Walking the Perimiter

<font color='silver'>ooc: Okee, just in case y'all missed it, the posting order goes: 1. Myself 2. Azure 3. Excube 4. Zeikara. So... off we go ^_^

Month: Mia
Day: 5
Year: 81738

ic: The snow tore down from iron-gray skies, quickly accumulating. There was a full foot of snow already, marking one of the first snows of the season. Mia had come quickly this year, though Tessera's bone-biting chill was little better than the constant cold-wet of Trilok's darkest season.

The landscape stretched on for miles. It was craggy, studded with cliffs and rent with gaping ravines. The few trees were shapeless white lumps now, with a brown branch or a thickly-needled twig occasionally sticking out. The wind roared through the landscape with intense speed, leaving nearly-bare hills and drifted valleys.

In those valleys, the snows came up to Savna's neck. Such was their depth and thickness that he couldn't even plow through them, despite straining stubbornly against the huge white mounds. He growled, a disconcerting sound originating deep inside his russet-furred neck. The brightness of day was almost spent and he hadn't even traversed one quarter of his route around the Adamaint Empire. Frowning in anger, he threw his oiled cloth bag from his back and stood in the snow for a moment, letting the flakes fall on him and bead up on his handsome fur. Then, he began to change.

Slowly at first, and unnoticable changes, but nonetheless, Savna began to morph. His body lengthened, first, and his front legs as well. Then his back legs twisted a bit, the joints changing their shape. Savna closed his eyes in concentration, drawing carefully on Fronima as he made his transformation. Meanwhile, his chest shallowed, and he gasped as his lungs changed shape. But he still held onto the tiny thread of Fronima, managing the flow carefully. The connection twinged, and he winced-- but then the thread thickened and he kept hold of Fronima. Soon his back legs lengthened, and his neck thinned out. He swallowed hard, willing himself to keep the connection to the Spirit World. Finally, he stopped changing. In one instant, he dropped the connection and fell to the ground, in bipedal form now.

Slowly he stood up, on two legs. His body was mostly humanoid, though he was still coated in fur and his tail still flamed behind him. He kept his sharp canine face, complete with ears. Savna now resembled a human male with canine features. He rolled his shoulders and stretched muscles, feeling the different connections and how different they were from his quad muscles. With a sigh, he walked to his pack and drew two longknives and clipped them to a belt. Then he put on an oiled-leather coat, and belted himself over that. Newly enabled, he walked easily through the drifts, hands at his knives.

He moved slowly north, into the driving snow.</font>

 

<font color='#ADA96E'>The gray skies turned black. Then the slight breeze got stronger, and ended up as a bone-cutting blizzard. In this white abyss, Orgrimmar's voice could be heard... hardly.
"This damned blizzard's nothing against the razorwinds back home! Do you hear me, Tejas?! Do you hear me, you divine reskh?!"
His robes, in combination with the not-so-clear sight that the blizzard provided, made him seem like a ghost, or at least a snow-beast.</font>

 

<font color='#000000'>ooc: nyaaah. I wanted to give Zeikara a couple more days but it looks like she ain't showing yet... So I'm gonna go 'head and post

ic: The snow still billowed down from the sky as Savna walked along. It frosted his foxlike muzzle. Beads of ice hung on the end of his gleaming fur. His body was warm, however... his thick pelt of fur and his leather jacket sealed in his body warmth perfectly, and besides, he'd been in worse weather before.

The sky was a harsh shade of gray, though. Perhaps the worst of the storm had not even reached the borders yet. Savna licked his lips, finding them cracked and peeling, as usual. He tasted hot copper. Blood. He did not wince at the stinging sensation that ensued when his tongue met his mouth again. Savna wasn't usually one to care about appearance, but he knew things would get worse if he didn't do something about it. So he stopped for a moment, and dug into his bag, pulling out a small jar of animal fat. He dug into it with one claw and took out a chunk of the yellow stuff. After slathering his lips liberally with it, he put the container back in his pack, and slung it over his shoulders.

He looked at the sky again. It was already growing dim. With a slow growl of annoyance, he wracked his brains for a place to stay for the evening. He'd make a fire, and maybe catch some meat to cook... if there was a shelter nearby. Yes! he remembered now... there was a cave, a small dry cave, nearby. Though it could grow hot and smoky, it was definitely better than the bitter dark of the outside. The male rolled his shoulders, but made sure to keep his dexterous paws on the knife-hilts. The edges were sharp; he ground them on his whetstones every night, to ready them for the morning. He also rubbed their leather sheathes with fat from the little jar, to prevent cold-weather cracking. He kept the blades well-oiled, and blood-free, so as to retard water and rust. They were his favourite weapons, though not the only ones on him.

He frowned, his sharp little ears pricking up. He closed his eyes and held his breath, taking energy away from smell and sight, and focusing on sound. The thick drifts of snow muted things, but he thought he heard a snatch of speech. The male stood, motionless, for about five whole minutes, listening. Not hearing anything, he frowned slowly and shook himself. A half-inch coating of snow fell off him onto the ground. Then he moved on, in his slinking, able gait. His ears stayed pricked.</font>

 

OOC: Sorry fer meh absence. I was waiting for Zeikara to post... but...oh, well.

IC: Orgrimmar continued his insulting of Tejas.
"Your damned sea swallowed the ships and drowned my tribesmen, reskh!! But you'll see... Once I've stolen some machina, I'll bring the Bloodhowl and Darkspear tribes, and then I'll shatter what's left of this foul place!!"

After quite a bit of walking, Orgrimmar saw... well, something, sitting in the snow outside a cave. If it was worth eating, he would eat it. So he approached the thing, which happened to be Xia, ready to tear off it's every limb.

 

ooc: nurgle. Sorry for my delay, now. And sorry about the flu, azure! Glad you're feeling better. As for Zeikara.... hmmm. Does anybody know if she's left the site? She's not been on for a looong time, that's for sure. *frowns* Kakos? Anyone?

bic: There was definitely someone out there.

Frowning, Savna stopped again, listening intently to the wind. It was cold, but the ranger did not notice it, and he focused strongly on the sound. It was a male voice, the one he heard, and it was angry enough. Embittered passion raced through every word, or those that he could hear. With a swish of his russet tail, Savna turned about. His sensitive ears twitched, trying to catch another snippet of speech from behind him. His golden oculars narrowed, and he drew his belt-knives carefully. Snowflakes fell down onto the oiled blades, quickly melting into water, which beaded up and rolled onto the ground. He held the weapons steadily, at his sides, but ready to whirl into a glinting, deadly spectacle.

He followed his tracks back for a ways, looking this way and that for tracks. His keen eyes picked up any shadow in the snow, any slight scratch or indentation. There were none. Nothing and nobody had ventured out this bitter day. So Savna kept walking, looking off to the sides of the little main trail he'd carved. He retraced his steps some more, still holding the blades. Then, he found something interesting.

A set of tracks, female, from the look of their step, were pressed into the snow beside his own. They were steady, showing that she wasn't particularly weak or tired. But then, they began to waver. He followed them, 'till they branched off to the side and over a hill, to a place he knew a cave lie. Then he noticed a third track pattern, one that followed the female's tracks. They were heavier than the second set, and set farther apart. Savna felt sure they were a male's. With a contemplative sigh, he glanced at the clouds above. He was cold and hungry, but then he couldn't let intruders into the Adamaint, now could he?

So he followed the tracks, still holding his knife. The red-gold fighter crested the hill, and then went down into the stony valley below. Sure enough, a femme rested in front of a cave. Before her, a rather vicious looking male 'dragon was standing. Savna stayed behind a stone, and peered out at them. He did not know their faces. He stepped from behind the rock. In his baritone growl, which he did not use often, he said,

"What business takes you to Adamaint? On behalf of the guards and rangers, I bid you to state it." He finished this rather imperial sounding speech and stood back, knives held ready.

 

Orgrimmar stared down at his frozen feet.
"Annoying... That's what it is."
"Lok-tar!"
A bolt of lightning struck the ice around his feet, sending ice shards into all directions. He looked into the direction were the voice had come from.
"Guards? Why the hell would you want to guard this damned place?"

 

A snort escaped Savna's throat. With a few easy strides, he stepped completely from behind the rock. Wolf's tail lashing, he stood to survey the two from a closer proximity. He flipped one of the long knives over, catching it by the handle and giving it a spin along the back of his wrist. His skin rippled, sending golden waves though his red-and-yellow pelt. First, he turned his attention to Xia. She seemed to have some sense under her belt... but then, she did seem week as well, so he had no doubts about being authoritative with her. Yet, anyway.

"Well, then. Nothing's come out. Now state your business, female, He said, annoyance showing slightly through his practised, commanding tones. Then, with an unintentional forboding flavour, he added, "Adamaint never sleeps." With a blink of his lemon-yellow, slit-pupiled oculars, he pivoted to Orgrimmar. Silently, he stared at the strange male. He thought perhaps he was a priest or hedge-witch or mage of some sort... But in any case, he was here and unauthorized. However, Savna's firm air of being in control was lost when a fork of lighting shot from the sky like a vein of molten silver from a stone. The ground cracked and splinters of ice shot out, landing with muffled clinks on the frozen snow. In amazement, he tried to identify the strange tongue Orgrimmar had spoken in, and failed. Lightning? It was so odd... But he couldn't let the tresspasser know that. Frowning, he said, "If you know what lies inside this lost Empire, I think you'll know why there are rangers here." While another male may have put some emphasis on the word "ranger" to prove that he wasn't some lowly guard, Savna felt no need to do so. He thinks guard but gets ranger. Does it matter? Surprise is key. And truely, it was. That was why Savna's skills in listening, tracking, and knife-fighting came in so handy. Rangers were secretive and worked in the shadows, thought not as much as spies and asassins. Still...

"Both of you would do well to state your names and businesses." He felt no need to elaborate. Savna was a pendragon of very few words, but those few more than did the job.

 

OOC: I've seen far crappier posts than that (many of them being mine).

IC: "Guard, ranger... I see no difference."
Orgrimmar was slightly confused by the mist, but it couldn't be heard in his voice.
"I am Orgrimmar Wolfsong, High Shaman and cheiftain of the Blackroar clan. My task is none of your business, pup, and you'd better remember that, if you ever want to see your limbs again."

 

ooc: SOO sorry about delay. Been busy... really busy.

ic: Savna stepped out into the open... or lack thereof. Large, rolling drifts of white were surrounded him, and the sky continued to darken. He was surprised, but his even and measured features didn't convey it. Nobody had directly talked back to him, before, except if they were looking for a fight. It was curious... And irritating. But he had other things to think about.

To the retreating female, he promtly called, "I think I shall remain an unknown. Why should I tell you anything else than what you now know, if you've no plan to identify yourself to me?" His tone was smooth and fierce. He ignored the comment about his lips; they had been worse before, and he had seen far more disturbing ailments than he was sure she had: full-body paralysis from cave-snakes, lips so cracked they bled, and even an old ranger whose body disintegrated from the inside out. But then, when Savna thought about it, that was more of a magic-related illness. Pendragons like that Orgrimmar did more damage without laying a finger on someone, than a fighter could do with two of the finest knives in Adamaint. And when he thought of the fierce male, he whipped 'round to face him head-on. His steady and supple fingers were, with their good circulation, quite immune to the cold; they remained flexible and warm.

In a level and conversational, even ever-so-slightly patronizing tone, Savna said, "I'd appreciate no empty threats and cliched fight-picking. Wolfsong, a good reason would be all it took for me to let you through these borders with a clear path ahead of you. But to be stubborn... that could result in death." The last was not a threat, but a simple truth. It was Savna Tsaupvut's job, to be here. It was his duty. Stating the consequences of Wolfsong's actions was laying honesty down on the table, laying it bare and clean for all to see. And to go against sense was foolish... or at least Savna thought it was. "Have you anything to say, Orgrimmar Wolfsong?"

But even at this, the pendragon's eyes strayed off to the cave mouth, where the mystery female was surely lurking. He twirled one knife, wondering if she was a capable fighter. He wasn't happy with these two, and hoped they'd just see the sense in cooperating with him, so he could finish his rounds. Quirking an eyebrow, he looked up at the male, expecting a response.

 

The lupine ranger noticed with detached satisfaction that Xia had shown her face outside of the cave once again. He also took note of the fact that her fur was now stained with berries, and that she held a thick mortar full of a plant-derived paste. Nodding sagely at the femme's word, Savna again began to chew at his cracked lips. "She has not been merciful," he said respectfully to her, though he hardly liked to entertain the notion that the atrocious weather was related to anything but a simple and common accumulation of temperature and moisture in the sky above. In his robotic and calculating way, he took all of the information he had just recieved and stored it in his mind; perhaps his thoughts would turn black, flow down his neck and arm, enter a pen, and be scrawled down on paper later that evening. The buck-dragon's stomach muttered boredly, reminding him of a fat and slippery snow-bird to whom he had unfinished duties. To occupy his deft digits, he spun the long-knives once more, but their oiled surfaces now only took on a matte sheen, for almost all light had faded from the sky. Dusk had prematurely come to the valley, sighing and turning already-accumulated snow to pure ice in one bitter breath. With a deft flip of the wrist, Savna sent one knife rocketing into the snow, where it stuck, handle facing up at a perfect slant. Just as easily, he swung his oilskin pack down to the earth. His two-legged form bent over it for a moment, but he soon procured a flint, a shard of metal, and a knot of stinking, fat-rubbed knotwood. In a moment, he had a torch lit.

"If you two don't get to a fire rather quickly, I don't believe you will survive this fine evening." His tone was flat, noncommital, matter-of-fact. "I have wood in my pack. More knotwood. And a long-burning log. If neither of you will leave here, or state your own business, then perhaps you..." he trailed off. Savna was not used to formal invitations; where he was quick and witty with his hands and with Fronima, he was slow and blundering in his social brain. "...must be here, by this flame, with... me." His mouth twitched for just a moment, as if what he had just said was a mistake. But Masters did not make mistakes, and a Master trained Rangers; Savna was a ranger, so Savna made no mistakes. He stood for just a moment, waiting for a response, but then quickly picked up his other machete. Now the slick sides of the weapon swam in the wildly guttering torchlight.

Savna went inside the cave, bringing the watery circle of flickering light along with him. What was a dark and yawning cavern a second before now became a miniature star, a hole with light radiating from its depths. It had the illusion of warmth. Without futher ado, Savna whipped a few sticks of kindling from the pack, and flicked metal to metal once more. In a few moments, a fire was gasping, and after several, it began to roar inside the shallow rock formation. It was then, while he was stoking the fire, that Savna realized Xia's profession. He was a bit skeptical, but then... he looked back upon the archives of his thought and presumed that yes, the female WAS a ranger, and he could group her as one and treat her with the same protocol as such. A small flicker of a smile crossed his face. The control was back, for the most part. And... and he might, for the first time in years, have a dinner-guest.