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Fluffesu rolled 20 100-sided dice:
68, 2, 87, 32, 1, 85, 38, 57, 96, 79, 40, 8, 18, 47, 88, 49, 81, 83, 73, 44
Total: 1076 (20-2000)
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 Posted: Sun May 01, 2016 7:51 pm
Character || Xilarn
Stage || Spearman (3)
Battling || Wadani x20
Battle Stat || 50
Defense || 15
Roll Needed || 20-100 15-100 w/ Damis
Rolled || 68, 2, 87, 32, 1, 85, 38, 57, 96, 79, 40, 8, 18, 47, 88, 49, 81, 83, 73, 44
Outcome || x12 Xil Wins /// x6 Damis Wins /// x2 Losses
Experience earned || 224
13 x 12 (Xil Wins) = 156
+
13 x 6 (Damis wins) = 78 x .75 = 58.5 = 59
+
4.3 x 2 (Losses) = 8.6 = 9
Required WC || 4000+
Current WC || 5495
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Miss Chief aka Uke rolled 20 100-sided dice:
77, 78, 90, 41, 63, 60, 3, 35, 77, 69, 6, 1, 31, 35, 34, 79, 51, 76, 57, 63
Total: 1026 (20-2000)
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Posted: Sun May 01, 2016 7:53 pm
Character || Damissan
Stage || Swordsman (2)
Battling || Wadani x20
Battle Stat || 19
Defense || 10
Roll Needed || 70-100 with help
Rolled || 77, 78, 90, 41, 63, 60, 3, 35, 77, 69, 6, 1, 31, 35, 34, 79, 51, 76, 57, 63
Outcome || x12 Xil Wins /// x6 Damis Wins /// x2 Losses
Experience earned || 364
Wins (x1 cool = 18 x 19.5 = 351
+
Losses (x2) = 6.5 x 2 = 13
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Posted: Sun May 01, 2016 7:58 pm
Carnal Entertainment and Its Afterparty Cousin: Deep Regret Tivrod was a small town. Unfortunately, that description alone failed to encompass how boring, inactive, uninspiring, out of the way, backward, quiet, and otherwise thoroughly alien the place felt as compared with any beacon of civilization Damissan had ever spent any significant amount of time in. Its single most interesting attribute was that it dealt in lumber — a foreign profession, so far as he was concerned, having lived so far from anything remotely resembling trees all his life — and that was not exactly a ‘winning’ attribute. It was still mostly sand. And stillness. After four days of travel, Damissan supposed he had hoped for a little more. On the one hand, he had known they were winding down to the edges of fast society, but on the other, he’d never really considered this. On the positive side, there were too few people to start a proper riot, and many of those there were travelers, there for a time with intentions to be gone again. He had spoken with the locals — or some of them, in any case — visited the local church, what of it there was, and after that, found himself restless. There began his string of poor decisions. He shouldn’t have—well, much of anything that followed. It had all seemed at the time, though, as it always did, like a fated encounter, the best possible course of action, with an opportunity open before him. A woman who he had met on their first day in town had been there, in the same pub that he ought not have entered in the first place, and interaction had seemed in order. In retrospect, he was unclear on some of the final details, but he did know it had been their last ‘planned for’ night in Tivrod before departing, and that — as his guard insisted was the best plan and Damis had yet to dispute — they ought to be set to head out ‘before the sun rose.’ If he were in better sorts, Damis might have specifically recalled inquiring as to whether Xilarn himself had chosen to drink heavily and seek a night’s worth of company before departing early and being told that no, Xilarn considered that a terrible idea.It was, as experience was currently reinforcing, a terrible idea indeed. Damis did manage to make his way out of bed, however. He managed to disentangle himself from foreign sheets and silvery skin just beginning to darken as the moon sank and the sun sought its rightful place in the sky. He managed to find his clothes and dress himself, and make his way out of the room. He managed to find the inn and room Xilarn was staying in, and make it to the door. But by that point, his legs were exhausted, his stomach was cross with him, his head hurt, his eyes were rebelling, and it was approaching dawn, but he felt as though he hadn’t slept in a week, so instead of knocking, he sank to the floor outside the man’s door, weight thudding loosely against it, and took to sitting there, back to the wood, head tilted and eyes shut. “Xilarn…are you…?” Awake? Alive? Inside your room at all this time? Damis drew a hand over his face, scrubbing and shutting his eyes tighter before yawning, and the rest of the sentence simply never came to be. The floor was a far greater seductress than he gave it credit for, and whatever lingering alcohol remained in his system, added to overall lethargia, made for a formidable opponent, the likes of which he lacked the wherewithal to resist at present. A moment later, he was laying flat outside Xilarn’s door, one arm tossed over his face, and already rapidly progressing back towards sleep.
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Posted: Mon May 02, 2016 10:43 am
Xilarn didn’t hate Tivrod the way he hated Sulburi. In fact, the distaste he had for this town was of an entirely different, if not still completely unfavorable sort. There weren’t great crowds of people pushing each other around, the air wasn’t filled with the scent of piss and sweat and food all at the same time, no one went out of their way to be rude, things weren’t grossly more expensive, and it ought to be easier to appreciate an establishment filled with honest, hard working individuals and not pompous palace assholes. In all fairness, Xilarn wouldn’t have hated Tivrod if he hadn’t been here before.
But he had. And whether it was completely irrational or not, the decades-old sting of irritability and unfairness resurfaced the instant he set foot in the town. He might have been sixteen, staring at the unfamiliar, towering trees and complaining that he didn’t want to move just because it benefitted siblings that he didn’t even like.
So, yes. Irrational. It had been twenty years, and the town had done absolutely nothing to him. But he hated it all the same, despite the more temperate weather, the eye-pleasing splashes of wayward green, and the lack of aridness. Tivrod’s greatest blessing to him was that it was distinctly on the way out of Oba. If the size of the population here meant anything, they wouldn’t need to linger long.
Which suited him just fine, considering the lack of time-worthy options available.
Since he’d have enough time to trail after Damis’ wake in Jauhar, when Xilarn felt extremely certain danger was a high possibility in even established settlements, Xil spent the vast majority of time in his room, casually flipping through mildly interesting history books and idly tracing possible routes on maps and eating because he was bored and that seemed as good an activity as any. The rest of his time he spent on running drills with the locals, because it felt odd not having Gadot around to keep him immediately active, and he needed something.
He was still well good and beyond ready to leave when dawn light spilled through his window. In fact, he expected they’d leave earlier, as was becoming custom, to rise before the sun and set out in a timely manner. It didn’t matter as much now that the climate was changing, but it was routine, and he appreciated this shred of consistency, where so little of it was available.
Except Damis hadn’t been in his room. Annoyance surfaced quickly, but maybe he was out obtaining breakfast. Inconvenient, but fine. Xilarn could wait. If he wasn’t so impatient to leave, he might not have asked the innkeep around when Damis left this morning, only to be informed that he hadn’t come in last night at all. An immediate and unasked for rage bubbled up (Xilarn should’ve been informed of this, most definitely, and there was absolutely no reason for Damis to stay out all night for distinctly holy purposes), with just the thinnest sheet of underlying concern (he really could be anywhere, and something terrible might have happened, and if Xilarn had known, he might’ve been there, but he didn’t expect any danger if Tivrod. Maybe that was an oversight on his part; this really could’ve been a huge mistake).
The only reason he stuck to his room was because it was still early, and they had a plan Damissan was completely aware of, so if he wasn’t being mercilessly slaughtered, he’d return on his own. Despite the fearful thudding of his heart and his inability to relax, this still seemed far more likely. Maybe it would be less so in another hour.
On any other day, Xilarn wouldn’t have considered the dull thud of weight hitting his door a blessing. And generally speaking, blessing didn’t often deeply offend their intended target, but Xil was nevertheless. He stepped to open his door with a reprimand already on his tongue. “You’re late. If you’re going to be out all night, you could at least have the decency to-” He wrenched on the handle, swinging the door wide. “-be back before anyone knows better.”
He paused, before his gaze fell and landed on the boy sprawled in front of his door. The earlier concern resurfaced with a vengeance, and he almost dipped to ask if Damis was alright or if they ought to seek a healer or wonder what had happened to him and why. But he didn’t make it that far. Damis wasn’t bruised or bleeding, and while clearly disheveled, not in such a way that Xilarn expected a scuffle.
And he could smell the booze.
His lips thinned, eyes narrowed, and he braced his hands to either side of the doorframe to keep himself from digging his nails into his palms. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered, except Damis had seemed so offended by any thought that Xilarn might have been in such a state during their few days in Jatine. And after that very recent talk of self-betterment, Xil had clearly mistakenly expected a little… more success in that department.
He couldn’t recall any other instant in being so disappointed in this boy.
“Damissan,” Xil hissed as he prodded the toe of his boot against the younger man’s hip. “Get up. Now. I’m going to close this door, and you’re going to try again. When I open it, you will be presentable in the way I’ve come to expect of you.”
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Posted: Mon May 02, 2016 11:29 am
Thudded vibrations through the floor signaled approaching footsteps, and Damissan ought to have gotten up. It occurred to him to. He even told himself to, mentally. It wouldn’t do to be sprawled there on the floor outside of his guard’s room. But the precautionary thought did little more than linger vaguely and muted at the back of his mind, drowned under how tired and rawly lethargic he felt. Everything was so heavy, and besides, almost as soon as he thought it, it seemed there were already muffled words on the opposite side of the door, the creak, and—
Xilarn’s reprimand got distinctly louder the moment the door opened, and Damis half-cringed under the weight of his hand as the force of them made his head throb unpleasantly and his stomach remind him—just because it could—that it, too, was altogether displeased with his behavior. Very little was destined to be pleased with him on this day, it seemed, and when Xilarn’s boot toed at him, his wince — guilty and abashed rather than pained in any way — solidified. The older man’s words barely left his mouth before Damis shook his head hastily, ignoring the stab that caused and lurching upwards instead.
“No, don’t—don’t…” When his legs threatened to rebel against him, Damis caught at the door frame and wall—whatever his hands landed on first—eyes squeezing briefly shut and then open again as he forced them to. “Don’t go…back in. I’m fine. I’m up. I was just…I’m only a bit tired, is all. It’s nothing. I went out to…”
Damis’ eyes met Xil’s, and for a single, very disorienting second, Damissan forgot exactly what it was he was going to say. Then he remembered, and in that moment realized that he couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or didn’t want to lie to the man in front of him even if it would have been convincing—which it more than likely wouldn’t have been regardless. An odd discovery, since lying to his parents had come easily enough when appropriate, and it seemed like the instinctive, habitual drill to follow through on after failing to do what he ought. But he was here to do better than that, and while his behavior hadn’t been strictly in line with that plan, it didn’t mean he had to worsen the situation in a spiral.
And, on top of it all, Xilarn managed to look sincerely disappointed, as though he might even have expected better—which was more than enough to cause Damis’ face to burn unexpectedly and his eyes to flit downward as he forced himself up off the wall and, in a great show of willpower in opposition to his objecting body, hold himself straight.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting. I should have…said something, but I’m…” He cleared his throat, forcibly burying the urge to look further away and fold his hands or scuff his feet or otherwise look like a misbehaving child. Which he wasn’t. He lifted his gaze back to Xilarn instead. “I am ready to leave. I will wake up along the way. I’ve held us up long enough.”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 11:01 am
He was annoyed with the turn of events. He ought to be kept informed, and it would be nice if Damissan didn’t deliberately do things that would get himself into trouble, like stay out all night in unfamiliar towns while inebriated. Xilarn couldn’t say for sure how the night had gone for the younger man, but judging on appearance and smell alone, it probably all seemed well and good at the time, and less so now. Damis didn’t look especially pleased with himself, he had apologized, and they weren’t really getting that late of a start. So maybe it was unfair to be too terribly cross with him. Not while he was stumbling about and looking ill, anyway.
That, and Xilarn really had nothing to base his expectancies on. He’d liked and believed what Damis said about wanting to be a better person, but Xil had no grounds to assume that he would follow through with any degree of success. Or even if he did, there was always room for mistakes, and he shouldn’t expect perfection immediately.
Xil sighed, let his arms drop from the doorframe and his posture ease, and gave a small, tight shake of his head. “I’m not mad that you kept me waiting.” Not really. “I’m disappointed that I expected better of you without reason, and you didn’t deliver. It’s as much my fault as it is yours. I should’ve been paying more attention.” he reached, clasped a steadying hand to Damissan’s shoulder and guided him into the room. What was a few more minutes out of his day?
“You don’t look ready, and frankly, your lack of preparation is an affront to my senses. You smell. I had the time to collect your things for you. Change your clothes, wash your face, take a moment to orient yourself.” Xil put his back to the wall and leaned against it, crossing his arms. “I will wait. When you’re finished, we can enjoy breakfast, and you can be appreciative of the fact that I’m not shoving you into walking immediately. Now hurry up.”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 11:37 am
‘I expected better of you…and you didn’t deliver.’
Damissan winced in spite of himself, stiffening and opening his mouth to say something in his defense, or even just to voice some simple explanation. But then Xilarn’s hand caught at him, guiding him in, and whatever he might have said died on his lips preemptively. Despite his best efforts, there was a slight stagger to his entrance, and though it was his instinct to argue — he was fine, he could walk, he was ready, it was just a little fatigue, he could get over it — the promise of a wash, fresh clothes, and food proved too appealing to forgo. So, after several moments of mute, uncertain staring, he gave a small sheepish smile of thanks, and then hurried to do as instructed without further comment.
After fetching a suitable set of replacement attire, he filled the quickest bath he could, and any sliver of lingering doubt that this was the right choice vanished when he slipped into it. Now was not the time for ‘leisurely’ bathing, but even the crisp n** of clean water on his skin — and face, God — helped to shed the outer layer of what could only be described to him in that moment as the physical embodiment of the previous night’s poor choices. It felt like shucking a thin skin and forcing invigoration back into his lethargic body. He rubbed water over his closed eyelids, cleaned with lather at the back of his ears and neck and the rest of him, and rinsed. Neither his legs nor his stomach were completely cooperative when he climbed back out, dried, and dressed, but he felt better, and distinctly less like he was carrying a cloud or foul aura about with him.
New clothes alone on his skin helped with that, and once finished, he took a moment to draw a breath, hold it, and shake himself before releasing it and venturing to peer back out from the washroom. “So…” he said, brushing his hands down over his front and managing to still look vaguely abashed even as the corners of his lips edged up with more characteristic good humor, “…there was this woman last night…”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 12:54 pm
No argument. It was something Xilarn was grateful for as Damis slipped inside the washroom, out of sight, and left Xil to take up a patient perch on the edge of the bed.
He shut his eyes, sucked in a slow breath, and exhaled evenly. He absolutely couldn’t fathom why it mattered one way or the other what Damis did or why or what his goals were or if he succeeded in them or not. So long as he stayed alive and relatively unscathed, he could do as he pleased. Because so long as he stayed alive, Xilarn was well within the realm of accomplishing the job he’d been hired to do. And that should be the only thing of import. The rest wasn’t his concern.
He leaned back, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyelids. These types of problems had never been a great source of concern with Akiyal. Because yes, even though Aki was an ‘ask forgiveness rather than permission’ type and managed to go off without Xilarn knowing more than once and had definitely wound up in his fair share of trouble, Kesris was a small town with many familiar and trustworthy people. He didn’t expect anyone would let his son get into a mess he couldn’t get out of.
He trusted Tivrod decidedly less and didn’t especially trust Damissan, either.
It didn’t seem farfetched that something unsavory might have happened during the younger man’s slip in his journey of self betterment. But it didn’t. And Damis wasn’t a child- certainly not his child, and Xilarn really oughtn’t be so upset.
Muddy clay orbs flicked in Damis’ direction at the first word, and knowing he ought not be upset did absolutely nothing to keep it from being so. He stood, collected their bags, and strode toward him. “I’m sorry if I led you to believe I might be interested in hearing of your exploits.” He shoved Damis’ bag at him and reached to forcefully turn him toward the door. “Let me assure you, I’m not. Let’s go. We’ll find someplace to eat on the way out.”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 1:43 pm
Damis blinked, grunting as the weight of his bag was thrust none-too-gently into his chest and grip, and a moment later, he was being guided around, and out. He might have argued — and did almost say something — but the slosh of his gut at being assaulted with the momentum of his belongings drove home that he was already walking a finer line than usual. Xilarn had chosen to begin their day by making concessions, and waited on him. He had been more patient thus far than Damis might have guessed to give him credit for. So, expression slipping back to neutral-somber, he adjusted his grip, shoulders setting into only the smallest of disappointed slumps, and he again did as bid without further comment.
It occurred to him at several points as they strapped up their things and unstabled Nazakai, setting out into the morning together, to speak again. Perhaps not about his night — which did continue to flit through his mind in spurts of memory, particularly when they passed by the building within which Dris’rynne was presumably still sleeping — but about anything to lighten the mood between them. A comment here about the morning and how lovely it actually was despite all, or about where they were headed, or how long it would be until they encountered Xilarn’s cousin and reunited with Gadot. Questions about Jauhar, even, and the last time the older man had apparently been there.
Nothing ever seemed quite apt, however, and if silence was what Xilarn wanted, it seemed that at least on this day, Damis owed it to him.
So they purchased breakfast in silence. Damis ate with grateful relish, felt another rung better afterward, and in the light of still-relatively-early morning, they set out from the west border of Tivrod, and within hours were solidly out of Oba, and into the increasingly thick jungles of Jauhar. It was, to say the least, an eye opening experience. Though he knew of them, trees had never played anything but a decorative and scarce role in Damissan’s life. Some grew within the palace walls, carefully planted and tended to. Some grew around the oases of Oba, always lush and striking by comparison to the rolling gold desert.
But nothing like this.
Nothing so thick and towering. So massive, imposing and intertwined with foliage that by the time they were well into it, he could not see the tops of them through the tangled mesh they made. His eyes got lost in the detail at first, for there was no end to the complication. He continued to assume, though, that the underbrush could not possibly get any denser. Every step, they were at the final point.
This did not prove to be true. Or, not until the scene had changed so thoroughly that the evolution was verging on unsettling, as though they had, over the course of their hours of travel, moved from day to night without actually spanning — surely? — the course of a full day. The sun, though, was gone. All around, the jungle floor glowed in eerie, unfamiliar shades with alien fauna, and whatever oddities Damissan had felt from the morning were drowned and forgotten completely by the absolute strangeness of all of it.
When he could no longer hold his tongue, he hoped Xilarn would humor him. “Is…all of it like this…?”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 4:31 pm
Xilarn considered it a small blessing that Damis chose not to engage him as they made their way out of Tivrod. He wasn’t in the mood for nonsense, and he couldn’t think of anything his traveling companion might say that distinctly wasn’t that, if his first attempt at conversation was any indication. Though as they headed down the well-worn dirt path that would lead them to the savagelands, Xil started to wonder if this was how they’d depart every city: in silence, because one of them had fouled something up.
Except surely it would get easier. Of course it would.
On more than one occasion, he considered saying something. ’I overreacted. You aren’t that bad.’ ’You’re allowed one mistake. Don’t do it again.’ Or, if he was feeling especially adventurous, ’She must have been a very beautiful woman to spend all night with her.’ But even the thought of any such admission drew a frown to his face, and his mood was not permitting.
Instead, he directed his attention with wary acuteness to the ever-growing greenery beginning to overtake the land.
To Xilarn, Jauhar was a land of contradictions. The dense green forests, bright orange flowers, and crystal critters were beautiful in a way no other land that he’d ever experienced was, but it was also dangerous in ways that even now, he didn’t fully know what to expect. Somehow the gentlest of Shifters and the most vicious of Alidike cohabitated, and this too, was an enigma. As a teenager, he’d been told he’d die within a week of entering the jungle, and for all intents and purposes, he should have, but he’d only ever managed to find people who would sooner save him than hurt him. His first love had been one of those people. It was only when he left the woodlands that things turned sticky.
So the jungles of Jauhar were clearly lucky.
And if he felt a sense of security, despite knowing of very real danger all around them, it was probably still entirely unwarranted.
He glanced back to Damis and offered a wayward grin. “I suspect nearly all of our time traveling between settlements will be similar to this, yes.” Or worse, the farther in they trekked, but maybe that went without saying. “But when we get to Neued, you’ll have a chance to see the sun again. The Shifters build their homes in the treetops and create these great sprawling bridges between buildings. There’s a whole market in the trees. Can you imagine? I’m sure we could stay on the ground if you prefer, but I… think you’ll like it. Or I hope you do.”
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Posted: Tue May 03, 2016 5:37 pm
“It’s so dark…” Damis murmured. Xilarn’s initial response — not upset at least, and even accompanied by a grin — was encouraging enough to spurn more from him. “Not…black, but…I can’t imagine never seeing the sun even in the height of day.” As soon as he said it, it sounded a touch ridiculous, since he was experiencing it at present, it oughtn’t be hard to imagine. “Or…I had never thought before now that there were people who lived in such a way. I knew the jungles were thick, but…” His gaze trailed up the dark, gnarled purple trunk of a nearby tree which climbed up, up, well beyond his range of vision, all of it decorated with bio-luminescent crystals that jutted out like obscure lights, casting their color on the surrounding wildlife. “Nothing like this…”
His gaze flit again to Xilarn, though, at the later commentary, curious. Unfortunately, at talk of ‘great sprawling bridges between buildings’ all strung between the treetops high enough to see the sun, Damis’ stomach gave an unpleasant, jolting twist and lurch. He curbed the instinct to swallow or wince, though, watching instead as Xilarn described it, and the man sounded genuinely inviting. Friendly, even.
‘I…think you’ll like it. Or I hope you do.’
Damis felt heat crawl for his cheeks in spite of himself—fortunately completely invisible between his dark skin and the dim atmosphere—but still there, and he smiled over his nerves, because if savages could manage it, surely he could, and it was rare enough that Xilarn sounded so encouraging, far be it from him to spoil the moment by letting on his trepidation. “It does sound…exciting. I wouldn’t want to spoil it by staying on the ground when this is surely the only place I could get such an experience…” Glancing upward, his eyes climbed, and climbed to the highest branches visible within the shadow, and he breathed out. “But I do have difficulty imagining it as of yet. I’ve never been any higher than the rooftops of Sulburi, and there it’s all rock and clay beneath you. To think of just wood and rope strung between plants…well, it’s impressive, and I’ll see it soon enough. You’ve…”
He glanced to Xilarn, studying him a moment before looking to Nazakai when the beast grunted and giving a gentle, ‘encouraging’ tug, for the quhar was less than fond of Jauhar’s unfamiliar turf and all the scents that came coupled with it.
“You spent some time here before, yourself, didn’t you?”
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Posted: Wed May 04, 2016 11:51 am
Maybe he was imagining it, but when Xilarn glanced back in Damis’ direction, he could almost swear the younger man looked uncomfortable, at best. An unusual look for him. Even if Xil went with the thought that he couldn’t see Damissan’s face particularly well in the dark, so he was probably making absurd judgements, his companion still sounded almost distinctly unlike himself. Or at least not the ‘himself’ Xilarn was accustomed to. Low, soft words, trailing off, and uncertainty. But maybe he should’ve expected as much. Jauhar was probably the most drastic change from Oba anyone could experience in the span of a week, and it wasn’t particularly inviting to begin with. And definitely strange to anyone that didn’t call it home.
He slowed his pace to match Damissan’s, walked at his side, and tried to sound reassuring. “If it eases your mind, you’ll be pleased to know that Tale and Suati are boring by comparison. Tale’s trees are nowhere near as apt at blotting out the sky, and Suati is basically a desolate, rocky wasteland. And Zena is… well, you have to be a special sort to enjoy Zena. But-” In the span of seconds it took him to make his claims, he’d nearly forgotten that they weren’t going to make it all that far. Or Xilarn certainly didn’t intend to. A couple more weeks, tops, and Damis would get bored and want to be taken home.
Because he’d already been plenty bored with Tivrod and that wasn’t an especially motivational thought.
Xilarn shook his head. “But we’ll see how you you feel about tackling that when it’s closer. In the meantime, there’s enough to experience here that you should be fine. Even if you aren’t interested in their architecture, the Shifters’ culture is interesting enough, the lands are worth exploring just for the sake of seeing them, and the cuisine is unlike anything you could find anywhere else… And if you get scared, little boy,” He grinned, or smirked, more accurately, and nudged his shoulder into Damis. “I’ll be there to hold your hand and assure you that all your fears and everything else you think are nonsense.”
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Posted: Wed May 04, 2016 7:58 pm
Damissan did relax.
Talk of Tale and Sauti — even if far off — was comforting, if only to think that they would be slightly less alien than this—and, he supposed, other than the mildly terrifying concept of hanging bridges strung together by savages many house-heights above the ground, it wasn’t as though Jauhar was innately objectionable. Just very well and truly different from anything he had ever experienced before. And dark. But it was, as Xilarn had said, beautiful in its own way, and he could appreciate that much.
“It is comforting to think that it does not get more bizarre somehow the further from home we travel, since I have difficulty imagining that,” Damis said. “And I do look forward to meeting the peoples who call this land theirs. I admit…unique ‘cuisine’ sounds as though it has just as much potential to be inedible as not, but surely everywhere has some stomachable meat and grain…”
When Xilarn’s shoulder butted up against his, Damis’ eyebrows rose in spite of himself, and at the end of the tease, he snorted, lips twitching upward despite all.
“Everything I think,” he repeated. “In that case…” Reaching, he caught at Xilarn’s hand because he could, and twined their fingers together for effect. “I am—”
Unfortunately for whatever he might have said, the fates clearly had other intentions, for before he made it halfway into the sentence, something — and to his further distress he could not even say what — shifted up ahead. The undergrowth was so steeped in shadow already and lit eerily enough that even normal movement was obscured and distorted, but in the second that his words paused and his eyes flicked out to survey the dim blue-purple scene before them, something moved again, there was a scuffing and overturning of dirt, and it was possible that for a half moment, Damissan’s grip crimped, clutching to Xilarn in startlement before he withdrew his hand, fingers jerking to the hilt of one of his blades.
“Xilarn…what…precisely…”
A moment later, his question was answered as directly and unpleasantly as he could have possibly imagined when the source of the movement rose up, abandoning the thin layer of soil covering it previously and snapping two pincers together.
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Posted: Fri May 06, 2016 2:12 pm
’You have difficulty imagining a lot of things, apparently.’ The corner of Xilarn’s lip twitched up at the thought, but he pinched his tongue between his teeth to stave off the commentary. Instead, he opted for a muted half-grunt chuckle and a blatantly teasing smile. “Everything you think,” he agreed curtly. “Which would make more sense if you had the imagination to back it up, but-”
He glanced down to their locked fingers as Damissan caught at him, and it was undeniably his immediate instinct to rip away. And he might have, if he didn’t expect that was precisely what the younger man anticipated. He tensed, squinted down at the offending limbs, waited with taut anticipation for maybe a heartbeat, then relaxed with a soft huff. He’d meant the comment sarcastically of course, but Damis probably knew that much too. Xilarn shook his head and continued on his original train of thought. “-but what you lack in creativity you make up for in forthrightness. And that’s at very least equally as dangerous…”
It wasn’t until Damissan’s fingers tightened around his that Xilarn looked up. His gaze locked on the shifting mud, and he had an instant to be grateful that they hadn’t stepped in any closer before the massive creature revealed itself. Even at this distance, Xil might have wished he’d been paying a little more attention. He reached out as Damis pulled away, caught him by the arm, and guided him gently back, behind him.
Xilarn was not familiar with the names of every monstrous insect that took up residence in the dark, dense forests of Jauhar. Fortunately (or not, if he was being reasonable), wadani were not foreign to him. In fact, on all of his previous excursions, he’d had at least one run-in with the creatures. Some occasions were more fruitful than others, but one thing he knew for sure: “I’d be especially leery of engaging them at close range, particularly when I’ve always assumed those blades were just for looks.”
He reached back and flicked open the snap the held his spear fastened to his back. “Y’know, if you aren’t really afraid of heights, we could probably avoid a fight altogether if we climbed…?” Xil offered hopefully.
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Posted: Sun May 08, 2016 5:01 pm
Damissan’s stomach gave a hard lurch—and drop.
He’d never been especially experienced with or fond of beasts, generally, of any size, even when purportedly domesticated and ‘harmless.’ Such was his reasoning for being initially — and still, to some slightly smaller degree — uncomfortable with Gadot despite his trained state and good charm. He didn’t usually see much reason and had certainly in the past never had to deal with them at length, so they were easily avoided. Of course, traveling had already put some end to that. Nazakai’s presence was necessary, various beasts of burden roamed most streets of the larger cities, and Gadot had been a traveling companion. But nothing quite like this.
Nothing, yet, that not only would not think twice about killing him, but also looked entirely capable of doing so. Not to mention foreign, vicious, and likely armed with a propensity for eating whatever it took down. Though his hands had moved to the hilts of his blades on instinct — that seemed the best place for them — he had yet to employ them against anything but a dueling trainer or, on a handful of occasions, other similarly-positioned noble youth for the sake of sport or sparring.
Never a person meaning to harm him.
And never a beast.
Thus, when Xilarn’s hand gripped at him, ushering him back and behind, Damissan’s attention was already scattered, and though his overall posture was stiff, his legs stumbled into compliance without resistance, and it took him another moment to process fully that first, he was not imagining what had just appeared before them, and second, Xilarn seemed to definitely be confirming the beast’s dangerousness. Damis cleared his throat, opened his mouth, shut it, swallowed—and then opened it again, schooling himself as best he could that the first sound out of his mouth was actually intelligible and not an incoherent groan-whine.
“I’ve—I have…just for looks…? They’re not—I’m not afraid of heights, I just haven’t—if you can’t fight them at close range, how can you fight them? I’ve never climbed a tree fast enough to…” He paused, frowning. “I’ve never climbed a tree…”
Already, though, he was taking a step back—two, three—and looking to the surrounding wildlife, made all the more eerie between its dim glow, ethereal, deep lavender hues, and the newfound knowledge of what lurked within it in the most unassuming of places. He made it perhaps half a dozen feet back, towards the nearest trunk before something else scuffled amongst the undergrowth, and in a moment, Damis’ back was to Xilarn, his blades drawn and in his hands because even if the man advised against close range if it could be avoided, he doubted it would hurt if the only other option was to be weaponless.
As the second unburied itself from the earth, the tip of Damissan’s tongue flicked along the edge of his bottom lip, and he gave the steadiest exhale he could manage—which wasn’t, unfortunately, saying much. “How many of…these…typically burrow together in one area…?”
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