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 Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 7:43 pm
This is a PRP between the following characters::
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 9:32 pm
Smells tantalized the young mare to leave her "throne" as day became night, and darkness filled the caverns. Already, the Tribe began to mill around, either making their way to their beds, or toward the Hub, where activity still bustled as if it were only morning. Then again, this was a place that served to keep it's occupants up until they could no longer stand. Here the cooks and bakers created dishes to feed the hungry population.
Here was where Yrsa made a beeline to. Hunger chewed upon her stomach like a dog at a bone. She moved through the crowds with confidence. Some moved away out of reverence and respect, others were pushes aside by her shoulders as she past. Regardless, she was a noticeable presence here.
Around her, the Tribe drank in the fermented fruit and ate of the day's catch, causing minds to become fuzzy and thick. It was her kind of place. Yrsa headed toward a hawker's stall, one of the traders who had braved the cold mountains to sell their wares, and ordered one of the strange sticky buns that had become quite the treat here. Drizzled in honey and piping hot, the mare picked it up with a steady paw, holding it betwixt two black claws to avoid most of the stickiness. As she ate, her blue eyes took in her surroundings.
Storytellers, singer and minstrels had began their nightly warming up and could be seen setting up around the Hub, many readying themselves on the platform in the center of the area. Here Yrsa's eyes rested in curiosity.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 9:59 pm
Just outside of the Hub, pacing back and forth, was a young cream brown colored half-gryph. Initially one might think his pacing signified worry, as his talons clicked against the stone, but no. This stallion was a performer and one of the best of his generation. He enjoyed making a show of everything, from a simple dance to a song.
"Perfect... I must be perfect..." He spoke in a hushed whisper, more to himself than anything.
His familiar the orange cream raccoon Resin watched him, yellow eyes amused. "Worried Laf?" A knowing smile graced his lips.
Startled by the seeming lack of confidence from his dearest friend Lafayette clicked his beak sharply, "Absolutely not! You know I do not worry!" His words bordered on indignation.
"Oh unruffle your feathers already bird boy. You know I meant nothin' by it." Resin shook his head but that cocky smirk stayed put.
A hush in the crowd inside was his cue. The last musician had filed offstage followed by a murmur of dissent. Lafayette agreed with the crowd. That last one struck a few sour notes.
Lafayette looked to Resin and the raccoon grinned flute at the ready.
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Posted: Sat Aug 08, 2015 11:03 pm
Yrsa pushed her way through the crowds who guffawed and laughed the poor bloke who had made the poor choice of going on stage in front of the drunkards and loud merry-goers that had mingled and milled around the stage. Now a new poor sap had ventured to take the stage. He was a fluff-tailed sort, with pale tan fur marred by darker brown markings. Claws clacked softly on the lacquered as he strode confidently onto the stage, followed by a smaller raccoon.
Yrsa stepped closer to the stage, nudging other aside. One caused an uproar, but with a snarl loud enough to hush the area, Yrsa took her place near the stage. Once they realized whom it was pushing her girth through the crowd, the aggressors backed away. Who would disrespect the queen?
Yrsa shouldered her way through to a pile of furs and settled comfortably, knowing she was causing a pause in the performance. She snorted softly, uncaring. A thrall walked toward her as she settled upon the furs, a leg of meat in it's mouth. When he was close enough, she grabbed the leg in her sharp jaws, snorting a stream of chilled air in her thankfulness.
As she tore into the bloody haunch, her blue gaze turned toward the stage once more, her ears flicked forward in curiosity.
Would this performance be better than the last?
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Posted: Sun Aug 09, 2015 12:17 am
The stage was a raised wooden platform, well lacquered and shining. Mentally he approved of the builder for it was rare to see a well built stage.
Eyes glittering he was about to sing his song when a commotion occurred in the back of the crowd. The words dying in his throat he looked to see a large female pushing her way through the crowd. Instantly he recognized good Queen Yrsa, and as she settled herself he bowed to her, a flirty smile lifting his lips.
A beak clack, and two claw taps changed the song for his raccoon accompanist.
Resin just shook his head and adjusted his fingers on the flute.
Finally when all was silent the little raccoon started a lively song, and with a flourished celtic accent he began.
"A prudent thief should never drink so much that he becomes bold,
Because a thief who boasts and brags will rarely live to grow old.
For silence is a thief's best bet and if he breaks this etiquette,
Undoubtedly all that he will get...
Will be more than just mere gold.
Consider Zhele a thief from Greel,
Who drank at the Swan and Grouse.
He made himself quite popular by buying rounds for the house.
One night in drunken revelry,
He made a bet with prideful glee,
But later on he would agree...
He never should've been soused.
A thief's best friends are luck and speed,
Alertness, cunning and stealth.
Though ale can cause these all to flee and cheat a thief of his wealth.
But add to this a drunken dare,
To steal a lock of the Empress' hair,
But even a fool should be aware...
This may be bad for your health.
So Zhele did stumble through the door in his most fearless state,
He slipped in shadows past the guard and snuck through the palace gate.
Then giggling he scaled the wall,
So drunk and sure he would not fall.
For wasn't he the best of all...
And surely favored by Fate?
As he climbed in he saw a girl,
Dressed in cloth and not in fur.
A palace maid?
Perhaps a cook?
T'was difficult to be sure.
A homely lass she did appear,
But everything looks good through beer,
So when she asked, "Why are you here?"
He said he was there for her.
He showered her with compliments,
For flattery was his skill.
And so they spent a pleasant time,
As any young couple undoubtedly will.
But as the dawn lit their embrace,
He recognized his lady's face.
From every golden coin it graced...
And suddenly he felt ill.
He'd heard that drink was dangerous,
And now he knew for a fact.
For theives caught in the palace were hanged,
Or stretched on a rack.
But as this thief was kind and bold,
The empress gifted him with gold.
Though the guard made sure that he'd been told...
He'd be killed if he ever came back.
And so he was a thief no more,
For that was part of the deal.
His bet was lost,
Because she gave him what he went there to steal.
So other thieves may scorn,
And mock his name,
But still they flock for a drink and a look at the Empresses Lock...
The finest tavern in Greel!"
As the song ended, he smiled in glee. Wondering what the Queen would say.
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Posted: Mon Aug 10, 2015 4:42 pm
Yrsa found herself a little enthralled. While it was not unusual for minstrels to come visit the Tribe, it was not very common for them to be of the pawed variety. And this male was very strange indeed - he was both pawed and feathered, and a beak curved upon his maw. She raised a brow in curiosity, reminded of a bird of prey. Sadly, this male did not have wings to carry him into the sky.
As he sang, she allowed herself to lean forward on the furs in which she lounged. Her curiosity was piqued. Her head lightly tilted from side to side, allowing the lilting voice to lead her. Yrsa was not one for the arts - she herself could not sing, and she had never found a niche in crafting. No, that was left to her younger sisters. The only thing Yrsa knew she was good at was battlecraft and the sultry, deadly art of war.
As the minstel's quieted to a close, she immediately began slapping a paw against the ground loudly, a growling, guttural cheer of praise coming from her lips. Not a moment later, those standing near her took up the same cheer.
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Posted: Sat Nov 07, 2015 8:24 pm
The Queen's uproarious paw slapping applause was exactly what he'd wanted from this impromptu performance. Initially he'd been amused by the little stage and the hapless minstrels and performers being booed off all night. Finally he could stand it no more and offered to perform for the restless crowd. He was glad his song was well loved. 'The Thieves Ballad' was always his favorite.
He flourished another bow to the crowd, though more to Yrsa than the drunks, and with a flick of his rather poofy tail turned and walked down the other side a smirk firmly on his face. He'd leave the stage to others tonight, after all no need to get greedy on his first night here....
Especially when there were other delights to sample. His eyes lingered on the Queen's beautiful form and he openly appreciated it. He might be a touch smaller than her but what he lacked in size he made up for in personality and skill.
Resin scrambled up his leg and settled himself on his bonded's back happily resting after his vigorous flute playing. He liked his life with Lafayette. He never went hungry and they were always on the move so it was always interesting. Life was good.
Lafayette wandered away from the stage to the vendors and with the help of Resin to grab some currency he purchased a few roasted fish and some late summer berries then went to a corner and plopped down on a warm stack of furs to eat.
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Posted: Wed Jan 13, 2016 11:02 pm
Yrsa watched the little bird leave the stage, strangely saddened to see him disappear into the throng of spectators. Yet his scent lulled across her nose, smelling of pine and darker tone of confidence. It was a heady combination to the Queen, her blue eyes closing for a moment as she allowed her senses to follow the scent-path of this little songbird.
She snorted as the scent was lost, covered by a brawling pair of ferment-fruit-addled fools. Alas, she couldn't fault them. Most nights she was among those fools, scrapping with fellow warriors, teeth gnashing, claws scratching - all howling for blood and anxious to let some brutality out. Such was the essence of the Tribe.
Flicking an ear, the large mare pulled her legs underneath her, paws pushing her upward. With a shake of her body and a toss of her long (sometimes rather annoying) hair, Yrsa was on the move.
She pushed through the crowd with ease, as was expected when someone of her obvious girth was pushing you aside. Any who dared turn to raise an annoyed voice was met with a huff or just a short snort of amused laughter, as if daring them to speak up and say something to her face. But like water over rocks, she pushed past them. Yet, as she shouldered and pushed her way through, she still saw their admiration and adoration - and even as their ruler, she still felt strangely the insistent muse of motherly love for each of these dirty mongrels.
Yrsa's dark claws dug into the soil as she reached the edge of the boisterous throng that surrounded the brawling duo - a pair of dark males, one with paws, one with claws - duking it out in what most would consider a very deadly fashion. But liquor sullied otherwise deadly blows, causing digging claws to slip their grip, and teeth to find trouble finding their mark. Remarkably, to the weathered eye, it was almost comical.
Here and there, blood spattered - and the crowd cheered. The mare licked her lips, darkly aware of her own desire to join in the madness. Yet as she watched, her gaze drifted, and beheld a still figure lounging like a sunbird in the corner. To keep to her quarry... or let loose her feral side...? Dilemma.
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Posted: Fri Jan 15, 2016 11:38 pm
Lafayette was thoroughly enjoying his fish, intensely surprised by the way it was spiced. He'd never had fish that was spiced. Looking over to the sales-familiar he'd purchased it from he spared a nod and a mouthed thank you. The familiar just grinned back and winked before going back to grilling more fish and meats.
He mentally logged the taste and the decision to buy again soon. Continuing to nibble his meal he was initially surprised when the drunken brawl broke out. His head raised slightly from his food, an almost annoyed expression flitted across his features, but that was quickly lost when he noticed exactly who's attention was upon him. His feathers fluffed up in anticipation curious as to exactly why he had garnered the Queen's interest. He also noted, with his considerable skill at reading body language, that she was holding back several emotions. By the way her claws were kneading into the floor she was tempted to join the fight.
He looked away from the Queen feigning disinterest and watched the brawl himself. Now that he was actually watching it was much more amusing. The clumsy way they bit and clawed at one another.
Finally it was the scent of blood that caught him up in it. His species might be more opportunistic, occasionally feeding off of carrion when it was called for but the smell of fresh blood was hard to ignore. His beak clacked with restrained fervor, his own claws digging into the furs below him.
Fights had a tendency to drag even the watchers into it and he was no different.
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