Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-3293219-20160414174046/@comment-5543592-20160419230612

5 years ago

Morrowind Ashlands, Kagesh territory

The bipedal guar burrowed its large snout in the ash, kicking up the white, powdery flakes, searching for roots. In the Ashlands, food was hard to come by, and the creatures had adapted to living on little more than dirt.

That, combined with the fact they were just really big lizards, made Scire wonder how they were edible at all. The guar in question was a behemoth of a creature, a bull, likely, and it waved its stubbly arms as it searched the filthy ground.

“How are we supposed to haul this back to the village?”   Scire whispered. “We could cut one of its leg off and still have trouble carrying that. And we’re a mile out. We wouldn’t be able to lift it if Bagouti was here.”

“Well you’re lucky you have me then.”   Roar replied, smirking, the half-smile contorting the massive scar that ran along one side of his jaw. He and Scire were virtual opposites in appearance. Where Scire was lanky and tall, Roar was shorter in height and muscular; where Scire had a firm but marred face, Roar’s was attractive and fine looking. One even favored the bow while the other preferred blades. However, in personality, the two boys were identical. They spoke in half sentences, communicating in a way no one else but they could puzzle out. They shared a penchant for idle humor and witty quips, and sarcasm was a tool they both made frequent use of. And both had a tendency to cause trouble that caused groans of exasperation and wary stares when they approached baring nefarious grins. They were brothers in all but blood.

“You couldn’t carry that thing even if it stood up, cut its own legs off, and climbed onto your back for you.”   Scire retorted.

“How would it stand if it cut its legs off?”

“Ghost magic.”   Scire said offhandedly.

“I’d like to see that. A floating legless guar, flailing its arms about.”

“You’d think so, but remember it’s on your back. They piss when they’re scared.”   Scire mimed droplets of water falling by pulling up a handful of ash and sprinkling it onto his back. Roar slapped his hand away, scowling at him.

“Let’s just kill the thing and we can cut off what we can carry.”   Roar told him, to which Scire nodded, before the two Dunmer turned their attention back to the guar. Or, wear the guar had been standing. It was gone.

“Damnit.”   Scire groaned. “It got away.”

“How did that even happen? It was giant.”

“Ash must’ve softened its footsteps and we were distracted.”   Scire said as he rose, moving to investigate where the giant lizard had been. It had dug away some ash, but there was no sign it had found or eaten anything. Scire crouched down, examining the depression.

“Foot prints lead off in that direction.”   Roar said, pointing. “By depth, it was in a hurry.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Think we scared it by accident?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar shrugged. “We can probably follow it and see.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Both froze as there was a sudden growl not too far in the distance and they turned to see a massive Alit, a cousin of the guar, but even larger than the bull had been. With more muscled, angular legs, smaller arms, and a protruding lower jaw, the front of which massive fangs shot up from. The legs ended in large, three-toed feet with long, razor sharp claws. The things lack of a tail, and its tiny arms, made it look like a gigantic mouth with legs. It stood not fifty paces away, on a dune of ash, sniffing the air.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Ancestors…”   Roar whispered.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire rose slowly, careful not to make any sudden movements. Not that it mattered, Alit hunted by scent rather than sight or hearing.

<p class="MsoNormal">The Alit opened its mouth, revealing a scarily large number of sharp white teeth, and its tongue flicked the air, beady eyes scanning the area around it. It seemed to zero in on Scire and Roar, and made its way towards them, slowly. Alit didn’t like to run, unless they had to, its strides were naturally long anyway.

<p class="MsoNormal">“We’re fucked.”   Roar muttered simply, pulling his daggers from their sheaths on each of his hips. “So utterly fucked.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Shut up.”   Scire hissed in reply, pulling his bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. He slowly brought them together as the Alit came closer, it’s growling faintly louder now. It began to pick up speed suddenly, into a light jog that looked horribly unnatural on its awkward body.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire raised his bow up and sighted the Alit, then drew the arrow back.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Shoot it!”   Roar whispered, although Scire wondered why he even bothered. It obviously knew they were there.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’m only going to have one shot at it so I thought I’d take my time. Maybe take a bit of a walk first. Hey, did you hear about that Rashkin got a horse? Like, where’s going to care for a horse out here?”   Scire looked away from the now sprinting Alit to Roar.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Wha- Scire!”   Roar protested, shocked.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire glanced back at the Alit as if it were a mere annoyance. In an instant, he had brought his bow to full draw, the string brought back to his shoulder, cheek right next to the middle of the shaft, and released. There was as twang as the arrow shot through the air, and then a thunk as it buried itself in one of the Alit’s eyes, sinking into the socket. The creature immediately hit the ground, sliding a few feet further as a result of its own charge. It gave one bestial groan as it exhaled its last breath, and then died not ten paces from Scire. The whole thing took less than a second or two. He lowered the bow.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire looked back to Roar, and grinned, returning his bow to his shoulder.

<p class="MsoNormal">It took his friend a few moments to process what had just happened, before his face exploding in anger.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You Farseer bastard! Playing with my life like that! We- we- we could’ve died!”

<p class="MsoNormal">“But we didn’t, did we?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar paced back and forth shaking off his fright at the near death experience.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re such an ass hole.”   He concluded. “Azura’s light, how anyone ever puts up with you is beyond me.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire approached the downed Alit, prodding it with his foot. Then, bending down, he wrapped his hand around the base of one of its massive foot talons. He drew his dagger and slashed away the muscle and sinew where the talon met flesh, and then yanked it free. He flayed the remaining bits of meat off, before tucking the talon away.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You did that thing you do, didn’t you? Saw what it was going to do?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire shrugged as he rose. “I guess. Pretty interesting, huh?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Your face is interesting, with all its bumps and crooks, it’s like a mountain range.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire gave Roar a dry look as they began to walk back in the direction of the village.

<p class="MsoNormal">“That doesn’t bother me as much as you think it does.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Sure it doesn’t.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well I’m the one all the girls come to first, Roar, I guess that does make me interesting. You get pretty much forgotten.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“That’s because I don’t go chasing women like a horny cliffracer. Besides, Libi knows just how interesting I am.”   Roar replied with a satisfied smile.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire feigned a punch towards his friend’s abdomen for the swipe at his sister—although Scire didn’t actually say anything in response, to do so would be denial, since Roar and Libi did seem to have something going, as much as it weirded him out—and Roar stepped away, chuckling.

<p class="MsoNormal">“So we’re going to show up with nothing?”   Roar asked, changing the subject.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Not like we have a choice. That guar was too big a haul and we’ve seen nothing else. The game is getting fewer and fewer. We’re going to be eating our own fingernails to survive soon.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar shook his head. “I wish your brother’d do something about it.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire cocked his head, “What do you mean?”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Haven’t you noticed that Vale acts like nothing is wrong? He treats the Kagesh just like how he did when he became Ashkhan. The issues have changed, but he hasn’t. And he gets angry if you mention the food shortages or the deserters.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire nodded slowly, then sighed. “I know. I try to talk to him about it, but he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t treat me better than anyone else. Maybe less so.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Less so?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire nodded. “He thinks I might try to challenge him.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar blinked in surprise. “And will you?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire hesitated.

<p class="MsoNormal">“You’re actually thinking of challenging Vale?!”   Roar asked, shocked.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire reddened at Roar’s surprise. Roar wasn’t astonished that Scire would challenge Vale, it wasn’t uncommon for a member of the Velothi, especially of the tribe’s main bloodline, to challenge the current Ashkhan for his position. What Roar found surprisingly, likely, was that Scire thought he could actually win. Scire was known to be one of the best if not the best with the bow, but the fight for Ashkhan was done with blades, and Vale was reputedly the best knife-fighter in this region of the Ashlands.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I have to. It’s my duty, if I want to protect the Kagesh.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Damn, Scire, that sounds almost like responsibility from you.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire grew even more red and scratched at his chin in his discomfort. “My family has lead the tribe since its founding. I don’t want Vale to be the one to destroy it just because he’s being an idiot.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar nodded in understanding. “Well don’t let anyone else on what you’re thinking.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I wasn’t planning to.”   Scire said.

<p class="MsoNormal">“That’s good. If Vale actually had ground to think you’d try and challenge him, he might call you to fight.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’ve just been thinking. I doubt I’d even actually do it. Vale’ll listen to reason soon.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Roar nodded again, and they both fell silent as they approached the village.

<p class="MsoNormal">The Kagesh village, simply referred to as “Kagesh” by Ashlanders, outlanders, and the Kagesh alike, was a more of a stronghold than a town. A fortified wall made out of stone and chitin surrounded it and the town itself was built into a tall hillside. None of the buildings reached more than three stories, the tallest two being the food storehouse and the dining hall. All the buildings were built in the typical Dunmer way, made out of ash stained stone, and faced away from the north which is the direction from which ash storms originate.

<p class="MsoNormal">As they neared the village, it was clear to see that people were outside the walls, curiously watching something in the distance.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Let’s see what’s going on.”   Scire said, picking up the pace into a jog and heading for the wall with Roar in tow. They both came to a stop at the wall’s base where a good number of villagers had gathered. A slight, shorter Dunmer girl there looked sideways at the two boys as they approached.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Hey, Roar.”   She smiled at him, before giving Scire a cool look. “Scire.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Brigia.”   He replied, grinning at her. She kept up the look for a moment, before finally smiling back.

<p class="MsoNormal">“What’s going on?”   He asked, gesturing out there.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Look for yourself.”   She said. “It’s your brother.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire frowned, shared a glanced with Roar, and the two made their way closer. As they circled around the wall, they got to look around an ash dune that had been blocking their view.

<p class="MsoNormal">Vale was moving towards the village, dragging behind himself a massive guar, more massive than the one Scire and Roar had seen.

<p class="MsoNormal">Just as they got a look at him, a whoop come up from behind the wall, and half a dozen hunters rushed from the open gate, speeding over to help him carry the load.

<p class="MsoNormal">Vale, a tall mer, taller than even Scire, with broad shoulders and defined powerful muscles. Sweat beaded brow furrowed by intense thought and hard decisions. He wore a netch leather vest with no sleeves, revealing the bands of tattoos that went around his arms, those of a Gulakhan, a warrior. Dark trousers made from Kagouti hide stretched down to his knees where they were tied off, a massive longbow was slung over his shoulder, and long, wicked dagger sat on his belt. He had a strong, square face, with a proud chin and a wide jaw. His features were sturdy, and many claimed that he had been quite handsome when he was younger, although past and recent hardships had given him more of a worn, cruel look. His face right now sat in a neutral expression as he dragged the some seven hundred animal behind himself, muscles taut, but continuing to trudge forwards, unrelenting.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Damn.”   Roar muttered. “We may have screwed up, but we won’t have to worry about meat for a week now.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire frowned. Where had Vale taken that kill? No game for seemingly miles around and he found and slew a bull of a guar all on his own? Maybe Scire had underestimated his brother as a hunter.

<p class="MsoNormal">More whoops and hurrahs went up as the hunters joined Vale and all seven men began to carry the guar back to the village. There would be a feast tonight.

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">“…and then the Alit came up right at us and Scire shot in the eye. He didn’t even look at it!”

<p class="MsoNormal">“Whoa.”   Talon murmured holding the ‘o’ sound as Roar told the story, looking at the older Dunmer with wide sapphire colored eyes. Talon couldn’t go out hunting with them often enough, because of his age and his illness, but he was always captivated by the stories Roar and Scire brought back for him.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Roar left out the part where he pissed himself.”   Scire added, biting into an ash yam. The three had returned to Scire’s home after leaving the dining hall, and gathered around the small dining table. Well, it was Vale’s home, Talon—Vale’s son, Scire’s nephew--and Scire just lived with him. It had been Kasimir’s, Scire’s father, home before Vale’s and it one day would fall to Scire or Talon.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I didn’t piss myself.”   Roar said dismissively. “The only pissing was what you said would happen to a guar if we cut its legs off.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Talon grinned. He didn’t know what they were talking about, but the boy always smiled when others seemed to be enjoying themselves.

<p class="MsoNormal">“Well, you look like you were going to piss yourself.”   Scire then did an accurate impression of Roar’s stammering after the event with the Alit, to which Talon laughing joyously and Roar simply interjected at times to offer counter insults or tell Scire what an utter cock he was.

<p class="MsoNormal">At the end of it, Roar bid them goodnight, saying his father was likely expecting him before it got too dark.

<p class="MsoNormal">“I’ll take you with me some time, Talon.”   Scire said once Roar had left. “When Vale says its’ alright.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“It’s okay.”   Talon said with a shrug. “I don’t want to get you into trouble with father and I like hearing about your hunts. I would just scare the game off.”

<p class="MsoNormal">“No you wouldn’t. I saw you’ve been getting pretty good with the shortbow. I should know, I’m the one teaching you. Here,” he said pulling the talon out that he had removed from the Alit and passed it to Talon. “This is for you.”

<p class="MsoNormal">Talon took it in reverent hands, staring in awe at it. “An Alit’s claw?”

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire nodded, then grinned. “A talon for Talon.”   He said. “Now come on, let’s get to bed. Vale’ll be home soon and he’ll really be made at me if he knows I let you stay up.”

<p class="MsoNormal">-

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire and Talon shared the loft bed. Vale’s house was tall and while it lacked a second floor the ceiling was high, so a platform had been built up in the rafters with a ladder leading up, where Scire and Talon slept. There was a hole in the house’s ceiling, knocking in during an ash storm. How it had broken didn’t allow for any ash to fall in, but at night Scire got an awesome, clear view of the starry night sky.

<p class="MsoNormal">He lay there on his back on the mat made of furs, Talon curled up a few feet away, and stared up at the moon that casted a warm glow on him. Most people thought Scire was pretty simply. Not that he was an idiot or anything like that, but that he didn’t do much thinking, that he was impulsive. Sure, he was plenty impulsive, but that didn’t mean he didn’t like to lie awake at nights and simply stare up at nothing. There was something soothing about it.

<p class="MsoNormal">Down below, the house’s front door creaked open. Vale entered, walking silently, letting it swing shut behind himself. He moved around downstairs for some time, before resulting creaks announced he was climbing the ladder into the loft. He came to the finally step and rose over Scire, only the top haft of Vale’s body visible. He seemed to consider Scire for a moment, but he couldn’t possible know that Scire was awake in the utter darkness.

<p class="MsoNormal">Vale reached out, past Scire, and rested a head on Talon’s head for a moment, before he glanced away. Vale’s hand went to his belt and something flashed in his hand, caught by the moonlight. A dagger. Scire held his breath. If Vale wanted to kill him it was supposed to be done in a challenge, not like this!

<p class="MsoNormal">The dagger seemed to hover over Scire for a moment, held in Vale’s hand, like he was about to stab downward, before he reached out to a portion of the ceiling. A piece of rope that held a roof patch in place had falling loose. Vale cut it, and then brought up a new length of rope from the ladder’s step and retied the knot of the patch. With that he sheathed his dagger and moved to go back down below, then paused. His hand went back to Talon again, and the Ashkhan seemed to prod at Talon’s hands for a moment. The boy had fallen asleep with Scire’s gift, the Alit’s claw, in his hand. Vale stood there, his large frame immobile and silent, before he finally disappeared down the ladder.

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire’s breathing evened out again. For some reason he felt oddly frightened. Vale had no intention to kill him. He’d just proven that. And it was his own brother. Vale wouldn’t do so, would he?

<p class="MsoNormal">Scire glanced over Talon, taking in the boy’s peaceful face, before finally turned over on his side and embracing a fitful sleep.