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 Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2014 9:30 pm
The Forests of Endeldarth was a beautiful place to roam, if you liked the looming mushrooms that were as tall as trees, and the perpetual feeling that someone was watching you. Not that Nakre minded much. He was used to that feeling, though most of the time the eyes-boring-into-his-back came with a rush of gratitude. He was one of the few Ysali Kheorians that was active in their healing and training of others. He was probably the only one who actively searched out new ways of healing, that didn't always require a steady use of magic.
His magical stamina was high, but that didn't mean he couldn't get exhausted, or that there wasn't a few cases where he had to limit his use of magic. Magic made things heal quickly and most often times all at once. There were some cases where it was better to let the body repair the damage at its own pace, rather than put more stress on it by forcibly speeding up the process.
This led him to where he was currently at, the dark and dreary continent of Soldul in a forest of literal fungus. It was amusing, or would be, if he didn't manage to step on a toadstool of some sort that released foul smelling spores every few moments.
Grimacing Nakre paused to rub his foot against the loamy ground, eyes carefully searching the path in front of him for the next thing that would potentially try to coat him in a fine dust of disgusting reproductive material.
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Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2014 10:27 pm
The restrictions on her movements had been relaxed yesterday, and in Soldul's washed out and tepid daytime, Malta thoroughly enjoyed her regained freedom. Not that she strayed too far, of course: she went just far enough to find what she needed. Purple Bolarnbane mushrooms. When she'd been cooped up in the tribal grounds, she'd been longing to try out a new potion idea she'd had, one that used the small poisonous bubble-like fungi as a stabilizing agent. It would, she felt, work wonderfully, excellently well. She pranced under the looming fungal caps, plucking the fungus she sought and storing it in her carrybag for later, eating a few along the way. Immune to it's potent poison, Malta found them delicious treats, like blackberries but with a spongy texture and a spicy tang. They would kill a non ysali in seconds, but to her, they were candy. She hummed happily, enjoying the smells and sights of Endeldarth's autumn, until she reached a path. She peered down it, her good mood hampering her wariness, only to see an odd two legger. He was not Oblivionite, nor was he one of the dread orderites or mysterious dovaa. He smelled of Khehora... thus... a khehorian? Malta had only seen one other in the time she had spent on Soldul – the better part of her adolesence and adult life. This one's magic smelled – and felt – like hers. That realization gave her enough confidence to dare to not slink into the bushes and hide. “Hello?” she called out, the squeak in her voice belying her wariness, and also the bravery required by the pudgy khehora to call out at all, “Are you a ysali?”
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Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2014 10:42 pm
Nakre's head snapped up at the voice, the squeak betraying the owners wariness. His muscles tensed involuntarily as he was caught off guard, though his senses hadn't betrayed him. There wasn't anything hostile in the area, only one whose magic felt like his own, was gentle and non threatening. At least for the moment. He forced himself to relax and to continue with the motions he'd been doing, until he was sure all of the mushroom had been scraped off of his foot. He turned around slowly, eyes scanning the path and the little off branches in the general area until he spotted the little Orakovan. Well, little and pudgy and it made his heart skip a beat at the sight of it. "Hello little one." He called in return, slowly walking towards the Ysali. No need to spook it if it really was as wary as it sounded. Also he couldn't keep calling it an 'it' in his head. "Yes I am and judging by your colors you are as well. I'm Nakre, what's your name?" He asked, as he stopped well out of lunging distance. Or rather, well out of her lunging distance. Her bit of pudge would slow her down and give him plenty of time to take to the air if she proved to be hostile. He decided on female in his mind, her structure was a bit feminine as well as the way she held herself told him of her slightly different skeletal structure. He noted the satchel at her side and wondered if she was here to gather items, or if she was passing through on a delivery. This led him to wonder if there were any sort of tribes nearby. It had been quite some time since he took up traveling again that he'd gotten out of contact with a lot of the different tribes. DraconicFeline Heya, I'm headed off to bed. If you reply I'll post in the morning. c:
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Posted: Mon Oct 20, 2014 11:08 pm
Lirende Blah turning in myself for reasons that you can see for yourself in the quality of this post “Malta...” she said, approaching warily, her curiousity winning out over her caution. “I'm a Ysali... an alchemist.” she confirmed and clarified, “Are you from around here, Nakre?” she asked, “I've never seen you in these lands before.” which wasn't certain, of course, since Malta missed a lot more than she liked to admit. Plants, she could find. Prey and predators, she was not nearly so good at spotting. Her cousins, she could spot not-at-all when they hid themselves with magic. She asked, though, because if he was not from Soldul, then that meant he was from somewhere else. Maybe from Eowyn. Maybe from close to the Settlement. And maybe, just maybe, he had news of her old home.
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Posted: Sun Nov 30, 2014 8:58 pm
"I'm afraid not. I'm a healer and so I call no place home. I travel to where I'm needed, or where I think I will be needed." He replied, relaxing now that it was apparent the little one was just curious and wary, and, potentially very shy. His tail curled around so that the tip rested on his feet, his claws dug into the loamy earth.
He watched as she crept closer and made no move to close the distance until she was within touching distance. When she was he dropped down onto his haunches, his cloak pooling on the ground in a puddle of blue fabric with white fur trim. He tried not to think of how long it would take him to wash the fungus out of it.
"What sort of things do you mix Malta?" He asked, recalling that she said she was an alchemist. It was strange to see such a passion in one so little but, he supposed, there was little else that she could do. The pudge on his told him that she wasn't very active, or perhaps it wasn't her fault and she was restricted from the activities that most others her age would be doing. Such as getting into trouble and picking fights with creatures that were stronger than they.
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Posted: Tue Dec 23, 2014 10:07 pm
“Oh.” It wasn't exactly a disappointing answer, nor was it one that closed off the option entirely. Just because he had no home now, didn't mean that he didn't once have a home. He had to have come from somewhere! Malta decided to hold that question for later. He was crouching, and was clearly not a threat, so Malta leaned forward to give him a sniff. He smelled of cloth and dirt and spices up close. She made a pleased little 'Murr' sound and relaxed a little. “I make poisons and medicines!” she said, delighted, “I know its an odd combination, but some medicines are poisons anyway, just combined with other things and in certain doses, so it doesn't really conflict at all.”
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