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Character || Biroki
Stage || Sage
Battling || Spitorog x 1
Battle Stat || 35
Defense || 5
Roll Needed || 30-100
Rolled || 85win
Outcome || [win/lose]
Experience earned ||

15+8=23 exp

Biroki stared back at the spitorog, feeling - very strongly - de ja vu. What was with today and spitorogs? Why did they like to sit there - right there - on his shelf? Why did they plague him so?

He rubbed his head. Ugh. He had a headache now. "Its all your fault." he said, poking the soft creature. It stared at him, still, uncomprehending, uncaring, stupidly innocent of the battles and bloodshed of that day.

The healer in the tent suggested that Biroki take a break, and he agreed. He left the healers tent and walked to the tent that served as his bunk. It was day yet, sunlight filtering in through some of the thinner patches of trees, and striking the darkened skin of the shifters sleeping on their mats on the ground. They were the night shift. As the only earthlings comfortable with being nocturnal, they had an important job - keep the Obans away at night. There weren't as many of them as there were skirmishers of the other races, but they did their jobs and they did them well.

Biroki, however, had taken to daytime activities. His wife and children were all diurnal, so he had switched his hours to the light - relatively - times. He had, however, previously been the sort of shifter that preferred the Jahuran nights, and his body was still ready to sleep, even if his mind tried to be awake for his girls.

He lay down heavily on a free mat - 'his' mat, he supposed, though they belonged to whoever slept upon them - and closed his eyes, laying his arm over them to keep out the rays that filtered in like golden spears. His intent was to rest, to take a brief nap, then get up and make some tea, and then maybe take a walk. After that, his head would be clear and there would be more tasks for him to accomplish. It was a good plan. And maybe after he wouldn't be snapping at Spitorogs.

He was just drifting off to sleep, his body settling easily into the uncomfortable hide, when he heard a sound. It was a soft, unremarkable sound, but one that made his muscles tense and crackle with suppressed rage.

"Ribbit."

He turned over, resting his head against his arm, keeping his eyes closed. It is nothing. he told himself, Just the wildlife. he thought, Just the sounds of Jahuar. He was, he convinced himself, too sensitive to the sound right now. he was just picking it up amongst the general din, that was all.

"Ribbit"

It was closer now. He flopped onto his back, snuggling into his elbow as if to find comfort there. he only found warm darkness, which would have to do. Its someone's pet he decided, that was it. It was someone's pet, carried with them, making sounds, as it did. That was why it was so close a sound. No other reason.

He felt... and heard... a wet plop and, suddenly, there was a weight on his chest. He opened his eyes and sat up slightly, face to face, once again, with the spitorog. Not just any spitorog. THAT one. The one that was plaguing him now.

He glared at it. "Go away." he said, finally, picking up the spitorog and, stuffing it into someone's rucksack that they had left open nearby. He shut the case and, turning over again, fell asleep.

The spitorog wiggled its way out of the bag with only minor effort, and, with an ungraceful little waddle, sat and stared at Biroki, bubbling...