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 Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 8:40 pm
(A note from the Herald: I changed the flashback RP to private since... Well, it'd be bad if someone didn't realise what FB meant and just blundered in. If you'd like Granny or Liam to join you can always invite them.)
It wasn’t uncommon for fledglings to have a healthy appetite and most elders would say it was a sign of a strong Sentinel. A good hearty meal was just as important to a fledgling to a full adult, yet fledglings had a bit of leeway as to what to eat. Sly knew this. He knew he could get away with a lot and he already had a pretty good idea what he would say if someone happened upon him, as if THAT would happen.
Sly, being a dashing black, was FAR too smart and swift to be caught. Silly Minders were busy with whining hatchlings and even more needy fledglings. This was good, seeing as he really didn’t need them. He could fly better than all the fat Minders in this place and he could get his own food just as well.
The shadow smiled, not the fully mastered smirk he would grow to perfect, but it still showed the potential to give shivers which was just what the fledgling was going for as he advanced on a branch far off from the Minder’s platform where the rest of his class was grouped with. He didn’t need to be there. He knew all there was to learn and Granny downright aggravated him. He deserved a better teacher than some misty-eyed old Sentinel. Let her teach the others. HE was going to do some actually hunting, just like REAL Sentinels did.
The catch, a little bird that was just downright stupid enough to have gone this way. The fledging advanced, wings up as he made himself look bigger, because being big scared little birds, and he gave another snap of his beak at the little bird he had been harassing for a bit. It wasn’t going anywhere because Sly wouldn’t let it.
Sly….the great hunter and flyer…..neared it’s quivering prey, a beast that had terrorized the woods for centuries. Under orders from the Brigadier, he finally was about to finish his quest and rid the world of ….the….the…. um… Terror bird! Sly smirked at his good word choice before he had a hop on the branch, shaking it as he advanced on what was clearly a Pica. He was going to eat it and then use the feathers to make him a decoration to wear like he saw some Sentinels do. Maybe keep its skull! That would show those stupid Minders.
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 8:56 pm
The Terror Bird, as Sly had decided to call it, was indeed in terror.
The little black and white creature was young and, perhaps, foolish just as the sentinel fledgling had decided. The frightened pica shrank against his perch and tried to scuffle backwards. As he inched further from the snapping beak, the branch tapered smaller and smaller, until it could no longer hold the shaking ball of fluff and feathers. It swayed under the weight, until snapping.
"KRAA!"
He squawked in alarm as he branch turned twig bent, sending him tumbling backwards. With a furious flap, he managed to catch a lower limb, but barely.
The pica was somewhat dazed and confused as he began to skitter along the branch on fumbling claws. Most all reasoning was lost on the young creature and he was not yet skilled enough to just fly away. He could fly, but like any other fledgling it was with little to no skill.
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 9:25 pm
As the branch gave, Sly flapped about and hopped back, nearly sideways before he clambered up onto the branch. Of course, THAT part of his story would not be told. Instead, it would be changed to “…and the beast charged, claws swiping. The hero dived back in time and with super smarts, snapped the branch to send the beast falling. ” Sly was good with stories and knew that it was good to have a bit of drama in it. It made you look better.
Breathing deep, he regained his composure and looked around to make sure no one saw his little folly. He had boasted at every chance how great a flyer he was, which HE WAS, but he didn’t need one of those annoying fledglings laughing at him for the branch breaking like it wasn’t suppose to. That was trees for you.; trying to make you look stupid when they shouldn’t.
Regaining his footing, he looked down to see the shivering bird fumble on a lower branch. Looking about, Sly bent low before swinging his body and with a good few flaps, hopped over to one branch and then turning about and waiting for the branch to stop shaking, hop down to the one where his ‘beast’ was. He cringed a bit when it shook and waiting with raised wings until it stopped moving. Sly used flying to fill his free time fro avoiding other fledglings and was getting good. He’d be doing aerial tricks in no time!
Shifting, he turned to regard the bird again. “Look what you did. Don’t move so much. Can’t you see I’m a Sentinel? Now listen and stay put like a dumb bird.” He said, scolding the little pica. That was stupid animals for you. They didn’t know how to properly go about being prey.
Assured he got his point across, he returned to his stance. He really didn’t know how to go about eating a live bird, but he guessed you just had to get your mouth around it, wait for it to stop moving, and then gulp it down…or something. He’d figure it out.
This time around, Sly made sure to watch his footing and advanced. “Time to die.” He hissed in his best ‘menacing’ voice.
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 9:36 pm
"Kraa!" He squawked again and continued his futile attempts to back away. Sentinel? Ah. Sentinel. He had heard about sentinels, but from where no sentinel would ever know.
"Senn-ial! No! Nuh-uh! Nonononono! No eattaeatta me!" His speech was slurred and panicky. He was already missing a few feathers from this harried game of Sly and Terror Bird, and he did not fancy losing any more... Or his life, for that matter.
"Nonononono! Nonononononononononononono!" He spread his dark wings and beat them in an attempt to get off the limb, which was yet another futile attempt. He was certainly far from anything the Brigadier would order killed, that is for sure.
As his rear feathers smacked into the trunk of the tree, he fluffed up. Cornered, or so he seemed to be.
All that was left for him to do was to try and bluff his way out, which was mighty difficult when he was shaking so hard his beak was rattling.
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Posted: Sun Jul 13, 2008 9:58 pm
The pleas were only fuel for the fire in the adolescent Sentinel’s eyes. A look that a few Minders had said wasn’t natural for fledglings to have. There were certain ‘signs’ that were picked out from the watching Minders, experts in their trade of raising hatchlings to adulthood, and they seemed to have picked out several and a couple new ones to add to the list when dealing with the Shadow. One advised to have him killed for being ‘unstable’ and a threat to himself and others. Another said that bad blood worked with good parenting. Another said the child would be a Mystic and to kill one young would put a curse on all of them, which was something none of them wanted. This had been overruled by just watching for more signs and keeping tabs on the already obvious ones.
“No. You hafta die. ’s the rules.” He said, wishing he had a smarter prey to fight against. Maybe one who had better speech and knew how to play the game. He probably should have explained it better beforehand. Sly would have to brief his next beast on the rules next time.
With that explanation, he grinned and returned to his stance, something he mimics from bigger Sentinels who he would sneak and listen to, and how they made themselves look big when talking about big prey they took down and fights they got into with other Sentinels. It’s why Sly was learning how to tell good stories. Not like stupid bards. GOOD stories, about fighting and flying and taking down beasts that actually existed. Not like the ones the Minders told them about beasts that lived on the ground that would eat you if you flew too low. He had looked down a million times and saw no monsters with their mouths open! Right disappointment, that was.
Sly tilted and shot out his taloned foot to swipe at the bird. When he found he was off balanced, he instead drew closer and started to peck, going for feathers and wings as he drew closer and closer still. Once close enough, he tilted himself and then lifted his foot and shot it out, pressing it against the tree to hold the pica against it. “Holds still. I’m ‘pose to kill you. Beasts always know when to die. Don’t you listen to stories?” He said, as if EVERYONE knew that.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 10:16 am
The much smaller fledgling struggled ad beat his wings as wildly as he could from beneath the grip of young Sly.
"HAAAAWP! HAAAAWP!" It cried loudly. Apparently, the little pica had never heard those stories... Either that, or he did not want to play by the rules hat Sly followed.
"Whatta you doin'?" A small, slightly worried and concerned voice piped up. The aberrant that it belonged to was smaller than most and was not the best flyer, but he had made it thus far. He was wheezing slightly, but his amber eyes were narrow. That thing was talking? He could here it's cries as he made his way to investigate. If Sly was up to something, it couldn't be good at all.
The creamy wildtype and mist type hybrid tilted his head to the side as he tried to inspect the strange companion around Sly's sharp paw.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 9:34 pm
Sly froze in his place and he winced. His eyes settled on the Pica, giving the frightened bird a good view of a mind working out a story. If it was one thing Sly had grown to learn early, it was excuses. Slowly, he turned his head and started to give off a sweet expression of pure innocent and that of being very empty headed. Basically, all the looks his classmates had.
“I just found this little bird and I…” Sly started but found his eyes not on a Minder or the imposing form of Granny, but a very small aberrant. The mix made Sly sneer instantly. Icky feathers came to mind. For the most part, Sly didn’t know the name. There were too many fledglings, and he was still rather new to the group, as new as being there for a while and making it a point to not talk to anyone else. So the name of the male escaped him.
Seeing that it wasn’t an adult, he changed his mindset. He had to worry about the fledgling tattling or even taking his prey. Stepping sideways, Sly opened his wings and looked at him. “Nuttin.” He said off the bat. “ Just playin ‘round.” He said, before he furrowed his brow. “Who invited you anyways? Go off and play with the other hatchlings.” He said, turning around to readdress the bird and figure out how to put a quick end to it. Maybe he just had to rip it apart. It’s how they did it when the Minder’s dropped off big Mus to them and they all got to tear it into bits. He wondered what part was the easiest to tear. The neck certainly looked small and tender.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 9:44 pm
"HAAAAAWP! HAAAAWP!" The pica continued in a frantic cry as he continued to squirm in the shadow fledgling's paw.
Fjord did not know the name of this strange fledgling, either, but he did not associate with many others, due to who his mother and father were. I was probably a fling of two types, but he was still not too sure just what an aberrant was.
What he did know, though, was this was no normal bird. He had never seen one before. "Hey! You leave 'im alone! Your hurting him! He's differn't!" He waddled closer to get a better look and felt sympathy for the strange bird. He could talk, so he must be important! Too important to eat!
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 9:59 pm
The Shadow fluffed its feathers in irritation and glared over his shoulder. “What do YOU know? I caught him. He’s mine. Go find your own bird. He’s not special or anything. He’s just a dumb ol bird and he’s MY prey. I caught him so there!” He said. Everyone fledgling knew that procession was law and ‘so there’ was a end to all debate. You couldn’t argue with ‘so there’.
Sly knew about talking birds. His mother had tons of companion animals that spoke all the time and he knew that not a one was smart, special, or anything like his mother believed. They were useless and fit for food Sentinels should do. They ate little, weaker things. They killed, because they were the bigger ones.
The Shadow could tell that with the aberrant interest, he would have to be quick with prey. He hated cutting his game short, but he wasn’t about to stop or let Mr. Icky Feathers have it. “Go find your own!” He spat over his shoulder and then, without mercy or delicacy, let his break grip the bird’s throat. It felt natural in his tiny yet sharp beak and he felt instinct full him much as it did when the Minder gave them pretty to eat on. He held on tighter to the pica and he started to grip tighter on the neck, willing the end of the bird. He hadn’t been playing for food but he felt hungry now, as was his love of what would later become a favored ‘sport’ of his.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 10:29 pm
The pica froze with fear as Sly wrapped his beak around his neck. Surely the end was at his talons.
Fjord was unsure of what to do. He couldn't let the bird get killed... But Sly was much bigger than he was. Still, Granny would be on his side, right? So there? Still, he had trouble arguing with Sly's "So there."
As the shadow went in for the kill, Fjord had little time to think. He leaned forward and snapped up a couple of Sly's tail feathers, as he had little idea of what else to do. He gripped them tightly in his beak and gave a good, hard yank.
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 8:48 pm
..And there Fjord, in fledgling undocumented history, found a very convincing argument for ‘so there’. Sly, who had not been expecting such a reaction, didn’t know what happened. Not at first. He merely squawked very loudly and nearly flew up several branches, something that would have impressed himself if it had been any other (less painful) time, before he landed with a fumbling of feathers. Wide-eyed, he looked about, gasping and inspecting himself. His tail, or what was left of it, had a good gap right out of the center and looked deformed. No form of intensive preening would make it look right until new feathers came back in.
The sight of seeing his perfectly preened plumage destroyed sent his stomach lurching and his eyes fuming. This wasn’t improved when he realized that he had released the Pica. Still, what was a Pica when he had a fledgling.
“You filthy mix. How dare you touch meh! I’ll show you! I’ll…” Sly was at his very short limit and he didn’t bother to second guess himself as he lunged at the other bird, bent on tearing out every feather he could.
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Posted: Tue Jul 15, 2008 8:56 pm
Fjord was in a state of shock for a few crucial seconds. He was, in general, not a violent fledgling. He did not squabble with the others (often) and he kept mostly to himself. The fact that he had actually ripped a few feathers from the shadow's tail seemed surreal.
He stood there gawking, with inky black feathers dangling from his beak.
He spat them out as the larger fledgling charged at him and he was at a loss for what to do. He stumbled backwards and fell flat on his rear, but held his talons out protectively, in hopes that Sly would not be so bold as to put his eyes in danger.
The little pica was wincing and quaking. He didn't dare part his eyes until the warmth around his neck was replaced by cool air. Only then was he brave enough to squint. The inky sentinel was no longer towering over him, but going after the aberrant. What a funny gap on his rear!
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Posted: Fri Jul 18, 2008 7:35 pm
The shadow was a little ball of fury. He gave off a few screeches of anger mingled with humiliation and pain and was angry to see the other fledgling holding his feathers in his mouth, the evidence right in front of him. As he spit out the feathers, he watched as they flew away, his tail, ruined. He had kept immaculate care of them, even at such a young age, proud of being pure black. A gleaming Shadow. Even the Minders commented on how nicely he took care of them as they advised their chargers to follow by example. With a tail like this, he would be faced with laughter and jokes. The very idea struck him down quickly and he wanted to tear the other apart for making him a freak. How was he suppose to intimated or be taken seriously like this? How was he suppose to grow up to be something when he had a tail missing? He ruined him!
Blinded by anger, he rushed at him and right at the other, disregarding the talons that would otherwise make a older and more longer-fused Sentinel rear back.
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Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 8:08 am
Sometimes it was easier for Linnéa to get to the enclave than for a minder to take time off to come to her territory, and that was why she was in the enclave tonight. One of the younger minders had remarked that a few of the fledglings that they had intended to send to Granny for classes seemed to be missing from the group. The old teacher usually had a beak for trouble, and took a quick sweep around the area to see if she could locate them. And locate them she did...
"Rainbow Chaser!" she shouted sternly as she landed on a branch above the brawling fledglings, "Stop that this instant. Stop this fighting, both of you"
Granny had just arrived at the scene and she didn't care much who had started the fight. She had used the name of the fledgling she knew by name. Rainbow Chaser was a right little talonful, the kind of fledgling minders liked to pass on to her in order to teach the little rascal some manners. The smaller aberrant was unknown to her, but seemed about to lose this fight.
((OOC: I hope you don't mind that I stepped in at this point. I figured it would be a good time for Granny to intervene.))
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Posted: Sat Jul 19, 2008 12:25 pm
Fjord could see the end as near when the furious Sly charged forward. Why had he acted so blindly? He certainly did not want the funny black and white bird to be eaten. It did know how to speak, after all! That was something to keep in mind.
The aberrant fledgling shrank under the imposing shadow of the larger, dark fledgling and his feathers sleeked out of fear. All this did was make the runt of a sentinel look even smaller than before, something Sly could easily take on.
"Rainbow Chaser!" Fjord winced at the name, but quickly felt a small glimmer of hope. That was an adult's voice! Surely this minder, or teacher, would not let the Shadow kill him like he would of the pica, who was hopping from paw to paw several limbs and branches above as he watched the fledgling fight.
"Stop that this instant. Stop fighting, both of you."
As Granny spoke, Fjord flattened his eartufts, although they seemed almost at their limit already, lowered his talons and squinshed his eyes shut. Just because he was listening didn't mean the enraged shadow would.
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