Original Submissions by Kankfly of type 'Logs'
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Discord Amongst Akei'ta's Own
Added on Nov 30, 2012Black Thorns of the Akei'ta Var, hoping to score a drink from a fellow kin, sparks an argument with another instead. This log proves that even tree-hugging hippies get into arguments.
[The following log contains my favorite Imm animation. Kudos to everyone involved! It was awesome.]
Center of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW Quit]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Lush in comparison to the barren surrounds, a patch of green flora covers
the central part of this hill. In the center of this patch of living ground
sits a large campfire. A well-worn path circles this campfire and branches
off east and west. Denizens of the camp pack this area most densely, some
working hides, others in deep meditation or conversation, and here or there
a few are immersed in one ritual or another.
A half of a bahamet shell sits just off the well-worn path, due north of
the fire, laying dome-up on the ground, serving as a natural podium of sorts.
To the west the camp is densely packed with tents, the number of elves
visible in that direction testament to the well-settled nature of that side,
while to the east lies fewer tents and fewer still inhabitants.
A majestic falcon, with keen yellow eyes, casts a predatory glance about the area.
A carved granite box rests on the ground here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here, looking tired.
The crook-nosed, muscular elf stares into the fire.
The wild-haired, elderly elf sits near an aging elf by the fire.
The pale, bald, elderly elf supervises the pounding, waving a tuber.
The gangly, agitated elf works hides here.
A serpent-tattooed youth kneels here, nibbling meat off of his spear.
The lithe, dark-skinned elf sits on a bahamet shell here.
It is dusk on Barani, the 32nd day of the Descending Sun,
In the Year of Silt's Slumber, year 53 of the 21st Age.
With a broad yawn, the male wearing a thin, white-sandcloth facewrap makes his way over to the fire, his gaze flickering to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
You stop using your thin, white-sandcloth facewrap.
You put your thin, white-sandcloth facewrap into your stained harness made of black leather.
You look up at the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
Ebon skin sheathes this sinewy elf, his weather-worn flesh having been
burnt to a mahogany shade and smoothed by wind and glossy scar tissue. The
etched webbing of bleached, pale scarring lays in a labyrinth over every
inch of skin left visible. The raised flesh is intermingled with ink to
create coils of sinister thorny vines of pallid greens and grays.
Grotesquely long limbs stretch his rope-muscled frame into a graceful,
serpentine shape, made sinewy and catlike by his spare, ropey musculature.
Angular features mark his gaunt face, his visage thinned to a harsh mask
reminiscent of an agafari's grain. Thin lips mark his mouth, and his hollow
cheeks lie stretched over a sharp jaw. The ashen scarring continues across
his bald crown, left hairless save for a coarse braid of charcoal-colored
hair that hangs limply between his shoulders. Almond-slanted eyes the pale
hue of vibrant turquoise perch atop his sharp cheeks, their edges torn by
twin scars that rake away across his temples.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is in excellent condition.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is using:
<head> a pair of long, jagged-looking scars
<face> a detailed inking of a spiny thornbush
<worn in left ear> a small, carved hardwood loop
<worn in right ear> a small, carved hardwood loop
<worn around neck> a stained studded tembo-hide collar
<worn about throat> a rough hide waterskin
<slung across back> a bloodied long, twin-bladed baobab axe
<worn on torso> a dujat-banded leather jacket
<worn on arms> dark blue and green swirled warpaint
<worn around wrist> a long, leather-strapped bone buckler
<worn around wrist> a long, leather-strapped bone buckler
<worn on hands> a bloodied set of anakore-clawed climbing gloves
<worn on forearms> a set of feather-tipped leather cords
<worn as belt> a fine pouched belt
<hung from belt> a bloodied baobab bastard sword
<hung from belt> a bloodied sharp carru antler halfspear
<worn around body> a dusty drab, weathered stormcloak
<worn on legs> a stained pair of desert-camouflaged, sandcloth leggings
<worn on feet> a pair of knee-high jet black military boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
Folding his legs, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf sits down to rest.
Calling over as he moves to join him, you say to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Hey, brother."
You sit down.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf eases onto a flat stone beside the fire, his rough hide waterskin held carefully in one gloved hand.
Tipping it to his thorn-impaled lips, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf drinks firestorm's flame from his rough hide waterskin.
Distractedly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stares into the fire, his turquoise eyes narrowed slightly.
Pale eyes flickering aside, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks at you.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf tucks a leg underneath him, shifting to a side to allow another elf to squeeze in.
As if awakening from a brief reverie, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's chapped lips press into a thin smile.
Lifting it for another heavy swig, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf drinks firestorm's flame from his rough hide waterskin.
Shifting his attention to him, you ask the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"So anyway, smooth sands?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf coughs hoarsely, one fist pounding against the chest of his dujat-banded leather jacket.
In a slightly unsteady, slurring rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Some. Had a sstrange vizhion."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
Regarding him curiously a moment, you ask the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Aye? What about?"
Sharply, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Nothin'."
Scowling even as he slurps at its wooden neck, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf sips from his rough hide waterskin.
As though unfazed by his sharp tone, you say to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"You know you can tell me anythin', promise I won't laugh. Or cry. Or both."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You are unable to reach their mind.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf flicks a glance at you, his weathered features twisting further into his dour scowl.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, sauntering along with a swaggered gait.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: sauntering along with a swaggered gait, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks west.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, sauntering along with a swaggered gait.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf tilts up the hand from the gentle swell of her midriff to give a light rub against her forehead.
Flicking an idle glance over one shoulder, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks up at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Following the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's gaze, you look up at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Obsidian-hued hair tumbles in straight locks to mid-back, the dusty
flecked mane covering half over sharply pointed and pierced eartips lending
no doubt to her elven heritage. Two chin length shorn and dreaded tendrils
frame either side of her angular features, the darkened hue bringing out the
steely silver of her large almond shaped, pearl flecked gaze. Between the
lay of her tilted, kohl-rimmed eyes rests a narrow nose, it's end
unobtrusive with a small upturned slope. A slanted and bony jawline leads
down to a defined and slightly pointed chin, a pair of thin grey tinted lips
curving in bow shape above. Various scars mar her dusky skin, smatterings
of old and new littering over her long and willowy form. Though she bears
slight curves to give hint at her femininity, little else but the rounds of
her hips and chest shows any trace of the cushion of fat.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf is in excellent condition.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf is using:
<worn in hair> a dusty saw-toothed, silvery green leaf
<worn in left ear> a dusty blackened ear cuff of polished bone
<worn in right ear> a dusty green and blue feather earring
<worn around neck> a dusty string of sharp teeth
<worn about throat> a dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape
<slung across back> a dusty thornwood and tortoiseshell longbow
<worn across back> a stained green and brown dyed canvas pack
<body> a swirl of deep blue and green inks
<right shoulder> a rantarri paw inked in white
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a yawning tembo
<worn on arms> a dusty dark blue and green swirled warpaint
<worn around wrist> a dusty green chitin archery brace
<worn around wrist> a dusty supple, earthy archery brace
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of anakore-claw gloves
<primary hand> a dusty knife-bladed bone pick
<secondary hand> a dusty sandstone straightening wrench
<worn on forearms> a dusty set of etched wooden bangles
<worn as belt> a dusty black-trimmed, pouched dark green belt
<hung from belt> a dusty long bone-headed spear
<hung from belt> a dusty hooked mekillot-bone spear
<worn about waist> a dusty soft, amber-tasseled suede quiver
<worn on legs> a dusty vividly-slashed, dark blue skirt
<right ankle> a wreath of flowers tattoo
<left ankle> a twining tattoo of a ginka vine
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of sparkling, amber-adorned moccasins
She is carrying:
nothing obvious
Flicking an absent glance about the area, her tone thoughtful, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"You know.. I just had the strangest thoughts."
Dryly, his voice a hoarse rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Not zhe only one."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's hand lowers back to settle almost protectively against the gentle swell of her bare midriff, silver-gaze narrowing into a faint squint back eastwards.
His lips tugging into a lazy smile as he leans back, voice raising to call the umbral, dark-tressed female elf over, you ask, in allundean:
"Well, if it isn't the mother to be. How's the baby?"
Sauntering a step over more closely over towards the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"I had the strangest urge that I didn't like the organization of the tents and that I should rearrange everything from the size of shadows."
The corners of her lips tugging upwards in a welcoming smile, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"Which is just.. strange.. because I was the one who organized that tent and the crafting tent months ago."
A coarse chuckle resonates in the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's throat, soon broadening into a harsh, barking laugh. His breath reeks of alcohol, intermingled with the heady, floral scent of spice.
Giving a light pat against the swell of her stomach, a faint sigh accompanying her words, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"The baby is fine.. the babies father however won't be the next I see him."
Lifting one hooked claw, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks, in allundean:
"Ai? Who's zhat?"
With a snicker as he looks to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, you ask, in allundean:
"Why's that?"
Perking up a single brow, a faint hint of amusement lacing her tone as she drums her fingers lightly against her bare stomach, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Kija.. of the Akeita ni Var Soh."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf snickers sharply, and eases back, leaning unsteadily onto one sharp elbow.
Lazily, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Kija, hm? I met him once, with Tripped. Killed a braxat and flaunted it in front of a Sun Runner. Strange people those Sohs."
A note of sincerity heard within her tone as she flicks a glance for the southern stretch through the cluster of tents, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"He will hear a piece of my mind.. to be sure."
His bright eyes returning to the roaring fire before him, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Don' let it claw out, sistah."
Her nose wrinkling upwards as she sweeps up a hand to push the lay of her hair back up out of her face, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says
to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"It's been trying to for weeks.. Akeita's pits it's kept me womb-bound for longer than I've cared."
One pale eye squinting into a narrow slit, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks, in allundean:
"Been sick?"
Sliding it off, you stop using your dusty broad-brimmed suede bush hat.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf dips her head gently aside for the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, pacing a couple of steps around various lingering elves on a path towards the southern stretch of the tents.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf knocks your dusty broad-brimmed suede bush hat on the ground, sending sand flying everywhere, causing a few nearby elves to cast him annoyed glances.
Scooping it out in hand, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf gets her green-fletched thorn-tipped arrow from her dusty soft, amber-tasseled suede quiver.
You brush the dust off of a stained broad-brimmed suede bush hat.
You place your stained broad-brimmed suede bush hat on your head.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf gives her green-fletched thorn-tipped arrow a twirl in hand, her lips pursing aside thoughtfully.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf gently knocks the thorn-locked tip of her green-fletched thorn-tipped arrow against her opposite hands palm.
After hitching in a brief, coarse breath, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf puffs out his chest and looses a heavy belch.
Appearing satisfied, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf leans forward, bracing both sinewy forearms across his knees.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the hunched, beak-nosed elf has arrived from the east.
Speaking up randomly as he gazes into the flames, you ask, in allundean:
"You know what they say about silences like this?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: Swirls of energy dance around the hunched, beak-nosed elf as he starts an incantation.
In a quiet rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks, in allundean:
"T'shuddup an' let 'em be?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the hunched, beak-nosed elf walks west.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf has arrived from the east.
Over the curve of a cape-clad shoulder, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf looks at the hunched, beak-nosed elf.
Shifting his gaze to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and giving him an easy grin, you say, in allundean:
"No idea, but you're probably right."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's thin lips peel back, baring his yellowed teeth in a narrow grin.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf opens her stained green and brown dyed canvas pack.
As he approaches the fire, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Good to see you, Sister."
Giving a tug against the strings, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf closes her stained green and brown dyed canvas pack.
Near you, the hunched, beak-nosed elf sits down.
Offering a warm smile across for him, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"It is good to see you as well, brother."
Glancing over to him and dropping him an easy nod, you ask the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"Hey, Kickin', how's it goin'?"
Swaying unsteadily on his perch, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf lifts his rough hide waterskin from its cord at his throat.
His breath reeking of alcohol, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Ai, Kickin'."
Leaning back and scratching his cheek, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Pretty good. Akeita still hides from me in the slate, though. Gonna need more."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's gaze flickers over towards the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's waterskin, her brow lowering thoughtfully.
Pulling the flaps of your dusty layered black cloak with an agate clasp close to his nose, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf gives a quick sniff, a puzzled frown appearing on his features before glancing to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
A sweet, floral tinge clings faintly to his skin.
Suddenly kicking into step, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the west, suddenly kicking into step.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
His gaze dropping to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's waterskin, you ask, in allundean:
"Ah, damn, thought it was me. Here, give a brother a swig, eh?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's pierced nostrils flare in a sharp sniff, and he leans back forward, bracing both sinewy forearms across his knees.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, stalking along.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: stepping along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks west.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, stepping along.
With a level glance at you, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf tips his rough hide waterskin over, allowing a single, precious drop of reddish liquid to fall to the dry ground.
Pausing near the eastern break in the tents, her tone questioning, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"Any of you seen a bag? I put it on the sleeping mats, and it had a lot of my stuff in it.."
Holding out a hand to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"What's in your bag?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"What'd it look like? And what was in it?"
Pattering her fingers lightly against the swell of her bare midriff, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"A number of waterskins with alcohol in it.. - as well as other random things."
With a stiff shrug, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to you, in allundean:
"Nothin' left."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf gets her leather waterskin from her dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf's gaze immediately shifts to you.
Looking disappointed as his hand drops back onto his lap, his gaze shifting to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, you ask, in allundean:
"Eh, what?"
After squinting a single eye to peer down into her leather waterskin before flicking a glance up for the hunched, beak-nosed elf, you and the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"Amber liquid of a .. sort."
With a shrug, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"No idea. Sorry, sis. Only drank those bottles of firebreather."
After a pause, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Were they yours too?"
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's lips quirk down into a faintly irritated frown as she reaches to tuck her leather waterskin back for her dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape.
Tucking it away, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf puts her leather waterskin into her dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf opens her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf closes her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack.
Huffing out a breath on a turned step to take a stalking path back through the tents, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"Akeita's pits... those were -gifts- from that biter."
Stalking along a step, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the west, stalking along a step.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: stalking along a step, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
Flicking a glance over one shoulder, his hoarse voice slurred slightly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Well, if y'miss 't zhere's spice in th'-"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf cuts off abruptly, his ink-whorled brow creasing, before returning his pale gaze to the roaring fire.
After a moment as he watches the departing figure, you say to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"You're in trouble, brother."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
With a shrug, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I don't see what the big deal is. If she wanted the booze for herself, she shouldn't have left it in one of the communal tents."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, trudging along a step.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: trudging along a step, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks west.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, trudging along a step.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
With her arms folded over the swell of her bare midsection, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf trudges back through the tents towards the fire.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf sends you a telepathic message:
"Surprised isn't wasn't you, though, Brother. I don't know whether to be proud or disappointed."
With an absent nod, you say, in allundean:
"Aye, there's to that."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Easing awkwardly down onto her rear, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf sits down to rest.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf opens his mouth as if to speak, but only manages a sharp hiccup.
More to herself than to anyone else, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"I would appreciate it.. if none of you touched that strange lizard. I need to return it."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks, in allundean:
"To who?"
With a blink, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"What/"
Slanting silvery-hued gaze aside as she stretches her legs out before herself, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"To a friend of mine.. a biter."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf turns in his seat, easing a glance at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
In a quiet rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks, in allundean:
"Yah make -friends- wit' bitahs?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf lifts a brow toward the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf blinks, staring at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf for a moment.
You are a little hungry.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
The corners of her lips tugging upwards in a faint show of amusement, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"Well.. yeah. But only after he's saved my life countless times in the past."
With a blink, sounding more than lost, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Uh, why'd it give you a present.. and then you have to return it?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf shakes his head slowly and lifts one clawed hand to scratch at his ink-whorled brow.
A single dark brow creeping up a touch as she shifts her attention for you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"He .. didn't. I didn't have to return anything. This particular lizard we have here was uh... rescued."
Staring at her, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Does it talk?"
Explantorily, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"The biter, not the lizard."
With a thoughtful expression, before hefting up a shoulder loosely, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"Somewhat.. the biter can speak a bit of our tongue, but isn't very good. It's not how we communicate."
Now sounding completely lost, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"You said the bag was from the biter as a present, then you have to return it to it? Then you- Wait, when did a lizard get involved?"
With a lift of one thin finger, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks, in allundean:
"Y'think one'a zhose could understand talking?"
Offering a shake of her head aside for you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"No.. the bag was mine, but inside were gifts that the biter gave to me for me helping him. The lizard was rescued from roundears that had stolen it from him."
Rubbing his chin, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Do the elders know about this?"
Flatly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"So let't go, an' if zhe child wants to return to zhe bitah, 't will."
Offering a gentle roll of a shoulder in a shrug, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"It is a long story how I came to know the bit-"
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's silvery-gaze flickers aside in a slight narrow for the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
Looking thoughtful a moment before apparently giving up the idea of the lizard on whole, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"So... why do you have to return the gifts to the biter?"
You are a little hungry.
Simply, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"I don't."
Flicking a glance aside, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to you, in allundean:
"Jus' th'scaled child, apparently, brother."
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf opens his mouth as though to say something and then shuts it, his gaze shifting to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
Canting her head aside a touch to draw her attention over for him, her tone neutral, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"The elders knew all along about the plots of two of our -own- against my life and did nothing, so why would I speak with them on something like thi"
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf asks, in allundean:
"... this?"
Finally comprehending as he gives a nod, you say, in allundean:
"Oh! Well, sorry sister, didn't see any lizards around."
His attention flickering, once again, to her, sounding startled, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"What?"
Frowning at her, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"What in the name of Akeita are you talking about, Sister?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's ink-whorled brows lift, and his head slips aside into a lazy tilt.
Reaching aside to give a somewhat labored push up to her feet, the languid movement hindered with the swell of her midsection, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"I'm talking about the plot of death against me by one of our sisters and one of our brothers."
Gaining to her feet, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf rises and stands.
Bursting into an amused laugh, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Sister, that's the funniest shit I've ever heard."
Adjusting her dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape about herself, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf just stares at you.
Nudging him with an elbow, you ask the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Kinda beats my joke about the uh... what was it again?"
Giving an angry pluck against the edge of her dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"And this is exactly why I stayed away from the Lap and the womb - and why I shall do so once again."
Staring at her, bewildered, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Sister, we sincerely have no idea what the fuck you're talking about."
You are a little hungry.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
Sweeping up a hand to give a point of an index finger towards you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"Another of our brothers -heard- them plotting.. it's no laughing matter, but apparently you think it is."
With a tip of his chin towards the hunched, beak-nosed elf, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Seconded."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf sends you a telepathic message:
"I think it was about a snake? I don't know, we were drunk."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
Still smiling as though it's the funniest joke ever, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Right, and I was nearly killed by a ritikki. Which is true. Now -that- is no joke."
Huffing out a breath, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf turns in step towards the eastern stretch through the tents.
Trudging along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the west, trudging along.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: trudging along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
With a demonstrative gesture of two hooked claws, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Soh's seed has turned her mind."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, backstepping.
Still talking and completely unaware of the departing figure as he glances to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and the hunched, beak-nosed elf, you ask, in allundean:
"That child hit -hard-, you know?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: stepping along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks south.
Lifting a brow, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks, in allundean:
"So... since when is our Sister insane?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the south, stepping along.
Still snickering as he passes a hand across his brows, you say, in allundean:
"Dear mother, a brother and sister wantin' her life."
With a slow shake of his head, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"Bitahs... Soh... leavin' zhe Lap?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf intently scans the area.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: Flicking a glance about the clearing, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf adjusts the straps of her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack along her shoulders.
Holding up three fingers, one at a time, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks, in allundean:
"Getting worked up over booze, talking to biters... now nonsense about a plot against her?"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: her pack craddled against her back, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks west.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the east, her pack craddled against her back.
His bright eyes narrowing to slits, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to you, in allundean:
"She did not zhink she was jokin'."
Solemnly, you say to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"You know what they say about mothers to be. They have strange moods."
As she makes a wide berth around the firepit, silvery-gaze slitting aside for the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"I didn't think it.. because I wasn't."
The cream-colored shell around your body collapses to the ground.
Turning his attention to her and giving her a lazy smile, still tinged with amusement, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Aye, aye, no doubt about that. Perhaps it's just a dream, hm?"
Narrowing silvery-gaze upon you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"Do not blame it on my strange moods. It happened -before- I got with child, you dolt."
Openning and closing her mouth a couple times, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf suddenly reaches a hand around for her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf opens her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack.
Yanking it free, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf gets her tiny musk gland from her dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack.
Leaning close and speaking in a hoarse rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf whispers something to the hunched, beak-nosed elf.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf takes only a moment of aim before suddenly hurling her tiny musk gland straight for you.
In an unsteady rush, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf rises and stands.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf jerks aside, dodging it a tad too late as the gland lands right on the middle of his chest.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the feral obsidian-mohawked elf has arrived from the east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the feral obsidian-mohawked elf walks west.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf has arrived from the east.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stares incredulously at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, his pale eyes widening briefly before narrowing into lopsided slits.
As she watches the gland smash against your chest, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf shouts, in allundean:
"IT WASN'T A DREAM!"
With a startled cry as he flicks the gland off him, his lips twisting in disgust, you ask, in allundean:
"The fuck, sister?"
You stand up.
Her gaze narrowing angrily aside, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf looks at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf cocks his brow as he strolls along the camp, turning his gaze over the others.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf blinks several times, utterly bewildered.
Sweeping a hand over to indicate the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and you, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf exclaims to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, in allundean:
"Tell them it wasn't a dream! That you heard them!"
Blearily, slitted eyes blinking, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf looks up at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
Still disgusted, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf apparently does not notice the feral obsidian-mohawked elf's arrival as he tries to brush at his chest.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf asks, in allundean:
"Heard what sister?"
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Shifting her hand to pat protectively against her midsection, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, in allundean:
"That they plotted.. to kill me."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks north.
His head canting aside in a lazy tilt, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf exclaims to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, in allundean:
"Zhis is insane, brother. Calm her down!"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks west.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the east.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks west.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the east.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: the tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster walks east.
The tall figure in a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
Dipping his head in a nod, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"Flower and Tripped? Yeah, I overhead them when I came upon them on a hunt, they didn't see me approach so I sat to listen."
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"I went to the Elders with it as well."
Fairly barking out, her eyes narrowing angrily, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf exclaims to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"I wouldn't be upset if you'd taken me seriously!"
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
You are a little hungry.
A thin smile appearing on his lips as he focuses his gaze on the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, you say to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in
allundean:
"This one is insane. Must be the Soh in her belly."
With a swift sweep of one clawed hand, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"But Tripped still runs. Zhis is impossible."
Huffing out a breath of irritation, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Because the Elders did nothing... I said as much."
Laughing roughly, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"How is it impossible? The Elders said they were content to let us deal with our own problems."
His gaze slanting to him, you say to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, in allundean:
"You are talking about your -own- brother and sister. Have a care what you say."
Casting his grey hued gaze aside, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf looks down at you.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf asks, in allundean:
"Have a care for what I saw and what I was told?"
Planting her hands down once again at her hips, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf narrows her eyes once more at the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf lowers the hood of a dusty hooded, sandy-brown reinforced sandcloth duster.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf shakes his head sharply before loosing a hoarse, alcohol-scented breath.
Flatly, his turquoise eyes sliding shut, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Fine. Ah don' believe 't, but I won' fight yah."
His smile widening as he gives the feral obsidian-mohawked elf a look-over, you ask, in allundean:
"Well I'm not about to argue with my own blood, hm? But to have me believe that there are two of our own plotting against our own?"
Giving her hands a toss up from her hips, before whirling on a foot to trek southwards, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says, in allundean:
"Akeita's Pits.. dense.. I'm gone."
Picking her way around the crowd, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf ducks beneath the feral obsidian-mohawked elf's arm, tucking herself against him with a wide, mismatched blink about.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf stands up.
His pale eyes flicking open once more, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks at the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf gives a shrug, dismissing the group as he moves to sit down by the now silent camp.
Dipping her head aside to flick her gaze over towards her, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf, in allundean:
"And I will -not- be back this time, Smoke."
You sit down.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks, in allundean:
"One now. You know Blue Flower has gone on her Last Walk, yes?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Do you know what she told me before she died?"
Ok, you are gone afk a bit.
Lifting an eyebrow slightly, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Is it time then, sister?"
Coiling his arm about the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"Believe what you want or not, but -I- was the one that was there and heard them."
Waving her hand dismissively over her shoulder, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"I could care less. She was full of lies."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf glares soberly at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Ok, you are no longer gone.
Quietly, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"That she was sorry. And that she wished to make amends with you."
Scoffing loudly, you say, in allundean:
"She is calling a biter a friend and a sister a liar."
In a sharp rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf whispers to you, in allundean:
"Hush."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf turns to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, ink-whorled brows lifting slightly.
Huffing a breath as she narrows her eyes faintly over at him, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"-After- she had already planned out to kill me, and gave false information to the White Pit when she -knew- they wanted me dead."
Puffing out a soft breath, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"And -after- she started the spread of lies through the womb about me."
Casting his gaze toward the ground, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"I didn't know what she was talking about. Still don't. I don't pretend to know what happened between you all."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf shakes his head slowly and lifts his gloved hand to rub a knuckle across his ashen-rimmed eye.
Unable to contain himself any longer, you ask the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"And you know all this because they decided to plot against you in the open where all can hear?"
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Turning a hand over to touch a thumb against her chest, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"She hated me because I -dared- to voice my opinions against her illogical reasoning. I did nothing to her, yet she wanted me dead."
In a swift snap, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf clasps one clawed hand over your shoulder, stepping aside to place himself between you and the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf looks down at you.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf opens his mouth as though to say something and then shuts it, his gaze shifting over to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, eyes narrowing slightly.
Staring directly at you, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf whispers to you, in allundean:
"Enough. Let zhem speak."
Slanting her gaze aside, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to you, in allundean:
"I've always been one to think she was not entirely all there in the head."
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf says to you, in allundean:
"She knows all this because they never spotted me following them out into the lap to have their talks."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's turquoise eyes remain affixed on you, his chapped, thorn-impaled lips twisting into a harsh scowl.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf regards the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf silently a moment, and then shifts his gaze back to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf and the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
Staring at her, slack-jawed in surprise, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"I don't understand. What does it matter? How can you still carry hate for a dead Sister?"
Calling over one shoulder in a quiet rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"I know 'zactly how yah feel, sister."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
Stance suddenly relaxing, his lazy smile appearing on his lips though it doesn't touch his eyes, you say, in allundean:
"Aye, we're the Akei'ta Var, we do not bicker with our own. Let the insane rant on if she wants."
Her attention drifting aside, her lips pursed tightly, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"I never -hated- her. Not even when I found out she wished my death. She was my sister. But to have my brothers..."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's attention snaps back aside towards you.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf turns slowly on his heel, his stance slightly unsteady as he folds both arms over the chest of his dujat-banded leather jacket.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
In a quiet tone, her expression belying her tone of calmness, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf asks you, in allundean:
"I am insane, because you don't wish to face the reality of what -really- happened?"
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"*a touch of uncertainty creeping across the surface of the connection* Hello, would you be Black Thorns, of the Akei'ta Var?"
Levelling an even look at her, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"An' zhe elders spoke. Yah shoul' deal wit' your own problems, nah drag th'rest of th'womb to blades at each other's throats."
A frown touching the corners of her mouth, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf whispers something to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
Raising his hoarse voice in a sudden, violent yell, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf shouts, in allundean:
"Enough!"
Dismissing the group entirely, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf's gaze turns toward the ashy remains of the campfire, a distracted frown appearing on his face.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf whispers something to the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You contact the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf with the Way.
Lifting a single hooked finger, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to you, in allundean:
"Do. Nah. Start again."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"Aye, and who is this?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
His turquoise eyes narrowing to bare slits, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf exclaims to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Do nah drag brothers an' sisters into zhis. You have done what is needed! Go to zhe elders, if you feel zhat is unfair!"
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"I am Stump, of the Ishtorn blood. I sit within the Rose and word touched my ears that you are looking for trade, yes?"
In a harsh, barely-audible rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Akei'ta has already taken one. He works in His own ways. Let't be, sister."
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"*with a touch of faint amusement* Indeed, though I am lookin' more for the Sun Runners. Still, trade is trade, hm? What is it that you're lookin' for?"
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf jerks her chin up faintly, falling silent as she regards the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Well, I am certainly not a Fire Runner though, my blood can offer much. What is it you seek or have a need for, Black Thorns?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"What are you offerin'?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looses a sharp hiss, his thorn-impaled lips pressing into a thin line as his similarly pierced nostrils flare.
Very quietly, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Well said, Brother."
Snorting faintly, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"Slow in the fucking head to not believe when ya have more then just one side, but if you choose fine, live in the dark."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Well, I can offer much. Weapons? Services? I am able to tread in many places others are not, or at least without a danger, yes. "
Without further word, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf turns on heel, stepping southwards through the cluster of tents towards the break in the thorn-wall.
Stepping along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the north, stepping along.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf levels an even look at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, straightening smoothly.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"Hmm... that so? Well there is always need for legwork and swords, eh? What are you lookin' for in return?"
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Rare gems? Rocks? Materials for arrows? "
You think:
"Legwork and sword, hm? Could be useful."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"Aye, we have plenty of those. But of your service... I doubt we need it at this moment."
You are a little hungry.
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"I wish you to allow me to move through your territory and help me and my people understand your way better."
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"This, I'll have to speak with my brothers. Perhaps I'll find your mind later, hm?"
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Yes, until then shall I be welcomed if I observe and respect your way?"
You suffer from use of the Way.
You suffer from use of the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the leathery, braxat-inked dwarf:
"Aye, I'll let my blood know as well."
The leathery, braxat-inked dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Good. I will show your lands no disrespect."
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
You dissolve the psychic link.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf deflates abruptly, his posture collapsing, and turns on his heel, regarding the hunched, beak-nosed elf and you with weary, ashen-rimmed eyes.
A frown curling the corners of her mouth, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf whispers something to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Turning on his heels, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says to the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf, in allundean:
"Lets go then."
Scratching idly at his middle, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks you, in allundean:
"Ah'm goin' t'get a smoke. Eithah 'f you want't?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks, in allundean:
"Where are you going?"
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf brushes a hand across his temple, his gaze shifting to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf and giving him a nod.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the vibrant, bestial creature has arrived from the south.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"To get my sister back"
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the vibrant, bestial creature flies west.
The vibrant, bestial creature has arrived from the east.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf looks up at the vibrant, bestial creature.
Attention shifting over, you look up at the vibrant, bestial creature.
Something akin to a tembo, a man, and a kenku stoops here. Filled
with energetic musculature, covered in a striped layer of scar-free
flesh, this thing exudes power. A wide mouth filled with tembo teeth,
the eyes as well similar to that creature, break open a face that looks
only vaguely humanoid. Curving talons tip each finger, and hardy,
silver-feathered wings sprout from the back. A vibrant set of bright
hued feathers sprout from the wrists and race back along the arms,
moving from silver to red to brilliant blue as they coat the body
of this odd looking being.
The vibrant, bestial creature is in excellent condition.
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf nods, stepping from underneath the feral obsidian-mohawked elf's arm to straighten herself a moment.
Loping along on all fours, the vibrant, bestial creature moves through the camp as elves part before him.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf straightens slightly, and eases a glance over one shoulder.
His turquoise eyes widening, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks up at the vibrant, bestial creature.
You stand up.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the west.
Sitting back on his haunches, the vibrant, bestial creature flares his too-wide nostrils.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks east.
Growling low in his throat, words slurred by the shape of his mouth, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Air... thick. Stiff. Like back of roundear who wears robes."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Turning his shining, golden eyes towards the hunched, beak-nosed elf, the vibrant, bestial creature asks, in allundean:
"Why is this?"
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf blinks, his gaze flickering quickly to the hunched, beak-nosed elf.
Sniffing the air, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"Anger. You can smell it."
A little stunned, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Well, uh, not sure. Seems we stirred up some old ghosts between sisters Black Wind and Blue Flower."
In spite of his attempt to stifle it, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looses a quiet belch into one gloved fist.
The words growling low from his predatory throat, the vibrant, bestial creature asks, in allundean:
"Old ghosts. Ghosts are unhappy. Old things rot. Who shows teeth?"
His muzzle lifting a bit, the vibrant, bestial creature looks down at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
Feeling a sense of relief, you think:
"Well, now the elder is here. He will speak for us. And what he decides will be it."
With a vague gesture south, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Sister Black Wind claims that, some time ago, she heard of Brother Tripped and Sister Blue Flower plotting to kill her."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Some support her story. Apparently, this was brought before the elders, but it was new to me."
Gesturing to himeslf, you and the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"We questioned her on it. Black Wind ran off, angry. Very angry."
Slowing his speech, seeming hopelessly confused, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Also talked about... uh, something about being friends with a halfling."
Crossing his arms over his chest, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"She ran off angry because you fools called her a liar and insane."
His tembo-teeth showing as he speaks briefly, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"I remember this. The wound was healed, yet it becomes open again, and festers."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf opens his mouth to continue, but shuts it, apparently thinking better of it.
The vibrant, bestial creature's eyes narrow and sharpen as he looks to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
His words impeded slightly by the thorned piercings through his tongue and lips, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Partly my doin', at zhat."
The vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"You speak to your brothers and sisters so? Call them fools? You are farthest from the wisest upon the grass now. A bold statement you make, and unkind."
Unable to help himself, you say, in allundean:
"She is sayin' that two of our blood is plottin' against her, and then she's sayin' she's friends with a biter."
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"I don't rightly give a fuck about what was said or done, but I was the one to hear their plotting, and she wasn't lying."
His gaze narrowing, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"I stand by my brothers and sisters in all things, but they are wrong now, Sister Atemys had the right of it."
Very quiet, barely audible, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Be respectful in front of the Shaman. All of you. All of us."
Feeling a surge of anger, you think:
"Disrespectin' the shaman, callin' his blood fools, what next?"
Shaking his head slowly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf lifts a gloved hand towards the hunched, beak-nosed elf.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf purses his lips, sliding his gaze respectfully down.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks north.
Shifting one back paw for a moment, then resting fully back, stubby tail supporting his body, watching the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, the vibrant, bestial creature asks, in allundean:
"And it is the way of us to throw barbed words to solve problems?"
You think:
"Dire news indeed. Perhaps -this- is the things Kickin' read from the entrails of the diseased child."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf watches the vibrant, bestial creature and the feral obsidian-mohawked elf intensely, hardly blinking as his eyes flick between the pair.
You think:
"The disagreement within family."
Waving his hand, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"As far as I'm concerned the problem was solved with Akeita's will, I speak my mind plainly, and I will stand by my tribe."
Lowering one paw, the vibrant, bestial creature speaks no words as a small vine begins to thrust valiantly up from the soil below.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks east.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
His attention caught, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf stares at the flourishing vine by the vibrant, bestial creature's feet before shifting his gaze back to him.
As the vine begins to grow, a single flower blooming upon the end, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"What occurred in the past, is past. This does not mean we should forget it. But to bring anger, harsh words, and wound your brothers is not our way."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks north.
The vibrant, bestial creature's left ear rotates towards the eastern side of camp for a few moments.
You are a little hungry.
Cocking his brow faintly, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"Yet I was not the one to call Sister Atemys a liar and insane, I was angered yes, but I was the one who was there and heard the truth."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks west.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the east.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf has entered the world.
With a low rumbling growl, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Bandages heal flesh. Words heal hearts and minds."
As he turns his color-shifting, shining eyes over the assembled elves, the vibrant, bestial creature asks, in allundean:
"Who uttered the words of insanity, and of lies?"
The youthful, copper-skinned elf meanders closer from the eastern tents. As he notes the vibrant, bestial creature addressing the other elves, he pauses, glancing about.
With a final crackle of full growth, the bloom on the vine becomes a flower, then a full ginka fruit below the vibrant, bestial creature paw.
Skidding to a stop beside the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf coughs slightly as she lopes in from the east.
Without a word, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf raises one clawed hand, though his visage retains its stoic mask.
Gesturing toward himself, you and the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"We did. The three of us. We were confused, and were seeking to understand Sister Black Wind's anger."
After a moment, speaking up from the crowd, you say, in allundean:
"I called Sister Black Wind insane, yes. I thought she was jokin' at first."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's tongue flickers across his chapped lips, briefly revealing a pair of long thorns impaled through it.
As he grips his juicy ginka fruit and lifts it slowly, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"An apology. Many words. Sincere. Speak not only your grief, but speak of why you said those words."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf furrows his brow, clearly a touch puzzled by what he overhears. Rather than interjecting, he skirts the gathering, seating himself upon the grasses near the campfire.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf sits down.
The vibrant, bestial creature's massive, predatory teeth scythe right through the armored, spiked fruit.
The vibrant, bestial creature takes a bite of his juicy ginka fruit.
With a faint lift of his chin, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"It was all strange. Friendin' a bitah, bearin' a Soh's seed in her belly, an' speakin'a brothers an' sisters killin' her."
His head shaking slowly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"She sounded as if she was jokin', or t'Akei'ta insane. Ah was drunk, an'..."
After a brief pause, his scar-whorled brow creasing, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"... Worried."
Grunting after swallowing, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"A strange life does not mean a lie. It means a strange life."
With a pair of swift nods, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Ah saw th'life. Doesn' mean I zhink it's th'righ' thing for a sistah."
Squinting over at the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the vibrant, bestial creature asks, in allundean:
"You are Akeita's Eye?"
Rolling his shoulders in a shrug, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"She never felt safe in the womb so she found others, but I'm not going to let my sister with child wander aimlessly through the lap in anger."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf listens attentively to the discourse, his attention jumping from one speaker to the next. However, all the while, his gaze tends to favor the vibrant, bestial creature.
Stammering hoarsely, with a lazy tilt of his head, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"W- well... nah. I mean, her belly grows. Zhat was th'least of 't."
His gaze flickering over to the feral obsidian-mohawked elf and speaking out of context, again, you say, in allundean:
"Nothin's safer than the Womb. That is why it's called the Womb, brother."
Grunting, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Only Akeita may judge so."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I have a question, Shaman, that perhaps you could answer. I think it may help some of us still confused."
Pointing one five inch claw at the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"You will welcome her back to the Womb. You will ensure she knows her brothers and sisters love her. This is her tribe, her home, her safety."
Gaze averted, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"The reason I was... hesitant to believe my sister was because I didn't believe Brother Tripped capable of such a thing. I've ran with him many times."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf ceases his stammering, and straightens, his battered visage smoothing into a stoic mask.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"If he really did this thing... and apparently he did... then why was he not punished? Why was this not even spoken of until now?"
Shaking his head lightly, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf says, in allundean:
"She won't listen, her trust is already broken and scattered."
The scales of his neck bunching as he turns to look over at the hunched, beak-nosed elf, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Tripped is so capable. We believe his heart to have been clouded by spice and the spirits of War."
With a tight frown, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"He was punished. His punishment is not physical. It is not noticed. It is with the lack of knowledge that will be granted to him. He was being considered as my apprentice."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf bows his head for a moment, the fingers of his right hand spreading to rub deeply at his eyes.
Simply, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"This is no more."
Nodding, but suddenly looking very weary, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I understand."
Blinking back and forth from the vibrant, bestial creature to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf shifts on her feet a moment.
His chest carrying a deep rumble, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Our sister is scared. She is frightened, and does not understand why the ground collapses below her."
Gaze averted, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I understand now, Shaman. We were wrong. And I will apologize to Sister Black Wind, before we lose her to the Soh for good."
With a slow shake of his head, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Nah. Ah will."
Looking to you, sadly, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to you, in allundean:
"We all will."
Raising one claw, tapping the scales of his chest, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"You, brothers, sisters, I... all of us. The Womb. We are her ground. Trust must be re-established. She must trust that we are firm. That we will always be."
Feeling grudgingly, you think:
"I suppose I will too."
Finally piping up as he lifts his head, lowering his fingers from his eyes, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"I was to go and open trade with the Soh. I'll help"
Shaking his head, braids swaying alongside his face, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Before I do that, though ... Shaman, I think my eyes have taken ill."
Chomping down loudly, ripping a massive hunk from the ginka, the vibrant, bestial creature eats a portion of his partially eaten juicy ginka fruit.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf drops a silent nod, his gaze slanting to the youthful, copper-skinned elf.
The vibrant, bestial creature's eyes shift over towards the youthful, copper-skinned elf.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has lost link.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has reconnected.
Lifting his chin as he takes a sharp breath of air, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"I was working hides earlier in the week, as the hunters need space. Nothing was wrong, and then it felt as though daggers were thrust through my eyes. They still hurt."
A sudden chuckle resonates in the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's throat.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf clears his throat as he attempts to cover up an amused smile, gaze shifting sideways a moment.
Grunting gruffly, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"The dwellers of the Dun Pit have a saying..."
Sounding slightly amused, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Every Spice has its Price."
Sidestepping toward the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf tucks herself back underneath his arm in a slight lean, chewing her bottom lip over in thought.
Blinking before he turns his gaze aside, grimly favoring the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Oh."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's chuckle briefly becomes a hoarse, barking laugh, but he manages to stifle it, and it soon fades.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf lifts a clenched fist to his mouth, unsuccessfully attempting to stifle a snicker.
Nodding once towards the youthful, copper-skinned elf, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Much water, only fresh fruit, two weeks. No meat. Then remember in future."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Drawing a defiant breath as he rises, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"They laugh, but we must all learn. I only worried because I've made many promises. I will open trade with the Soh, and I want to deal with some of the Pit dwellers. Trade makes trust, makes peace."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf stands up.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf shakes his head, looking momentarily distracted.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"She has sealed her mind off to me, Shaman. But I will speak to her as soon as she's ready to let me."
Smiling over at the youthful, copper-skinned elf, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"In time, you will learn the beauty of laughter as another learns."
Sincerely, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Thank you for... setting me right."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stalks over the low knoll, easing to a halt at the youthful, copper-skinned elf's side.
Glancing once again toward the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, just before he adopts aslight smile, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"Yes, Shaman. Do you think it is wrong of me to deal with the Pit walkers? Some say I should never near them, but I want peace for the Womb."
A set of nictating membranes slide down over the vibrant, bestial creature's eyes.
Taking a seat near the fire and massaging his temple, the hunched, beak-nosed elf sits down to rest.
Voice the rumble of earth shifting far below, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"I've her mind."
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf regards the youthful, copper-skinned elf curiously a moment and then glances back over to the vibrant, bestial creature.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf Mismatched eyes flicker from one elf to another before finally settling decidedly on the vibrant, bestial creature.
the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf's mismatched eyes flicker from one elf to another before finally settling decidedly on the vibrant, bestial creature.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
You are a little hungry.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf shifts from one boot to the other, briefly lifting two gloved knuckles to rub at his scar-etched brow.
Flicking his grey-hued gaze aside, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf looks at the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf.
Canting his head mildly, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"I know the trade tongue, and where there is mutual need, there is usually peace. If we offer a blind eye to our neighbors, and a silent tongue, we'd might as well turn our backs to their spears."
Placing a clawed hand on his shoulder, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf whispers something to the youthful, copper-skinned elf.
Clearing his throat lightly, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"... So I think, anyhow. I'm not eager to enter that place, either."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
Glancing up at him, his brow furrowed, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"I stalk the sort of prey Akeita made me to hunt. That's all. When this is over, perhaps the Shaman will have time to mull over my question."
Returning to the fireside grasses, where he drops into a crouch, the youthful, copper-skinned elf sits down.
Fingers coming up to tug and fidget at the hem of her sweat-stained sleek black quirri-hide halter top, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf chews her bottom lip in thought, mismatched eyes clouding over a moment.
You are a little hungry.
With a gutteral rumble, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"She will return. Your words will be ready. The trust will be healed in time."
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf lets out an audible breath, stature relaxing.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's expression turns dour, for a moment, before smoothing back out into his usual, weather-beaten mask.
You think:
"Then she will have to... Oh, but if the shaman said it, then I must try. Even if she -is-... strange."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf nods simply toward the vibrant, bestial creature.
After a moment, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf also drops a nod, his expression giving away nothing.
Feeling sardonic humor, you think:
"And if it is Akei's will, then let it be."
Looking to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Use your wisdom to guide them."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf blinks in surprise at the vibrant, bestial creature, then nods solemnly.
Touching a twelve inch thrashing ginka vine below his paw, whispering the word, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Thank you."
The vibrant, bestial creature watches the vine retreat underground.
You are a little hungry.
Turning, the vibrant, bestial creature takes one step, vanishes, reappears instantly ten cords later on his path, then takes another ten cord step, and turns south into the tent.
The vibrant, bestial creature flies east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the vibrant, bestial creature has arrived from the west.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the vibrant, bestial creature flies south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: working her way around a hide-covered tent, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf runs north.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the south, working her way around a hide-covered tent.
At her arrival, you look at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Obsidian-hued hair tumbles in straight locks to mid-back, the dusty
flecked mane covering half over sharply pointed and pierced eartips lending
no doubt to her elven heritage. Two chin length shorn and dreaded tendrils
frame either side of her angular features, the darkened hue bringing out the
steely silver of her large almond shaped, pearl flecked gaze. Between the
lay of her tilted, kohl-rimmed eyes rests a narrow nose, it's end
unobtrusive with a small upturned slope. A slanted and bony jawline leads
down to a defined and slightly pointed chin, a pair of thin grey tinted lips
curving in bow shape above. Various scars mar her dusky skin, smatterings
of old and new littering over her long and willowy form. Though she bears
slight curves to give hint at her femininity, little else but the rounds of
her hips and chest shows any trace of the cushion of fat.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf is in excellent condition.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf is using:
<worn in hair> a dusty saw-toothed, silvery green leaf
<worn in left ear> a dusty blackened ear cuff of polished bone
<worn in right ear> a dusty green and blue feather earring
<worn around neck> a dusty string of sharp teeth
<worn about throat> a dusty hooded, amber-fringed leather shoulder cape
<slung across back> a dusty thornwood and tortoiseshell longbow
<worn across back> a dusty green and brown dyed canvas pack
<body> a swirl of deep blue and green inks
<right shoulder> a rantarri paw inked in white
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a yawning tembo
<worn on arms> a dusty dark blue and green swirled warpaint
<worn around wrist> a dusty green chitin archery brace
<worn around wrist> a dusty supple, earthy archery brace
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn on forearms> a dusty set of etched wooden bangles
<worn as belt> a dusty black-trimmed, pouched dark green belt
<hung from belt> a dusty long bone-headed spear
<hung from belt> a dusty hooked mekillot-bone spear
<worn about waist> a dusty soft, amber-tasseled suede quiver
<worn on legs> a dusty vividly-slashed, dark blue skirt
<right ankle> a wreath of flowers tattoo
<left ankle> a twining tattoo of a ginka vine
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of sparkling, amber-adorned moccasins
She is carrying:
nothing obvious
Lowering his brow towards the ground, rubbing at his neck beneath his thick mane, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"I'm an idiot."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf flicks a glance over his shoulder at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, his thorn-impaled lips pressed into a line.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf looks up at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf straightens and turns on his heel, picking his way through the milling elven crowd towards the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf comes to a halt along the southern expanse of the clustered tents, keeping well clear of those gathered.
Shaking a little as he rises, watching the umbral, dark-tressed female elf approach, the hunched, beak-nosed elf rises and stands.
Lifting his chin a bit, his gaze following the flow of others nearby, the youthful, copper-skinned elf looks up at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
For a long moment, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf simply looks at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, his ink-whorled brow creased slightly.
Turning his gaze to offer a smile, the feral obsidian-mohawked elf looks at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Gaze lowered to the ground, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Sister... we're sorry."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
Eyes narrowing evenly on the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf nods solidly once and cracks a smile, leaning easily against the feral obsidian-mohawked elf.
With a tilt of his head, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Has th'right of 't. Y'should know zhat y'have a root heah, in th'Womb. Silly t'think yah can't be safe heah."
The faintest hint of a smile appearing on his lips as he looks at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, you ask, in allundean:
"Aye, we're of your blood, no?"
Employing a sudden bout of cheer, his lips hauled by their peaks into a broad smile, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"WElcome home."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf folds her arms down in a loosely protective clasp over the top swell of her midsection, remaining otherwise silent.
One turquoise eye squinting faintly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Zhe... Shaman came t'speak wit' us, an' told us what happened. Th'elders did nah do nothin' - punishment was levelled, an' you can be safe here."
Ignoring the others, and seeking her gaze, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"We were confused. And maybe a little ashamed for our Brother. It was never our intent to make you feel unwelcome."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the bald, weather-battered elf intently scans the area.
You are a little hungry.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"You're safe here. We have nothing but love for you. For you and your child."
After a beat, the hunched, beak-nosed elf nudges you gently in the side with his elbow.
Clearing his throat as he drops a nod, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Aye. Right. Love."
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's silvery-gaze flickers doubtfully aside towards you.
With a sharp lift of his chin, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Ai? So how d'yah feel?"
After a moment, licking his lips and then lowering his head abit, you say to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"I am sincerely sorry for what I said, sister."
You think:
"There. I apologized. Sincerely."
Edging a step backwards, doubtfilled gaze shifting over for him, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Like I am an outsider.. again."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's ink-whorled gaze creases slightly, and his pierced lips press into a thin line.
You think:
"Right. Outsider. Here at the Womb. She -is- a strange one."
Speaking out suddenly, a lazy smile flickering back on his lips as he glances to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, you say, in allundean:
"Well, now that we have made our peace, I thought I hear you said somethin' about smokin' earlier, brother."
Stepping aside from the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf edges up close to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, standing shoulder to shoulder.
Leveling a finger at her, the hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"You are no outsider. You will never be an outsider. You are of the Akei Ta Var, I am your brother, and this is your home. Yes?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf watches the umbral, dark-tressed female elf earnestly.
After a long moment, his voice a quiet rasp, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"You shouldn'. You're welcome, an' yah loved, sister, for all'a your choices."
Slipping a hand down to press against the swell of her stomach, her words clipped, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"Yes."
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the north.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks south.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf shifts slightly on her feet, giving a quick glance Eastward.
Smiling suddenly, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Good."
Leaning close, his turquoise eyes still locked on the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf whispers to you, in allundean:
"Remember when I said t'shuddup an' let silence be? Ah was wrong. Go get zhe spice."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Then you accept our apology?"
A grin appearing on his lips as he gives him a nod, you whisper to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf in allundean:
"Aye, let's go."
You now follow the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf.
With a long moment of pause, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf hefts up a small shrug of a shoulder for the hunched, beak-nosed elf.
After a long moment spent in silent observation, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Part of being family's knowing when to apologize, and when to forgive. They spoke truth t'you."
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf shifts his weight before making his way over towards the umbral, dark-tressed female elf's side.
You think:
"Like I said, she's ins- Er, a strange one."
Cocking a hip and crossing her arms over her chest, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf stands close to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, gaze shifting to the youthful, copper-skinned elf a moment.
A booming roar sounds from the Shaman's tent.
With a slow nod, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Ai, go-"
Silvery-gaze flicking aside towards him, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf asks the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"They also spoke before of insanity.. because they spoke it should I believe that as truth as well?"
With a relieved sigh, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Good. Good. Then we should all get drunk and eat and tell stories, like brothers and sisters-"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf abruptly turns on his heel, swiftly cutting into a dead sprint.
At a swift sprint, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf runs east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf has arrived from the west, at a swift sprint.
You follow the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, and run east.
East Side of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Some tents dot this side of the camp, spread unevenly over the hill. Fewer
elves, relative to the hill's western expanse, mill about here, most either
moving to a tent or from it towards the tribe's denser population lying to the
west.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf has arrived from the west.
Crashing through the heavy flaps, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf runs south.
You follow the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, and run south.
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Inside a Canvas-Walled Tent [N Quit Save]
Only a few sleeping mats, made of hides, canvas and other materials,
line the floor of this yet to be fully occupied tent. A framework of small
pymlithe branches supports the reinforced canvas that forms this
dwelling's walls. Upturned gurth shells and simple wooden chests hold a
variety of personal belongings, ranging from bone, wood and stone tools to
other objects of a vaguely arcane quality.
Hanging from a peg of one of the tents poles, staring with it cold hollow gaze is an anakore skull.
A large bag is lying here.
A well-fashioned grass basket rests here, filled with roots and fruits.
A sturdy grass basket rests near the grill, filled with seasonings.
A six-sided purplish basket rests near the grill, filled with fats.
A bone and tile grill sits in the middle of the tent.
A simple wooden chest rests here, filled with meat.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A square, snake-embroidered linen mat lies here, providing seating.
The broken remains of a humanoid skeleton lie here.
A hefty wooden barrel sits here.
A hefty wooden barrel sit to the side, filled with water.
A bone and shell frying pan is here is here hanging from the grill.
A bone and shell frying pan is here hanging from the side of the grill.
A duskhorn skull is here propped next to a chest.
A large domed shell lies here.
A sleeping mat, blue in hue and comfortable looking, sits here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
The vibrant, bestial creature is flying here.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf is standing here.
The slight, withered elf girl squats here, preparing bundles of herbs.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf has arrived from the north.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the north, sprinting along.
You look down at the vibrant, bestial creature.
Something akin to a tembo, a man, and a kenku stoops here. Filled
with energetic musculature, covered in a striped layer of scar-free
flesh, this thing exudes power. A wide mouth filled with tembo teeth,
the eyes as well similar to that creature, break open a face that looks
only vaguely humanoid. Curving talons tip each finger, and hardy,
silver-feathered wings sprout from the back. A vibrant set of bright
hued feathers sprout from the wrists and race back along the arms,
moving from silver to red to brilliant blue as they coat the body
of this odd looking being.
The vibrant, bestial creature is in excellent condition.
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks ragged as he swifts through the flaps, his turquoise eyes widened.
Teeth bared, eyes obviously angered, energy crackling around him, the vibrant, bestial creature exclaims, in allundean:
"If you wish to speak to me of how wise you are, I encourage you to think CAREFULLY before you chose your next sentence!"
The youthful, copper-skinned elf has arrived from the north, brushing the tent flaps aside as he dashes in.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the north, loping swiftly along.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf blinks, appearing lost as he glances about.
Stabbing a claw into the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf's chest, the vibrant, bestial creature exclaims, in allundean:
"YOUR words caused this wound! They were action enough!"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf stops dead in his tracks at the entrance to the tent, watching the vibrant, bestial creature and the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf.
His gaze finally landing on him, you look at the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf.
Lean, with a wiry cording of musculature beneath his golden-flecked skin,
this elf has the deeply define characterization of his elven ancestry
with a touch of the bulk that is associated with one very active. His eyes are
almond shaped and are toned a cool blue in hue, with swirls of umber and
jade twisting around the irises. Shaggy locks of crimson-stained hair have
been twisted into braids and flop down across his shoulders.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf is in excellent condition.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf is using:
<worn on head> a dusty mesh-covered, tembo-hide cap
<worn in hair> a dusty baobab leaf
<worn around neck> a dusty studded tembo-hide collar
<worn about throat> a dusty crystal teardrop pendant
<slung across back> a dusty slender duskhorn recurve bow
<worn across back> a dusty large chalton-hide backpack
<worn on torso> a bloodied studded, scorpion-emblazoned vest
<right shoulder> an angry, armored bahamet tattoo
<left shoulder> a tattoo of a duskhorn bull's head
<worn on arms> a pair of carru leather sleeves
<worn around wrist> a leaf-patterned, tembo-hide wrist-wrap
<worn around wrist> a leaf-patterned, tembo-hide wrist-wrap
<worn on hands> a dusty pair of anakore-claw gloves
<worn as belt> a tooth-studded, tembo hide belt
<hung from belt> a dusty fanged baobab spear
<worn around body> a dusty hooded, dusky-green cotton cloak
<worn about waist> a bloodied jozhal hide quiver
<worn on legs> a set of leaf-patterned, tembo-hide leggings
<worn on right ankle> a dusty small leather pouch
<worn on feet> a dusty pair of tembo mesh boots
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
You think:
"Ah, brother..."
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf winces as the claw stabs into the flesh.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf's silvery-gaze flickers aside towards the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, as she skids to a halt just inside the tent.
Levering forward, his toothed maw inches from the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf's face, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"You will heal this wound."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf makes his pause behind some of the older men, his heels skidding to an abrupt halt as he overhears the enraged words.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf lopes over an overturned basket, placing himself between the vibrant, bestial creature and the rest behind.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf skids to a halt just inside the tent flaps and edges aside to allow others through, mismatched gaze settling on the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf has arrived from the north.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf sucks in a breath, watching the exchange with wide eyes.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf hunches up her shoulders suddenly as she watches the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, backing up slowly towards the tents flaps.
Voice a low hiss, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"No one speak. No one intervene."
His lips barely moving, his attention caught, you whisper to the hunched, beak-nosed elf in allundean:
"I'm not plannin' to."
Thin, crimson fluid continues to drip from the vibrant, bestial creature maw as he stares into the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf eyes.
As blood trickles down his chest, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says, in allundean:
"I have always put the good foot forward. But believe me if there is a wound then I can heal it."
Hissing in a dry rasp over his shoulder, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf exclaims, in allundean:
"Quiet!"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf holds back his arms, holding back a gathering crowd of curious elves. None attempt to move deeper into the tent.
Retracting his claw, passing his palm over the wound and bringing it closed, the vibrant, bestial creature says, in allundean:
"Then do so."
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf pulls his gaze from the vibrant, bestial creature to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
His torso remaining steady in the air, the vibrant, bestial creature pulls up his left leg, then his right, crossing them as he hovers silently.
You think:
"Mother, I can cut tension with a knife."
The vibrant, bestial creature's eyes steadily closed, the deep hum of a meditative focus coming from within his chest.
You think:
"And probably break the knife in the process."
The youthful, copper-skinned elf maintains his silence, observing the discourse through the gap between two of the taller men. He breathes a sigh of relief, however, as he sees the claw retract from the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf's chest.
Speaking with some pain, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, in allundean:
"Sister, my words and our time of unfriendly days when my Jaan was with us still coming to you?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf remains still as stone, save for a slight tremble in the corded sinews of his over-tensed arms.
As her gaze had never left the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf backs once more in a pace for the tents flap.
Ducking beneath the tents flaps, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks north.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf takes a deep breath.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf shifts his attention away, as though studying a sturdy grass basket with deep interest.
Before stalking off to the north, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf asks the vibrant, bestial creature, in allundean:
"You sure you didn't just have me open a wound?"
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks north.
The vibrant, bestial creature crackles.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf sighs wearily, finally lowering his arms.
Lightning beginning to play across his skin, the vibrant, bestial creature keeps his eyes shut.
You are hungry.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf backs slowly away from the vibrant, bestial creature, each boot scraping slowly across the tent floor.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf frowns deeply, arms re-crossing over her chest.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf takes a step toward the flap of the tent, and then another, before ducking out completely.
Inside a Canvas-Walled Tent [N Quit Save]
Only a few sleeping mats, made of hides, canvas and other materials,
line the floor of this yet to be fully occupied tent. A framework of small
pymlithe branches supports the reinforced canvas that forms this
dwelling's walls. Upturned gurth shells and simple wooden chests hold a
variety of personal belongings, ranging from bone, wood and stone tools to
other objects of a vaguely arcane quality.
Hanging from a peg of one of the tents poles, staring with it cold hollow gaze is an anakore skull.
A large bag is lying here.
A well-fashioned grass basket rests here, filled with roots and fruits.
A sturdy grass basket rests near the grill, filled with seasonings.
A six-sided purplish basket rests near the grill, filled with fats.
A bone and tile grill sits in the middle of the tent.
A simple wooden chest rests here, filled with meat.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A square, snake-embroidered linen mat lies here, providing seating.
The broken remains of a humanoid skeleton lie here.
A hefty wooden barrel sits here.
A hefty wooden barrel sit to the side, filled with water.
A bone and shell frying pan is here is here hanging from the grill.
A bone and shell frying pan is here hanging from the side of the grill.
A duskhorn skull is here propped next to a chest.
A large domed shell lies here.
A sleeping mat, blue in hue and comfortable looking, sits here.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf is standing here.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf is standing here, looking tired.
- she is carrying a rough canvas backpack.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf is standing here.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf is standing here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
The vibrant, bestial creature is flying here.
The slight, withered elf girl squats here, preparing bundles of herbs.
East Side of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Some tents dot this side of the camp, spread unevenly over the hill. Fewer
elves, relative to the hill's western expanse, mill about here, most either
moving to a tent or from it towards the tribe's denser population lying to the
west.
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
You think:
"Stomach will have to wait."
You think:
"Or I'll just.. take a nibble..."
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Inside a Gizhat-Hide Tent [W Quit Save]
Only a few sleeping mats, made of hides, canvas and other materials,
line the floor of this yet to be fully occupied tent. A framework of small
pymlithe branches supports the crimson hide that forms this dwelling's
walls. Upturned gurth shells and simple wooden chests hold a variety of
personal belongings, ranging from bone, wood and stone tools to other objects
of a vaguely arcane quality.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with assorted gear.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with shields, clubs and spears.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with belts and quivers.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with boots and leggings.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with caps, bracers and collars.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with sleeves and vests.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with cloaks.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with waterskins and torches.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with bows and throwing weapons.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with axes and swords.
A pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs lies along the back of the tent.
A large bag lies here near some chests, filled with bags.
You open your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack.
Muted brown carru hide has been sewn to form this sturdy backpack. The
dull color of the leather is offset by the elaborate embroidery that
envelopes the entire piece. Lines of a soft purple-brown hue are stitched
into the backpack's flap to depict the enormous shell of a bahamet. A tiny,
stitched head pokes out above the clasp of the bag. Four stubby limbs
sprout off the sides of the shell, pointing off towards the edges of the
pack.
It is covered with dust and sand.
In a dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack (used) :
a few slabs of red meat
a couple of waterskins
an irrig lamp-topped staff
You get your slab of red meat from your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack.
It is very light.
You close your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack.
You eat part of your slab of red meat.
You are a little hungry.
You eat your half eaten slab of red meat.
You are no longer hungry.
You are carrying:
nothing.
East Side of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Some tents dot this side of the camp, spread unevenly over the hill. Fewer
elves, relative to the hill's western expanse, mill about here, most either
moving to a tent or from it towards the tribe's denser population lying to the
west.
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Inside a Canvas-Walled Tent [N Quit Save]
Only a few sleeping mats, made of hides, canvas and other materials,
line the floor of this yet to be fully occupied tent. A framework of small
pymlithe branches supports the reinforced canvas that forms this
dwelling's walls. Upturned gurth shells and simple wooden chests hold a
variety of personal belongings, ranging from bone, wood and stone tools to
other objects of a vaguely arcane quality.
Hanging from a peg of one of the tents poles, staring with it cold hollow gaze is an anakore skull.
A large bag is lying here.
A well-fashioned grass basket rests here, filled with roots and fruits.
A sturdy grass basket rests near the grill, filled with seasonings.
A six-sided purplish basket rests near the grill, filled with fats.
A bone and tile grill sits in the middle of the tent.
A simple wooden chest rests here, filled with meat.
A simple wooden chest sits here on the floor.
A square, snake-embroidered linen mat lies here, providing seating.
The broken remains of a humanoid skeleton lie here.
A hefty wooden barrel sits here.
A hefty wooden barrel sit to the side, filled with water.
A bone and shell frying pan is here is here hanging from the grill.
A bone and shell frying pan is here hanging from the side of the grill.
A duskhorn skull is here propped next to a chest.
A large domed shell lies here.
A sleeping mat, blue in hue and comfortable looking, sits here.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf is standing here.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf is standing here, looking tired.
- she is carrying a rough canvas backpack.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf is standing here.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf is standing here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
The vibrant, bestial creature is flying here.
The slight, withered elf girl squats here, preparing bundles of herbs.
With a sharp lift of his chin, his voice a quiet whisper, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf exclaims, in allundean:
"You heard me. Go!"
You think:
"Eh?"
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf walks north.
East Side of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Some tents dot this side of the camp, spread unevenly over the hill. Fewer
elves, relative to the hill's western expanse, mill about here, most either
moving to a tent or from it towards the tribe's denser population lying to the
west.
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
Northwards lies a tent of goudra hide.
The flaps are open.
[Near]
Nothing.
<101/101|124/124|189/206|103/103|running|standing>Directly to the east lies a tent of gizhat hide.
The flaps are open.
[Near]
The organic, umber-pearled youth is standing here.
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Inside a Gizhat-Hide Tent [W Quit Save]
Only a few sleeping mats, made of hides, canvas and other materials,
line the floor of this yet to be fully occupied tent. A framework of small
pymlithe branches supports the crimson hide that forms this dwelling's
walls. Upturned gurth shells and simple wooden chests hold a variety of
personal belongings, ranging from bone, wood and stone tools to other objects
of a vaguely arcane quality.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with assorted gear.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with shields, clubs and spears.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with belts and quivers.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with boots and leggings.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with caps, bracers and collars.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with sleeves and vests.
A heavy agafari trunk lies here off to the side, filled with cloaks.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with waterskins and torches.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with bows and throwing weapons.
A simple wooden chest lies here off to the side, filled with axes and swords.
A pile of softly-tanned sleeping furs lies along the back of the tent.
A large bag lies here near some chests, filled with bags.
The organic, umber-pearled youth is standing here.
Stalking in, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf jerks to an abrupt halt, appearing deep in thought a moment before casting a glance out the flap of the tent.
To the west, gizhat-hide flaps open up to the camp's east side.
The flaps are open.
[Very far]
The green-runed elven girl kneels here, swirling designs in the sand.
[Far]
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf is standing here.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf is standing here.
The crook-nosed, muscular elf stares into the fire.
The wild-haired, elderly elf sits near an aging elf by the fire.
The pale, bald, elderly elf supervises the pounding, waving a tuber.
The gangly, agitated elf works hides here.
A serpent-tattooed youth kneels here, nibbling meat off of his spear.
The lithe, dark-skinned elf sits on a bahamet shell here.
[Near]
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
The organic, umber-pearled youth has departed from the land of Zalanthas.
East Side of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Some tents dot this side of the camp, spread unevenly over the hill. Fewer
elves, relative to the hill's western expanse, mill about here, most either
moving to a tent or from it towards the tribe's denser population lying to the
west.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf is standing here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf is standing here.
A granite-haired, beak-nosed elf sits on a mat, inking needles.
Stalking up the low knoll, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf walks west.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf walks west.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf walks west.
You follow the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, and walk west.
Stinging sand swirls around you.
Center of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW Quit]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this natural
barrier is barely visible through small breaks in the thorny mass.
Lush in comparison to the barren surrounds, a patch of green flora covers
the central part of this hill. In the center of this patch of living ground
sits a large campfire. A well-worn path circles this campfire and branches
off east and west. Denizens of the camp pack this area most densely, some
working hides, others in deep meditation or conversation, and here or there
a few are immersed in one ritual or another.
A half of a bahamet shell sits just off the well-worn path, due north of
the fire, laying dome-up on the ground, serving as a natural podium of sorts.
To the west the camp is densely packed with tents, the number of elves
visible in that direction testament to the well-settled nature of that side,
while to the east lies fewer tents and fewer still inhabitants.
A majestic falcon, with keen yellow eyes, casts a predatory glance about the area.
A carved granite box rests on the ground here.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf is standing here.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf is standing here.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf is standing here.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf is standing here, looking tired.
- she is carrying a rough canvas backpack.
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf is standing here.
The crook-nosed, muscular elf stares into the fire.
The wild-haired, elderly elf sits near an aging elf by the fire.
The pale, bald, elderly elf supervises the pounding, waving a tuber.
The gangly, agitated elf works hides here.
A serpent-tattooed youth kneels here, nibbling meat off of his spear.
The lithe, dark-skinned elf sits on a bahamet shell here.
To the south the ground gradually slopes downwards, levelling off.
[Near]
The ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf stands here, eyes gleaming.
The bald, weather-battered elf stands here, scanning the horizon watchfully.
The gaunt, windblown elf stands here watching the sky.
The green tattooed elf stands here vigilantly.
Coming to a skidding halt beside the feral obsidian-mohawked elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf sighs softly and shakes her head.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf's slitted eyes flick across the western clearing, and he tips his chin in a faint nod.
It is high sun on Ocandra, the 34th day of the Descending Sun,
In the Year of Silt's Slumber, year 53 of the 21st Age.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf follows along just a bit behind the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, his gaze sweeping over the heart of the camp.
As he eases down, bending into a crouch, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Let 'em speak."
Dropping onto a flat stone beside the fire's grave, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf sits down.
To the south the ground gradually slopes downwards, levelling off.
[Near]
The ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf stands here, eyes gleaming.
The bald, weather-battered elf stands here, scanning the horizon watchfully.
The gaunt, windblown elf stands here watching the sky.
The green tattooed elf stands here vigilantly.
To the north the hill meets a cliff wall, an overhanging shelf offering some shade.
[Near]
A black warbeetle is reclining here.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A huge, four legged, shell-backed lizard is here, nosing about for forage.
A large and grey-scaled flightless bird stands here.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A large war beetle crawls about, struggling against its chitin harness.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A large and grey-scaled flightless bird stands here.
A large yellow sunback lizard stands here.
A desert-scaled sunlon stands here on two legs.
A large war beetle crawls about, struggling against its chitin harness.
A gargantuan lizard with glossy black scales stands here foraging for food.
A huge, four legged, shell-backed lizard is here, nosing about for forage.
A slender, striped cheotan lizard crouches here, nostrils flaring.
A huge, four legged, shell-backed lizard is here, nosing about for forage.
To the west lies the bulk of the camp's tents, elves bustling around.
[Far]
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf is standing here.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf is standing here.
[Near]
The green-runed elven girl kneels here, swirling designs in the sand.
After a moment of deliberation, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf moves over to an empty spot and lowers himself to the ground.
Nodding and taking a seat near the fire, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Yes. No need to complicate things further. They need to speak."
You sit down.
Near the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, the hunched, beak-nosed elf sits down to rest.
Lifting a finger to jab him between the shoulderblades, chin rising as he crouches, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Made a fool of me t' the Shaman, with your damn spice. Now you're gonna run the Pit with me, that's for certain."
Glancing over and giving him a grin, you ask the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"Well now, if you'd asked either of us, we would've told you, eh?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf straightens stiffly beneath the jab, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf turns a dour glance over one shoulder at the youthful, copper-skinned elf, but his visage soon softens into a narrow, yellowed grin.
You feel like there is too much things going on right now and it's best to just see how it goes.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the west, turning on heel.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: stalking along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks east.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the west, stalking along.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the west.
On the West Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks east.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the west.
Expectantly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looks up at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Stlking south to the tent, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf shouts, in allundean:
"Delur!"
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the north.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf glances up as the two arrives, his gaze looking over them quickly, almost searchingly.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf offers a smile to the men closest to him. It fades, however, as he turns his attention towards the western tents.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks north.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the south.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the west.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks south.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Leave them."
You think:
"Will she not make -peace-?"
With a slow nod, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Ai, zhat is best."
Lifting spindly fingers up to twist and pull back the knots of one wood-beaded dreadlock, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf plops down onto the ground at the feral obsidian-mohawked elf's feet.
The umbral, dark-tressed female elf folds her arms tightly over her chest, making a wide berth around those gathered towards the south stretch through the tents.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf looses a long, hoarse and weary sigh, his chest visibly deflating.
Wincing slightly as he watches after the shaggy-haired elf's sprint, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"I wouldn't go back in there now, that's for sure."
Stalking along, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the umbral, dark-tressed female elf has arrived from the north, stalking along.
With a sigh, the dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf rubs his hand on his brows.
Putting his head in his hands wearily, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"If Aduj wants to get his head ripped off by the Shaman, that is his prerogative."
It is early afternoon on Ocandra, the 34th day of the Descending Sun,
In the Year of Silt's Slumber, year 53 of the 21st Age.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the south.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks west.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the east.
Tilting his head back to look at the sky a moment, you say, in allundean:
"I'm feelin' like I wanna run to the post and get myself a long nice smoke."
Shaking his head slowly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"No forgiveness."
Shaking her head as she speaks, more to herself than anyone else, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf says, in allundean:
"All of this coming to blows is upsetting her and tha' young in her belly."
Stalking in , the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf exclaims, in allundean:
"Which brother says I spoke of harming my sister?!"
Straightening stiffly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stands up.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf blinks as he looks towards the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, furrowing his brow.
Not looking at him, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"It matters not, Tripped. Shaman Delur himself speaks it."
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf looks over the gathered elves.
Wearily, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf turns on his heel, squaring himself with the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf with slitted eyes.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"Well he is wrong."
With a lift of one clawed hand, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"First, brother, you must be calm."
Gaze narrowing into thin slits as mismatched eyes rest on the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf pulls herself slowly to her feet.
The youthful, copper-skinned elf widens his eyes as he listens to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, his attention straying quite deliberately towards the eastern tents beyond.
With a sudden burst of dry humor as he glances to the hunched, beak-nosed elf, you say, in allundean:
"Perhaps -this- is what you speak of, brother. Not the witch mark or anythin', but the dividin' within our tribe."
With a sweep of one clawed finger through the air, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"Zhis will nah get anythin' done."
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf turns his south.
With a sardonic twist of a smile, you ask the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"The innards of the diseased child you've read. Perhaps it all turns to this, eh?"
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"BUt there was never no plans of harming my own."
Looking to you, taking the joke quite seriously, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says to you, in allundean:
"Perhaps you're right, Brother. Perhaps you're right."
With a sharp angle of his chin, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"Zhen let't be. Only more useless -shit- will come'a zhis. Akei'ta will decide zhe details."
Muttering to himself though loud enough to be overheard by some, you say, in allundean:
"Dear mother, I need a drink."
Jutting a single, clawed finger to the southeast, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"Listen to zhe Shaman! It is nah important what words are lies, only zhat th'wound is shut. Zhis will bleed th'Akei'ta Var 'a strength."
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf nods a few times.
Calling out to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf unhelpfully, you say, in allundean:
"She is already bleedin'."
Folding both sinewy arms over his dujat-banded leather jacket's chest, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf asks the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf, in allundean:
"What was said t'her?"
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf seems oblivious to you, his weathered visage set into a hard, stoic mask.
Looking south, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says to the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Some brother says he heard me and my Jaan plotting to harm her."
Tugging your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack onto his lap as he mutters under his breath, you say, in allundean:
"If I had a drink..."
You open your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack.
Muted brown carru hide has been sewn to form this sturdy backpack. The
dull color of the leather is offset by the elaborate embroidery that
envelopes the entire piece. Lines of a soft purple-brown hue are stitched
into the backpack's flap to depict the enormous shell of a bahamet. A tiny,
stitched head pokes out above the clasp of the bag. Four stubby limbs
sprout off the sides of the shell, pointing off towards the edges of the
pack.
It is covered with dust and sand.
In a dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack (used) :
a few slabs of red meat
a couple of waterskins
an irrig lamp-topped staff
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf lopes off to the south.
The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf has arrived from the north.
The dreadlocked, thorn-inked elf rummages within your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack a moment, his brows creasing into a frown as he comes back empty handed.
You think:
"Ah fuck."
With a pair of sharp nods, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"Ai, ah get zha-"
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: The shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf lopes over near the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
With a sigh, you close your dusty bahamet-embroidered leather backpack.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf cuts off abruptly and looses a hoarse, weary sigh, one hand rising to his scar-whorled brow.
Flatly, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says, in allundean:
"No one follow."
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stops leading you.
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf coughs, mismatched gaze turning southward to watch from afar.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf asks the umbral, dark-tressed female elf something.
The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf stops leading the youthful, copper-skinned elf.
Glancing to him, you ask the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf, in allundean:
"Hey, brother, you don't happen to have a drink, eh? Or did you finish it all?"
Stalking down the low, grassy slope, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf has arrived from the north, stalking down the low, grassy slope.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: The umbral, dark-tressed female elf ignores the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf plainly, her gaze set out away from the cluster of tents.
Lifting his shoulders, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says, in allundean:
"Didn't plan to follow. Nothin' will change until they open their ears t'each other."
Ignored, turning to him instead, you ask the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"-You- don't happen to have any... do you?"
The feral obsidian-mohawked elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the feral obsidian-mohawked elf has arrived from the west.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the feral obsidian-mohawked elf walks south.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: The willowy, thorn-inscribed elf paces towards the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf and the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, his weathered visage set in a stoic mask.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says something to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Snorting in light amusement, the youthful, copper-skinned elf asks you, in allundean:
"No. Am I the only Brother who doesn't drink and spice all day?"
The rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks east.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf has arrived from the west.
On the East Side of the Camp you see: the rangy, smoke-tattooed she-elf walks south.
Eyeing him a moment before cracking a grin, you say to the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"Nah, Kickin' doesn't either."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: with a gesture, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says something to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Rubbing the butt of his palm wearily into his face, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I'm fucking tired."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: As he nears, his hoarse voice thinning out wearily, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says something.
Glancing southward a moment and watching the two speak before shifting his attention to him, you ask the hunched, beak-nosed elf, in allundean:
"So am I. Our sister's not so forgivin' eh?"
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the ebon-hued, fire-scarred elf intently scans the area.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: bracing her elbows up against her bent knees, her gaze never lifting for him, the umbral, dark-tressed female elf says something to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf.
Contemplatively, as he looks off to the eastern tents, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"If you're runnin' to the Blackwing for drink, well, I need to get some of the things I've made sized. Nahual about keels over when I talk about goin' to the Pit for it."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: pacing back and forth, the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says something to the umbral, dark-tressed female elf.
Giving him a nod, you ask the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"Aye, I'm goin'. But later. Think I'm goin' to pass out for a few days. I'll find your mind later, eh?"
The hunched, beak-nosed elf rises from the ground, and clambers to his feet.
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf says something.
Rubbing at the small of his back, the hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"I'm going to take my rest."
Pushing himself off the ground, you stand up.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf says, in allundean:
"Hopefully time will shut this wound."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: In a sharp hiss, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf exclaims something.
With another glance southward, you say, in allundean:
"Unlikely."
Scratching his chin, the youthful, copper-skinned elf says to you, in allundean:
"I'll just go to the Pit. I can do that trade, while I'm at it."
The hunched, beak-nosed elf trots off to a nearby tent.
The hunched, beak-nosed elf has departed from the land of Zalanthas.
Shifting his gaze to him and giving him a grimace, you say to the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"Don't go alone. Take Whisper with you at least."
At the Entrance to the Camp you see: With a sharp jab of two hooked claws at the umbral, dark-tressed female elf, the willowy, thorn-inscribed elf says something to the shaggy-haired, blue-eyed elf.
Giving him a wave as he starts off towards the tents, you say to the youthful, copper-skinned elf, in allundean:
"Anyway, I'll find your mind later, eh? Get you properly drunk and spiced up."
[The following log contains my favorite Imm animation. Kudos to everyone involved! It was awesome.]
Center of a Thornbush-Walled Camp [NESW Quit]
Rising taller than a bahamet, and just as wide, an extremely dense circular
wall of thornbushes surrounds this small area. The land outside this...
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