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 Posted: Fri Mar 22, 2013 10:55 am
** Blizzard pt 6 - Solo- 446 words **
Ruelash didn't know how long he had been digging up and up and up in that dark, cold snowdrift. It was easy to lose track of time in that sort of darkness.
He looked down, past his flat-pressed hands at the reddish glow emanating from his shelter. It was fairly far below. He wouldn't want to allow himself an uncontrolled fall. That would lead to his doom.
How much more to go? He glared up at the snow above him.
It could be a long way. Perhaps it was time to angle his tunnel. He maneuvered, moving to start digging towards where the outside had been before the avalanche. His muscles were screaming with strain and he was colder than he would like.
He grit his ******** that! He would survive!
He started digging again, very much like a mole in his strokes as he pushed the snow to the side.
Wait...
He almost slipped, and scrabbled to regain his purchase in the packed snow tunnel he had made.
Was that... light? It shone through the packed wall of the newly excavated part of the tunnel, a grey lighter than the cold blackness he had been digging through.
He scraped at it more, urgently needing to reach the outside. The light broke through more and more as he squirmed through his tunnel like an ice worm. Finally, his digging hands found something other than snow.
Air? Could it be air?
He hastily opened the tunnel and was greeted by grey skies buzzing with motion. But it was sky, it was open, it was AIR.
It was alarmingly fresh air- how close had he been to suffocation? Whatever, now he would live.
The wind bit his nose as he peered out. It seemed the blizzard had not let up. It was harder to tell now that the snow muffled the screams of the storm. He wiggled back into his main passageway and carefully descended back to the cave, poking the dying fire back into something warming as he dried his wet gloves and thawed chilled hands. He looked at where his tunnel coiled up into the snow and glowered, taking the opportunity to eat some of the meat before pacing in the small space like some beast in a cage.
He wanted OUT, but he couldn't get out. He wanted to find more wood, but he couldn't get OUT. He wanted to punch something but even he knew that that was a stupid idea.
He punched the rear wall of the shelter anyway, needing to feel the impact in his bones to be calm.
Turning back to the tunnel, he scowled, then set to widening it.
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Posted: Sat Mar 23, 2013 9:08 am
** Blizzard pt 7 - Solo- 339 words **
Silence.
Blessed silence. The frustrated Ruelash wiggled down his expanded tunnel and grabbed what he had packed in the frustrated limbo of waiting. He lifted it up and through before dumping it, victorious, on the excavated side. Pale sunlight glinted off of snow and into his eyes, making him blink.
He didn't know if the blizzard was well and truly over, but it was good enough for him. He wanted OUT.
He retrieved anything else he could carry, leaving the useless pylon, some bones, and some of the ashes of the fire to mark his presence in the alcove.
Standing on the height of a snowdrift, laden with his things, Ruelash decided to move on, carefully stepping in the snow, trying to stay close to the rock face in case he slipped.
The package he was to deliver moved against his side as he, with a large stick, prodded the way ahead to make sure it was safe.
Stupid package. Stupid elders.
He wondered what was in the package. Was it supplies? Magical stuff?
Anything important at all?
He suspected not.
He reached the forest again, barely black stubble in a sea of cloaking white. He cleared a space on a log outside the forest and sat down to have himself some lunch, looking at the package the whole time.
Should he open it? Take a look? See what was inside?
Would they be able to tell?
Would he care?
He didn't know the answer to the first part, but the last part he knew clearly.
He licked the Chuka grease from his hands and replaced his gloves, fumbling at the knot that bound the package together before opening it.
He took care, but not much care, in opening it.
It was a soft package, he noted, wrapped twice to protect it's contents.
Curiously, he peeked inside.
Clothes. Dark, fur-lined clothes. Children's sized.
Clothes. Of all things, clothes.
Not that Ruelash didn't like clothes. Running around naked in Zena was the perfect way to freeze to death.
But these clothes were embroidered with colored thread into patterns. Obviously, they were for someone high class, probably obnoxious and full of themselves. Some brat, judging from the size.
Ruelash hated them already. He re-wrapped it clumsily and, grumblingly, went forward towards the settlement.
Clothes.
He had gone through all that for something as stupid as clothes. <******** that.
It was absurd.
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Posted: Sat Mar 23, 2013 9:09 am
** Blizzard pt 8 - Solo- 857 words **
He reached the settlement, feeling more and more apprehensive as he approached civilization.
Not quite apprehension, more like annoyance at being somewhere where Earthlings, not Bergchi, reigned.
He treated anybody who so much as looked at him to a smouldering glare, and anybody who whispered to a second glare.
He was to deliver his package to the elder and, out of all these whiners, that was the only person that Ruelash regarded as important at this point.
He slunk sulkily over to the Elder's hut, detaching the package from his side and holding it like it was some disgusting creature.
"Hey." he banged on the doorframe, "Got yer package here." it probably wasn't actually the elder's package, but Ruelash didn't care.
He didn't know who else to deliver the shitty thing to anyway.
He banged on the doorframe again.
"Hey! Come out an' get the ********' thing. I ain't standing here all day"
and he sure as ******** wasn't. He wanted to trade his furs and get out of the settlement as fast as possible.
A third time.
"Get the ********' package or ah'm gonna just drop it in the snow an' cover it up!" he snarled. Then they wouldn't find the stupid thing until the thaw.
He stared up at the roof, wishing he could set the roof on fire just by glaring at it.
Heh. That would get the people out of it real fast.
"Can I help you?"
Someone said behind him, and Ruelash turned around, crossing his arms over his chest and determinedly scowling at the new face.
"Ya. Got somethin' for the elder" he brandished the package, "Ya know where they are?" he wanted this bullshit to be over as soon as possible.
"Yes. I am the elder of this settlement." they said, holding out their hands to receive the package.
"Good." Ruelash shoved it into his hands, just happy to be rid of the ******** thing.
The elder gave him a patient, if searching smile.
"You are Ruelash, aren't you? Brother to Veshki the scout?"
"Yeh?" this was unexpected.
"I remember you both when you came through here."
"Yeh?" Ruelash remembered too. He wondered what the man was getting at.
"I hear that he passed away not too long ago?"
"Yeh, tha's true." Ruelash stood, uncomfortably impatient, "'e fell down a ravine." he added helpfully.
"Yes..." The elder hesitated before giving Ruelash a cautiously warm smile "We are very sorry for his loss."
"Yeh, so'm I." Ruelash admitted, grumpily, looking longlingly at the lands beyond the fence that separated the settlement from the frozen wastes, "Ah'm I done now? Kin I go, or do ya have some sort o' task for me ta' do?" he said, turning his glare back on the elder.
The elder seemed taken aback.
"Would you sit in drink with me for a while? In Veshki's memory?"
Ruelash blinked. What? For a moment he almost wanted to.
Then he shook his head, the politest thing he had ever done.
"Nah. 'es remembered" he said coolly, "An' ah've to get goin' 'fore the blizzard comes back"
The elder seemed dissappointed, but nodded.
"I understand. Would you wait a moment? I have some packages I was hoping to get delivered to your settlement."
He vanished into the hut.
Ruelash glared after him. What a s**t, mentioning Veshki. Ruelash didn't want to remember his brother. Veshki was dead. Veshki was gone. Ain't nothing he could do about it, ain't no point in dwelling on it, life moved on. Remembering was bothersome. Remembering ******** hurt. ******** remembering.
The man exited with two packages that he handed to ruelash, who took them sullenly.
"The one with blue string is to go to your elders. The one with tan string goes to Veshki's widow, as my late condolences."
"Got it." said Ruelash, attaching the packages to his pack with a souring expression that asked the unspoken question of CAN I LEAVE NOW? He also wasn't very fond of Veshki's wife, nor she of him. It was a mutual agreement of both dislike and truce.
The elder nodded.
"Good speed." he said, before returning to his hut.
Ruelash was only too happy to leave, setting out on a different path home as the sun began to dip low in the sky.
As he left the village behind, his mood improved bit by bit. He looked back at the now speck in the distance and grinned.
It felt like an escape, a victory over civilization and stupidity.
With a lighter step, he moved homewards.
~
The elder, unbeknownst to Ruelash, watched the boy go. He wasn't sure how to feel about him. Clearly the boy was a wild beast, barely tamed.
But the elder had become such by being perceptive.
He'd heard the rumors about his boy. Had heard he was a violent savage man, and it was just a matter of time before he became a monster.
But when he had mentioned Veshki, the elder hadn't seen a monster. He'd seen a young man grieving. It gave the elder pause before he turned away to attend to other tasks.
Even a beast can grieve.
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Posted: Thu Jul 25, 2013 2:58 pm
** The Hunt - Class Affinity Solo- 2789 words **
Ruelash stomped up the trail, looking back at the bounty hunters in annoyance. So. Here he was, babysitting people who shouldn't need it. These were, what, seasoned warriors? Respected veterans of conflict? Why did they need to bother him? Couldn't they find their way around the tundra themselves without a guide? If they couldn't, what right did they have to be warriors at all, the ******** pussies.
But here he was, guiding them. Clearly they were too sheltered to be worthy of their titles.
"Good of you to do this, kid." called one of them, a spearwielder, "We knew your brother, and he was a good guide."
"Yeah." he said, grunting. There were two groups of these bounty hunters. One with Jawaad, headed south, and one with him, headed North and West, into the harsh mountains.
The siblings knew Veshki's paths and routes through the wildnerness, and so were invaluable guides. Ruelash didn't want to do it, though. These people gabbered and gawked and were whiny and annoying. "This way." he growled at them, sourly climbing the trail.
"... and a good man"
Chi, couldn't the guy just shut up? He grunted.
"Heard some things about you, Ruelash." said one of the others, a woman with a book at her side, "You're not such a good guy, are you." The words themselves were offhand and playful, but there was the slightest tone of a threat behind them. Ruelash grunted. Whatever. He wasn't Veshki, Veshki was dead. Ruelash hated them all. He didn't need to be 'good'.
The first nodded, "If you try anything, boy, the elders said we could spit you."
Ruelash kept his gaze straight ahead, preventing them from seeing the smirk that flitted across his face.
Huh. he thought, [That'd be fun
Silence, blessed awkward wary pseudosilence, carryed him to their destination, a stone cairn in the mountains. Travellers often stopped here to camp because it was such a bold landmark in the desolate tundra, and also because it had supplies. The supplies were refreshed often by the village of Secer.
Today, though, the cache was opened and surrounded by the corpses of travellers and their mounts. They had all been stripped, their valuables taken and the rest dumped in a pile by the cairn.
"s**t" exclaimed one of the bounty hunters, "We missed him." Ruelash inspected one of the dead bodies, intrigued by the blood and wounds. They almost looked like claw marks, except where they were pierced in groups of three. Either way, it had killed them dead. He felt sad that he had missed what had had to have been an amazing fight.
"Yeah" said one of the other bounty hunters, "But not by long. Looks like we scared him off. They're still warm."
The woman nodded.
"Allright. Gear up. We're on the hunt. You." she pointed to Ruelash who had determined for himself that the bodies were freshly dead.
He grunted. "Yeah?"
"Guide us. If someone was riding a big ol' Raptrix and they had to leave the area quickly, where would they go?"
"This way." he said, thinking while walking. Big raptrix? How big? Those claw marks had been vicious. It sounded like there was going to be a fight, a big one, and he might be around for it... He felt his heart rate quicken. Aww, yeah. This would be perfect.
"Theres a cave on the ledge this way." he said, leading them to a path along the ravine, "It's good and hidden, and it's got a little narrow path..." He glanced to the side at the long, sheer fall.
Don't fall down, you whining dipshits. he sneered silently to himself, but his eyes were bright. A fight, a fight! This would be great.
"Hurry up" he said, gesturing, "Less you want him t' swoop in and pick ya off like rabbits!" he said, his excitement leaking out into his voice. He sort of liked the idea:
Talons from nowhere, piercing into the ribcage... tearing as they yanked you from the ledge and dangled you over the endless pit, dropping you to your fate below even as you bled out and died in the air... Unable to scream through a punctured lung... A victorious howl above and the whistling of wind in your ears the last thing you heard before Bergchi's icy hand took you away...
Oh yes. That would be fun.
"Oh don't worry. That ain't going to happen" said one of the bounty hunters, an eye to the sky and a bow at the ready, "We're used to this sort of thing. Just show us the cave.
~~~
Ruelash was dissappointed when there wasn't any death from the sky. They entered onto the outcropping holding the cave without incident. He couldn't say he was looking forward to dying horribly, but the thrill of the idea allured him. But no, instead he had just had a boring walk. Inside, though, the cave was not so boring. It was warmed by a fire, still crackling, at the center. A pile of stolen goods glittered at a wall, and it smelled of fur and sweat.
"They had to have just been here." said a bounty hunter. Ruelash grunted, entering the small cavern to inspect the fire. Anybody with a working brain could tell that.
"Right,” said the bounty hunter, investigating the pile of stolen goods, ”he isn't going to leave his haul here. He'll be back for it, and that means he can't be far away! Keep an eye to the sky, mates!" they took positions, setting themselves up at the entrance. Some were visible from the outside, others hid to conserve the element of surprise. Ruelash ignored them and inspected the cavern further. What did he care what those idiots did? He wanted to see what this guy they were hunting had been up to.
The cave was small, barely enough for a decent lair. He'd stayed here with Veshki once- it was a good place to shelter from storms, at least. He squinted at the back wall, seemingly shrouded in darkness.
Wait.
Wasn't there a little alcove out back? He took out his crappy little dagger and smirked, stalking towards the back of the cavern. He didn't think he would find anything, but why not. He remembered that it was a pretty comfortable place to sleep, so he didn't see why he couldn't use it as a place to watch these idiots fall over themselves for a bandit who probably wasn't coming back. Ruelash, for all his belligerence, wouldn't come back, not if he wasn't feeling like going up against a group like this. Then again, riches meant little to him.
He tensed, seeing movement in the darkness at the back of the cave. A small animal, maybe? He approached closer, more cautiously. A hand shot out from the darkness, grabbing him and pulling him into a headlock, the cool sharpness of a blade pressed into his neck.
"Make a sound." said a voice just by his ear, "And I'll kill you."
A shiver passed along Ruelash's body.
"Scared? Good." said the voice, ”That'll keep you alive.”
Ruelash grinned. Scared? Nope. He wasn't scared. Not one bit. He was delighted. He wasn't a brainy guy, but he was, slightly, intrigued. What was this guys plan? What did he want to do? The blade against his throat was a dagger- didn't this man use a trident? The wounds on the bodies back at the waystation had said as much. What did he have to gain by taking a hostage? Nobody cared about Ruelash, except himself (and even that wasn't certain.)
He was walked out, slowly, towards the fire, and he felt the man move the other arm. Ruelash looked down to see the glint of another knife in the man's hand, before it became a blur and flew through the air, striking one of the hiding bounty hunters in the neck.
Throwing knives. Beautiful. He managed not to whistle in appreciation as the whiny warriors turned, almost in unison, to their fallen comrade and then to the two of them in shock.
"Weren't expecting that, were you? Well, I was expecting you. Oh, no." he said, holding Ruelash tighter. The prentice felt the knife work into the grooves between his crystals, the sharpness cool against his skin. "You come any closer and the boy dies" There was a moment's hesitation- just a moment, Ruelash knew, because why would anybody give him more than that- but the Bandit wasn't wasting any of it.
"NOW!" he shouted, and up from below the rocks came a massive and magnificent shape, a beautiful red and white speckled raptrix. It's eyes a searing, glaring grey and it's razor sharp obsidian talons tore a spearman open. His scream was choked off by his own blood as he crumpled to the ground. It snapped, biting through an archer's shoulder and chest. Their blood flowed outside into the sun-stroked snow and pocked the ice with red.
Ruelash thought it was beautiful. The man's posture changed and, wanting to be a part of the action, Ruelash twisted around and shoved. He managed to free himself of the bandit's hold and, to keep it that way, he stabbed out with his glass dagger. He missed, but that wasn't a problem. He was, after all, alive. Alive and grinning like a madman.
The man shrugged and threw his other dagger, missing and striking the stone next to one of the swordsmen as he took his trident off of his back and leveled it.
Ruelash could hear the crackle in the air as magic was cast, a shimmering shield rising at the corner of his gaze around the woman with the book. He could feel the vibrations of the Raptrix's scream as it was slashed by a sentinel's sword. He backed away from the man. His dagger wouldn't do much good unless he wanted to be impaled on the prongs, and he didn't feel like that. Ruelash backed away further as a hammer user charged in to engage,a nd an arrow arched over his shoulder to slice the bandit's leg. He'd leave them to it for now.
The Raptrix's fighting knocked some of the stalactites loose, and they clattered to the ground, leaving large, sharp stone shards in their wake. Well, he had been looking for something better than his stupid glass dagger. He dropped his dagger and hefted two big spikes of rock into his hands. A little heavy, but he liked them anyway: They were like big, heavy, rocky fangs. He turned back to face the fight, adrenaline rushing through his body like a drug.
The raptrix had decimated it's attackers, its fur, teeth, and claws stained a deep crimson. Of the bounty hunters that had attacked it, only the magic-wielder still stood. She held her ground bravely, no expression except concentration showing on her face. Her book was open and twin flames lashed out from an from her hand into the Raptrix's fur. It howled at her as it's fur smouldered, and reared up to bring it's claws upon her with its full weight- it would probably break through the shimmering magical shield around her.
Ruelash did not see danger, nor did he care about the woman. In this moment, he saw only an oppurtunity. He leapt, his own makeshift weapons in hand, screaming a wild and enervated war cry as he brought them down onto it's head. He struck true, and the spikes lodged into the raptrixs skull. It gave one last whimpering surprised gurgle before collapsing, it's twitching claws falling to rest inches away from the woman.
She gave Ruelash an appraising look before turning her attention to the rest of the fight. Ruelash abandoned the makeshift daggers and followed suit. After all, that was where the action was, and he wanted more.
The man was holding the bounty hunters off, and Ruelash found himself in awe at the bodies that littered the ground. The way the man moved with his trident was like poetry- a feint here, a jab there, a trip maneuver here. He dodged arrows and spells with neat and careful sidesteps, using each movement to attack his foes even as he evaded them. Everything was smooth. Everything was well practiced. To Ruelash, this was the only poetry he could understand- not one of words, but one of motion. It was both beautiful and deadly. He knew, then, that he would never be able to do anything like it: It was too intricate, too complicated. But it was beautiful, and he could, at least, appreciate it.
Ruelash was ignored as he watched the fight. Neither side seemed to gain any ground, nor did they lose any ground. It was a stalemate, a game of which side blinked first. One stroke of bad luck, and it would be over, one way or another.
He couldn't resist the urge to join in any longer. He picked up a fallen dagger- likely the one that had been held to his throat- and admired its weight, sharpness, and deadliness. This was a decent weapon, unlike his crappy little glass dagger, which now lay discarded on the cave floor. He edged along the cave wall, making his way behind the fight.
For a moment, the bandit got lucky, his well-timed jab pierced the arm of the swordsman, causing him to fall back. The swordsman left himself open, but as the bandit lunged in for the kill, the woman- probably, Ruelash realized a bit late in the game, their leader- stepped forward, a shield shimmering into existence over her and her comrade. Ruelash was not very knowledgable about magic, but to him it seemed far too flimsy. It would probably shatter on impact. She had put herself in harms way too, and she would likely be killed. Those sharp prongs would pierce her through, and then be removed before striking her ally. Maybe he would have a chance to kill the bandit, maybe not.
Either way, at the thought that she might be killed, this obnoxious stranger he barely knew, something twitched inside Ruelash. Something basic and primal.
He pounced, taking the bandit off guard and bearing him down to the ground. He felt the thrill of the man's body impacting on the stone as it reverberated through his own bones, and he wrestled the man until he straddled his pinned form. Then his knife came down. Again and again he stabbed, delighting in the feel of sharpness and flesh and the warmth of blood. It felt good. IT FELT GOOD.
"Allright. Thats enough." said the woman, standing there, her book open, her eyes hard and unreadable. "Get off the body."
Ruelash wanted to attack her. Killing... it was such a rush. He didn't want to stop feeling like this! He tensed for another lunge, his eyes gleaming sharp and predatory in the firelight.
She was a woman, though.
A woman.
A WOMAN.
That strange feeling deep inside inside twitched again. He could not hurt a woman. Not like this. Reluctantly and more than a little bit bitterly he relaxed, letting himself fall off of the now stilled and mangled body. He sat there, resting, while the bounty hunters dressed the kills so that they could prove their bounty.
He couldn't believe what he had done. Killing a person was bigger than anything he had ever done, more momentous than the mountains he had scaled or the blizzards he had weathered. It had felt as good as he imagined it would. He wanted to do it again. He wanted more... more blood, more death, more battle.
They called his name, and he guided them back to the village, but late into the night he sat on the roof of his sister's hut, grinning and looking up at the sky.
He couldn't sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes, memories played out behind his eyes- memories of sharpness and cutting, and how the knife sheared away flesh, and how it jerked when it caught in bone. It had felt so good to fight someone that knew how to fight back. He could respect that bandit for his skill and violence. The violence was something he shared, the skill was something to strive for.
That man had not been a whining sheltered stupid rat-puke bluehide who simpered behind walls and a fire. No, that bandit had been badass, the most badass person ever. It was an honor, or the closest thing to honor that Ruelash could comprehend, to have encountered that man and killed him.
He grinned up at the desolate and cold night sky, remembering the smell and taste of blood and the screams of the dying.
He wanted to do it again.
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Posted: Wed Jul 31, 2013 5:37 pm
Its Snow, You Moron ** Ruelash and Keilana
Response is 350 words
Ruelash was in a rare good mood when he returned home, a haunch of meat slung over his shoulder. His assessment of the leaf-tribe lady was complete and she was nothing like the snobby blueskins that he called his own kind. More like the wind tribe, probably- they had whiny idiots too, but they also had redeeming features like toughness and survival ability. The leaf lady did too. She also had a hammer, which was a plus in his book. Blades suited him best, but the way she wielded that thing, the way it just crunched into the Bahju's skull... mmm. Blunt weapons were growing on him a bit. They seemed heavy though, and he didn't like that. What if you had to carry it up a mountain? Yeah, no. But what if he made something like a hammer? Like, a rock on a string? Wow. He was on a roll today with ideas.
He grinned, remembering their conversation. He'd had a meaningful conversation with another person. He hadn't had one of those in days. They weren't bad, actually.
But the visceral conversations he had with the wild were better because they had no words, only an understanding that you lived by your wits and Bergchi's grace, and nothing else. Yeah, definitely better.
Though, this meat that the leaf lady had given him would be pretty damn good. He could already taste it and he hadn't even cooked it yet. He figured he should get it on the fire before he started eating raw meat. He'd tried raw meat before, and though it was edible (and felt very manly to rip apart), cooked meat was better. And it kept well.
Inside the hut, he poked the fire back into a decent and warm blaze and set up the meat to cook.
Yeah, this wasn't a bad day, not as bad as he had been expecting. He doubted he would have as good luck with the next clueless idiot the elders wanted him to escort. But for now, He was content.
And ready to have some of that meat for dinner.
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Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 4:25 pm
Bring a Coat! ** Ruelash and Winta
Response is 127 words
Ruelash perched on a fence in Liem, watching a caravan dissappear into Sauti. He was actually feeling thoughtful about this strange woman, this Winta who had come from the desert to the tundra and changed his world.
Well maybe not changed, so much as opened. For the first time, he actually wanted to see someone again. She made sense, like a real person, not at all like these worthless ******** that seemed to surround him. He glared back at the village. Stupid bastards.
He looked back at the caravan, now just a dot in the hazy distance. "Hmm." he said, hopping off the fence and turning back to the tundra, "I'm off."
And, in a rare good mood, he went back towards Secer and the Zena wilderness.
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Posted: Thu Sep 19, 2013 8:20 pm
** Too Hot - 167 words **
Ruelash took one last walk around the stands as the crowd cleared. This was far nicer than before with all the noise and stupidity that people seemed to cloak themselves with, but it also had its downsides- namely- less things to buy. He played with the little slingshot that the alkidike lady had made for him. It wasn't an amazing slingshot, but it would work for shooting chuka, which was what he was going to be using it for. Pretty much all he would use it for. Heh. Maybe he'd ping a few idiots with it. It wouldn't kill anybody but it would make him feel better when things were at their most frustrating.
It was so damn hot. He hated it. He couldn't wait to head back to cooler climates. Even Northern Tale would be better than this muggy dirt hole.
He made his way back to where Winta was waiting for him. After all, he wasn't letting her go alone to her little Tale village.
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Posted: Wed Sep 25, 2013 4:43 pm
** Growing into my Fangs - Class Quest **
Response is 221 words
Now see, he said, wrapping some bandages around his hands, Thats the sort of appreciation I deserve
He was back in his room, cleaning up the blood on the floor. Allright, so the guy was crazy, nobody was out to get him, and that was great because, now that he had more time to think about it, these people didn't have the brains for that. Nor did he. What had he been thinking? It was all just a coincidence!
He laughed, a not particularly pleasant sound in the silence of the hut and the cooling fire, and tied the bandages and his boots nice and taught. All right. Time to bring back something tasty and meaty and formerly alive. Their food stores needed to be improved before the cold season.
He began to walk out of the door before he stopped, looking to the side. The sharp dual blades that he had bought a few weeks ago shimmered at him, promising something deadly something delightful. He hadn't thought about them since that impulse buy at the stands. Now, though, he looked at them and grinned his feral grin.
He picked them up, hefting them briefly in his hand before sheathing them and attaching them to his back. Yes.
Yes.
This was right.
He walked out the door into the quiet snow.
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Posted: Sat Dec 21, 2013 12:09 pm
** Eggs - Solo- 1226 words **
By the time they reached a suitable cave to take refuge in, Direk and Ruelash agreed on the same thing- they hated Sailscales. The pass they had been using had, in the darkening hours, become full of them, and the little bastards were like a cloud of nasty little needles. Ruelash had managed to kill some of them, and had finally managed to take some eggs from a nest before he and the aldabuck ran like hell for shelter.
The cave was deathly silent compared to the sailscales' horrendous commotion, and the contrast hurt Ruelash's ears.
Direk crouched irritably in a corner of the cave, bandaged from the small wounds she had received. She'd managed to stomp the life out of a few of the awful flying creatures, and it had felt very good to do so. Horrible lowlifes. Hmph. She munched on the little ration of hay that her awful twoleg had provided her, and wanted to be back in her pen -- where she could be certain that none of the foul, clawed, beasts lurked in wait waiting to swoop in and claw at her, and where food other than foul cave mushrooms were plentiful. Second only to back home in Jahuar, that was where she wanted to be.
Ruelash gave his Aldabuck another once-over. He'd caught all the wounds, he thought. He wouldn't be brushing her down tonight- first, he'd forgotten the brush, and second he didn't want to open up the little scratches. Perhaps it was odd, the care he gave to his pet, when he had mostly ignored his own wounds. But he had grown fond- or something like fond- of her. He'd forgotten what it was like to have a companion along with him. Not that there was anything wrong with traveling the wilds alone- in fact, he liked it. He'd done it for many years, even when Veshki was alive, and he still left the creature in her pen some times. He was, however, surprisingly happy to have her around.
He had thought it was a sort of rule that companions were annoying. Veshki had been an exception- all others he had ended up travelling with had been whiners who he did not and refused to understand. He had no idea how he had restrained himself from murdering them in the cold lands, where nobody would hear them scream. In retrospect, he knew, they wouldn't have been worth the effort. He supposed that with every annoying travel companion, he would reach a point where he'd just stopped caring and his rage would simmer down into a numb disgust. He wished he had actually snapped and killed someone. It would have been much more interesting then.
He just didn't care about anybody else.
Except for Veshki
Veshki didn't count, because Veshki had had the gall to die. Veshki was dead. Ruelash set up his cooking equipment over the warm fire, scowling as he pulled at healing cuts.
Except for Winta
Winta was definitely an exception. She was special, the only proper person in a sea of stupidity.
The point was, he didn't normally like people. He set up his pan to warm over the fire, setting out ingredients for something nice to eat because after that gauntlet of claws he f*** deserved it.
In a way, Direk was better than Veshki. Ruelash looked over at the Aldabuck, who glared back at him with her bright yellow eyes. Direk did complain- even Ruelash knew she was unhappy about just about everything- but it was somehow different: He didn't feel nearly as annoyed at her when she stumbled on the path, or snorted her complaints, or was otherwise ungrateful. Earthlings he'd been ordered to guide had done the same, and he loathed every second he had spent with them, yet not so with Direk.
She wasn't a person, not in the ways that Earthlings were (though debatably they weren't real people either). She was an animal, from a place very different from Zena and Sauti, and Ruelash felt he could understand her, at least a little.
Ruelash started the omelet, placing the meat and vegetables into the pan and shaking it until it sizzled hellishly, crackling and popping as the grease in the meat hit the hot metal. He started mixing the eggs. It was just as Veshki had taught him- always cook the inside before the outside. If you didn't, the meat would be raw and the vegetables hard and unappetizing. Ruelash liked his meat extra rare, but the fat in the meat needed to come out if he wanted the omlette to have the texture and taste he craved.
He remembered the first one that Veshki had made for him- a present for behaving during a stop in a town. Ruelash hadn't wanted to behave, but after being yelled at by Veshki, Ruelash had thought he would give it a try. The omelet was soft and greasy and moist -- egg mixed with vegetable and meat to make a solid, quivering, delicious bit of goodness. Ruelash had gobbled it all up and, for a moment, thought that behaving- despite how annoying everything and everybody was- might actually be worth a shot. Of course, it all fell apart and at the very next stop he had gotten into a nasty fight with another boy, but Ruelash didn't remember much about that. That fight was one of many, and didn't particularly matter. What he remembered was he wasn't allowed to have Veshki's omelet that night. Or any other night afterwards.
When Veshki died, he'd tried to learn it for himself, and he'd managed pretty well. Eggs were difficult to get, so he mainly had it as a rare treat. In fact, he hadn't had an omelet in over a year. He poured in the egg mix, stirring it around until it set just right. He messed with it a bit, and then took it off the fire and dumped the contents Onto an old, clay plate.
Ruelash settled in to eat the golden pile of meaty-smelling food. The cave was filled with the living smell of cooking, and, as he took the first bite, he remembered another time and another cave. Veshki had been so proud of him then, and he had been proud of himself in turn. He couldn't remember when Veshki had ever been more proud of him. There was a sharp tap, and he opened his eyes, half expecting to see his brother there tending the fire and eating his own meal. But there was only Direk, pawing at the rocky floor of the cave before curling up to sleep.
Ruelash felt a sudden sense of deep loss. His brother was dead, fallen down a ravine years ago. Veshki would never share an omlet with him ever again. He finished his omelet in a sudden and frustrated fury. Veshki had died a long time ago. Why did he still care? Veshki was dead and gone.
He swallowed the last of the omlete and wiped off the food residue from the empty plate and pan with a filthy rag, and set them down by the glowing coals for easy access in the morning. He lay down, still angry, but full at least, on his pack to sleep.
Veshki was gone, but his omelet was still worth eating.
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Posted: Tue Dec 24, 2013 9:46 pm
** Direk - Solo - 1046 words **
Ruelash led the resisting Aldabuck home, feeling something akin to delight. He had been hoping for his impulse purchase to arrive soon, and now that it had, he was very happy about his decision.
From the moment he had seen the black, fierce female Aldabuck in the animal keeper's pen at the tournament, he had been intrigued. When he stepped closer and seen the fierce gleam in its yellow eyes, he had wanted her. Nothing else sold at the stands caught his interest -- he wanted that creature alone.
He had paid a hefty sum up front – all of the earnings from the fights -- and had continued paying in installments with money he received from additional jobs and tasks. They had been distasteful jobs full of annoying situations and whining idiots, but they would help him get that Aldabuck, and so they had been worth it.
Just before the incident with the man in the cave, he had sent off the last payment by courier. It had never occurred to him that he could have been conned. The strange hybrid woman had seemed trustworthy enough, and he DID know where she lived. It would not have been a simple matter to cross the Tale and take back what was his, but he would have done it none the less. But the thought of being cheated hadn't crossed his mind, and he had not worried overmuch about the delivery of the animal. Such things took time and care, and now that the animal was here, he had work to do.
He would keep her in one of the caves away from town while he readied the barn and built a proper pen, away from the Raptri and with fences that she wouldn't be able to leap over with her long legs. She had been sent with some grass, and he knew where he could find a few vegetables for her to eat, and lichens too if she could eat those.
Actually... that was a good question. What did she eat, other than Tale grasses? He would have to send a letter to the lady... Lassarra, he thought her name was. She would answer his questions, especially for such a fine animal. He gave the Aldabuck a pleased pat on the neck, unperturbed by her tensed shoulders and angry grunt.
From the moment he had first seen her, he had known she was his. He had never thought about traveling with a companion, not since Veshki, nor had he thought that- if he took a pet with him- that it would be a creature so obviously a prey animal. He liked predators and, having lived in Secer for much of his life,could appreciate the strength and deadly beauty of a raptrix. But at the stands he had seen how sharp and strong her horns were, how tough and painful her hooves would be on skin, and the strength hidden beneath her lean muscle. And, he had seen the fierce look in her eye. This aldabuck was no easy prey animal, fit only to run and hide -- She was a fighter, and any predator who dared to attack her would find her hooves pounding into it's flesh. He respected the prey that fought back. That was the only prey worth hunting, really, and the only companion he would ever want by his side.
He grinned, a surprisingly pleasant grin by his standards. He was looking forward to training her for battle. It would be more difficult than training raptri -- he'd have to work around her instincts instead of with them. She was built for flight, and though he bet she was a glory to see run, he'd have to make sure that she would choose to fight more often than she chose to flee. It would be tough work, but he had faith in the Aldabuck. She and him were similar. She would be able to do it.
"You an' me? We'll go places." he said suddenly. It was whimsey that made him speak, when he was so often sullenly quiet, "Oh yeah, we'll go places." and then he laughed, imagining the fights they would take on. Oh he had big plans for his pet, yes he did. "So." he said, realizing something important. He had forgotten to name her! "I suppose I should..." he stopped, looking at the Aldabuck quizzically.
The Aldabuck hated him, she hated this place, and she wanted to go home, but the harness kept her from running away. She hoped that there was somewhere warm in this horrible cold white place, but she doubted it. What had she done to be cast off so and shuffled through the whole desert and up mountains to this disgusting place? Had she offended Lassarra? If she ever saw the twoleg again, she promised she would be good and not bite during her training. But this was the wrong twoleg. He had absolutely no class. And he stunk. She wrinkled her nose at him and made a low hum, like a growl.
Ruelash grinned. "Yer name's gotta be tough and special, just like ye." he said, nodding approvingly at her attitude. He thought through all the tough raptrix names he knew, and grinned.
"Direk. Yer name's Direk.” he said, pleased with himself, ”Yeh, its a good name." The Raptrix he had known by that name had nearly bitten off someone's hand, and had gone for their foot not long after. That sort of name legacy was fitting for a beast of his. "Direk..." he committed it to memory- it wouldn't do to name her only to rename her later! He tugged on the harness and continued moving down the path.
"C'mon then, Direk! Lets go home!"
At least it sounded decent. Someone at the animal pen had called her “Blackie” and Direk had tried to bite them right through the fence. She didn't know what they meant when they made their funny sounds, but she knew a name when she heard it, and she knew when a name had absolutely no class. She was a proud and beautiful Aldabuck, and she deserved a good name. She huffed as she was led down this awful, cold, slippery path. She supposed Direk would do.
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Posted: Tue Dec 24, 2013 10:29 pm
** Coat - Solo, 830 words **
Winter was approaching, and Ruelash had noticed something interesting about his new companion, something that he probably should have expected. She was cold.
Well, of course she was. She was a creature of the blazing desert plains, and was living in the frozen tundra. Even with the advantage of her black color, she simply had a lighter coat. Either he gave up on her and his investment in her and let her die in the cold, or he helped her survive. He had spent good money on her and the Aldabuck showed serious promise, so he preferred the latter.
It was obvious what he had to do- he had to make her a coat himself, to make up for her lack of natural protection. He was sure a few Roati and other animals wouldn't mind giving up their furs for his Aldabuck's welfare. Of course, by 'wouldn't mind' he meant that he would have killed them anyway. Ruelash had always made his own stuff- why pay extra when you could do a halfway decent job yourself? With all the annoying expenses that came with life (including Direk's special treats), Ruelash needed to save his money, and he also needed something to do while he holed up in caves or his home during storms.
So. He would make her a coat. He needed good, strong, fluffy fur that was malleable, but would still take needle and thread well and not fall apart in the process. Roati fur would be great for it, and he could get good filler fur and sinews from Parak. Of course, he'd have to figure out how to actually make it... He growled to himself unhappily.
He had no idea how to make a coat for an aldabuck. He'd have to ask for help, and he hated doing that. He'd had to ask for help when he'd made his own coat- and had ended up buying a coat, an undercoat, and boots for the materials and coin. He hated the tailor in the village, and she - like everybody else - hated him right back. Normally, this wasn't a problem, but this was his pet's life on the line this time. Ruelash felt he could put down a little of his pride and his disgust for his fellow earthlings and ask for help, and maybe be slightly less rude than usual about it.
He hated dealing with these people so much, though. If she refused to help him, he'd just snarl and snap at her- intimidation usually worked. Of course, he wouldn't lay a finger on her- you never hit women first- but he'd just do that leer that made everybody cringe away in wimpy terror, and exercise some self control in buying. Nothing in her shop was worth what she charged, the haggling whining pig. He could bring Direk with him and get her measured- he at least knew that was a process. Maybe she'd bite the obnoxious lady while she was there. Ruelash grinned.
That would be a sight to see.
~~~
Direk sniffed at the new addition to her body, shaking her midsection this way and that to try to dislodge it. It was fluffy, itchy, and smelled of death.
Ruelash beamed with pride: he had made the coat himself out of hides he'd collected himself- from the warm, fluffy inverted saddle on her back to the straps that kept it secured, to the clasp at her neck. The one item he had purchased in a flight of whimsy was the metal part of the clasp, but he had needed that. For all his wilderness skills, he did not know how to forge or use metal. So that horrible lady had gotten some of his money after all, but she hadn't taken his pride.
In his opinion, Direk looked great. She looked owned, like she was finally, properly his. She looked ready to fight, and she looked beautiful, and she was his.
Direk did not like it -- Not until she stepped out into her pen and realized that it kept the chill from biting through her thin coat to her skin. It still nipped cruelly at her nose, eyes, and ears, and played around her legs and feet, but for the first time since she had come to this hellish place, her body was blessedly warm. She looked back at it, grudgingly acknowledging its elegance despite its stink. She could, she supposed, tolerate that. To an extent. She shook herself again, unable to dislodge it. She hoped the itching would go away; maybe then she could even like the awful thing in this horrible barren place. She wasn't pushing her luck though.
It only took a matter of days for Direk's opinions on the coat to change to something overwhelmingly positive. It was soft and comfortable and, once the itching became a mere memory, she even refused to let Ruelash take it off when she slept. It was hers, now.
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Posted: Wed Dec 25, 2013 4:26 pm
** The Hunt for Khashib - 614 words
That stupid fish!
Ruelash stabbed angrily at the fire with a long, wooden stick before tossing it in to burn. He took some pleasure in the embers that floated up at his agitation as they danced around the small cave shelter he had made near the lakes. He had been hunting a single special Nehredile over the course of several visits, and not once had he caught the thing. It- with its strikingly contrasted markings- had to be an especially wily member of it's kind, and it was pissing Ruelash off to no end.
He wanted it dead. He wanted is hide, it's bones, its meat, its blubber, and of course that horn. (He coveted that horn. Winta would love it too, he was sure.) Most of all, though, he wanted to slash that stupid fixed smile off the creature's face. He wanted it to bleed and die, and he wanted to do it slowly. It deserved horrible, satisfying pain for the way it had humiliated him every time. He hit the fire again. "I'll git you you slimy sh*t" he snarled, "I'll git you and ye'll regret ever messing with me!"
His voice echoed in the cave, empty of all except for him and the fire. Direk was always left at home with extra food when he went to the lake. It was just not the right place for her, not yet. He had to teach her how to move on ice first, unless he wanted her to act like one of the foreign idiots who fell on their a** in five steps or less. That wouldn't be suitable for his Aldabuck. She couldn't help him with this nehredile- his nehredile as he had taken to calling it. He wondered if he should name it, as some hunters did with animals they pursued. He dismissed it as a stupid idea- why name your prey when you were only going to kill it?
As he thought about it, though, it became more appealing. Why shouldn't he name it? Naming it would give him a specific target for his ire. Having something definite to direct his hate at always felt better than just hating everything in general. It only took a little thinking before he had the perfect name. Khashib, the trickster in that boring story that Veshki had liked to tell at every other campfire. Hadn't the trickster been a fat short person? Ruelash couldn't remember, only that Khashib had played tricks on everybody, had gone too far, and had been pushed into a ravine and killed. Ruelash had liked that part- he couldn't care less about the moral. Khashib. It was fitting for a trickster that would meet his end. He felt better about his failures already after putting a name to the nehredile.
He wondered how it always seemed to know that he was there. Did his boots make some sound or mark on the ice? They were spiked- it was possible. Did he not blend into his surroundings somehow? That was unlikely. He buried himself in the snow- he had to be blending in just fine.
Then maybe it watched for him and then taunted him with its plots. Ruelash couldn't believe that. Animals were dumb. He knew he wasn't the smartest man alive, but he was smarter than a f**** nehredile, at the very least. He took a hunk of cured meat off of the fire and tore into it fiercely. He was smarter than some fat horned lug. He had to be. He chewed vigorously, glaring at the opposite wall as if cursing the cave lichen with his wrath. He would catch that obnoxious creature, so help him Bergchi.
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Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2014 8:42 pm
** Training - Solo- 705 words **
"Hey. Are you done playing with your skinny capramel?" asked a voice nearby. Ruelash looked up, trying to nudge aside the hooves of the very satisfied Aldabuk. He hadn't noticed a person nearby and felt more than a little embarrassed that someone else had seen his less-than-dignified training with his pet. Fortunately, dignity wasn't something strongly held by Ruelash, so the embarrassment was less shame and more like a mildly annoyed curiosity.
"Huh?" he asked, intelligent as ever, squinting at the wrapped up ice tribe man that leaned against the fence of Direk's pen, looking him up and down. What did he mean, capramel? "Don't got a capramel." he said, unusually non hostile. Direk was not obedient, but she was everything else and he was very proud of her at that moment. If she'd let him, he'd cuddle her bristly, smooth black neck and give her a kiss on the nose. Heh. he thought. She'd probably bite me first.
"Not a capramel?" the man's face creased as he leaned in to look at Direk, who gave him a sideways yellow glare. "Then what th' hell is she?" he shrugged, "Nevermind, I don't care." He watched as Ruelash got to his feet and dusted off.
Now upright, Ruelash could see that the man was bulky and tall, his blue-skinned strong-chiseled face and yellow eyes marking him as ice tribe. His furs were of good quality and stitching, and his belt was of soft parak-hide. Hanging from it were two twin swords, like Ruelash's but of finer quality and decorated with white crystal inlays and fur charms. This man was clearly a respected and powerful warrior, maybe not quite an assassin of the ice tribe, but getting there. Definitely stronger than Ruelash. Ruelash wasn't sure if this made him like the guy or hate him.
"She's an Aldabuk." said Ruelash, "She's mine, and she ain't for sale." he said, trying to look a bit tougher than he was.
"I don't care, remember?" said the man, looking at Ruelash intently for a moment more before nodding as if confirming something. "You and her are clearly a team, and I like your style. I think you both have potential." the man grinned, "How about this. I train you, you get stronger, and you help me with some tasks. What do you say, kid?"
Ruelash stared at him. It was such a strange offer, completely out of the blue, that he had only one response. "Huh?" he asked, not quite comprehending.
"I'm saying. You join up with me and my friends, and I help you get stronger. What..." the man smirked, "You don't wanna get stronger?"
Well, yeah.thought Ruelash, but what could this guy do?
"Of course you do." continued the man, "And I can help you. You've got raw ferocity, and obviously some strength in ya. All I need to do is teach you a few skills and tricks. C'mon, boy." He smiled invitingly. He had a big smile, showing a lot of teeth. "And you'll learn on the job, which, from what I hear, suits you fine. You can't say no."
Ruelash thought for a moment. Well, he did want to get better. He wanted to get trickier, definitely. And... well... He cleared his throat. "Does it pay?" the man had mentioned jobs, and with Direk needing special care and treats, his money was often lower than he needed it to be.
The man laughed. "Sure! You help me and my boys with a job, you get a cut. So. Deal?"
Ruelash thought, grimacing. He didn't like working with other people. They were annoying and whiny. Maybe though, just maybe, this one wouldn't be so aggravating. He seemed like a kindred spirit. Sort of. "Arright." he said.
"Great." said the man, opening the pen door, "Lets start on that training right away. Oh. Right..." he held out a hand to shake, "The name's Gudfry. And you're Ruelash, right?" Ruelash stared at the hand as if it would bite him.
"Yeh." he said, occupying his hands with closing the gate behind him and Direk, as she followed them out into the snow. The man smiled good naturedly and took his hand away.
"Well then, lets go."
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Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2014 8:44 pm
** Leaving - Solo- 587 words **
They trained for three days before Gudfry let Ruelash go on tasks with him for the village elders. It was good, hard training, and Ruelash felt confident about his skills afterwards. He grew to respect - if not like - Gudfry, and Gudfry's gang of warrior friends. They were men of the tundra, dedicated to their tribe, and they neither whined or complained. In fact they outpaced him more often than he would admit.
He learned a lot, as did Direk, who was getting progressively easier to fight with. And, as promised, they gave him a cut of the earnings.
He didn't forget the fiendish trickster nehredile Khashib, though he didn't have enough time to hunt it. Nor did he give up his solitary adventures in the outdoors. Much of his time, though, was spent assisting the warriors.
They were starting to accept him - the delinquent who nobody ever liked - as one of them. He had mixed feelings about this: on the one hand, the respect was intoxicating. He liked the power it held. They listened to what he had to say and, because of his association with them, other people listened to him now, too. On the other hand, while he didn't entirely hate them, he knew he didn't like them either. He was accepted among them, but he didn't feel that he was actually one of them. Some of the things they said riled him up - enough to notice but not enough for him to fully understand.
One day, Direk, who had become a regular, if cranky, companion began to act... strange. She began to huff and paw at the ground of her stall. Some nights, she'd bellow deep calls into the distance. Ruelash was worried about her. He knew exactly where he had to go at least: the best person to ask about his Aldabuk's health was Lassarra, and the best way to get her opinion would be to go there in person.
A trek to Jahuar, where the half shifter lived, would be long and arduous and far too warm. The two times he had left the mountains of Sauti for the warm lands had been trying. The more he thought about it, though, the more a trek to Jahuar sounded like a great idea. He told the warriors about it and they agreed that getting his companion checked out by the person who sold it to him was a good idea, and offered to come with him. He said no, and they didn't press it.
He didn't tell them that he also wanted to get away from them a bit. He wanted to go on a long trip, alone (with Direk) to clear his head and try to figure out what the hell he was doing. He was confused: by camaraderie, by the men who he both sort of liked and disliked, by Winta who was always confusing (but in a good way) and he wanted to try to put it together.
Plus he could actually visit Winta. She lived in the South Tale and... well, why not. She was, after all, his only friend. Those men were not his friends, and Direk was a pet. He only had one friend, and that was Winta. So, he'd visit her too.
He had money from his trips with the men, and supplies he'd foraged for himself. He packed up all that he would need, and, one darkened and cold morning, he set out for Sauti, and an adventure of a lifetime.
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Posted: Mon Mar 31, 2014 5:20 pm
** Frustration and Rage - Meta Ch. 5 Response - 341 words **
Ruelash woke up feeling like he had been pounded into the ground. And, considering the bandages he saw on him, he probably had. The hut was unfamiliar and uncomfortable: He vaguely remembered being handled and bandaged and healed, and maybe being moved, but not much else besides that.
He did remember not killing those obans on the beast. Or the beast. He stood up, wincing in disgust at his injuries as he stumbled towards a washbasin to splash his face.
he wished he'd been there to take down those monsters. He wished he'd done that. He wished he'd been the one to cut it's master's throats and stab their bellies. He wanted to get back in the fight and kill.
He didn't get why other people looked so stunned. Haunted, really. He didn't get it at all. War, death, killing... it didn't upset him at all. Violence was his element, it had always been, even when he was a little boy.
He'd killed before, he'd seen death before, and it just didn't effect him. What did bother him was this calm. He hated being injured and unable to fight. He hated not fighting. He hated not winning. He wanted to get right back out there and kill. He growled angrily at his own reflection and the bandages he saw. He should have stayed out there. It wasn't fair how fast he had fallen to the monsters. He had to get back there. He needed to. He tossed the washbasin to the floor and was soon shoved back onto his bed by very concerned healers and held there until he relented.
Grumbling, he lay back and hated the ceilin gwith a passion that the ceiling did not deserve. He wanted to be back on the battlefield among the death and blood and chaos and the song of blades and scream. He wanted to be away from this peace and quiet. He wanted to be away from it now. He would be well soon, but not soon enough. He growled, slamming a fist against his bed.
He wanted it Now.
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