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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 14, 2009 15:45:20 GMT -5
( By all means join in) Stripetail paused as relexed in his chair. the young squirrel was a good sort, loyal to his friends, a determined foe to his enemies, in short a decent beast.. and Stripetail knew from long experience that decency was a priceless atrribute..
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 14, 2009 19:23:38 GMT -5
Graf flinched noticeably. Leadership of his tribe was not something at the top of his wish list; he was relieved when an heir was born. And the 'high price' sounded like the casualties of the highest in the royal family. "Er... Care to elaborate on the reason for the leadership, and the 'price'?"
OOC: Does anyone care if i fast forward to dawn soon? after a few more posts?
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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 14, 2009 22:40:28 GMT -5
(No, not at all)The price you will pay for becoming a great warrior, will be the knowkledge that you will gain enemies, and your friends will be at risk. this is a burden, and can be a heavy one. as has been said, " Alongside warriors, walks death". And ,, while I usually don't give reasons for my seeing, in yoiur case I will make an exception. Your cousin will be prove to be a poor leader, and finally his parents will strip him of his rank, and give it to you.. they will live to a ripe old age.."
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 15, 2009 14:09:48 GMT -5
Graf sighed. He wouldn't enjoy the responsibility, but at least it hadn't cost his relatives their lives. Then he stopped, remembering the law of his home tribe. "The crown isn't passed on until the ruler dies. That is the law of my tribe."
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Post by Cerridwen on Aug 15, 2009 15:09:07 GMT -5
Moving in the slow methodical way that those who do not rely on sight do, Gitana made her way through the encampment. In her mind it was as though she could see. She remembered what it was like to go to great festivals with the troop of entertainers she lived with. From these memories she could guess what her surroundings looked like but also using the sounds and smells she sensed to fill in the details. Gitana could feel that the temperature was steadily dropping and from knowing how long she had been on the move she guessed that evening was coming. Having no need to go in search of food since she still had plenty of provisions from the kind hedgehog family that had taken her in last but shelter for the night was another matter.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Her paws told her the story of the path she now walked, this path through the encampment lead to where the tents had been pitched. It felt different underpaw, rougher and not quite as well kept. Regretably she realized that she would have to gain the assistance of those who could see. There was much that she had learned during her time in darkness, one was being able to tell a beast by their voice. Several of the tents she passed she did not trust the sound of the voices that she heard until she finally reached one tent where she heard the sound of two squirrels conversing.
"Good evening, sirs. Could you please help a weary soul find a place to rest for the night?" Gitana asked, gently parting the tent flap witht he end of her spear shaft...
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 15, 2009 15:17:15 GMT -5
Graf had spun around before the first word had finished, and had to resheath his sword after he saw that it was an otter with a silk scarf draped over her face. He rolled his eyes; his tent had become quite the gathering place. Reasonably sure that the otter could be trusted, he said "yes, by all means," before turning back to the elder squirrel for a response.
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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 15, 2009 17:29:25 GMT -5
Stripetail got up from his seat and went over to help the otter. " Here, Take my seat" She said, guiding her by the paw to his chair.. " Please make yourself comfortable..
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Post by Cerridwen on Aug 15, 2009 18:07:22 GMT -5
"My thanks good sirs. It is not often anymore that I must rely on the eyes of those who still see. However, the matter of finding a safe bed during festivities such as these is one of those times. I am known as Gitana Windfury." Gitana said as she sat down on the chair that the elder squirrel had guided her to.
Lightly she rested her spear against her shoulder. She could tell that the younger squirrel was on edge for some reason, he had drawn his blade quite quickly when she had first spoken. Through seasons of practice she had learned to recognize the sounds that the more common weapons that others tended to carry. She new that the younger squirrel carried a sword, the sound it made leaving the sheath was too loud to be that of a dagger or other smaller blade. Also from that one sound she could tell that he had recieved a fair amount of training too since there was no hesitation...
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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 15, 2009 23:29:34 GMT -5
I am Lord Stripetail, it is a pleasure to meet you Gitana. How did you lose your sight? were you born like this? I sense that you were once, and perhaps still are, a performer. part of a traveling troop perhaps. Lacking vision , you have compensated by honing your other senses, particularly hearing" Stripetail said, looking at Gitana with compassion
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 16, 2009 10:26:54 GMT -5
Having no response to his statement, and reasonably sure that neither otter nor squirrel would kill him in his sleep, Graf flopped down into the corner of his tent and dozed off; he would need the sleep.
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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 16, 2009 11:50:02 GMT -5
Stripetail soon did the same, finding a comfortable corner, the old seer fell asleep with the ease of age..he too needed his rest. the morning, he would give his reply to graf, he had vbeen about to reply when the otter had entered and taken his attention away from Graf..
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Post by Cerridwen on Aug 16, 2009 16:32:55 GMT -5
Shedding her dark cloak, Gitana rolled it up and laid it on the ground next to the chair. Next she placed the sack that held her provisions underneath the chair. Once sure that her things were secure Gitana laid down, using her cloak as a pillow. The one possesion that never left her hands was her spear. Not only did it serve as a guide through the world of the seeing but it was the only link that she had back to her family. The head, which when she was traveling she kept in a protective sheath, had once belonged to her father. The spear itself had been made for her by a kindly badger that had taken her in during her travels. She never let go of it, not even in her sleep...
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 18, 2009 12:36:58 GMT -5
***The next morning***
Graf awoke with a start, his blade already out. Sweeping the interior of the tent with his eyes, he realized no one new was present, and his nerves had merely been on edge. He shook his head and stood up to stretch and yawn. Graf then slid into his chain mail vest, and donned strapped his plated shoulder pauldron onto his right arm. Thus armored, he grabbed his weapons and opened the tent flap. Cool air wrapped around him, and the sun had yet to peek over the horizon. Inhaling a breath of the air, he made his way to the combat ring.
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Post by LordStripetail on Aug 18, 2009 14:43:05 GMT -5
Stripetail stirred soon afterward. he climbed out of his corner and moved around to geet some feeling into his body again.. 'He noticed gRaf was not there. " An early riser..." He mused..
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Post by InkBlot on Aug 18, 2009 20:22:46 GMT -5
As the sun was not yet in the sky, Graf navigated via lanternlight. The combat ring was also ringed with lanterns, and graf licked his fingers, tested the wind, and snuffed out one of the oil lamps.On the other side of the ring, Saroyyo had already been waiting by the ring, and likewise tested the wind. As a general statement, small airborne missiles were not know for their resistance to wind.
Saroyyo grinned a wolfish smile, "So eager to lose, Flufftail?" It went unsaid that this was a death match, and losing meant exiting the company of the living. "Of course, Fido."
Both took up positions on either side of the dirt ring, and a fat vole announcer, having to fill in while Marion Rust watched from a raised vantage point, looked disgruntled and sleepy as he called out, "The rules are as follows: this is a fight to the death. Anything goes, hits below the belt, sneak attacks and whatever else you can think of. FIGHT!!!"
Saroyyo, in his usual laid back manner, drew his sabers, snickered and said, "So it begins, bushtail." Graf drew his own swords, "So it does, pup."
Saroyyo lunged forward a step and feinted to the right, before drawing closer and made a lower cut. Graf meant to duck the first blow, then blocked the second blow, before thrusting at the wolf. Saroyyo parried and spun, putting more momentum behind his next slash. Graf stepped back and let the saber carry past him, and slashed with one of his own swords. Saroyyo moved his saber over his shoulder, and took the force of the blow on his blade. Both turned to face each other. Now, they continually traded blows and parries, and the crowd's cheering and jeering melted into the background of adrenaline.
Saroyyo thought His fighting style is similar to mine. I have more strength, but agility and speed are his... I need an advantage. Graf, opposite him, thought likewise. Both warriors were now panting, and with a burst of strength, Graf vaulted over the wolf towards the edge of the ring, and rolled before straightening up. Instead of pressing an offensive, Saroyyo stepped away from the squirrel, and readied himself for another attack. His eyes caught movement, and he launched a throwing knife at it. The throwing knife hit another of its kind, and with a loud ping, both flew off in another direction. Saroyyo threw another knife at the second missile headed for him. This proved to be a deadly mistake. As Graf had vaulted over Saroyyo, he had placed himself near the place where he had entered the ring, where the unlit lamp was. This lamp had been the second projectile, and even as the lantern was shattered, the knife carried on and shattered a third missile, which had been a lit lantern, before embedding itself into a post not two inches from Graf’s face. The second lantern’s oil ignited, and moved as a fireball towards Saroyyo, who was already drenched with oil from the first lantern.
The moment the two bodies of oil made contact, flames exploded around the wolf, engulfing his entire body, the flames from his legs licking his torso, and the flames from his torso hugging his head, and the flames from his head raging like a royal crown above his head. Saroyyo’s agonized scream hung in the air for nearly half a minute before finally stopping, and the remains of the wolf slumped to the ground. Graf and the crowd stood stock still and silent, the only sound being the crackling of the fire. The crowd was dumbfounded, and Graf was reassuring himself that the wolf’s fate had been necessary. After a minute of just watching the flames, Graf spun an about face and he stepped out of the ring.
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