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 Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2009 9:04 pm
 Oh, hello there wildebeest. Would you like to come to dinner?
Naw, it’ll never work. There were too many eyes in the herd. With a mane twice as bold as the brightest African violet, Hero stood no chance of getting close enough to catch anything in a herd this size. They’d be half-way across the savannah before he could see the whites of their eyes. There’s a price for everything in this world. Even being pretty.
But a fella can dream, can’t he? Hero padded to the top of the outcropping over looking the herd. Though the outcropping was several hundred yards away he knew the herd could probably see him. The wind was blowing in his direction, masking his scent. For all they knew he was just a big pink buffalo. He sighed softly, blocking out his hunger. “Oh, Ujiti. I wish you were here. We could really give ‘em hell.”
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Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2009 9:17 pm
 Soro was use to his color, though no one would seem to think it was handsome. He knew he had been complemented on his pelt when he was younger, but ideas of being vain were pushed aside and overtaken with thoughts dedicated to survival, necessity, and a morbid imagination.
He had been tracking the wildebeests for several days, picking off trampled animals once in a while, and various small game that could keep him going on. Starvation was not new to him, and he had learned to live on very little. His life and upbringing had given him that. A little food, a little rest, a little care, and no mercy. The fruit of the days labor came in a calf that had been wandering too far and while Soro had to make sure he would not get attacked, he had attacked the small child with a blow before rushing off before he was attacked himself. Waiting in a tree, he watched the mother bellow and try to get her offspring to rise, but it’s leg had been torn and it was lacked the will it needed to press on. The heard would be moving, and the mother knew, with a bellow, that she would have to leave her child to the scavengers. This year she would not have a child to raise.
When the heard moved further down to be safe enough for Soro to eat, he padded over to the small, dead body, and he ripped it apart. The mother had waited for the child to die, but the meat was till hot. Ravenous, he tore into it’s side and enjoyed his share. He had no plans as a rouge, and had been following migrating herds in hopes of a few meals to keep going. Other lions did not bother someone with a lion skull mask on it’s face, and he fought with those who challenged him.
When he had his fill, he started to pull out a bone he could carry with him for comfort. He liked chewing on them, and he liked resting his head against a bone at all times. It was comforting to him. As he pulled out a leg bone, tearing it out, he looked up to notice a very bright lion from atop a hill. It was not hard to see him, and he was high enough to be clearly seen. Soro’s ears went back, and he wondered if he should roar to tell the lion that he did not want to fight over his carcass. He was finished eating, but that did not mean he might return back later and pick at the body again until the herd moved on.
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Posted: Thu Sep 03, 2009 9:46 pm
Suddenly the wind changed and carried a tantalizing smell over the outcropping, causing his mouth to water. It was the smell of fresh blood. Hero licked his chops. Due to his coloration he was often forced to scavenge, though he found no shame in that; after all, it was just survival. If you had to be a thief to make your way in this world so be it. Years of stealing for his dinner made Hero a good fighter. But he could hunt, too. He could bring down prey both large and small on his own. This took planning, craft. The hunt also required speed. Hero had all these things. He was good at everything, excellent at nothing and mediocre at a lot of things. At least he admitted it.
When he spotted the darker colored male his ears turned back. Noticing the bone in the lion’s mouth Hero felt his dreams of scavenging a decent meal slip away. As he watched the other male his posture slowly relaxed. There was something strange about this male’s face. Hero trotted down from his out cropping and lifted his head, squinting to clear his vision. His gait made it clear he wasn’t looking for a fight.
The other male was wearing something on his face. Well, there’s something you don’t see every day. Maybe he was one of those crafters Hero had heard about. As Hero moved closer he began to recognize the thing this other male wore over his face. Rather than being intimidated, Hero’s curiosity stirred. “Howdy!” he called gently. “Looks like you caught yourself a meal. If only we could all be so lucky.”
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 8:47 am
The other male seemed to notice him, as much as Soro was keeping a eye on the other, and he crouched down, keeping on his feet but still working to tear off the pieces of loose flesh that was stuck to the bone he was working to clean. He had no idea if this male was a rouge or a member of a pride. If a rogue, he would be suffering similar hardships of being a lion without protection or a shared community that divided it’s hunts. If he was pride member, he would have others, could bring others, and was probably in better condition regardless of how the pride was doing. A lion in a pride always was of a better degree of health. This all came down to what this male’s potential was in a fight, and Soro sized him up as he moved down the hill.
Wondering if the male was a scout, he watched, and noticed he was not moving away like a cautious rouge would, or off to tell other members of his party, but was moving toward him without any sigh of aggression. Noticing, he finally let his body drop and rested on his stomach as he moved his attention back on the bone.
The greeting was irksome.
“Luck? Luck is when a zebra is trampled and you are there to eat the remains. I put effort into my kill. If I relied on luck, I would be dead.” he was quick to correct this, eyes looking at the male.
“Do you feel in luck to meet a lion who has a kill when you do not?” If that was so, Soro could show him how unlucky he really was.
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 6:26 pm
“Ain’t it the truth,” Hero chuckled lightly. The other lion had quite a sense of humor, though his agitated demeanor stopped Hero from laughing too hard. A fellow who hides his face behind a skull wants to be taken seriously.
Now Hero was close enough to make out the other lion’s markings. Apart from the spots down his back and the odd scorpion on his shoulder he looked no different than the average rogue. Hero felt he must look even more colorful in comparison. Despite his cheery colors, Hero was no larger and no more well fed than the average rogue male, no better off in the grand scheme of life. He kept his fur clean, but not too clean, and wore his extraordinary coat with the airs of a common vagabond. He plopped down a few feet from the stranger, smiling amiably while he wondered rather this male would attack first with his claws or his teeth if he became agitated. Plan for the worst and hope for the best.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply. I’m not here to take your kill. I haven’t seen anyone around these parts in a while. Besides, I can tell you’re not the type to screw around when it comes to a fight and I wanna live to catch my next meal.”
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 8:28 pm
Soro did not care about his appearance most of the time, and he left the blood stain his fur without a second thought to lap it clean. He would groom from time to time, but he seemed to have a mental flaw in that he often forgot. When the other lion came, he chewed on the bone, stripping pieces of loose tissue from the discolored bone, and watching the male as he did so. Flies buzzed about his ear, and his ears flicked them away.
“At least you are bright enough to know that.” A lion that would not give him trouble was something he liked. The less energy he had to waste, the better. Still, the price of having a lion like this also showed that he was on the prowl for company. Soro looked him up and down, and if it wasn’t for his ghastly color, he might have considered something more in the male.
It was good that there had been no other lions spotted. A pride protecting it’s territory could easily pushed Soro out of fertile lands, and he did not need to be ambushed. “I have not seen anyone else for a while now. ” He decided to at least share the information. For him, it was nothing to be bothered from. He had spent weeks and even months on end without seeing another lion.
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Posted: Fri Sep 04, 2009 9:53 pm
Hero felt his eyes being drawn back to the herd. The winds had changed again and the herd seemed more alert. He never stood a chance of catching one anyway. When night came his chances would improve. “We must be far from the nearest pride,” he mused. “I haven’t seen hide or tail of a lion in three days, just some chatty birds and a lone cheetah. You probably like it just fine that way. Did you scavenge that or kill the b*****d yourself?”
He was referring to the lion’s skull-mask. The notion of murdering another lion for his skull almost seemed to amuse him. His tone was darkly curious. After all, it’s not every day you get the chance to converse with a potential murderer. Was that in bad taste? Perhaps, but so is acting outraged about the murder of a lion you’ve never met, who has obviously been dead for a very long time. No one would thank him for getting worked up about it.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 7:38 am
The subject was a touchy one, and Soro debated for a moment if he should pass the question entirely by stopping any talk about it, or take some idea of satisfaction in seeing what the other lion would think of it. It was his proud trophy, and he often times wanted to share the act of what he did. His eyes looked at the mask, and lifting a blood smeared paw, he pulled it off his face, letting it drop on the grass to look at him. He smiled back, but it was in no way tender.
I suppose telling a story after dinner is fine. ” He was one for conversation and dramatics, and he felt he had a flair for telling a good tale, when it interested him. He usually told this story to people he would kill or use it to justify one of his many inmoral actions, but it was a warm day, he had a full belly, and he was in better spirits now that he knew he would not be bothered by any roaming pride. There was also a interested audience that Soro did not know would find his story, his history, shocking or delightful.
He had recalled the memory over and over in his mind, and it was not hard to bring into words. His red eyes looked down to the skull as he spoke as he lightly pawed it, petting it. “My siblings and I were traveling with our mother in the desert in search of food and water. She had left the pride to go on her own, and by her own desire, took us away. By her inexperience and faulty leadership of my mother, we all had fallen through the earth. One of my siblings, my brother, had broken his legs and could not move. My sisters went to find my mother who, due to her size, was unharmed. The fall was shorter for her.”
”It did not take long to notice we where not alone, and it came with my sister’s first scream. The sound was something. Echoing in that cave. It seemed we had fallen into a scorpion’s nest, and an agitated one. Everything in the desert is starving and unmerciful.”
“The scorpions attacked, and while we huddled against our mother, she looked for a way out. There is something there to feel that the family members you assume, by blood, would be there to protect you were just as selfish as anyone else. Family, in the desert, is not as important as water in the end. Survival means more. She leaps up through the hole we made, leaping off my broken brother, to get out. She did not say she would return, but had decided before the scorpions decide, that we should die, and left.”
He paused. He could not mention the time between then and how he got out. His sisters and brother screaming for help when no one knew where they where. The fact they huddled close as the scorpions attacked, and how their brother was covered, unable to run away. But he, in all of it, was attacked, but did not die. He was alive after the attack.
“Come the following morning, I found a escape the scorpions used, and left.” His siblings had a proper burial place, and those who trespassed would die by the scorpions to give their bodies company. “Later in life, I found the b****. She was on another litter. Maybe not the only one since them. I waited, lead her away, and let her fall into a trap I made. Then when she asked to be spared, I pulled her skull from her body.” He looked up at her, smiling.
"Women are the vilest creatures I know."
He leaned down to lick the tattoo on his pelt, his sign of deep appreciation and gratitude as he traversed the lands. This was not an area he would see a lot of scorpions, but when he did, he bowed and offered anything he could to them. They were his family, each and every one, and he was their humble ward.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 3:39 pm
Hero listened to the story in silence. His eyes drifted toward the skull and the image of a mother lioness churned in his stomach. Maybe the male was making it up. Many lions made up stories as they traveled; stories about themselves, about others, about just about everything, and their stories were either happy or morbid depending on who did the telling. The story of the scorpions was so terrible he didn’t want to know if it was true.
Though he said nothing, he found himself feeling sorry for the mother. How terrible it must have been to be in that hole in the ground knowing she could do nothing to save her children. If she sacrificed herself to the scorpions she might have lived. Even if she survived her cubs still might have died. And if the scorpions had killed her? Motherless cubs stranded in the desert. Maybe she knew that fate rigged her choices that day. It was a sobering thought. “A goddess once told me, Be cautious in the company of gods or you may come to regret it. They would not hesitate to strike you down. You can’t be sure of anything in this world, let alone your own safety. Kill or be killed. That’s not meant to be pretty. That’s just the way it is.”
He sighed and turned back to the skull with somber lilac eyes. “So why do you carry that thing around if you hate her so much?”
Hero knew when to choose his words carefully. He wouldn’t say what he felt in his heart. How he longed to be near his parents in his youth. He once dreamed of finding his true mother and father, and when he finally found them he swore he’d never let them go. Life isn’t a faerie tale. Hero never did find his parents. Now that he was an adult he looked back on his journey and saw that he had wasted his life searching for his true parents when he should have been happy with his foster family; his foster father was long dead and his mother too busy raising a new family to have any time for him. He wished he had something left of them to hold onto.
But a skull is a bit much. Too melodramatic for his taste. Besides, Hero wasn’t one to confuse justice with revenge.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 6:04 pm
It was a good statement and Soro nodded his agreement. Even when you saw something as the most reliable part of your life that would be there for you, it would be after it’s own personal game. Gods, mothers, and even lovers would turn around and use you as a stepping-stone to rot in the grave as they pushed on just to live. There was no sympathy or mercy but cold-hearted self-interest. It was a life lesson he did not easily forget or even could if he tried.
“I keep this skull as my trophy. I succeeded in my task, and now I have a keepsake of that memory. It mean I won’t forget. A bone is a fitting show of it. Something that is strong, clean, and kept inside. I find flesh faulty. It’s also my tribute to the creatures who showed me the way. I shall keep myself strong outside and in, and model myself with my own shell from those I concur.” It was something he said with pride, and it could be seen that when Soro had killed his mother, he might have said the exact same thing.
Tipping the skull mask, he looked deep into his sockets, leaning down to lick the crown before looking up at Hero. “Maybe I’m a bit of a momma’s boy too.” he said with a deep, morbid snicker, finding his own joke funny. Leaning down, he pushed his face back into the mask, shaking his head to make sure it was set right, before taking the bone. “It seems you are in luck. You can take a leg for listening to my story. Smart lions as yourself are better served being alive.” He said, his teeth set in a wide grin around the calf’s leg bone clenched in his mouth. It was a maniac’s grin, showing all of his blood-stained teeth and moist muzzle.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 6:32 pm
A true charmer, this one. Better to have him on my side than against me, Hero thought, but after a moment to reflect he promptly changed his mind.
What am I thinking? He’s not on my side. He’s not on anybody’s side but his own. He would cleave the skin from my bones if I didn’t flatter him by listening to his life’s story. At best I’ve managed to amuse him. That’s better than being his next trophy, I suppose. At least I’ll have a story to tell.
“Thank you sir, you’re too kind,” Hero said with a lightly joking air. He managed a smile, though the strange lion’s bloody grin made his muscles clench. Friendliness got him this far. Now if it could just get him out of here alive.
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Posted: Sat Sep 05, 2009 7:05 pm
The joke seemed to amuse Soro more, and at the word kind, Soro’s attention sparked and he broke out in a loud laughter that would make a hyena’s fur curl on end. The bone clattered in Soro’s mouth as he shook with the sound, his throat rumbling with glee at such a word used for himself. “Kind?! Oh yes, I am everything of the sort!” He broke out in new laughter, all too amused that someone would ever use such a word around him. As quickly as it started, it abruptly ended, and Soro arranged the bone in his mouth better for movement. He shook his head, as if he could not get over such a pun, and turned as he walked past the other rouge.
“ Now that is a funny joke. ” His eyes grinned at Hero, curling into a grin to match. “And here I usually eat comedians. Maybe it’s kind that this calf died just in time for me to be a good sport. Maybe next time you happen upon a rouge, you won’t be talking about how lucky anyone is. Then again, here you are, not even aware of how really lucky you are.” His red eyes traveled on the rouge as he walked slowly. “By the way, nice legs.” He then broke out into another laughing fit, the leg bone clattering against his sharp teeth, and walked off. For now, he was content to find a place to rest and see how long it took for the other lion to run off. The thing about “luck” was, it didn’t last long.
It might not be such a good thing to find another rouge when you had not seen one for days on end. The ones you find were not always the best company.
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Posted: Mon Sep 07, 2009 11:03 am
Hero chuckled a bit nervously and watched the lion run off. “I think I’ll have to pass,” he muttered once the male was out of sight. Better to be on his way than risk the other male’s wrath.
He started off in the opposite direction of the male. If he followed the herd he might be able to pick off a straggler, as the other male had been fortunate enough to do. As he walked he reflected on his encounter. The male’s tale of loss and revenge would make a good ghost story. Maybe one day he would find someone he could share it with.
((Fin~))
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