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[aw] old habits
Posted 11-18-2017, 11:08 AM |
Gorgon
Rogue Wolf
Male, 4.25
Meso-fighter
30 in, 130 lbs
ep
© sorceror
All things considered, the magical land of Doutaini was - interesting, but not thrilling. He'd expected something a little more fairy-tale and populated by fewer people with smart mouths. He guessed he was an optimist still, somewhere very deep down. He probably should have known better.
At least the view was good.
He'd traveled north from the little gathering in the mud flat to find another thing that he had assumed was a myth. Magic, altruistic strangers, and volcanoes. The massive, faintly smoking mounting looming on the horizon was almost more interesting than the rest. He wondered what it would be like to climb to the top. Would there be more surprises?
Probably he would just die, he figured; all the old myths about fire mountains had suggested that they weren't really tourist attractions. The promise of it at least being warm was enough reason for him to get closer, but he didn't want to get too toasty. You know, life-threateningly so.
Doubtless the magic fairies and elves had some way to keep from being killed by it, but he had foregone joining one of their cults. Not for him, yet; Gorgon Volante had sort of been enjoying being relatively free. Sure, he was on a mission, but one where nobody else was looking over his shoulder and making sure he was actually doing his job.

So, he traveled across the empty plain, close enough to feel heat wafting off the still-distant slope of the volcano but not close enough to see any of it's rumored attractions. No lava, just a little smoke and a taste of ash in the air. Dust rose out of his trail and collected in his hair, sticking to the dried mud. He probably looked like part of the scenery. He hoped so, at least; as night started to take over the sky, he was thinking back to the last time he'd met the locals and was hoping to keep avoiding them. A week had passed since then, and so far he'd gotten lucky.
Maybe, though, it was too good to last; the scruffy man had stopped and scraped himself something like a shelter to sleep in when he caught, with paranoid clarity, the sound of something walking around out in the darkness. Claws scraping on the rough ground he had just finished digging into, for sure. It was either the boogeyman or a stranger.
His eyes narrowed at the darkness.
Or maybe, out here, they were one and the same.
In any case, it was probably best to not assume the magical elf locals couldn't see him in the darkness, be it thicker than any he was used to from his homeland. Clouds had covered the moon; he suspected it was going to snow overnight. He cleared his throat, loudly, figuring it was best to avoid being stepped on, and addressed the unseen lurker in a cracking voice.
"Got any of those fires, there?"
Could all the locals light campfires with their minds? He sure hoped so. It would make the prospect of spending another night in open a little more palatable.



[ Reply ]






Posted 11-21-2017, 10:22 PM |
Osney
Rogue
Male, 1.00
Ectomorph
25 in, 72 lbs
ep
© faun
he can feel the thoughts trying to puncture through his eyelid. it feels an awful lot like warding rats off with a firecracker. he feels an awful lot like a soldier cramped up in his trench, feeling the dreadful whistle of bullets that come close enough to graze an ear. or on a cot, shivering, not wanting to dream but having to. you must sleep. sleep to be strong. sleep to keep your strength up.

there's ashes on his nose. he's too tired to keep his chin up from the ground and the smell of smoke fills his lungs until he can't notice the difference. osney is hunched against a bare wall, just in the shade. the meagre light glimmers on his waterline and flashes before the moon is smothered again.

got any of those fires, there? a shiver wracks him. he withdraws a bony wrist into the folds of his threadbare clothes. "i wish," and his voice is surprisingly childlike, drawling, but also somehow scared. he wishes desperately for the stranger to pass on. for the winter to pass on. for anything to scrape past his eyes and for the cold that scrapes him inside out. "i don't have one of those magical necklace, if that's what you mean."

Gorgon



[ Reply ]






Posted 11-22-2017, 01:14 PM |
Gorgon
Rogue Wolf
Male, 4.25
Meso-fighter
30 in, 130 lbs
ep
© sorceror
Osney
The voice from the shadows didn't sound dangerous. The figure it came from looked fairly pathetic, even compared to him, but Gorgon decided it was best not to mention it. He himself was looking pretty dirty and ragged and not as fat as he preferred. Why run the risk of someone else mentioning it?
He shrugged and sat back down in his new dirt hole.
"Yeah, that's what I meant."
Too bad.
Seemed like a general consensus that one of the necklaces was a good thing to have. Mostly general. Except, he supposed, for the mouthy kid in the mud flats, who seemed to be pretty whiny about having something that Gorgon suspected his skinny new acquaintance would murder someone for.
Luckily for him, he wasn't exactly carrying anything worth stealing around with him. No reason to be nervous about this guy. The wanderer studied the boy as best as he could in the blackness, twitched his face in a vague look of interest, and shrugged again.
Not his business. Not his problem. He had enough to be getting on with. Nothing was more disinteresting than a woeful story of disadvantage. Still, though, he didn't exactly think the kid was harmless enough for him to drop off to sleep in a dirty hole while the boy looked on, and he couldn't think of much else to say. Sitting on the ground staring at the stranger might piss him off.
"You look, uh..ragged. Been out here a while?"
A vague inquiry, which suggested no interest in solving the problem. Even sympathy wasn't exactly hovering in his tone, just general interest. Because it was something to talk about, regardless of whether or not he actually cared.
Caring about other people was an activity for guys who actually, you know, owned something. Or lived somewhere. All he had was an auspicious name and a shallow hole in the ground.
He really needed to try and find some kind of actual shelter before winter really set in. Some place with trees.



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