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Miss Chief aka Uke rolled 3 100-sided dice:
12, 26, 59
Total: 97 (3-300)
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 Posted: Mon Oct 12, 2015 2:17 pm
 Character: Detraeus
Stage:
Luck:
Creature:
Success Rate:
Win x #:
Loss x #:
Total: #exp, Levels to # with #/# exp left over, +# stat points to distribute, + item
Word Count Required: #+ (Current: #)
Final Word Count: -
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Viva Viola rolled 3 100-sided dice:
54, 76, 42
Total: 172 (3-300)
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 7:40 pm
 Character: Tharor
Stage: Apprentice
Luck: 2
Creature:
Success Rate:
Win x #:
Loss x #:
Total: #exp, Levels to # with #/# exp left over, +# stat points to distribute, + item
Word Count Required: #+ (Current: #)
Final Word Count: -
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 7:45 pm
Clkk, clkk, clkk.
Detraeus’ carving stone hit in a smooth, long-practiced motion to the meat of his arrowhead, chipping away in fine fragments bit by bit as he fashioned them. The shavings piled gradually, gray brown in the space between his boots. Behind him, his house stood like a monument, winding up the mountainside. The late morning sun bent between the eaves and over the stone of the surrounding peaks, bathing the green-yellow grasses in gold, and all around the winds blew constant, but irregular in force, warm with spring’s heat as it edged towards summer.
It was a good day for a hunt.
Since their move to Ayr, little had changed in terms of his and his mate’s self-sufficiency. They were closer, certainly, to all the amenities that came with society, and one dragon-flight down the peaks and to the fishing villages could have bought them any number of things: sugar, spices, cloth, weapon parts, and food. For the most part, however, Detraeus continued to provide for most everything they needed off the land itself. What they couldn’t eat or make into bedding or furniture from what he hunted, they brought into market and sold in exchange for more ‘luxury’ specialties. As such, their house had gradually accumulated small fineries: patterned and dyed drapes, finer sheets than in their last, and the occasional piece of nicer diningware or carved furniture.
Today, though, was a simpler day than that. Once finished with his arrows, Detraeus settled them into his quiver, secured his bow and blades, and moved to prep his hastar before taking him out and starting down the hillside.
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Posted: Sun Oct 25, 2015 8:03 pm
Today was a boring day for Tharor. His mother was out shopping and doing other tasks that he just wasn't interested in, like shopping for food and such. As much as he loved his mother, Thar preferred hunting to anything. Which is what he found himself doing currently, grabbing the necklace around his neck that his mother made from the baby dactyl claw. He was still so very proud of his kill despite the scars he acquired from it, sighing as he touched the one along his arm that was still healing.
He was searching for something a bit bigger to take down with his dagger than some simple baby dactyls. He wanted to impress his mother even further, and maybe make more souvenirs! He wanted to add some more teeth or claws to his necklace so he could have something to show off should they ever have guests.
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Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2015 12:35 pm
Ayr, like the mountains of the Terra Expanse, was not in want of suitable game to hunt. Largely unpopulated thanks to its towering rock spires, wild hell-storm winds, and general unpredictability of weather, the beasts that called it home lived there in healthy bulk, and the only catch came in the form of needing to know where and how to go about hunting them. Though not intimately familiar with the details of the landscape at first, now — over a year after having made it his home — Detraeus felt at ease as he guided his hastar out, secure in his familiarity with what the terrain had to offer and how it operated.
Today, he moved down into the valley of the grassy hillside slopes colloquially known as ‘the cradle’ and further, into a gully where the rock spires jutted up like teeth into the skies above. They cast long shadows over the earthen base, and up among them, Detraeus knew, all manner of creatures made their homes, not only the fierce ayrala dragons, but alkarai, argaroo, bognotti, and a wide swath of others.
As his hastar reached the base surrounded on all sides by Ayr’s rocky ‘teeth’, he kept on full alert. At ease, but aware as always, given that anything could be in the surrounding area, and his tail flicked at its tip, a slow, tentative movement in tune with his mood. His hands, though at the reins for the moment, were ready as ever to move for his bow if need be.
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Posted: Wed Dec 09, 2015 12:12 pm
While he was looking around, Thar made sure to keep track of what was going on around him in his environment. He could hear the birds chirping in the distance, the wind blowing the stray strands of his hair around along with the various bits of dust and rock. He felt like an accomplished hunter! Paying attention and all. The only thing he wasn't doing with his “awesome” hunter senses, was looking in front of him. Sure, the sky was a pretty blue and he just dodged some birb poop, but he missed the fact that the winds began to pick up just a little bit and the fact that there was a dark shadow cast over head. The adolescent squeaked when he ran into the leg of something that was way bigger than him and probably twice as likely to eat him and take his bones as a souvenir rather than the other way around. Well! The dragon DID look scary, but he could take it on! Right? Readying his dagger, Tharor snorted and jumped from foot to foot as the dragon turned around. “You dont scare me you big sack of air and scales! I'm going to take a scale and take it home to mother along with one of your teeth!”
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2015 9:51 am
Detraeus was not accustomed to encountering company on his excursions. It wasn’t unheard of, of course — being that Ayr was at least sparsely inhabited by others of all walks of life — but, as with their mountain home if to a lesser degree, his and Araceli’s newest house was also purposefully located out of the frey. On the outskirts of where anyone might be found, and he preferred it as such.
Which did nothing to explain the voice of a child in the ravine.
Narrowing his eyes and steadying his hastar as the winds picked up and licked about, he looked for the source—and spotted him a moment later, down a level and faced off against a moderately sized ayrala dragon. One of the least formidable of all dragons, ayrala’s were — at this stage in his life, at least — a laughable opponent, but nonetheless an abundant plague on Ayr.
And by the manner with which the young oblivionite in front of the beast was waving about his ‘weapon’, Detraeus guessed he had little to no experience with anything sporting a killing capacity beyond that of a fekarat. Pursing his lips, Detraeus drew an arrow, nocked, and fired. Struck, the beast reared back, wailing its agitation, and Detraeus whistled, a long, piercing note that drew its attention. After a snarl and a scuff at the earth, it alighted, diving for him, but two more shots, each hitting their mark, turned the mass of silver scales into a shrieking, disintegrating mass, soon memorialized only by the soul it left behind.
With a low snort, Detraeus guided his beast down the crags the rest of the way, and to the boy’s side, where he shot him an unimpressed look. “You’re young. Where should you be?”
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2015 10:32 am
Despite feeling like he should be running, Tharor huffed and moved in for a strike on the dragon, jumping back when an arrow whizzed past him to land in the beast's side, its tail flinging out with its agitation. Thar frowned at the impact, checking his hand. Was his dagger magical?! Perhaps if he slashes it again? Next thing he knew he heard a loud whistle followed by another arrow that slammed into the body of the dragon, and this time, Thar knew it wasn't him hitting the dragon much to his disappointment. He watched as the dragon was about to dive towards a figure in the distance, jumping back when the silver scaled beast shrieked, its body hitting the Earth with a thud.
What was even stranger was the face that the dragon's body disintegrated, leaving a beautiful stone behind. He didn't know what it was, so the curious child began to reach for it, just as a stranger came up to him on what looked like a hastar. Thar nearly jumped out of his skin at the deep monotone voice that seemed to come out of nowhere and the look of some one that was clearly unimpressed just made him look down in shame, kicking at the dirt. This was the same look his mother gave him whenever he's done something terrible, like breaking a dish. He didn't break a dish this time so why was this stranger so unimpressed with him?! He was about to take on a dragonnnnnn!
"I should be out here, hunting creatures for trinkets! My mother said it was okay so..." The little boy kicked at the dirt some more. That skill this man had with a bow was amazing though! Looking up at the imposing man with what could be considered big bright eyes of curiosity and adoration, Thar tilted his head, "C-Could you teach me how to use a bow like that? I do not have one yet, but mother says I can have one as soon as I turn 12!" Oh he hopped the stranger would say yes! He wanted to be a good bowman just like him! Maybe his father was a bowman too?
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Posted: Tue Dec 15, 2015 12:23 pm
Detraeus grunted, the tip of his tail shifting in a slow back and forth coil as he listened. When the child finished, his lids narrowed further. Suspicious. Assessing. Less than twelve summers, he noted passively, and shook his head. Absolutely not. Whatever parent had allowed him to meander about the wilds of Ayr alone was clearly risking the boy’s life and limb, and while Detraeus certainly considered it an age where the boy ought to be learning to fend for himself, he knew, too, that he oughtn’t be left fully to his own devices.
He opened his mouth to say as much — that he was not an instructor, that he had no business with the boy, and that he should explain where he lived so that he could be guided safely home. Where he belonged. Instead, the air shifted, a gust coiling down from the upper spires, and Detraeus’ attention flicked and moved upward. Beneath him, his hastar wickered, wary, and he pursed his lips, fingers shifting back to tuck two arrows between them.
“Stay, boy.” He stretched his wings, shifting his weight so as to guide himself and his hastar between his company and the glinting silver bodies coiling their way around the upper spire and eyeing them. When one leapt, a whirl of a dust devil accompanied its screech, spiraling down for them, and Detraeus beat his wings, lifting himself up, off of his mount and into the air to draw its attention away from the boy—and fired.
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