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 Posted: Thu Jun 26, 2008 12:48 pm
If you can’t hunt, you can’t eat. If can’t eat, you die. It’s as simple as that. Breeze the teacher says it in a more brutal way than most, but everyone knows that it’s true. Very few Sentinels can afford not to hunt. Teachers, Minders, Medics and other support tasks are fed by the Clan since they are too important and too busy to provide for themselves fully. But Bards and Keepers are both expected to hunt for themselves - or trade their services for food.
They say that a Keeper will never go hungry, and that might be true, but even a first class Mus caterer can get tired of the rodent taste. Mus, Mus, Mus...
Cliffside has been sitting in the same tree since the sun started to set, taking advantage of his natural Wildtype feathers to blend in. He is watching the ground and the barely visible trail below, waiting... And suddenly his patience is rewarded: A young hare moves around below, sniffing and nibbling at the lush vegetation. If it moves only a little bit closer...
But just as Cliffside prepares to launch from his perch, the hare startles and looks up, suddenly much too vigilant to approach. Something must have frightened it.
Specific details: Cliffside is hunting west of Deep Woods, closer to the Not Cold than to the cold. Ember is passing by and has disturbed his prey.
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Posted: Sat Jun 28, 2008 4:13 pm
 A deep, yet strangely pleasant voice carried faintly through the trees, announcing the arrival of its source. Resplendent in striking orange and bold white, the singer could hardly fail to be spotted. While her attention-grabbing garb certainly met its purpose on the stage, it was a rather more of an encumbrance if she should attempt to hunt for her own dinner…unless her prey should find itself blind, or born without eyes; then it would be easy. But, alas, there was no such thing, or in the very least, not in any forest she’d been to or heard of. Bother. She was hungry, and still smarting from her last show, which had, invariably, ended on a rather bad note. Not that her performance was not a decent one, but rather, when criticized, she had blown up, made a few scathing remarks, and left in a huff. It was slightly regrettable, now that she had cooled off and regained a level head. No patron, no dinner, and that was the way of things. The tune faltered. Even a distant hare had been alerted to her presence. Hm. Was it her singing, or perhaps her brightly-colored pinions, that had set it off? Well, no matter. She would try her luck later, and if she could catch some creature unawares, she might still get that dinner.
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Posted: Sat Jun 28, 2008 5:36 pm
A lone Sentinel sat in a tree, golden eyes fixed on the forest floor. He’d been there most of the night, waiting for something other than a rodent to wander close to his perch. This Sentinel was Cliffside, a Wildtype keeper who was always up to his neck in mus. They were delicious, but he got sick of them from time to time. This was one of those times.
He was beginning to think he’d have to go home and gag one down after all when there was a sudden movement in the foliage below. Two long ears poked up out of a patch of ferny plants. An Elite’s lepus?
No, it was only a wild hare. The keeper’s talons flexed in anticipation as Cliffside pictured himself taking it down, imagining with pleasure the satisfying thud as his forward-thrust claws sunk into flesh.
He tensed to strike.
When the hare abruptly dashed away, Cliff’s heart sank. All that waiting, for nothing! He’d have some choice words with whoever, or whatever, had frightened it off.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2008 5:39 am
Ember, like the hare, had failed to spot the hunting Sentinel, camouflaged as he was by his chosen perch. Oblivious to the discontent she had unknowingly caused, she winged over to the stakeout tree, humming merrily. Ember settled onto one of its higher branches, and began to preen. Thank Noctus, she was a vain creature, who would certainly not tolerate looking like an unsightly lump of a Sentinel -unlike that awful, awful Crafter-, Ember shuddered. Poor creature, to be seen in public looking like that.
But she ought not be so critical of others, or in the very least, not those whom she’d judged at a glance and never personally met. Ember looked rueful, as her empty belly growled in assent. Clearly, beauty alone could not fill ones stomach.
…unless they were talking about a beautifully blind bunny…or a pretty plump ‘possom…or a gorgeously-juicy goose…
The hungry bard smiled wistfully as she thought of things she’d like to eat. In her idealistic dreams, there might be a few -no, a lot- of the aforementioned goodies around. She glanced abount, not really expecting to find anything…and promptly found herself staring into very large, very golden, eyes.
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Posted: Sun Jun 29, 2008 11:06 am
Those golden eyes blinked exactly once when Ember’s gaze met them. Cliff had been staring at her since she landed, the planned critical monologue forgotten in his surprise. He’d expected a fledgling, or some stupid four-toe to be the culprit -- not an adult female. And he certainly hadn’t expected one with such flashy colors.
It made him uncomfortable to be caught off-guard, but he kept a straight face as he attempted to break the ice.
“Um… Hello.”
Macho, as usual.
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Posted: Mon Jun 30, 2008 7:39 pm
Ember was startled. She’d been so preoccupied with her thoughts; she’d failed to notice the presence of this other Sentinel. She did not like surprises. Or ruffled feathers. The disgruntled Shadow eyed the stranger appraisingly. Hm. Rather awkward. Wildtype. Male. Looked well-fed.
Huh. Hunger works wonders in irritable folk; it seems to bring out their worst qualities. Ember happened to be prone to quite a few of the seven deadly sins; especially the one known as envy. She had inwardly been seething with repressed anger, and this (albeit unintentional) slight was the last straw.
The moody bard opened her beak to remonstrate this- this hooligan who dared disturb what had otherwise been a nice, calming preen.
“Hello.” She snapped back, rather sharply. It was a heroic effort to keep a reign on her volatile emotions, which were threatening to take themselves out on this innocent bystander.
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Posted: Thu Jul 03, 2008 11:59 am
Wait, what is this? She’s mad at me?
Cliffside frowned before he could stop himself. This female scared my dinner away and then flew uninvited into my tree, and she’s mad at me?
He quickly preened one wing to hide the expression and gather his words, all the while wishing he had the gall to say what was really on his mind. When he straightened and turned back to the Shadow female, he had a face like slate. “Excuse me, Miss,” he said as calmly as he could, “have you seen a hare anywhere nearby? I’ve been staked out in this tree all night waiting for it, and it seems to have been frightened off.”
He hoped she would catch the implied, “You frightened it, thanks a lot,” which he barely refrained from speaking aloud.
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Posted: Thu Jul 03, 2008 4:09 pm
Unfortunately for Cliffside’s hopes, Ember had not caught his hinted implication. Or perhaps, if she had, the stubborn bard refused to acknowledge this so as to not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had ruffled her feathers. Her ignorance, whether intended or not, was nevertheless expressed in a rather blunt manner.
“A hare?”
Somehow, the fact that this fellow had not had his dinner either cheered her slightly. Or perhaps, if she was fully aware of her part in his missed meal, then it was her role in his misfortune that lifted her into a more agreeable mood –which was to say, not very agreeable at all.
“Oh-yes, that hare. Well don’t fret dear fellow; I happen to be terrible at hunting, too.” But she fluttered her showy wings in a subtle and utterly-irresistible jibe.
Oh, you hunt just as stealthily as a brightly-colored bard. Like me. Of course, I actually am one, which says a lot about your hunting ability …
Besides the hidden insinuation, her reply could very well have passed for sympathy on her part.
Adding insult (and hypocrisy) to injury, she continued, “Anyways, it’s no good chewing on spoilt Mus –or hare, as I should say. ” This was punctuated with a pointed glare not-at-all unlike that of a Teacher scolding a misbehaved fledge,
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Posted: Mon Jul 07, 2008 1:48 pm
Terrible at hunting... too?
That one set him off. And her glare -- it was uncertain how Cliffside kept from spewing some very politically incorrect words, but he did. He took pride in projecting an in-control demeanor, and that's probably all that saved him.
What is wrong with this female?
Cliff's store of patience was about as empty as his stomach. He had half a mind to fly away and find a new hunting spot, but admitting defeat was about as foreign to him as was swimming. Forcing an insincere smile, he decided to reattempt the friendly approach.
"No good, indeed. All we can do is get up and try again. Are you, by any chance, in a hunting mood? Two sets of talons are always better than one."
It was true that they were, but if she accepted the invitation, Cliffside would surely prove to this Shadowtype that his were superior.
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