|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu May 15, 2008 12:31 am
The night was still young as Arbutus winged his way through the dense cover of the Deep Woods. Burdened with a load of game in each foot, his course is set in the direction of the distribution platform.
The increase in practically everyone's workload had been steadily rising, ever since the passing of the recent “great” storm. Arbutus was no exception. He'd been operating in the capacities of both a Gatherer and a Hunter over the last few days; as such, he'd had little time of his own to set things to rights back home. Locust would just have to manage with what was left of their tattered nest until this was over.
Huffing to himself as he carefully weaves his way past a clawing branch, he makes a mental note to petition a Crafter for a new pouch. As the noise of the busy platform in the distance reaches his ears, Arbutus announces himself with a hoot and redoubles his lagging speed.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 18, 2008 2:14 pm
There had been incidents. Food theft. Fernfeather scowled at the thought of the good for nothing scoundrels. Times were hard for everyone in the wake of a big storm like this, but even the daftest fledgling knew that food should go to Sentinels in need first. Adult Sentinels could do without food for a while, and the bigger fledglings wouldn't drop dead from starving for a day or two either. The hatchlings, the medic outposts, the brooding females and the younger fledglings would get food first; the rest would have to fend for themselves or wait. Stealing from the clan stores meant stealing from the Clan's future.
The Matron had asked for some Elite backup to deal with this "little nuisance" as she so delicately put it. A stone faced Watcher was Fern's temporary team, but he was already starting to wear on Fernfeather's nerves - the male talked so little it made her seem chatty. After trying and failing to get more elaborate answers than "Yes, Ma'am", "No, Ma'am" and "Dunno Ma'am." Fern had sent him to the other side of the platform to keep watch.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 18, 2008 10:55 pm
With two dull thuds, Arbutus drops his cargo and lands amidst the bustling activity of the platform. As he makes the usual rounds for the drop off, Arbutus can't help but notice the heightened security. “Curious... whatever could be the matter?” he puzzles briefly.
Upon depositing his contribution to the clan's stores, the Gatherer is promptly instructed to rest a moment while awaiting his turn to report. It seems like it's shaping up to be be another long night. Eying what appears to be a rather solemn-faced Sentinel nearby, Arbutus shuffles towards him at a respectful distance and nods politely.
“Busy night?” he asks, hoping for some indication of the apparent trouble.
Receiving only a grunt in reply, Arbutus looks away in annoyance, absently scratching a talon through the grain in the heavily worn platform.
“... Long night...” he sighs quietly to himself.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 2:29 pm
Fernfeather shifts on her perch, getting more restless by the heartbeat. Sitting and waiting for a thief to catch was much less exciting than hiding carefully and waiting for prey to approach. This was not a hunt, this was a simple act of showing off and she didn't enjoy her role as a distant scarecrow.
Telling herself that she would do more good by landing on the platform and actually talking to the hunters and gatherers there she lifts off and heads for a free spot next to another Wildtype. She notes his feather dye and frowns slightly. Not too gaudy at least. And the wing bars does compliment his facial disc.
"Good day," she says, "Anything to report?"
OOC: Sure, the more the merrier! Ooops... I think we both changed tense there... Ah well, no big deal.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 5:29 pm
One of the nice things about Mother, Falchior thinks, is that she's consistently meddlesome, which can be useful when it's not making me absolutely miserable. After the storm, he'd been having a bit of a guilty conscience about being a mushroom specialist; they aren't the most nutritious of foods, more of a delicacy, really. So when his mother told him that food theft had been an issue, he'd happily volunteered for guard duty. Now, he flies to the platform, Rokku clinging to a full pack of flat fungi. One of the Matron's assistants is there, overseeing tonight's haul, for it is a rather large one as some Gatherers from the outer edges are returning for the first time in weeks. The Waral waits to the side as he unloads his cargo, then nods to the others, casting about for the Elite the assistant assured him would be here. He finds her, a Wildtype with two chevrons, perched next to another gatherer. "Evening, Ma'am," he says, bowing to her after landing in front of her. "My name is Falchior, and I've volunteered for guard duty. The Matron's assistant told me to tell you." He's fluffed himself to make him appear as large as he can, and Falchior slithers out of the pack to stand in front of his Sentinel. The Waral is aware of his purpose tonight; he is not searching for mushrooms but instead seeking those who would take them without permission. This, he knows, is bad. Taking what is not given has earned him many smacks on the nose. He is unsure what he is to do if he sees this happen, but he knows that it is bad and that Falchior must be told. Falchior nods to the others nearby and waits for instructions.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 20, 2008 10:02 pm
Twilla had been busy.
Twilla had been extremely busy.
She had deposited several loads over the past few nights, on top of checking over her territory and making sure Jester was alright. Her wings ached, but she still had flight left in her. She would need to rest a while before going out to gather yet another load. Her mus sat beside her, near her talons, as she unloaded her drop from her pack. Her skurri sat on her opposite side, with her ears pricked and her nose testing the wind. Auze risked closing his eyes as he rested, but Tikki was on full alert despite her exhaustion from work.
"Mm... Mm... That's all of it." She murmured as she lifted the last of the berries out of her pack with her Will. She had not heard of the theft, but noticed the increase in security, particularly the appearance of the Elite, Fernfeather. Something must of been up.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed May 21, 2008 10:30 pm
Arbutus is mentally organising for his eventual report, when the Elite approaches him.
"Good day," she says, "Anything to report?"
“Yes ma'am!” Arbutus replies crisply, adopting his more business-like tone. Turning to face the expected Matron's assistant... he spots the military markings and promptly stiffens in surprise, causing him to bow rather awkwardly.
“Flights across the Swift Open and surrounding territories were uneventful! Four confirmed nesting sites with heavy structural damage reported along the river itself, six more on my flightpath here!” he stammers hastily. “... seven, including my own.” he adds, somewhat sheepishly. “End of report.”
Before Arbutus can receive a reply (whether it's given or not), he hops back a few steps to make room for a large Mist and his Warel descending between him and the Elite. Nodding politely to both, he steps and turns away, preening his chest feathers self-consciously.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 8:44 am
Fernfeather almost smiles, almost, at the Wildtype's surprise. He regains his composure quickly and she nods approvingly in response to his bow. His report is much like many others she has heard after the storm, and she makes a mental note to ask how the repair teams are progressing along the Swift Open. A decent report, the only thing missing is his name and rank. As she opens her beak to reply a Mist male lands and offers his services.
"Evening, Ma'am. My name is Falchior, and I've volunteered for guard duty. The Matron's assistant told me to tell you."
"Excellent," she says and nods, "Fernfeather, Corporal." She's studying the Waral with interest but it's impossible to tell if it's fuelled by hunger or curiosity.
More Sentinels helping opens up for new possibilities and Fern considers the possibility of deviating slightly from her orders. Scaring the thief or thieves away is all good, but catching the scum would be even better.
"Right then," she says to Falchior, "Hunter or Gatherer? And can that lizard do anything useful?"
Having addressed the volunteer Fern swivels her head around and pierces Arbutus with a stern gaze. "You there. Name and rank?" He's not getting off the hook that easily.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun May 25, 2008 9:20 pm
"I'm a Gatherer, Ma'am, originally out of the Cold regions. You might know of my parents, Icetwister and Pine? They get around quite a bit, especially for Gatherers. And Rokku can be incredibly useful- he's excellent at tracking, can move surprisingly fast, and besides that tail of his has a nasty bite. I thought that perhaps he could hide in the shadows near the supply and stun our thief if he comes tonight. But you're the Elite, so if you have a plan or a better idea for him, of course your word goes." Falchior bows again, Rokku sitting stone-still and silent next to him, his only movement the slow flicking of his tongue.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 27, 2008 3:18 pm
Twilla settled back into the straps of her pack and turned to glance about the platform. There was a familiar mist type speaking to the Elite...
It was Falchior! It hadbeen a while since the shadow gatherer had seen her mist counterpart. The last she had seen him, they had been gathering mushrooms. That was when she met Jester.
The edges of her beak crinkled into a smile as she recalled the encounter and forgot the thief for a moment. She moved quietly towards the mist and the two wildtypes, but made herself obvious. She did not want to interupt important talk outright.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue May 27, 2008 9:56 pm
Catching himself mid-stride, Arbutus keens quietly. “How could I have forgotten something so simple?!” he chastises himself. “Oh all the-”
Turning back to face the Corporal, he straightens up; wings tucked stiffly behind his back. “A-ah, forgive me.” he stammers “Arbutus, Gatherer!”
He momentarily breaks eye-contact. Seems a nearby Shadow Gatherer witnessed his hiccup in protocol too. "Wonderful..." he comments inwardly.
If he could, he would have been turning several shades darker.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Jun 02, 2008 1:20 pm
Fernfeather listens politely to the Mist's small speech, nodding in the appropriate places.
"Wrong neck of the woods for me I'm afraid," she finally says, "I don't know them, but my mate might have met them."
She cocks her head and looks thoughtfully at the Waral.
"Live bait..." she says thoughtfully, "Hmmm... It's a possibility. Might as well become a snack if the thief isn't surprised enough, but I guess it wouldn't go quietly at least."
"And Arbutus, another gatherer." She says, swivelling her head towards the Wildtype. "One of old Alder's grandchildren perhaps. Have you seen any suspicious activity around the platform?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Jun 03, 2008 11:20 pm
The Waral speaks for the first time that evening, as his Sentinel is momentarily stunned by the idea of anybody attempting to eat his Companion. "Not eat. May try. Will bleed. Feathers rip." He smiles smugly. He knows well how to bring down small birds on the wing- a big bird is just a big small bird.
Falchior doesn't enjoy the thought of potentially losing Rokku. Despite the Waral's general reluctance to hand over the hardest-to-find truffles and other fungal delicacies, and his overall grumpiness, he was the only family member the Sentinel could tolerate for more than five minutes. Still, though, this plan would earn him some respect in the eyes of this Elite, perhaps, and with enough respect, perhaps he could move further away from his troublesome parents and still have a decent mushrooming territory. As she speaks to the Wildtype, he notices that the Shadow who has landed nearby looks mighty familiar...
"Twilla!" he says softly, not loud enough to interrupt the Elite and Arbutus. "It's been ages! How've you been? See any more of that wonderful bard, Jester?" Rokku's head swivels around at the mention of Jester, the Sentinel whose company he'd enjoyed so much. Fascinating bird, that Bard.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Wed Jun 04, 2008 8:32 am
At Falchior's recognition, Twilla's eartufts perked and she hooted softly and cheerfully. he remembered her, despite their one gathering and that was enough to make the tired shadow feel lively once more.
"I've been well! Jester? Oh yes, I have! In fact, we are together now. A couple!" She fluffed her feathers as she spoke in a cheerful, soft voice to her rather new friend. "How about yourself? How has life been treating you?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Jun 08, 2008 9:58 pm
Relieved by the brief shift of attention towards Falchior, Arbutus shoots a quick glance at the Mist's Warel. While he's always found the species'... “enthusiasm” to be slightly unnerving at best, the idea of turning that fervor towards a fellow Sentinel outright repulses him- but then again, so does a thief...
As the Corporal returns her questioning to Arbutus, he allows for a slight grin at the mention of his patriarch.
“Yes ma'am! On Oleander's, my father's side, yes.” he replies with a hint of pride. It isn't often that someone asks him about his lineage, of which he is rather fond.
“... and thankfully no, nothing suspicious that I've seen since arriving here tonight.” he adds, shifting back into his official tone again.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
