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| What do you think you'll be? |
| Werewolf / Lycanthrope / Shapeshifter |
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17% |
[ 7 ] |
| Vampire / Undead / immortal with a catch |
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20% |
[ 8 ] |
| Elf / Drow / immortal without a catch |
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17% |
[ 7 ] |
| Dwarf / Gnome / Halfling |
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0% |
[ 0 ] |
| Yokai / Tiefling / Demonkin / something very BAD |
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7% |
[ 3 ] |
| Celestian / Aasimar / Angelkin / Something pretty awesome |
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5% |
[ 2 ] |
| DRAGON!!! |
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10% |
[ 4 ] |
| Minotaur / Centaur / Demi-human |
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5% |
[ 2 ] |
| Other / I saw it in a movie, so it COUNTS! |
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17% |
[ 7 ] |
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| Total Votes : 40 |
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 Posted: Fri May 15, 2009 2:40 pm
 Once clear of the forest, an event Miklós was glad to see pass, he carried on his way headed west. For the whole of the morning, Miklós strolled at a leisurely pace seeing as he had nowhere impending to be. The forest and surrounding wooded areas had given way to hills and gullies, but as the sun began heading for its zenith in the early afternoon, Miklós caught sight of what he had been waiting to see. Cresting a hill that left the last of the land’s trees behind, the first jagged peaks of an immense mountain range came into clear view. Cinching up his pack, and resettling his weapons, Miklós picked up his pace. Ahead he could see that the road curved slightly to the left, before branching off sharply to both north and south. To the north the land continued to be mostly hills, but with more rocks and outcroppings jutting from the earth. It was also supposed to be colder and wetter to the north, and Miklós had never been particularly fond of the cold. The towns and villages there were filled mostly with hunters that didn’t take too kindly to strangers. To the south lay vast plains of green and yellow, with the occasional village scattered about. Beyond the plains lay the sandy beaches of the coast, home to a vast port city of exotic goods and even more exotic peoples. The plains were good hunting but unless he meant to continue on to the coast, it would be more difficult to cross the mountain range to the south, meaning the only effective way around them was by boat. Asides from the innate dislike for deep waters that most minotaur shared, Miklós had discovered that ship captains rarely liked having such a massive passenger aboard. His bulk made it to easy to shift the boats balance, and his hunger meant the need for more supplies, and less cargo. So Miklós had no intention of heading south either. Instead, as he approached the place at which the road split, he was able to spot a third route. It was the width of a foot path, that lead straight into the mountain range. And from having traveled it once before, he knew that eventually it dwindled to little more than a game trail in places. But this way, he would be able to head over the mountains through one of the few traversable passes for many miles. Beyond the mountains lay a mile or two more of grass, and then the wastes. And then beyond the wastes, lay home. Making good time, Miklós figured that he would be well into the foothills of the range come nightfall. Taking shelter in the rocky outcroppings or a cave would be much more safer than on the open plain or a cold hill. Miklós felt the urge to do something asides from walking come upon him. Rather than sing as he went, he decided to simply hum to himself. A strong and methodical marching song came to mind, and to its steady and methodical bass tones, Miklós hummed himself towards the mountains.
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Posted: Wed Jun 03, 2009 12:09 pm
 Bitsy twitched as a fly lit on her ear. She opened her eyes and noticed she was no longer in the shade. Alarmed at losing time, she looked at her shadow and realized the sun was almost directly overhead. She leaped from her resting place and looked all over for a sign to indicate where the minotaur had gone. By the time her shadow lay directly under her, she was overheated, panting and thirsty. She aimed downhill till she came across a game trail and followed it to a seep. She drank deeply and then looked around one last time. She decided to climb. She zipped upward and into densely shaded forest. It was easier to travel through the trees. She climbed steadily, avoiding rocky outcrops and fallen logs and limbs. The way grew steeper and she zigzagged to avoid slipping until she found a trail. Relieved, she followed it to the top and looked around.
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Posted: Mon Jun 22, 2009 11:40 am
Dusk came earlier than usual, which did not surprise Miklós in the slightest, considering he was standing on the eastern foothills of a mountain range. Eager to have his camp readied before the mountain's shadow grew any darker, the minotaur set about the required work. Choosing a suitably open, yet defendable clearing, laid out what kind of shelter he was going to be able to manage. A distinct lack of trees in area meant that there would be no quick way of making a lean-to. And the very short grass meant little in the way padding for sleep. What he did have in good supply were rocks, in various shapes and sizes, from hand-sized all the way up to boulder-size. After a quick sizing up of the flatter areas of his clearing, and some brief horn tugging, Miklós began pushing some of the larger boulders into a semi-circle to act as a wind break. That done, he then set his heavy blanket atop them, and held it in place with smaller but still very heavy stones. Dusting off his hands as he surveyed his artificial cave, Miklós gave the structure an approving nod. It might not do much good if a storm came along, but it was sufficient. Tossing his pack inside, but keeping his weapons with him, Miklós began to wander out from his makeshift camp in ever widening circles, searching for anything that was both flammable and sizable enough to make a decent camp fire. After an hour of searching Miklós had found little more than a few handfuls of dried shrubs. It wasn't much, but considering that the world had gone completely dark in the intervening time, anything was better than nothing. Once his little fire was good and started, Miklós leaned back and helped himself to some the freshly dried meat that he had taken. It wasn't salted quite the way he preferred, but again it was better than no meat at all. Once his hunger was sufficiently sated, he leaned back and stared into the flames. A thought occurred, and he dug into his pack and pulled out a small leather pouch. It was fancifully decorated and well oiled and cared for, an item seemingly out of place with the rest of Miklós's utilitarian gear. Unwinding the cord that held the pouch flap closed, Miklós opened it and peered inside at the chopped smokeleaf pulp inside. There was barely a pinch or two left, at least by minotaur standards. Miklós had been saving the last of it, either for when he knew it would be his last chance to smoke it, or for when he knew he would soon be able to acquire more. The fact that he was headed for the homeland meant that the latter was likely to come to pass first. Pulling a very long stem pipe from his pack, Miklós stuffed and packed the last of his smokeleaf into the pipe's bowl. Using a burning twig from his little fire to light with, Miklós sat back in his little cave. Staring off into the dark, he puffed on his pipe, and softly began humming to himself. And unlike his songs from earlier in his trip, this one sounded soft and pleasant. If an observer had been there, they might have noticed the tiny grin that appeared at the corners of Miklós's broad mouth.
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Posted: Wed Jun 24, 2009 9:40 am
Bitsy was disappointed to find that she wasn't at the top at all when she crested the rise. The mountain continued up and up. She was tired and discouraged, but still determined and so she set a course, looked at the ground just a few feet ahead of her and continued upward and onward. Everytime she was tempted to stop and rest, she talked herself into continuing to the next tree or outcropping of rocks. It was hours before she reached the summit and she had no energy to scan the distance. She hung her head, panting and let her eyes lose their focus. The sun was in her face now and she had had no shade for some time. The mountain was rocky and fell steeply before and behind, but there was a narrow trail along the barren peak. Too dismayed to brave the steep climb down and not sure where to go next, she loped along the trail listlessly. She would have to find food soon, but more importantly, she was weak and heat sickness had set in from lack of water. She got confused and couldn't remember why she was there. The bedraggled rabbit took a few more weary steps and then fell to her haunches. When she could see again, she found a brilliantly white stone lying in the gray dust ahead of her and to the right just at the edge of the drop. Once her eyes lit on it, she could not look elsewhere and felt compelled to inspect it somewhat. The whiteness was singular here, and it was small and rounded with a smooth flat top like a river stone. In contrast, all of the other rocks she had seen since leaving the shade of the forest were made up of angles and sharp edges that bit into her paws and the same dull monotonous dusty gray without even the color of a lichen here or there to brighten the pallette. As she looked closer, she could make out pale tan freckles marring the otherwise perfect whiteness of the stone, of her stone. In a flash of epiphany, she realized that this was her stone. The stone foreordained to be her help and companion. Suddenly, the few scriptures that mentioned such stones were whirling about in her mind and she reviewed the bits and snatches with bemusement. At this one moment, she was in the right place at the right time and the gods had sent her a sign. Reverently, she touched the stone and felt the thrill of resonance when two old friends meet after a long separation. She looked heavenward and thanked the gods profusely with her paw resting on the stone. Bitsy felt the light energy from heaven shower her, cleansing and renewing. When the last of the light faded, she used both paws to raise the stone to her mouth and slipped it inside her left cheek pocket and then she remembered. Her destiny was entangled with the minotaur and she needed to find him. As she let her mind rest on him, a vivid vision of him appeared in her mind's eye. She saw an absence of space between them, a pathway of clarity and he was there close enough to walk to. She followed the pathway down the rugged decline, heedless of the slope. As she went, he was no closer, but was still clearly in view and close enough that the image seemed to beckon without beckoning. Bitsy continued toward him in a trance until long after the sun fell below the horizon and a nearly dark moon rose behind her. Suddenly, her vision fled and left her staggering under the stars in tall grasses. And then the grasses and stars were gone and Bitsy slept the sleep of calm, peaceful exhaustion.
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