices, the woman smelled a familiar scent. A drunken beard with legs, one of the companions to come. From the sound of it, he was of this shanty town’s guard. Though one question did arise. “What do I drop? I am unarmed.”
She remained still… waiting for the situation to disarm its self. But making no assumptions. While her sense of smell was partially blocked by a horse in rut, her ears could hear it all. The fast beating of hearts. The tightening of fingers that turned their knuckles white. The splintering of wood. And then finally, the sound of an object whirling in the air. “DOWN!” she barked, though she did not move. The sound of the weapon was slowly growing softer, not louder. It was not heading towards her.
It happened quickly. The metalic scent of blood. The sound of a compressing rib cage. Raux huffed a breath of air as she pulled a hand up to her own muzzle. The thumb snaked its way under the wrappings of her blindfold and pulled it back down over her useless eyes. Nothing approached her, and that was fine. But the confusion of sounds and the smell of the horse made things particularly… blurry for the monk.
But. There was something she was able to pick up on. Sounds of soft footsteps with a heart beat that did not match. A sneaky someone? Yes indeed. It seems that the one known as sneak blood was casually making his way around in the confusion. Then he drew in closer with his eyes settled on Reed. And closer… and closer.
The blind monk was not having it. Her staff was now taken in both hands and raised up from the ground, the bunt now hovering just closer as she quickly closed the distance. Before the man can get in striking range, she released the quarterstaff with one hand, and gave the bottom of the shaft a kick.
The weapon spun in her hand and planted an end firmly into the male’s collar bone. Feeling the resistance, she gave a hard shove to force him back and stepped forward. Her ears flicked when she heard an arm raised and metal ringing as it was flipped caught by the blade. She stepped to the side quickly and flicked her woolen cloak upwards.
A dagger met the heavy cloth pommel first with an audible puft, and bounced harmlessly towards the ground.
The cloak was now slown over her shoulder allowed to wrap around her neck to raise it out of the way of most of her body. And consequently showing off the scratched up and used metal plates that lined the side of her arm. And of course the worn but hard fighting gloves that covered her fist. Some areas of it stained black with old blood that periodic washing could not remove.
She spun her quarterstaff before herself, and allowed a slight embalance of weight to carry the long rod down it’s own length over her hand. When she felt the first signs of her hand nearing the end, she grabbed hold and allowed the momentum to carry it through the air and finally clapping down across her own shoulders.
“Quiet steps for a human who walks with brutes,” her voice rang softly, though now there was a rough edge to her tone. The male was in no mood for talking. His eyes glanced to his own weapon, then the bandage across the womans eyes.
Chancing his luck he charged. The weapon spun delicately in his fingers and he made a slash. The monk responded with stepping asside, her foot planting on his second dagger to hold it to the ground. Now closer, she could hear the weapon spin again and rise up. She tilted her head thoughtfully, finding it odd that the weapon was posed so high… when he was so far away.
Her toe wiggled feeling the edge of the dagger under her sole. It was sharp, had a few nicks in the metal that showed off use. The man was no fool it seemed. He wants his knife back, she concluded.
She allowed him to come, and when she heard a knee hit the mud she lifted her foot, and gave a pre-emptive swing. The loud crack of bone meeting bone filled the air as the thief’s arm bent unnaturally around her leg like a wrapping. The man growled out in distress.
The kick continued through, and the limb now acting as a rope drug the man along for the ride a short ways till it managed to get it’s self free. The leg raised up in the air as the monk spun her staff once more. This time it flipped through the air and tucked underneath the handling arm. The other one reached out towards the ground as her body tipped over in an overbalance.
She caught herself and allowed the momentum of the kick to swing her body about. She popped off her hand, landed on the other and continued the spin half way till the back of her leg met the back of the other’s neck. The limb quickly clamped down, the other locking her paw behind its knee - creating a vice.
The male gasped as her weight now bore down on him. His neck would have been broken if she didn’t plant a hand to catch herself. But the way she was squeezing, it was likely she had some intent to kill him. His legs kicked at the dirt, and his one good hand scratched and pulled at her fur.
“It is a shame,” She mused, her head tilting thoughtfully. Her tone was a cocktale of grim humor and a small pinch of sorrow for a man she barely knew. Her ears were flicking, searching for anyone who may draw near. “There was a good man that wished to die with his head between a woman’s thighs, I was unable to provide that wish in time. I am sure this is not what he meant, but what about you?” As if to drive the point further, she rolled to her side, her substantially larger weight easily flipping the man to his side. Now his legs kicked at the air as she squeezed as to drive a point. His face turning red and his eyes bulging. Though she had no intentions of killing him. She was just keeping him busy for now, playing with her pray. Like a house cat may toy with a captured mouse.
She politely refrained from responding to Leouric, and only spared him a look before turning her head onto the sound of numerous feet pounding the muck. Among the barking and cawing of voices, the woman smelled a familiar scent. A drunken beard with legs, one of the companions to come. From the sound of it, he was of this shanty town’s guard. Though one question did arise. “What do I drop? I am unarmed.”
She remained still… waiting for the situation to disarm its self. But making no assumptions. While her sense of smell was partially blocked by a horse in rut, her ears could hear it all. The fast beating of hearts. The tightening of fingers that turned their knuckles white. The splintering of wood. And then finally, the sound of an object whirling in the air. “DOWN!” she barked, though she did not move. The sound of the weapon was slowly growing softer, not louder. It was not heading towards her.
It happened quickly. The metalic scent of blood. The sound of a compressing rib cage. Raux huffed a breath of air as she pulled a hand up to her own muzzle. The thumb snaked its way under the wrappings of her blindfold and pulled it back down over her useless eyes. Nothing approached her, and that was fine. But the confusion of sounds and the smell of the horse made things particularly… blurry for the monk.
But. There was something she was able to pick up on. Sounds of soft footsteps with a heart beat that did not match. A sneaky someone? Yes indeed. It seems that the one known as sneak blood was casually making his way around in the confusion. Then he drew in closer with his eyes settled on Reed. And closer… and closer.
The blind monk was not having it. Her staff was now taken in both hands and raised up from the ground, the bunt now hovering just closer as she quickly closed the distance. Before the man can get in striking range, she released the quarterstaff with one hand, and gave the bottom of the shaft a kick.
The weapon spun in her hand and planted an end firmly into the male’s collar bone. Feeling the resistance, she gave a hard shove to force him back and stepped forward. Her ears flicked when she heard an arm raised and metal ringing as it was flipped caught by the blade. She stepped to the side quickly and flicked her woolen cloak upwards.
A dagger met the heavy cloth pommel first with an audible puft, and bounced harmlessly towards the ground.
The cloak was now slown over her shoulder allowed to wrap around her neck to raise it out of the way of most of her body. And consequently showing off the scratched up and used metal plates that lined the side of her arm. And of course the worn but hard fighting gloves that covered her fist. Some areas of it stained black with old blood that periodic washing could not remove.
She spun her quarterstaff before herself, and allowed a slight embalance of weight to carry the long rod down it’s own length over her hand. When she felt the first signs of her hand nearing the end, she grabbed hold and allowed the momentum to carry it through the air and finally clapping down across her own shoulders.
“Quiet steps for a human who walks with brutes,” her voice rang softly, though now there was a rough edge to her tone. The male was in no mood for talking. His eyes glanced to his own weapon, then the bandage across the womans eyes.
Chancing his luck he charged. The weapon spun delicately in his fingers and he made a slash. The monk responded with stepping asside, her foot planting on his second dagger to hold it to the ground. Now closer, she could hear the weapon spin again and rise up. She tilted her head thoughtfully, finding it odd that the weapon was posed so high… when he was so far away.
Her toe wiggled feeling the edge of the dagger under her sole. It was sharp, had a few nicks in the metal that showed off use. The man was no fool it seemed. He wants his knife back, she concluded.
She allowed him to come, and when she heard a knee hit the mud she lifted her foot, and gave a pre-emptive swing. The loud crack of bone meeting bone filled the air as the thief’s arm bent unnaturally around her leg like a wrapping. The man growled out in distress.
The kick continued through, and the limb now acting as a rope drug the man along for the ride a short ways till it managed to get it’s self free. The leg raised up in the air as the monk spun her staff once more. This time it flipped through the air and tucked underneath the handling arm. The other one reached out towards the ground as her body tipped over in an overbalance.
She caught herself and allowed the momentum of the kick to swing her body about. She popped off her hand, landed on the other and continued the spin half way till the back of her leg met the back of the other’s neck. The limb quickly clamped down, the other locking her paw behind its knee - creating a vice.
The male gasped as her weight now bore down on him. His neck would have been broken if she didn’t plant a hand to catch herself. But the way she was squeezing, it was likely she had some intent to kill him. His legs kicked at the dirt, and his one good hand scratched and pulled at her fur.
“It is a shame,” She mused, her head tilting thoughtfully. Her tone was a cocktale of grim humor and a small pinch of sorrow for a man she barely knew. Her ears were flicking, searching for anyone who may draw near. “There was a good man that wished to die with his head between a woman’s thighs, I was unable to provide that wish in time. I am sure this is not what he meant, but what about you?” As if to drive the point further, she rolled to her side, her substantially larger weight easily flipping the man to his side. Now his legs kicked at the air as she squeezed as to drive a point. His face turning red and his eyes bulging. Though she had no intentions of killing him. She was just keeping him busy for now, playing with her pray. Like a house cat may toy with a captured mouse.
Inside Szazah’s Tent
The blind monk was unsure of what to make of what was going on inside this tent. The hard voice of the man who spoke, and his dismissal of the body that she had brought told the story of a man who had seen many battles, and had lead many more to their deaths.There wasn’t much more she could lable it as other than the traits of a military leader. With a tent of a man who had been through rough times. Raux’s chin dipped downwards to look to the body on the ground. It was interesting to see such a man as this lost soul around someone like that. Perhaps something changed this leader? Which ever it was, it was unlikly she were to find out. For now, she decided to stay in case this man wished to question her about what had happened.
And so she listened. Her ears picked up the heart beats of others. She had a hard time identifying them with her nose with the scent of alcohol so strong and trapped inside this tent… but she was eventually able to make them out. The first one, and the one that stood out the most was a Capbykin. There was a strong scent of kindle and ash that lured her senses to her. If her memory served correctly she had past a tent that was burned till it was no more. There were no questions or sense of alarm among the pedestrians… so it must have been a controlled burn. He was no mere arson… the smell of blood and urbs clung to him. A doctor? Then there was likely an infection that needed to be culled.
The next… this one smelled of strong alcohol, as if the water of his sweat had been replaced by it. There was a unique scent she had trouble with identifying. Not from unfamiliarity, but from rarity. A drunken beard with legs, a companion had once told her. Colloquially known as dwarf. She wasn’t able to pick up anything that would suggest a function, but stories suggest that there is never a dwarf who couldn’t beat someone to death with a door they ripped from the hinges.
There was a human, he did not smell of alcohol. His breath smelled of herbs, and there was a rough tint to his scent. He sat away from the others. Did he mean to isolate himself? There was the scent of a horse on him. A knight? Cavalier?
An elf. His scent was unusually pleasant. He smelt clean, saved for the few dollops of sweat that would come from moving around. He was odd… Raux had all the reason to believe he was not the sort to take to hard work… but he smelt leather and iron on him. Armor and blade.
A musky dragonoid with a large hint of soot and char in the mix. It was hard to not pick this scent up. It was strong. That was not to say foul, just very noticeable. A tribal most likely. The scent spoke of a proud warrior, she could imagine him easily towering over herself. Her head tilted slowly, would he be considered average or exceptional in his tribe? His precense was definitely putting up one hell of a fight against the bitter sting of the alcohol that drifted in the air.
Another human… there wasn’t much that she could identify on him of anything significance. Perhaps he was the most normal one here. Maybe she is wrong.
Regardless… she continued to listen intently. The man spoke of a people, whom sounded familiar. Similar to the story that the bard she had traveled with had once told. Though his stories were more detailed and elaborate than just mere snow people. Bards had a way of making even the dullest things fascinating. But here it was rather… odd for her to hear such a plain tale.
In fact… she found herself recalling the story that had captivated her. The vivid imagery. The sounds so well described by weaving words intricately to forming an atomsphere. It was like she was there herself. It was a beautiful tale. And one… that now had brought her some intrigue. The bard has said that there are truth in stories and legends. Perhaps this is such a case?
But… something had caused her thoughts to come to an end. Her ears swiveled as she picked up a very light thumping. A thumping of a heartbeat somewhere behind her. She tilted her head inquisitively and turned to look to the exit, though seeing nothing. Her nostrils flared, but she couldn’t find any new scents. Well… it is possible it was a child.
And it wasn’t much longer till the speech was over. The warlord… had walked past her without a word. She supposed… she didn’t have to stay. But hearing this conversation had intrigued her. In a way… she wanted to witness this wonder for herself. She had no obligation to follow, and she was not expected to. But from what she could understand… these people who were in the tent were expendable enough that no one would care, and chasing legends no one knew was true or not.
She spun on her heals, following after the human with the eyepatch. Her ears flicked when she heard the familiar hiss of the afternoon rain hit her hood. The cool water even ran down the sides of her snout. Her nostrils flared for a moment. She picked up many different scents. But most importantly, those of the group who left. Each one had ran off in their own directions… one apparently joined by another.
She slowly sturned about and walked aimlessly through the camp. She had no plans on stopping anywhere. She simply wanted to be left to her own thoughts. She continued to poke about, her staff occasionally knocking against a stationary object to warn her of it’s presence before she tripped over it, or bumped into it. But… eventually she found herself in an area of the camp. The ground felt as if very few people often come here. Her head slowly swiveled. Her ears rotating to find any signs of distractions. And all she could hear were the sounds of children playing. Satisfied, she lifted a foot and spun on the other.
She spun in place, her staff swinging off with her momentum and sliding in her hands. Her grip tightened as she felt a notch signaling she was near the end of the length and prevented it from going any further. Her spin came to an end with the lifted leg tucking it’s foot behind the other’s knee. The staff continued with the momentum spinning around and clapping gently against the back of her kneck. Her other hand reached up to grab the free end and hold it in place.
With one deep breath, her standing leg lowered her body to the ground in a sitting position. Another deep breath, and one hand fell from the end of her staff and into her lap. The other guided the butt between her legs, and allowed the length to rest on her shoulders. The fur of her cheek lightly brushed and kissed the smooth wood. She breathed deeply once more, and soon her sightless eyes were closed behind their coverings. She drew her next breath. The world began to feel as if it was speeding up around her as she exhaled. One final breath… and it felt as if the world around her didn’t exist.
Soon, she heard her own voice in her thoughts, singing. There were no words, but a beautiful harmony echoing in the abyss. A gentle creature brushed past her hands. A light bleat drifted into her ears. She felt it stroll around from her back and into her lap. Soon she was gently petting a creature she could not see, but very clearly describe. A lamb.
The Moving; Nearly an Hour later
The lamb stirred in her lap and lifted it’s head. It quickly hopped out of Raux’s lap and landed on nothing. And as strange as this was… she heard the sounds of hooves in the abyss when the creature trotted away. The monk sighed, her breath made no sound here. Suppose it was time to return to reality.
The world soon returned with a distinct sensation. She felt and heard everything in a matter of seconds. Footsteps rapidly slapping the ground and veering off in many directions. The few curious footsteps that drew close but not near enough to wake her, before wandering off. The rain drilling into her for mere moments before finally letting up into nothing.
Her breathing returned to it’s normal rate, just as the world began to slow down. Her eyes opened. And soon she rose to a stand. She took a deep breath and gave her legs a light shake. She pushed one out to the side, and crouched down to stretch the muscles, and did the same for the other. Once done, she turned and began to retrace her steps. It wasn’t long till she was back at the area in front of the tent. The rain had stopped and her hood had been let down.
She took a sniff. The scents of those that were going on this journey were still there. But they had veered off in many directions. Following one may leave her to be tardy as she’d only be retracing their steps. She could not explain it… but instincts and simple knowledge allowed her to find her way, somewhat, in the wild. She felt a ‘tug’ that usually leads her to her next destination. The occasional whisper, or conversation guided the course of this tug to her next desired location. But in cities? It disappears. It still was not a problem as the layouts were often predictable. But here… She frowned when she found that left only one option that wasn’t foolish. An option she hated… relying on someone else.
The edge of her lips diped downwards as she turned herself to the sound of a footstep. It felt as if her pride had already slipped the noose around its own neck. She held out her hand and a hard shell meet her palm. Metal.
The soldier looked down to Raux with a raised brow. He was about to respond with a generic response and well practiced response till he realized what had stopped him. His eyes lit up, and he nearly choked on his own breath. “O-oh! A Raksha! I don’t believe I have seen many of your kind,” The man’s voice ringed out. Outside of the excitement in his tone, his voice was young with rough edges. A middle aged man with enough experience in his belt to potentially become a mercenary later for a free company when this war was over. Should he survive.
“I do not believe I have seen much of my own kin either,” Raux spoke in her soft voice. She smiled at her own small joke. “Now I do not mean to be a burdon, but is it possible that you can take me to the exit? This place…” She looked around blindly. “The layout is a bit alien to me.”
The soldier’s brow quirked confusedly till they found the wrappings covering her eyes. He made a soft sound and a nod. “Of course! But… ma’am… where do you plan to go?” Before she could answer, she felt his hand take hers. A tug and the splatter of mud told her they were moving. She felt her cheeks burn furiously, and her tail waved to display her annoyance when she stumbled along.
If he had noticed, he didn’t show it.
“An adventure,” She chirped when she managed to bring her feet back under herself, and matched the pace of the other.
The man bawked in surprise, like she had said something ridiculous. “An… an adventure?”
“Yes,” And that was all Raux said. She could feel the discomfort in the notion through the man’s hand. She could even hear him nervously scratching under his helmet.
“Uhm… miss… are you… really…” He looked behind himself down to the wrappings that covered her eyes.
The monk smiled, and moved a thumb under the wraps. She pushed the cloth away to reveal the worthless organs, and allowed her hand to fall back to her side. Now uncovered, they shifted a bit and slowly rolled to blindly follow the sound of the man’s breathing. When they stopped, he could see them clearly. Silver had completely overtaken the eyris and had completely covered the pupils. If she was born without her birth defect, she’d have greenish-blue eyes as evidence by a barely visible ring where the iris should be.
She felt the man’s hand tighten around hers.
“That…” there was a hint of pitty in his voice. Her tail flicked and her smile soon warped to a frown. The man’s voice caught in his throat when. He understood very quickly that she was one of the sorts who valued independence.
He inhaled through his teeth and spoke again. “Ma’am are you serious? It’s not safe out there!”
“I am aware.” Her expression went flat, and her gaze turned towards the direction they were heading. Her grip tightened on her staff.
“Ma’am… I can’t in good conscience let you go alone.”
The beastkin tilted her head thoughtfully. That was a curious statement. Her tongue flicked out, and slid along her hips before she spoke.
“And why not?”
“Because it is not right… you’re blind! There’s wild creatures, cliffs, rivers, and bandits! Ma’am you should know that there are some men out there so fowl they will have no mercy to give you! They will do more than take your belongings, they may try for your body or your life!”
Her ear flicked.
"But what would damage your conscience more… letting a blind woman have her freedom and live a short life and die by her own means - and be happy till the end. Or to be miserable, and taken care of. To feel as if you are a burden by forcing others to take time out of their lives?”
The man clamped his teeth together, creating an audible clack. This question just felt like a mine field. One answer would be going against his internal morals, and she’d win the argument. The other would align with his views… but give her ammo to play the guilt card on him. “Now that is not fair!”
The woman grinned, and began to giggle. “Yes… that question was designed to put you at a disadvantage.” Her head tilted to one side. “I do realize the-”
She cut herself off when her nose picked up some horrible stench. She gagged, and made a horrible noise when her hands quickly moved to clutch her nose. That horrible and overbearing musk had practically set her nerve endings on fire, and sent a swirl of nausia into her mind. She nearly collapsed to her knees from the sudden blast if the man hadn’t caught him.
“Ma’am!? Something wrong?! Ma’am!?” the soldier called out in alarm.
She raised a hand to silence him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She was able to identify it very easily. It was the scent of a stallion in rutt. It was a very sharp stench with a bitter afterbite that mingled with a smell so unique… it could only be described as ‘horse’. Pheromones teased her nose like no tomorrow, they had no effect on her, but they smelled horrible. What’s worse is they were hard to ignore each one was unique, as each one had came from a singular mare. How many mares has this damned horse been with?!
She tasted bile on her tongue when it swirled in her mouth. She swallowed, then open her jaws to take a breath. Oh what a mistake that was. She could taste it. She could taste it all. She wretched, more bile rolled on her tongue and she was quick to swallow.
“Ma’am? Are you ill?”
The Cougar like beastkin slowly shook her head. She was about to respond… but she heard a strange commotion. Someone being ordered off of their horse. There were voices going back and forth. One angered, one calm. And one… that seemed interested in a fight.
She mentally cried when she dared to smell the air once more. She inhaled deeply with her jaws open to taste the air. The musky and horny horse rolled across her tongue and nearly caused her to vomit once more. She fought it back with teary eyes. But… there were two scents she was familiar with. The human who sat alone, and the dragonoid.
Her head lifted up queasily, and she tugged the man’s hand. “What is happening ahead of us?”
“Uhh… looks like a fight’s about to start. A little one sided though... “ he trailed off when he felt the woman’s hand leave his. He looked down to his side, and managed to just catch her making her way to the group. He reached out to try and stop her… but he paused for a moment. He thought about what she said, and gritted his teeth. One foot was already raised to chase after her… but it lowered… she wasn’t going to do anything stupid… right?
Raux, made her way blindly. Her ears swiveling and her staff lightly teasing the ground in front of her. She worked her way around the skin heads, and soon stopped next to the Dragonoid, and the Human. The scent of the horse… thankfully was downwind of her. She could still smell it… but at least it wasn’t as bad.
“If you do not mind, I have decided to come with you on your quest…” She said softly with a polite bow. Her snout soon slowly turned to face the six men. Her ears swiveled to each one. Six heart beats.. Many were elevated. They were planning on a fight… there would be no way to disarm this situation peacefully.
“... and it appears this adventure has already been waylaid. Why are these men eager to make a stand against you two…. Erm…… uhm…..” She paused for a moment, and tilted her head. She didn’t even know their names. But they knew hers. “I am afraid I know not your names. Would you mind sharing them now, or later?”
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Summary: She's gotten accustomed to the scents of those in the tent. She waited for nearly an hour. Had a soldier lead her to the bout. Asked for names. For continuity purposes, her eyes are currently expose.
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