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Post by Joliette Thorne on May 14, 2008 18:30:16 GMT -5
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Saiyah’s Dream (goes here)
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--Whalebone Hut--
Tenebrae had woken early, and left the crew sleeping by the fire. Water replenished for the trip home, the ship almost repaired, she figured they'd not long be ready to make the return journey. The two patients in the hut came to mind-- Gomrak was almost better, but Saiyah's arm had been a mess. Not that she didn't trust Eyren's abilities, but Tene had become fond of the naga and wouldn't be satisfied until she saw for herself that her arm was improved. Pushing open the door of the hut, she peered inside.
After a long night of tossing and turning, the naga had finally fallen asleep. Of course, to those who had wandered in would have found it to be a rather odd sight seeing the woman fully nude and a towel draped over her face. It was just Saiyah's way of breaking the fever she'd contracted from the rather harsh and brutal injury that befell her arm; thanks to the two healers, it looks just as good as new- except for the large 3 inch scar she'd have for the rest of her life. Her bare chest slowly rose and fell as her breathing was normal and calm, much like the ambient-like state of being she was in as she peacefully slept.
Tenebrae entered the hut quietly, having seen Saiyah at rest and relatively well. Nudity of any sort did not really bother the vampiress, so no qualms in inspecting the wound's site. It took her a moment to realise that Gomrak was absent, obviously well enough to regain his legs and wander off to somewhere. That explained the shell she had found on the sand beside her when she woke. Tene had little to do now but wait, so she sat on the floor and started tidying the orc's papers and charts.
Saiyah had once again, been dreaming about the mer-people she'd had her little encounter with in the sea the other night. It only stuck to her because it was odd, simple as that. Why didn't they kill her when they had the chance? The had every intention and right too, but yet they didn't. In her dream, Saiyah was eyeing their faces and had only but to blink as a piece of paper floated from the sky and landed on the water- then another. The soft ruffling even caught the attention of the mer-folk whole blankly gazed about. What in the- her eyes blinked as the image of the hut- then ocean- then hut again came into focus. It had just been a dream, but a rather odd ending one could add, simply brought on by the vampire's little tidy spree that hit her. For a little while longer, Saiyah would lay there in her own little blanket of silence before reaching her hand out, searching for her gourd of water to wet her dry lips.
Tenebrae was studying a recipe that she suspected was meant to include orcmeat, when Saiyah woke. She smiled, offering the naga a little wave. "Oh good, you're not dead." Tene had a terrible sense of humour. She waited for Saiyah to drink, before fishing into the pouch on her belt, which contained gems removed from some of the uglier bits of jewellery dredged up from the swamp the day before. In her effort to reach to the bottom of the bag, a corner of the fabric tore, but she wouldn't notice it. "Got a present for you." A pale palm was extended. On it shimmered two ice-blue stones, each a perfect sphere. "Thought they'd cheer you up."
Saiyah fumbled for the small gourd and lean up to bit onto the cork, pulling with her sharp teeth to pop it off. She drank quite gratefully at it in large gulps, letting it drip down her neck before setting the empty bottle aside. The naga blinked a few times, wincing at the throbbing pain in her arm as she looked around, offering a weak smile to the woman as both her greeting was offered was well as the gems. She took them, and held 'em close, smiling at the beauty of rocks. She wanted so badly to say 'beautiful' but alas- she couldn't, but a simple nod would do for now..she guessed.
Tenebrae never did anything for the thanks, anyway. The nod more than sufficed, and she folded the recipe neatly, put it back into a tatter-edged trunk with the rest of the papers. "When you're feeling up to it, I'm gonna ask you what happened, you know." Her concern bled through the light-hearted tone she took. "For now, I'll just say I'm glad you're feeling better. The ship is nearly ready. It's almost time we went home."
Saiyah paused for a moment, the word -home- striking deep. Home? What was home? Had she finally found one- and if so where? She tried not to dwaddle long on the subject before looking down to her arm to give a sheepish shrug. Truthfully, she didn't even know what had happened that night, the last thing she could recall was losing her lunch on the beach and falling face-first into the sand for the evening. Though, a deep bloody gash and a boomerang shaped arm could tell the story. It was broken alright- but what did it? Saiyah slowly leaned back and sighed her usual silent sigh and pointed to the empty gourd, a questioning look on her face that suggested she might have wanted water if it was available.
Tenebrae took the rustic vessel over to a waterskin someone had hung on a hook the evening before, and filled it with clear, sweet water from the spring Adair had found. She'd noticed the pause, the naga's puzzled expression, with a wry sort amusement. "You do fit in with our ragtag bunch quite well y'know." The water, along with a sheaf of paper an d a quill -- Gomrak's, obviously, made from a long, thin bone rather than a feather -- were handed Saiyah, and she'd sit back down on the floor. "Wondered if you'd consider sticking about." She pursed her lips, found a sudden fascination with the frayed corner of a blanket. "And Cabal could always use another sword."
Saiyah was speechless- well, more then she already was..if that was possible. These words lingered in her ears with a near mind-tingling buzz. Truth was..she did fit in, and rather saw this for herself; perhaps that was why she had continued to lie to herself and procrastinate her leave of the lands- well that and the rather charming vampiric tiefling she'd grown quite fond of, but that was another story all together. The items were taken by Saiyah and set down in her 'lap' except for the skin where shed take a quick sip before dousing the rag once again. It was wringed out and folded to lay on her forehead as she lay back, her hand fumbling for the paper and bone-pen to raise to the sky and write a note. She paused half ways, biting her lip while shifting her quiet green snake eyes to Tenebrae's and paused- as if not sure what to say..or write. She quickly finished up and grinned as the last few characters of text were written and hesitantly handed to the woman. Saiyah shifted her stare to the ceiling where silent thoughts ran rampard about her head as she waited for a reply.
~The note..a bit sloppy due to sleepiness, reads..~ Stick around what though? I mean- I never left like I said I was...I mean, you lot sorta've kept me about, but in all honesty. I don't mind one bit- truthfully, I even had a make-shift shack found for me..well, thanks to Kasyr really. But it seems you wern't the only one that wanted me to stick around, I guess- it was all my 'friends' that did it-*you could tell this was where the pause was* And Cabal- sorry. swords just aren’t my type of thing...but how about a spear? *draws a little :3 face*"
Tenebrae read the note, one eyebrow arcing gently, and chewed the inside of one cheek. After, she'd slide her gaze, a paler, icier green than the naga's own, Saiyah's way. "Spear's as good. So... was that a yes?" The parchment was folded into a paper-plane shape -- badly, so when it was sent to soar across the small hut, it would nosedive into the floor.
Saiyah tiredly grinned, her pearly white's nearly gleaming in the night as her stare, as loud as her unspoken words could announce themself, rested on Tene's. She took the bone and scribbled out one word on her palm before lifting it up for Tenebrae to read; meanwhile though, she thought to herself- one thing was for sure..this woman was 'defiantly' going to have to teach her how to make a plane . ~Saiyah's hand reads..~ Yes.
Tenebrae snickered softly, nodding. "I'll have you put in the ledger." A cursed, orc-faced tome that really wasn't all that fond of Tene. "If it doesn't take my fingers off... Anyhow." Back to the business at hand. "I'm hoping we get out of here today. I'd better check on the ship, if Isen hasn't, pretty soon." She paused for a moment, her next question more a pondering than directly addressed to Saiyah. "I wonder where Gom got to? He's a real worry, wouldn't surprise me if he's gone straight back into the forest."
Saiyah grinned, and if Tene caught it, she'd know exactly what it was for too. Her hand dropped back down to her chest, resting idly while she listened to her new leader explain the current situation to her. As she finished, the naga's hand slowly slid down reaching for the satchel that was near by to dig for a sheet of parchment in which to jot down her thoughts on. It was queer, writing upside down with one hand- how the hell she manages this was quite a fathomable question in its self, but she did it. Saiyah lay there now, quite comfortable and once again feeling the drowsy effects of the pain-kill Eyren had given to her (pixie dust); she was quite tempted to take another dose to numb the pain, but not now, not till boss-lady left first. A quiet nod was given at the last mention of Gom, the orc she'd really not gotten to meet yet- now wether that was for better or worse was totally over her head.
~The note- how amazing she did it..reads..~ Oh good, is there anything you need me to do in aiding the men with repairs at all? Or how about scouting the lands- please tell me we're done with that. Wait- where's your little Avian friend, did she not scout this place out already?
Tenebrae said to Saiyah, "Ary and I were at the summit of the mountain, last time..." Her words were bitten off. She really didn't want to talk about last time. "Anyhow. Past the forest is a bridge -- it's out, but Arysel flew us over." Tene shivered at the memory. "You could walk it, but you need to be fit and..." A raised brow. "About ninety-five pounds to cross it safely. I'm sure there's another way up, that Gom know one but won't tell me. Maybe I'll wring it from him before we go." The vampiress stood, brushed off her skirt. "I suppose I should let you rest, pet. I'm going to the ship a while, I think."
Saiyah blinks almost sentence for sentence. It was hard to keep up with all that she said, seeing as how second by second her eyes grew heavier and heavier, as if little lead weights were hanging from them.' A bridge..and mountains- yes..Gom's mountain being 95- pounds and something else..' It was evident, she was struggling, and as she struggled, so did her mental capacity to keep up- how pitiful. But, she held out and as the vampire finished, the naga offered in return a weak nod before fighting the weight of her arm back up to Tenebrae's face, showing her the |yes| before letting it fall back to her chest. Chest rising and falling, her head cocked to the side and eyes closed; she once again had drifted off into her gentle slumber, but this time..with a smile.
Tene returned to the small fire on the beach, to find the crew gathered there had woken, in her absence, and gone about some business or other. A few bits of tattered rope lay on the sand; she wondered what they’d been for, not the ratman’s bonds, surely, or the footprints she now saw leading to the ship would be more scuffed, in the chase. The vampiress shrugged, took up the shell she'd found beside her when she woke, and searched for a patch of sand left compacted and smooth by the outgoing tide, using the shell to scratch out a message before heading off toward the northern swamps.
---Later---
Isen, in his bored pacing of the beach, happens upon writing in the sand. He crouches to read it, and frowns, glancing worriedly up into the jungle. Returning to the remains of the fire, he announces, "Tenebrae's gone. She went looking for that orc. We should go find her...last time she went out into the jungle, she returned a raving lunatic." He grabs a length of rope, and a waterskin.
Portea glances up and nods slightly, pocketing the strange sphere. "Alright."
Eyren struggles to her feet from her former position upon the sand, nimble fingers absently drawing countless circles in the sand, her gaze drawn out to the turbulent motions of the waves that crested then licked playfully at the shoreline. At Isen's words she is promptly snapped from her trancelike state and brushing sand from the seat of her light-weight cotton pants she hoists her bag upon her shoulders then signs to Sahtya, relaying Isen's message. "Where to?" she asks Isen.
Isen points north, and starts out at a brisk jog, worry creasing his brow. He glances back to make sure that they follow, but does not slow.
Isen has slowed to a walk, and is following Tenebrae's tracks. Sweat pours from him as the jungles thick heat takes its toll, and he is constantly pausing to wipe the perspiration from his eyes.
Portea catches up and starts to walk beside Isen, glancing this way and that.
Eyren apprehension had settled heavily upon Eyren more than a few miles back, and as they tread even further in to the steamy confines of the all-to-familiar jungle she'd once more remember her previous journey here. The leeches, the sucking of the muddied earth beneath her feet, and the nightmarish vegetative hybrid that had made an attempt to add them to the complicated network of jungle deterioration and rejuvenation underfoot. Even the thought of happening upon another of its kin set her stomach in to tight nots, that had her clenching and unclenching her fists at her sides. At one particularly loud and unidentifiable screech from somewhere above her Eyren would jump involuntarily; only comforted by Sahtya's staying hand placed lightly on her arm; a silent affirmation that thus far everything was ok. "How much further?" she asks in a hushed voice that did not exceed the soft passing of a breeze.
In the distance, even through the thick swathe of vines and tropical trees, over the sound of birds and monkeys whooping and screeching, and the clack and shirr of exotic fauna, can be heard the ominous sound of beating drums.
Isen's head rises, his ears catching the drumbeats. "This way," he rasps, and sets off at a run, the branches slicing fresh red lines across his flesh.
Portea blinks a few times as he hears the drums, shaking his head before running off after Isen. "That doesn't sound good." He says as he pulls that strange sphere from his pocket.
Eyren hesitates for only a moment; the distant drumbeats setting her hair on end, and making her skin crawl in a manner that no amount of leeches could ever accomplish. With a shaky breath, she quickly makes to follow after the retreating figures of Isen and Portea.
That clacking sound grew louder. Thankfully, it was not one of the giant beetles that comprised this island's dominant predatory species, but a crab of almost as large a proportion that had wandered up from the deep mangroves, in search of a meal. Not in sight yet, it follows the unwary travellers, its stalk-eyes goggling, strut-legs scurrying, and razor-sharp pincers like great vicious shears clacking, clacking...
Isen's sword is drawn as he runs, the blade held to one side. In the sparse fingers of sunshine that filter through the foliage, the wyrm-patterned metal glimmers darkly. Onward he presses, toward the drums.
Portea just continues to follow after Isen as his mind continually tries to unravel every possible use and power of that strange 'second skin'. He dares not experiment with it for fear of not being able to help should anything happen.
Eyren would continue to plod diligently after Isen, her ears alert to every sound, her eyes acting the part of a frantic bird; unsure of a permanent perch upon which to settle. In her heightened state of awareness she does not miss the incessant clacking noise that has been trailing them for some while now. What could it possibly be? Perhaps it was simply part of the ambience of this mysterious place, perhaps it was her overworked nerves playing at her mind, or maybe it was something equally if not more terrible than the giant bit of vegetation that had almost killed them the previous day.
The big crustacean, as Fate would have it, would prove just the distraction needed by a score of Pygmies, a lookout detail sentried in the trees above. Several miles away, deeper in the jungle, the drums continue their frantic beating as out from the trees drop gnome-sized tribesman, javelins lofted. No blowdarts today-- their orders are to capture sacrifices of clear mind. Behind the group comes the crab, relentless now and determined to make a meal of them all.
Isen bulls directly into the tiny attackers, his sword swinging remorselessly. One, two, three pygmies fall, great gashes exposing their organs. But soon the rest swarm him, the javelins rising and falling, mainly as clubs, though blood spurts from a few places. Yipping up a storm, the pygmies are gone with their comatose captive, the whole encounter taking no more than half a minute.
Portea stares wide-eyed for a few moments as he just barely witnesses the capture of Isen, though is too late to interfere. He does, however, now notice the crab creeping up behind them, and draws his cutlass. The psion's anger already built up due to the capture of his comrade, he takes a series of furious slices at the crab, hoping to hack of its claws, if nothing else.
Drums- faintly off in the distance could heard. Saiyah, but of course heard them, and instantly had second thoughts about venturing back into the deep jungle, not at all having liked their last expedition. Still, Tenebrae and friends were still out there, somewhere looking for the orc, and for this, the naga could not flip a U and go back. Instead, she quickly took to grabbing at some of the gigantic leaves about as well as some of the millions of veins that crept upwards like a drowning man clawing upwards in a sea of water for air. Within a few moments, the half serpent- half woman had tied about several of the leaves to the top of her head and back, much like an undercover stealth ops unit hiding from the enemy would. Now cloaked in her simple disguise, Saiyah held the spear javelin tight and shot a weary glance to the tree top above- she could only hope their attention wasn't too focused on the ground for leaves, but other living things instead. The beat grew louder- the drums filling her ears and now, the scream of pygmies were about as Isen hacked them away. She halted to a slow slither, dropped low to the ground as her mask skimmed the ground like a normal snake would have. Slowly she continued to pursue whatever it was that had set the small- gnome sized tribes men into a flurry of screams, or whatever the hell it was; all the while not knowing it was her crew the whole time, and even more...the giant crab that she would eventually happen upon from behind as it stalked them.
Eyren stops short as the sound of the beating drums seemed to have escalated, and it is shortly after that a heard of gnome-sized creatures seemed to materialize from the thickly thatched green canopy of the jungle. Ugly little creatures; sharing both human and ape-like characteristics in their faces; wielding javelins and none to friendly expressions. Hearing that the strange clacking sound had also escalated in volume, Eyren spins on her heels to find herself staring at what appeared to be a monstrous cousin to the common-day crab. Screaming was not an option at this point, she was shocked that was to be sure, but it seemed pointless, hopeless even, there was danger in front and behind her. Beside her Sahtya had taken to trembling violently and was attempting to sign a question to Eyren 'What is that?' she asked, her hands fumbling to correctly express her query. Eyren can only shake her head in dismay, her fingers itching, her eyes narrowing as she looked the oversized crustacean. Her back turned, she’d only hear the hair raising screeches of the strange javelin wielding creatures, and turn too late as she watched them set to the task of bearing off what she’d assume was Isen’s unconscious form. Her first instinct was to promptly give chase, yet her sense would stay her tingling feet. There was no sense in taking on an entire tribe of well armed creatures, when her mages magics were so limited and worst than that not long lasting. With a frustrated sigh she whirls once more to address the still-present problem of the giant crab, snapping claws flashing menacingly in the waning light that somehow managed to pierce through the thick veil of green. Nudging Sahtya gently she signs furiously to her ~Set to the druids spell of binding, call the vines to you.~ With that done Eyren also sets to aiding Sahtya in this spell, her eyes scanning the tall sturdy stalks of the various unidentifiable flora that grew in abundance around them. With a clearing of throat and a shake of head the fledgling druid would set to the task of reaching her mind in to the mucky depths of the forest floor, reading each plant one by one; that is the ones nearest her location, and the ones that would be the most useful. With a slight trembling she sets to pacing a wide circle about the crab, Sahtya following suit; a light film of orang following after Eyren, while a film of chrome green followed after Sahtya. With in a minute or more of frantic gestures and silent whisperings to the elements of the earth there comes forth a soft tremor, and with a rustling that sounded like the rushing of water various leaves begin to tremble; various plants leant forth on their stalks, hungry leaves and vines alike hungrily reaching to grasp at the crab; to at least immobilize his flailing claws that the rest of the crew might have a chance of getting closer; making the task of running sword through shell a bit easier.
Bound with magics drawn from the earth and aethyr by Eyren's skill as a mage, and with its claws hacked, unable now to snap about the waist of any hapless victim to snip them neatly in two, the crab is vulnerable to the psion's blade. First one, then the second of the great foreclaws falls with a thud to the humus below, a scurry of ants and less savoury minutiae soon to swarm for a tasty seafood meal. Isen, meanwhile, is bundled cocoonlike in vines and drawn through the canopy like a child in a nursery-rhyme swinging from the trees in a cradle of rope, across the deep gorge to the east, beyond which lay the mysterious citadel the Pygmies had come to call home. But that was miles away yet, and the drums beat on, faster now, louder, perhaps a signal of some impending.. festivity? And where was Tenebrae? The tiny hole in her gempouch had served her well, if accidentally, it seemed. For now and then, a sparkling diamond would glisten, perhaps to be mistaken for a sun-touched raindrop. Perhaps not.
Portea wipes away any remnants of crab flesh from his cutlass on a nearby leaf, glancing over at Eyren. "This isn't good... We need to stick together and..." His somber gaze is diverted from the woman by a slight glimmer reflecting off of something on the ground. A closer look revealing the fallen diamond, so that was how Isen was tracking her. "Quickly, let's go." He says softly, yet with some strange added property that can only be described as urgency. Instead of bounding off into the jungle, the psion waits for the others to join him before pressing on.
As she slithered in and out of the thickly sparsed trees of the jungle, Saiyah had but only to glance about quite franticly. Screams, drums, heavy thuds and swords clashing- there was a bloody war up ahead! She figured stealth would aid her no more in this silent pursuit and lifted her body up to quicken the pace. Within roughly 2 minutes, the naga hesitantly paused as she held the javelin up high in one hand, the other arm still sore as could be from the medic working her magic last night. From her view, all she could see from behind the mask was a cacoon-like man dangling about, the claw-less body of a giant crab, and two circling it- her crew! Saiyah hurried forward, doing the best she could to get their attention with waving her hand and smacking the spear against tree trunks, and even opening her mouth from behind the mask to -try- to scream. All this worked well, except for her trying to scream..that was just pointless. In her mind she could only think one thing- and that was for them to be quick to recognizing her, and not take the naga for a jungle-woman pygmy hybrid...and attack that as well!
Eyren turns at the soft thuds that announced the felling of the beast. With a film of sweat coating her face, Eyren, slightly breathless, gently eases up on the spell that the plants might once more return to their former positions, moderately undisturbed. Turning she opens her mouth to speak, yet catches the line of Portea's gaze; spotting the lone teardrop that stood out in stark contrast to the surrounding earth. She wondered at it being there, yet she can tell that it apparently holds some significance in regards to the finding of Tenebrae; as evidenced by the quick movements made by Portea. ;Well done.; Eyren signs to Sahtya who had appeared to stand at her side once more. Pointing to Portea Eyren moves to fall in behind him, waiting.
Portea almost immediately picks up on the urgent thought from Saiyah and glances her way. "Well come on, then!" He says softly, once more adding that enigma quality to his voice to allow it to carry to hear ears. His left hand grips tighter at the strange sphere while his right keeps a firm grasp on his cutlass, just in case. "Let's just hope we don't run into too much more trouble." He comments quietly, half to himself.
Saiyah didn't even have a chance to catch her breath before the psion was already pushing her to keep moving, and moving to what at that? Still, she didn't argue but kept a close speed to his, glancing about at the two healers, the psion, and even the lycan she now noticed hanging in the tree- but no boss-lady.
Portea flashes the naga a reassuring smile before he gives a short explanation. "We're trying to find Tenebrae, and remember: If you think 'loud' enough... I should be able to pick up on it." In that short moment of explanation, he fails to notice the healing duo venture off down a different path, falling out of sight. He looks over, still setting a rigorous pace, but one that the naga can keep up with. "Uh oh... This is bad.." He mutters to himself, finally noticing the disappearance of the two, yet he presses on, following the trail of gems towards the east.
Saiyah hadn't noticed the two women gone till it was too late- pretty much the same time that Portea noticed as well. There was a split decision now; stop and find the healers, or find Tenebrae? She shook her head, no this couldn't work, they 'both' had to be found, but there was no way to choose. 'Wait-' she thought, though absent in making it loud enough for the psion to hear, wether he could or not. Quickly she slithered up to him and lifted a finger to her forehead and tapped it. She closed her eyes and practically screamed the though in her head, not sure how loud was, and even more, what Portea could and couldn't pick up on. She stared at him curiously, wondering if at all he could hear her.
Portea clenches his eyes shut and winces at the screamed thought. "My thought...exactly.." He manages to get out, her thought still echoing in his mind for a few more moments. "Okay..not quite -that- loud.. Just a bit more forceful than normal should suffice.. Thank you for making sure, though." He says softly, truly appreciating the effort, before pointing down to the gem trail. "Ready to follow the trail again?" He inquires quietly, unaware of the few lurking pygmies creeping up to them, three, maybe four: armed with the same type of spears as the ones that got Isen.
Saiyah gives a slight blush and a quick nod, pointing the javelin north for him to lead the way while she quickly began to distance herself from him just off to the side a ways. She hated to stalk in a forest while in a group..such easy targets that way.
Portea nods in return and starts off towards the north, still not realizing that the small band of pygmies is following them at a moderate distance. He keeps his cutlass out and at the ready, just as he keeps a firm grip on the strange sphere from the night before, hoping it would come in handy should he need it.
She dipped, she weaved, she even slithered! The naga-hunter quickly slithered about the dense jungle, her eyes shifting back and forth between the sparkling gems that trailed in the dirt. She paused to give Portea a glance, making sure he was behind her, and even more took a second longer to eye the moving bushes behind them. This thought was quickly shoved way, the woman thinking it just to be them having shoved the brush about and it to still be moving. She thrust the javelin out before her and pointed out the clearing ahead where the trees broke to a bit of clear land. She winced as she yelled the silent stream of thoughts, thinking this to be rather queer.
--Deep Gorge--
Not far ahead, the jungle breaks to stone outcropping, only a little overgrown. Once, this island was cracked almost in two by some great cosmic force, and before the travellers lies a vastly deep scar, running east-to-west through this part of the jungle and beyond. The gorge is not, however, all that wide -- able to be leapt by those of prodigious strength of size. Those who do not possess these qualities are left to ponder the means to cross. Jungle vines provide the pygmies with the opportunity to swing over the gap, but they are small people, and the vines are individually not very thick. The drums are very loud now, and from the foliage on the opposite side peer many sets of what are likely eyes, shining out of the gloom.
Portea casts a sidelong glance at Saiyah and shrugs slightly. "I'm not sure... Let's go get a closer look." He replies softly, not liking how the drums continue to grow louder. He makes his way closer and finds himself standing right on the edge of the gorge. As he ponders about how to cross the massive crack in the ground, the group of four pygmies jump out of hiding and attempt to attack the naga and the psion.
-- Ruined Ancient Temple--
Tenebrae had been startled when the door of her prison, a flap of some spotted jungle-cat skin, had opened, and a was prisoner thrust into the room. Central within an ancient and ornately-carved temple citadel, its proportions suggested it was built by a much larger and long-gone race, and not the savage, tiny pygmies who currently inhabited the place. This was their 'base camp', fiercely protected and dedicated to their gods, and also former Chieftains-- the last of which had been eaten... by Tenebrae. Carried by five of the little swart men, Isen was groggy, bound and bleeding, and they threw him in a heap to the floor. The vampiress herself was resplendent, dressed in a short feathered gown made of pinions of the exotic birds, and a crown of the same, and would, when Isen woke, seem remarkably well-cared for. Still, she was bound, too, and the drums were deafening outside.
Isen lets out a groan as he hits the hard floor. His vision consists of a fog, which seems to be slowly dissipating. As it clears fully, he tries to move, a pang of fear shaking him when he realizes that he is bound. His eyes turn up to see Tenebrae, not recognizing her at first because of her strange dress. "Help..." he croaks, his rasping voice even worse than normal, the word obviously not one much used by the proud lycan.
Tenebrae would have been happy to able to help.. especially because that meant her arms, bound tightly behind her back, and ankles were free. But they weren't. So, once she got over the shock of seeing her First Mate so unceremoniously dumped on the stone below, she'd merely sigh. "Isen... I was looking for Gom. I fear they've got him, too." She struggled once more, as she had done for many hours now, against the bonds that were not simple vines but some much stronger, black sort of cording she did not recognise. "I can't get out of this. And really, that might be unfortunate, because I'm pretty sure that lot out there are there sharpening knives." Her next question was pointed. "Was there anyone with you?"
Isen feels the panic beginning to rise, the cords binding him cutting into his flesh as he struggles. "Portea, Eyren, and Saiyah," he grunts, his eyes widening, a feral look in them. His legs fold up, and he brings his bowed arms down, trying to slip his feet through his arms, to bring the arms in front of him, but to no avail.
Tenebrae shook her head, sending the plumes of her head-dress quivering. "Let's hope they can get us out of here..." She watched Isen's efforts, her eyes widening. "Isen! Your feet..." She couldn't make out if they were bound or not from where she sat. "If you could shift." It was a wild stab at freedom. Probably would come to nothing. "You could walk over here.. rip through this stuff with your teeth."
Isen 's teeth bare, the idea the Tene had had already not far from becoming a reality. The panic of being bound and hurt in a hostile place had pushed Isen to the verge already. Tenebrae's suggestion sends a sense of urgency that pushes him over the edge. A snarl is heard as his face elongates, his whole bone structure expanding to stop in a half-man, half-wolf beast form, his body covered by grey fur. Lean muscles strain, and snap the bonds, though blood flows freely into the fur. He bounds to Tenebrae's side and begins to chew.
Tenebrae winced; the lycan, in bestial form was none too gentle about gnawing through those tough black ropes. He'd luckily not take any chunks out of her and when her arms broke free, they were no longer tied at that awkward angle which robbed her muscles of usefulness, she shook them hard to lose the numbness, not quite succeeding. Isen was given an obviously tentative rustle of fur atop his vulpine skull; she knew lycans were not entirely -themselves- when shifted. Not all of them, anyhow. "Thanks, Mate." She slunk on silent, bare feet across the stone door, limbs still tingling painfully to listen at the door-flap. Through a crack in the spotted fabric, she could see the space outside heavily guarded - had to be a hundred of the little freaks lining a corridor every bit as richly carven as the room they were in. "No point in bursting out." She turned her eyes to Isen, their expression, for once, indicating that she was lost for ideas.
Isen pads along beside her, squatting down beside the door. His expression seems to convey that he, at least, thought that bursting free would be a plausible option. After a long moment of hard concentration, he manages to say, in something approaching a human tongue, "I'll...kill them. All. You run."
Tenebrae shook her head. "They're armed to the filed-down teeth, Isen, spears and whatnot. Too many. Best we settle in, wait til they take us out to a clearer space or.. the others arrive." If they had not been murdered on the way. She sat down on the carven flat head of some animal-god or other, and looked about the room. There were several massive designs in base-reliefs around the walls, studded with gems. Too, there were many baskets, woven from jungle-fronds. "And we might get some rich pickens for our pockets, meantime."
Isen growls, but accepts Tenebrae’s decision, and paces about the room, his rage slowly calming, the fur receding. His strides take him back to a particular idol, again and again, something about its solitary stone eye drawing him. By the time his wolf form is fully gone, he has resorted to standing in front of it, staring.
Tenebrae found herself wondering what it might have been like had Leo had time to learn to shift with ease before… this was not the time and place for such thoughts, and she pushed them from her mind while she paced quietly about the room, one eye on the door-flap. The gems studding the walls were raw, but doubtless worth a fortune. No knife handy with which to pick them out, she's reach for a loose stone she could use to smash a couple free. The pygmies'd not hear her over those drums, when the beats crescendoed, probably. One, two blows, and there were ruby shards and emerald bits still large enough to make decent, if smaller, jewels from. Then she took to opening the baskets...
Tenebrae said to Isen, "Oh, gods, Mate. It's a trove. Small fortune in here. Gold, gems. Where in hell did they get 'em all?"
Isen finally musters up the courage to raise his hands to the eye, brushing fingertips lightly across the iris, which seemed to be a separate piece altogether. As soon as he touches it, his heart skips a beat. Hastily, he grasps for it, tugging it from its holdings, and cradling it to his chest. His eyes run over it, and he crouches to study it more intently. Tene's words reach him, and he replies, absently. "Kidnapping travellers, I'd presume..." He trails off, again staring at his prize.
Tenebrae thought the designs on some of the jewellery odd. She'd muse over it later, once she found a place to put them all; the tiny feathered dress she wore was hardly practical gear, and had no pockets at all. Hunting about, she came upon a wad of deep blue cloth sat atop one of the idols, perhaps enough to tie into a decent bundle. She grabbed it up, and out dropped a stone, a mottled blue-grey and hand-length. It didn't shatter, but merely bounced a few times, clattering across the floor. Tene frowned at the thing.. it was oddly like the stone from Gomrak's hut, that Arysel had taken with her earlier. Which only prompted her to ignore it-- if not an ordinary rock, she didn't want to risk another burn. The cloth was tied to a rough knapsack, and into it went as many gems and coins as she should fit, and hope to carry through a potential battle-zone. "There, Isen..." She'd turn to him, then, and find the lycan strangely preoccupied with... something.
Isen turns to face his clan leader, hastily stuffing the disc into a battered pocket, the stone stretching the leather even further, and dragging heavily on his belt. He sees the rock on the ground, and steps toward it, his mind still preoccupied by the weight in his pocket. Reaching the stone, he stretches out an arm toward it. As his hand touches the shard, he lets out a startled, pained yelp, snatching his hand away to rest soothingly in his stone-filled pocket. He looks back at Tenebrae, shocked.
Tenebrae jumped at the yelp, a few coins spilling from the knapsack. "Wha..." Her eyes flitted from the lycan to the stone and back, her head tilting a little. "... that's what happened to me, with the other one."
Isen backs far away from the stone, confused and a little bit frightened. His sore hand rubs on the disc, as if the newly found item held healing properties. He shakes his head briskly, and says, "Then we leave it. I don't want to touch it again."
Tenebrae was only too happy to leave the thing where it lay. Pacing nervously, the weaponless vampire looked now and then to the door. "We have to think of a way to distract that bunch out there..."
Isen gives a half-hearted nod. "Maybe the others...when they come, will distract them. Or maybe, I can do something. I can cast spells, though the things might hear me singing the galdra..."
Tenebrae shivered lightly, sending brilliant, exotic feathers atremble on her gown. "And with all these idols about.." She frowned. "Dun trust magic I don't know."
Isen nods, returning to his pacing. The disc is absent-mindedly removed from his pocket, and held against his chest, across the large scar that twists there. The disc is surprisingly cool, and it seems to have a calming effect on the lycan.
Tenebrae pursed her lips and stared at Isen. "Whatcha got there?"
Isen stops, and stares for a long moment at Tenebrae, pondering whether or not to trust her. Apparently deciding to do so, he approaches, displaying the disc, though with a white-knuckled hold on it. "I found it..."
Saiyah had quickly hurried across the make-shift bridge, not liking the way it creaked and cracked under her weight, and followed after Eyren deeper into the other side of trees. Isen nods, his face saying that there was no other choice in the matter of who keeps it. This would never leave him. He starts idly poking through baskets, his appetite for gems and coins dimmed, but still there.
Tenebrae continued her wanderings among the idols, rifling this basket and that for anything of worth. Some old armour was found in one, this she'd don. Gods alone knew where they'd put her precious pack... The natives seemed restless, out there, she noted, with a frown until it occurred to her that their stirring might herald a rescue. You said to Isen, "Hear that?"
Isen finishes dropping a goodly number of coins into his pockets, the disc still clasped in one hand. "Something's got them riled up..."
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Post by Joliette Thorne on May 15, 2008 0:37:46 GMT -5
Tenebrae paced the inner Temple, chewing the inside of one cheek. Her ridiculous garb wasn't improving her temper any -- a showgirl-style feathery get-up with battered armour on top just -wasn't- her style, nor did it offer much protection from the hypnotic venom of pygmy blowdarts, nor those bamboo spears they seemed to be favouring in the temple grounds. "Whatever's annoyed them, I hope it finds a way to get us out of here, Isen. I don't want to be a snack for some jungle-god, or whatever they are planning." The knapsack full of gems she carried was growing heavy. "At the least, we should keep an eye out on the grounds outside. If the guard leaves to tend to the ruckus, we can make a dash." She peered out a crack at the side of the hide flap that did for a door, cautiously. "Nope, all still there. Maybe more." Tene shot her First Mate a look of sheer chagrin.
Isen is seated on a stone ledge, having dislodged the various idols and small baskets that once rested there. In his hands he holds the disc, running his fingers across the inscription, over and over again. He'd tested pushing several different points on it, tried staring at it, tried nearly everything, but it still remained ordinary, or so it seemed. He sighs, and looks up to Tenebrae. "If it comes to it, there are worse ways to die." A free hand absently rises to touch the scar on his chest.
Portea tries to skirt around the very same ruckus that Tenebrae has noticed, his 'second skin' working to blend in with his surroundings. Ever silent in his approach, he can't stop a select few pygmies from noticing him as he comes to close to them. The psion runs them through with his ectoplasm coated blade before they get the change to raise any alarms or bring attention his way. This process continues nearly the entire time as he tries to sneak his way up to the temple and find his comrades.
Quinton sits growing impatient as his makeshift lifeboat makes its way towards the island under the cover of night. He lights a small fire in his lamp as he begins to look at the missing persons report that was filled a short awhile ago. He looks at the island as it matches the descriptions on the paper. The young vampire looks onward for a bit as he senses nothing here as the boat pulls up into the beach. He sighs as he sees footprints that were made on the beach. He prepares himself as he places some throwing knives into his knife hold. He runs swiftly with much determination as he follows the prints into the jungle.
Ghazghul stealthily stole through the jungle like some great cat, his viridian skin and dull-brown leather armour making it hard for any to espy him. His movements were quieted only by his natural skill as a hunter; himself having been raised as such. Despite the darkness therein the jungle, his blood-red orbs granted him near perfect night vision, and it was that special quality which allowed him to notice movement in the brush ahead of him; perhaps, yes, that might have been Quinton.
Tenebrae scowled, her reply to Isen curt. "I don't plan on dying. But if Fate works that way, I'll take a hundred of the buggers out wi' me." In any other situation, she might have looked slightly comical in that head-dress, the feathers wagging and swaying with every motion of her head. Her expression was far from it, though. "Why of all bloody islands to get washed up on, why this one?" The aforementioned Fate was given a few soft curses, that cosmic entity never having been a friend of Tene's. And great Irony, the master of it-- that she should return so accidentally to the place she'd come to die, only... to die. That'd be right. She huffed a little. "I wonder where the others are... Isen, if we get out of this, whole, we're jolly well coming back to with a deckload of hands one day, to decimate this lot, y'hear?"
Isen lets out a hoarse laugh, finding his clan leaders words -and- appearance quite comical, a much needed relief at the moment. "When we get out of this, Tenebrae, I'll eat naught but pygmy pie for months." Again his hands run over the disc, and he finds himself wishing for a window, even a small one, through which he could see their surroundings.
Portea smiles as he hears the soft gurgling sound coming from the pygmies with their throats slit. The very same pygmies, as luck would have it, that happened to be guarding the hide flap of a door through which Tenebrae and Isen lie waiting. The psychoactive skin still doing its job of keeping him camouflaged with his surroundings, he slips into the room, only slightly disturbing the flap of animal hide. "Ah, familiar faces at least...though I don't even want to know why you're wearing that...thing." He says softly, not quite remembering how he happens to be hidden from view.
Quinton moves swiftly through the forest as he searches for the owners of the footprints. His keen vampiric senses hear something from a distance as he continues to travel the jungle in a quicken pace. He readies a throwing knife in his right hand as he tries to tell where it is and determine what it was that he senses was friend or foe. The young vampiric continues to move as he looks southwest at his direction, "Come out now!!" He throws the readied piece of steel into the jungle vines and bushes hoping to hit something. He growls as he continues onward across the island moving even faster to make up for lost of time that he foolishly wasted worrying about the distraction. The vampire continues to move until he notices a strange and discreated body that was on the jungle floor. He stops momentarily and examines the body with his eyes with a lot questions flowing in his mind but all he can say was, "What in the gods that did this?" with a look of disgust that made him want to puke.
Tenebrae said to Isen, "Trust me, they don't taste very..." But her words were cut short as, from outside the flap, behind which she was standing, wafted the scent of blood and the sound of something dying quietly. Two hasty strides taken in reverse, she instinctively reached for a sword that wasn't there, ready to face whatever danger next presented itself. She was not expecting the oddly-clad psion. Her features were a mask of incredulity. "Portea...how?" How in hell he'd bypassed the dozens of vigilant and armed pygmies that'd kept she and Isen from escaping prior, how he'd managed to murder a number without alerting their fellow, she had no clue. But however he'd done it, she was mighty glad he had. Tene frowned. Even if he'd been able to get in, surely the rest might notice, sooner or later, that several of their number were dead. "Oh sh... listen, in a moment, those pygmies out there are gonna..."
Eyren could not believe that she had successfully traversed the yawning golf of the gorge, but Sahtya's spell had seen her safely to the other side. Turning, she'd look to see if Saiyah had followed her, yet to her dismay she sees nothing. Separated, she'd been separated once more from the group. With a sharp pop at her temple, Eyren can feel the effects of the spell wearing off and quickly she turns from the gorge, her hands shaking as she looks about at the miles upon miles of jungle left to search. Hopeless, it all seemed so hopeless. Yet, her ears would perk at the distant screeches, that were familiar, the sound of pygmies. With a quick wiping of hands upon mud caked leggings Eyren would motion for Sahtya to follow her to the south east where the sound seemed to be emanating from. She had gone about half a mile when she saw it in the distance, a temple of sorts, the ground about littered with telltale signs of a struggle of some sort. The splayed bodies of fallen pygmies and abandoned spears suggested that perhaps Tenebrae and Isen had been taken here? And by that token, not gone peacefully? With a deep breath and a quick turning to Sahtya she signs, 'We need a spell of stealth. Return us to our vaporous state.' With a nod Sahtya motions to the air then slowly begins to circle about Eyren till with a soft streaming of opalescent light the spell was cast. Both Eyren and Sahtya were now of the consistency of wisps of mist. Quickly they moved forward, careful to stay within the shadows; and it is upon silent, almost spectral feet that the two enter the temple, eyes sweeping the room. The room was littered with various statues that held no real significance to Eyren. Then pausing her eye spies something. No it wasn't anything special, not at first glance. It was a stone, that for some reason seemed out of place, yet Eyren could not explain what force was drawing her eyes to it. There was a pull to move closer; something that drew her to her knees, her fingers, still in their vaporous state stretching forth to brush lightly over its smooth oblong surface. What did it mean?
Quinton continues to look at the disfigured body as he hears rumbling thorough the vines. The vampire readies the blade, Shattered Dream, in his hand as he hears in the rambling and grunting of creatures that jump out of the jungle behind him. He turns his head quickly and slashes the creatures with a few well-placed slash marks across their stomachs. He feels the warmth splash of blood across his face as he looks at the creatures. He looks at them with disgust in his eyes, "What deprived being came up with these things." He wipes his faces swiftly as he feels the warm blood gets splashed onto the jungle floor. He picks up the pace and begin to run around as fast as he could. He continues to run until he sees a strange temple that housed an ungodly number of them.
Portea finally realizes why he's receiving the strange looks from Tenebrae and mentally smacks himself. "Oh, right.." He mutters to himself before allowing the filmy ectoplasmic substance to withdraw back into its spherical form, held in his left hand while his cutlass remains in his right. "Now then... Have you a plan on how to get out of here?" He inquires softly, not wanting to alert the pygmies any sooner then necessary. Although the psion appears ready to press on and get out of there, he is still visibly exhausted from using so much energy, not only to keep the 'second skin' concealing him, but also from using it to maintain an unprecedented level of stealth.
Tenebrae shook her head, "No plan." She held up her hands, turning them to face him. "No weapon." She hadn't missed his comment about her garb. Nor Isen's earlier. She would have time later, to be annoyed about that, but it gave her tone an extra grit, "Maybe I could grab a spear or two, but there's so many of 'em." A little shiver ran down her spine-- it felt to her as though something had passed through.. or around her.. and indefinable but definite.. presence. What strange magics did this place possess? Was it haunted? Ice green eyes cast about for clues, but came up with nothing. Turning her attention to the immediate moment, she looked to Isen. "We are three now. And that... outfit of Portea's seems to give him an edge. Wish I bloody had a sword, something." She'd not fed recently, either.. no shadows handy to call on.
Isen , too, is startled by Portea's appearance, but his attention is mainly focused on the window he had hoped for...it had appeared. Or rather, something like a window had appeared. A small opening, about two feet by two feet, expanding out from the cracks. If anyone had been watching, the stone would seem to melt away, or compact itself in. Isen stares at it, open-mouthed. What if it were larger? It is. A new power courses through him, an altogether pleasant one, though with a strange feeling of loss undercutting it. That is ignored, for now, as Isen expands the gap to a good four foot square. He turns to Tenebrae, excited.
Eyren quickly draws back her hand suddenly, her ears alert to the sound of voices; voices that rang of familiarity and with quick lithe movements Eyren regains her feet once more and turns to look for the source of the sound. She has not long to look before she spies first Tenebrae, dressed in oddly savage, yet beautiful garb; the feathers of peacocks seeming to make up the headdress that sat atop her head; the colors seeming to be even more enriched by the dark tint of her hair, seeming to act as background. Eyren shook herself then, this was no time to be thinking in that all-too-familiar pattern of her past. She had left that bit of herself behind long ago, colors, they meant nothing to her anymore, they were simply that, colors. She then spots Isen, and then Portea, yet no sign of the naga woman. With an absent brushing of hand, Eyren reclaims her solid form once more, flinching ever so slightly as the presence of bones resettling themselves in to their proper place with in her. Her foot would lift to carry her over to them, yet there seemed to be an odd shifting of the spheres and she'd turn to gaze upon the mysterious stone once more; it seeming to pulse with an energy that sang neither of druidic nor mage elements. Touch. She wanted to touch it once more, her fingers seemed to scream for her to do so and stooping, Eyren lifts the stone in to hands still cool and damp; remnants of the traces of the recently performed spell. "What are you?" she murmurs quietly to the stone, her thumb tracing restless circles upon its surface. Then turning she'd walk slowly towards the group; one free hand absently brushing the length of Isen's arm in passing, and a faint smile given to Tenebrae. "Not hurt I see." she murmurs, her eyes quickly returning to stare fixedly at the stone cupped in the palm of her right hand.
Portea holds his cutlass out to Tenebrae and smiles slightly. "Take mine, it's not like I actually need the thing, after all." He says softly before turning to gaze upon what had so captivated the lycan. "Well isn't that convenient.." He mutters quietly, taking a few deep breaths while he can, working his strength back up so that he may be of some aid in the coming escape.
Quinton gazes the temple idly, hoping to launch a plan. Quinton smiles lightly, as he begins to chant lightly and swiftly nine shadow copies emerge from the shadows. He eyes each of them as a general giving soldiers an order. He closes his fist and the shadow copies move swiftly away from him exploring the outskirts of the temple as one of the copies prepares his bow and prepares his arrows to take out the two guards on the front gate. The copy fires two arrows at the guards, one went into the head of one of the creatures as another hit the second one in the lower calf. The shadow copy jumps down from the tree as Quinton begins to swiftly move from tree branch as he notices the one of the copies find where the prisoners were held in the southwest corner of the temple he smiles as he begins to chant as a shadow gate begins to open on both sides of the wall hoping for the prisoners. If not he causes the shadow copies to disappear back into the shadows as he readies the sword, Shattered Dreams, with a quick notion to strike.
Several things went through Tenebrae's mind, in the moment unfolding after she last spoke. Firstly passed a kind of nullity, denial, a total lack of belief as the stone seemed to melt open in front of Isen. Then she wondered -- was it caused by whatever had been the chill feeling that'd passed through her a moment ago -- a friendly stone-warping poltergeist of some sort? Eyren's sudden appearance, and that of her servant, caused another second of vapid gaping. "Eyr..." She watched the woman make a bee-line for the stone she'd left lie on the floor. What in the name of Sven's omnipotent underpants was it, with the stones today? It must have been her shock, this momentary digression from the dire situation they were in. Abruptly, she broke her gaze from the re-coalesced medic, and looked to Portea. The cutlass was comfortingly normal. "Thanks, pet." She felt much better with a bit of cold steel in her hand. A quick look was cast to the door-- seemed the ruckus was getting louder. Something or other was going on out there, and now there was screaming and cries of rage and pain, and the doorflap opened, and in burst a brace of little men, one with an arrow piercing his upper arm. She waved her cutlass, driving the shocked pygmies, who'd expected to find only two bound captives, back. "Everyone, get out!" Like they needed to be told.
Isen hops out the exit, wincing as he smacks his head on the top on the hole. He stands beside it, offering a hand to the others, the other hand clasped, of course, on the disc. He has a plan, and his blood pounds in anticipation, and he prays that he'll be able to execute said plan, with the aid of his newfound weapon.
Eyren does not need to be told twice to make haste for the only available exit, and clasping the stone close to her bosom she slips nimbly through the gap rent in to the stone wall, landing with a soft thud upon the boggy earth below
Quinton enters through the portal as he looks sees plenty of pygmy creatures. Quinton smiles with a look of bloodlust, and begins slashing at them like a wild man as he kicks one of them through a door that unexpectedly interrupts other's path.
Portea doesn't need any more reason than that to make for the opening in the wall. Simultaneously willing the psychoactive skin to envelope him once more as he runs and leaps for the window of sorts. Already the psion is forming razor sharp claws out of the ectoplasmic 'second skin' of his with the intent of taking out any who oppose him or his comrades.
Tenebrae was the last out... almost. With a wild glance to the hole through which the others vanished, she'd call, "My pack!" There was no way in hell she was leaving without it. So Isen would have time to formulate his plan, while she chopped her way through to a small room off the temple, where her great-sword, pack and several ... other... items lay. The retrieval wasn't without cost, a bamboo javelin needed removing from her thigh, and left her dragging her leg a bit as she fought - quite a bit more successfully with the long-reaching blade she'd rescued - back to their prison, and struggled to get herself, pack and knapsack full of loot out before the horde bolted in. Which they were doing, about now.
Isen reaches in to haul Tenebrae the rest of the way out, shouting hoarsely for Eyren to fix her leg. That hole needed to be closed, and fast. The stone seems to unfurl, the gap filling quickly, though not as quickly as it had opened. Again, Isen feels the power, and the hidden loss, and this time his head swims, his vision blurring for a moment as he fights sleep. With tremendous force of will, he straightens, and rasps, "We have to go...now."
Eyren gives a cursory glance to Tenebrae's leg, shrugging her shoulders. There wasn't enough time as of now to patch up the leg, and she judged it not to be severe enough to further delay the groups departure from this strange and savage place. She made a mental note to have a look at it when they were far, far from here.
Portea casts a sidelong glance to the others before lashing out at a charging pygmy, taking off its head with one swipe of his ectoplasmic claws. "Let's go!" He calls back to them, focusing concentrated mind blast after blast at any of the pygmies daft enough to attack. He'll have time to be inventive with his powers later, but right then he needed results, and those actions get just that.
Quinton focuses his mind as he hears the screams of many dying pygmies. He runs frantically towards the sounds of the screams. He continues to run until he see a crowd of people fighting the pygmies. He begins to chant as three shadow orbs begin to form around him. He fires the orbs past the crowd and hits the pygmies. He smiles as he rushes past them slashed a good number of them to help them on their way. He breathes heavily as he covers his face with his cloak.
Tenebrae groaned softly-- already the vile jungle fauna, drawn to all the blood, was slithering and clacking and crawling into the ruined temple grounds. Her leg was killing her. Not literally, but it bloody hurt. "Yes, Portea, let's..." As bits of Pygmy flecked her face and hair, she tugged Isen along, by a sleeve. Not like, held onto him for support, or anything, but so he'd not... get lost.
Isen spares a confused glance toward Quinton, but decides that running is a better option, at the moment. He grabs Tenebrae, too, for moral support, and takes off at a run, not wanting to end up a lunatic from the darts, or worse, dead.
Portea bolts after them, not bothering to stop for anything. Eyren makes like the wind, or rather the lack there of and takes off charging through the foliage like a woman out of hell; tripping over unseen roots every so often as she ran in the southern direction, where she was almost certain the beach, that oh so blessedly familiar beach was.
--Mangrove Beach--
Quinton emerges from the shadows as he looks at everyone, "I'm glad everyone is safe."
Tenebrae flopped on the sand, a well of her much-thinned blood seeping to the grit below, ribs heaving more for pain than unnecessary breath. "Speak for yourself, stranger." She eyed Quinton. "But thanks for the help back there."
Quinton smiles as he places his hands on Tenebrae and begins to chant as her wounds begin to heal from her body as his body begins to feel weak from pain, "No problem, my name is Quinton Darkarrow. If you need my assistance, just look to the shadows."
Tenebrae gave the man a gracious nod. "I'll do that." She shot a look to Isen, Eyren and Portea then. They seemed to be missing one..."Uh. Anyone seen Saiyah?"
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Post by Joliette Thorne on May 15, 2008 19:25:58 GMT -5
--Meanwhile, Back At The Jungle--
Saiyah...was sitting on the main altar of the pygmies’ base camp, lazily sprawled out whilst donning her brand new crown created of what looked like a mixture of exotic feathers, bones, and a healthy amount of jewels lining the brim. Off to her side were two of the gnome-sized tribesmen, now grasping that of two palmtree branches while slowly fanning the Goddess-like image of the naga. To Saiyah's great amusement, serpent green eyes playfully danced about, watching the masses of pygmies keeping a constant chant and a rhythmic bowing going on before her. Off in the corner, the drum-specialist continued to drum out a soft, hypnotic trance like symphony while the dancers twirled and hopped about. She tore her eyes away to wave a hand to one of the servants bringing her a platter of fruit and took to picking through the offerings of gold, gems and what looked to be human skulls- hopefully not any of her crews. Eventually she paused, her eyes going wide in shock as her mind flashed- 'Where was her crew?'
It was just only hours ago that the naga-hunter had found herself separated from Portea and Eyren, cornered against a large wall surrounded by a couple hundred, spear armed pygmies. Saiyah's eyes narrowed, her teeth bared and her bamboo spear hoisted up in a defensive position, ready to fight to the bitter death. It was only then that the little masks of the grass skirt- body painted pygmies began to slowly lower their spears and blow guns. One by one they would take a slow, hesitant step back wards and drop their weapons while falling face down on their knees like a Muslim would for Allah. Soon a low, rhythmic chanting would occur, and the issuing of order from a certain pygmy from the front of the group to summon a rather large woven platform made of bamboo. Saiyah just blinked. What in the blazes was going on- why weren’t they trying to kill her like they were roughly about 3 minutes ago? The naga had only to gradually turn her head, eyeing the wall that she had been backed up against and to her own surprise, stared at it wide eyed. It was a Aztec’y looking carving of a half serpent- half woman image, donning several feathers and a mask about her face. To add even more to the image, the naga-woman drawing was sitting up hight upon an alter that rose above the clouds to the heavens, holding in her hand a spear defensively- how quaint. She looked back to the tribes-men, then the wall...then the men. No way...there is now way this could be true- she thought.
Saiyah grinned, shaking her head to the quick flashback and slowly reached for one of the offered bundle of coconuts. A Goddess, ha! Who'da thunk? Well, at least -they- thought she was, and right now, that was all that mattered. She was alive and in good being- very good being, and the crew seemed to, or at least she hoped, got away safely. Hmm, she'd have to get back to them eventually, but- as she watched the men dancing for her, the drums beating in her name and the chants rowing about, she only thought to herself, 'What's the hurry though?' So, leaning back on the alter, the snake-woman hybrid stretched out and let her new personal favourite pygmy feed her grapes. Dio- that's what she'll name him, it was cute.
--Mangrove Beach--
Tenebrae was relaxing on the sand, if pliering bamboo splinters from a hole in one's thigh might be called 'relaxing'. Still she didn't seem too distressed. There was a plentiful supply of liquid 'anaesthetic' handy, the rum keg half full now, and so as each sliver was un-wedged from the wound, she'd take another mugful and toast the moon. "Here's ta yer health, yer big ol' lump of..." She had no idea of what. She thought perhaps she should stop drinking soon, as the sound of drums had returned to her ears, quite on its own.
Saiyah found it quite easy to convince the tribe to allow her to saunter away from her alter and down to the beach- well, with the aid of her new group of body guards that was. With six pygmies split up on both sides, the naga garbed in a crimson cape, crown, gold bracelets, necklaces and all around God-like attire. Saiyah shook her head, and fought hard to keep her grin from going any further; this was a bit much, but after the hell she'd been through in the last few days, she was going to milk every second of it while she could. The men paused, their eyes shifting about nervously behind their wooden masks as the sight of the ocean at the edge of the trees had them shaking. Saiyah looked back and nodded to them, and pointed at the ground, issuing a silent command for them to stay put and watch guard; Dio on the other hand would trudge nervously at her tail, not letting the sight of his goddess leave at all. Say slowly slithered forward, taking an instant note of Tenebrae and the keg next to her- oh joy, first a goddess and now she might get drunk? How could this day get any better? She eventually happened upon the woman in the sand and waved sheepishly at her whilst giving a playful grin, wondering where and what the hell she'd been up to in her absence.
Tenebrae was seeing things. Again. No way was her missing clansmate snaking across the sand with pygmies in tow. Pygmies were scared of the ocean. Weren't they? She rolled over, placed a hand at her brow and peered at Saiyah. Ayup. There was a little man at her side, shivering and gnashing his pointy little teeth. But... was he real? For that matter, was Saiyah? The vampiress had drunk a lot of rum, but not that much yet. She frowned, pondered. Had an idea. It wouldn't do to test her theory on Saiyah, just in case it -was- the flesh-and-blood naga herself. So Tene picked up a coconut and threw it at the pygmy.
Saiyah watched the coconut soar through the air as if it were in slow motion- her little servant quaking in fear from the vast amount of water, and at the same time growling to the vampire, had taken the rock-hard fruit to his head. Out cold. The naga blinked, glancing back and forth, trying hard to not roll over laughing in a fit of silent giggles- poor Dio. Oh well, he was out, and she was free of her little tribe- for the movement at least. The woman slithered forward and lowered herself into a slightly coil before Tenebrae and wiggled her fingers as she weakly waved.
Samael came in with the tide, had been drifting in all along, bobbing like driftwood on the waves. His muscled arms clung to a plane of wood which might have been the source of his clandestineness. It buoyed him to shore discreetly with the deep darkness of his skin blending him easily in the night. Pure fortune must have brought him here, for he was unconscious, mere determination what kept him attached to the raft. Tattered rags draped soaking wet across his barrelled chest, which heaved slowly. The tide would bring him eventually into the dryer sand, where he'd settle quietly, still.
Tenebrae pursed her lips. Raised her brow at the naga, in her jungle-princess outfit. Tene would not be sharing the news about her own couture of the day, peacock-like plumes and all. So, she felt secure in allowing the snicker to break her wide-eyed silence. "I dunno, Sai. I just... dunno about you." Tene, now more comfortably clad in her preferred scarlet, flopped back onto her stomach, feet dandling in the air behind her as she sipped the rum. "But I would -really- like to hear this story right now." The naga was offered the tin cup, after she’d wiped the rim on the front of her dress.
Tenebrae blinked. Tenebrae looked at Samael.
Saiyah had just copied the vampires pose and was laying on her stomach in the sand, tail lazily swishing about leaving small trails behind her. She took offered a cheeky smile, not quite understanding the first part of Tenebrae's words, but not really caring to ask her to explain. Instead, she seemed more interested in the tin cup offered to her, and with a nod, she took it; but the rum couldn't be sipped at for the slight glimpse of the large figure washing up ashore had caught her eye. Had Tenebrae been keeping her eyes on Saiyah's face, she would have seen a blank, questioning look sent past her to the seas while the tin was set down in the sand.
Samael began to stir after two or three deep tides, the cool ocean water tickling his toes before receding. His eyes fluttered open, their shining white scleras contrasting his nocturnal complexion and he glanced about rapidly. Samael sprang into movement abruptly, suddenly caused to panic. Effortlessly, he leapt to his feet and held his hands at half an arm's length. He seemed prepared for war, his bulky shoulders tightening as he glanced from the treeline to the sea.
Tenebrae was up, feet scrambling for purchase in the sand, her gaze locked on the jetsam man whom was still crusted with sea-spume and kelp strands. "Saiyah, may I have that cup?" Her outheld hand would reach for it, her soft words spoken as one might when about to approach an animal of dubious domesticity. "Let's go see what the tide's brought in." A few - not terribly unsteady - footsteps had her near to the man's side, the vampiress kneeling to allow the westerly night breeze to waft the liquor's strong aroma under his way. Not too close, though. She would have said something soothing, maybe, if he had not scared the Sven out of her by leaping up like that. Her own palms were raised. "Easy there, big feller. Are you alright?" She really, really hoped he wasn't.. insane. Or something. It'd been a long day, and her thigh was still oozing blood, a thin red line snaking across the crumbs of sand the clung to her skin.
Saiyah had followed right behind Tenebrae, keeping a cautious eye about the stranger as he struck a defensive pose. She too kept her hands up before her, showing that she was here to help and try and prevent him from hurting her if he chose to take a rather hostile approach at either of the women. Nervous glances were shifted back and forth between the two as the naga silently waited.
Samael had started to laugh, a low rumble that built up in his chest. He had started to in any case, for he was keenly interrupted by the presence of the two females. Jumping back a step, he formed into a defensive stance and peered somberly at the odd couple. After a moment of unflinching assessment, he raised his deep voice to a soft inquiry, the words coming out in some unintelligible dialect.
Tenebrae shook her head, hands now making that universally helpless gesture for "I don't understand". His laugh wasn't maniacal, but rather felt like a rumble in her own stomach, almost as soothing as if he too had learned the predator's trick. "Sorry, I don't..." She smiled, if a bit lop-sidedly, and said, "Tene." A finger pointed to herself, and then to the naga. "Saiyah." The hand flapped back and forth, inclusively, Tenebrae nodding slightly. "Friends." She'd dare to near him, since he didn't seem bent on attack, that forefinger pointed to his massive chest. "You?" Ice-green eyes met his, blue as a summer ocean.
Saiyah would loft a brow to such odd, and somewhat primitive antics to just establish names; but then again, who was she to talk- she couldn't even do that! So, for now, the naga-woman would slightly slither back, giving the man his space so as not to crowd him when Tenebrae took a daring step forward to try and produce a name from him.
Samael 's sun-browned lips broke into mild smile as Tenebrae struggled through the language barrier. His shoulders loosened while he let her go on. He even allowed the prodding finger, though his lofted brow and suddenly stern expression spoke in formalities. "I understand," he assured in exotically stilted common, bringing his hand to slowly guide Tenebrae's hand away, "I am Samael." He peered over Tenebrae's shoulder, taking measure of the naga. The nod he afforded Saiyah could only be taken for obeisance, though the man's strong features kept a stern edge, an almost challenging expression in his eyes. He would continue to stare at the naga for a while.
Any wariness in the necromancer's demeanour would melt, to the eye at least, when his large hand shadowed over her own, stark white. His grip was like velvet and stone. "Samael," she repeated. Had a ring to it. Her gaze shifted, cheek turned to him as it followed his to Saiyah, a flash of concern back to him. For the first time, it occurred to Tene that others might consider the naga monstrous. It saddened her, and would more if this stranger should prove inimical to her kind. Her smile was nervous, but her tone was clear, and firm. "Saiyah is a naga, snake-woman. She is a warrior, and a friend." She hoped that would do to calm things, and that the unhappily beached pygmies, no doubt hovering to keep an eye on their Goddess, didn't start any trouble.
Saiyah gives the man a slight smile and nods to Tenebrae, letting her take over fully before she slithered back to the keg of rum to rest for a bit.
Tenebrae watched Saiyah's meandering sand-trail retreating back to the fireside keg. "Yes, that's our camp." It wasn't much, a few necessities brought across from the ship, their packs, the fire. The nights were balmy and the beach relatively free of the insects that swarmed the swamps and forests. She's point west. "Gom's hut there. He is... big." If Samael hadn't seen a naga, perhaps he'd not know what an orc was, either. "Another fighter, but a good ... " Man? She moved right along. "Are you hungry?" There was food, rum. Samael's skin was cool to her touch, this ventured in a clinical manner. Sea-chill, even in the warmth of the night. "Come, we'll sit by the fire."
Samael had also been watching the naga's leave, taken by the undeniable oddity of her form; half serpent, half woman. He turned finally to face Tenebrae, smiling. His unfamiliarity with Saiyah might have bred ill ease if not for this woman. Her forward nature struck a chord in him, and he nodded quietly as she spoke, looking past her finger to the west. "Who does he fight?" he'd inquire with half-pretend concern, moving to stride at a slow pace toward the camp.
The oddness of the entire situation, new as Saiyah's ascended position with the forest tribesmen was, stole speech from the diminutive vampiress for a long moment. They walk several paces before she glanced up, "He fights... them." The vigilant little pygmies stirred amongst themselves, nervous as cats and quailing with every wave that curled and shushed against the shore. The sea was the very devil to these men, a boundless demon that ate the world, and could take them at any time it chose. The tall stranger, the much-hated vampiress, the discovery of theory long-prophesied saviour; it was all too much for them and they'd dare Saiyah's displeasure, by deferring to it as the lesser of two evils, and melting back into the treeline altogether. Only the groggily recovering Dio would stay staunchly by her side, the naga herself having fallen to a deep slumber. Once at the camp, Tene unwrapped some boarmeat from a palm-frond and began skewering it on one of the bamboo spears they'd brought back from the jungle a few nights ago. "There's rum, over there," she waved the stick that way. "Help yourself." If he turned to it, shed take the opportunity to study his form. The man was superb, his flesh honed. His reflexes, sharp, even for his ordeal. To be sure, Samael was a predator, to give him a label in the peculiar nomenclature of Creature. How 'fierce' he was, remained to be seen.
Samael shook his head, "I do not drink." The words were spoken sidelong, for he'd spotted a few of the tribals, looming throughout the jungle's limit. His attention was now focused along that thickly forested barrier. "They are a threat...?" He was asking Tenebrae, though his eyes never left the mainland. He finally turned his head to regard the vampiress, oceanic eyes piercing hers with a serious question, "Or you are?"
Tenebrae felt stripped back, under that sea-gaze, to the core under her veneer of guile, and instinct said this was nobody to be trifled with. "I am. This island is their home. To me, they have been nothing but prey." The wound in her thigh was not forgotten, though it had stopped itching her leg with fresh blood left to dry there in the wind. Already, a thick clot had formed across the hole, and the edges were toughening, tightening as rent flesh tried to draw itself together. She'd lost a lot of blood, these past days, and mortal's food served only to quell immediate hunger-pangs. Her body was starving, in spite of it, no nutrition gained from any meal. The vampiress was weakened, and thus prone to the animalistic aspect of her condition; Samael reeked of health, human health, not the pig-fed and wizened forest-men, whose vitae was as stringy as their meat. She shuddered, drew a cloak up from on top of her pack across her shoulders. He did not drink. That small fact, that one display of the newcomer's self-possession, somehow impressed her, sorted him in the vampire's odd inner world as an equal. More consciously, she prayed he would prove what he seemed, as such, somebody potentially useful. Because gods, she would tear out his throat, if he failed. The meat was ready. Silence was a precipice. She handed him the skewer.
Samael reached out to accept the skewer, his eyes still locked fast on Tenebrae's face. One of his powerful hands closed around the meat as he brought it to his mouth, holding it in place as he ripped off a shred, chewed, and summarily swallowed. He eyed the vampiress even as he ate, and finally offered a nod, curt gratitude. "It is good meat." he imparted before looking off toward the forest, "And you are honest." Stooping over for a moment to set down the skewer, the warrior began to stride toward the jungle, the bass-filled timbre of his voice communicating softly over shoulder- though he wasn't looking behind. "Many men say what is the enemy. You say you are the enemy." He had spotted a sizeable branch of wood, the girth and length of a small man's arm, and was now picking it up. "The beach is good for visitors." Makeshift weapon in hand, he gazed threateningly into the jungle murk before striding confidently back to the camp's general ring.
Tenebrae followed his movements with her gaze, and did not take up any of the boarmeat for herself. That he fetched a weapon was one thing, that she understood after her admission, any sane man would do the same. But it was where his eyes drifted after, that had her pull abruptly to a stand, and tuck the cloak more tightly about her slender frame. "Please.. you must pardon me, a little while." There'd be a plea, moreso than simple etiquette, in that look. Tene waited for his assent, in whatever form it came, and would walk toward the very jungle's edge he challenged just now, her voice all but obscured by shushening foliage. "Just, a little while..."
Isen finally awakes, Lying still for a minute or two, trying to recall the events of the previous night. He is just about at the part where he closed up the whole he had made in a solid stone wall, when voices reach his ears, one a stranger's. He leaps to his feet, fumbling for his sword which, of course, he doesn't have, as it is back in the jungle, in the pygmies' temple. What he does find is the stone disc, as he had slept wit hit under his pillow. He stares at Samael, bewildered.
Samael looked over to Isen, affording the startled man a nod as he took a seat by the fire. He would set to stripping his branch of any protruding twigs before laying it in his lap.
Isen remains on his feet, the disc clutched tightly in both hands. "Who are you, and what are you doing here," he queries, his rasping voice cold, suspicious.
Samael looks up from his stick to peer impassively at Isen, cracking the last twig from the main body with a loud snap. "I am Samael," he replies calmly, his tenor voice indicating a lack of concern. He even returns his attention to the crude staff, running one of his large hands along its rough exterior, "What is your name?"
Isen seems to decide that Samael poses no immediate threat, for he relaxes slightly, and even sits down, though he seems more than ready to jump up again, should the need arise. "Isen Valdyr," he replies. "Again, what are you doing on this island?"
Samael held the branch up in both hands, where Isen could see it fully. His lips cracked into a light smile, as he lowered the would-be weapon, "I am making a stick on this island. What are you doing on this island?"
Tenebrae said, "He's with me." From out of the green edge of the night stepped Tenebrae, cloak gone, lost or forgotten in the chase. A successful one, it might be discerned, by the renewal and vigour, the confidence in her step. She'd fed better. Not much worse. But still, it made her less of a peril, to Samael and herself. "Isen, we must gather our crew soon. They say the ship is repaired. We have much to tend to, at home."
Isen stares at him for a moment, then bursts out into hoarse laughter. He shakes his head, saying, "Well, then I am talking to you, on this island." He turns to look up at Tenebrae. "Yes, I'm damn well sick of being here, now, too. Any word from the naga?"
Tenebrae coughed, cocked her head toward the sleeping Saiyah, still resplendent in her jungle-deity's attire, and the cowering little savage at her side. "She's a Goddess, apparently." A Goddess who snored, and twitched in her sleep.
Samael stood up easily, bouncing the stick in his palm as he walked a few paces toward the ocean. There he stood, staring out at the morning horizon, seeming to revel in the feel of ocean mist against his ebon skin. He was scanning again, looking for something in the waves, something that simply wasn't there. When he turned around again, he bore the same blank countenance as usual, "You will be leaving soon." A statement, though it had the ring of a question.
Isen rises as well, frowning at the sleeping naga, wondering exactly how he had missed her. "A goddess, eh? Well...at least she's back. I'll see about finding the others."
Tenebrae said to Samael, "Will you travel with us?" His method of arrival suggested that he might find the ship preferable. "We could always use another pair of hands." You nodded to Isen. "I have things to organise, in the hut. Again, if you will excuse me?"
Samael wouldn't give a response at this moment. He kept his silence, offering Tenebrae a look that promised an answer later on. For now, he sat down in front of the water, just upon the point where the water would stretch before receding.
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