Post by Amanita Vernia on Jul 15, 2005 0:33:13 GMT -5
Beast of Nyoka: | Kinshasha Village | Nothing more than a circle of abandoned huts, Kinshasha was still a bustling place. The crew of the Kilimanjaro had disembarked late that night after the Beast had signaled them. Oarsmen had become porters and a quick-and-dirty encampment had sprung up in that shallow sink of land. The trees seemed taller here because of the erosion having washed a slice out of the soil. Sentries were positioned a stone's throw into the treeline around the perimeter. A few of them were still jawing about the Kur tracks they had seen in the mud. Even though they followed Krakatoa, something about Kurii struck terror in the hearts of men. The Others. One chomp down and one of those things could swallow your entire head, leaving the spurting stump of neck behind. No one got any sleep between the rotation of the watches and the incessant thrumming of the drumsman. An even cadence went throughout the night until that beat jarred their bones and hibernated in the fitful dreams. Krakatoa had not slept. He waited. Crouched within the low threshold of the final hut where he had spoken with Mwbiri. He knew she would come. It was just a matter of how far away she was. When the first spray of light began to infiltrate the blanketing canopy; the beast signaled the drums to silence. The jungle didn't seem to want to sing back, not after that long ass drum fest. A pregnant silence loomed. And that's when he heard it, about an ahn after the drummer had passed out next to his hollow log. Soft and sharp...clear as a bell and he rose up, hefting up the javelin that had been laying across his knees.
HuntressSakina: the sky lightened further, her position beside the broad tur tree ensuring a decent vantage, high ground always a wise choice, patience as much a skill as lethal aim and tracking, dark eyes alert for movement in the ramshackle clearing of huts below, sights set for a moment on a sentry whose profile was towards her, eyes following the line of thigh to knee, for an ihn her thoughts considered the range and accuracy likely, a game of sorts, the signal having been given, it was a matter of time before he came, that he might have missed the signal did not occur to her, neither were so sloppy and he'd not have sent forth that summons if there was not cause, a subtle shift of stance revealing nothing of her position, steel sheathed in leather, even the head of spear burnished in the embers of a low fire until it was a dull black, unreflective, only the glitter of dark eyes moved, an errant brush of humid air, too thick and heavy to be called a breeze, caressed the length of braid, a subtle quirk of lips as the movement of one was noted, right hand flicking a clasp at left brace on wrist, that was all, one could never be too cautious, a roll of shoulder moving the crossbow slightly as she tracked the movement until he passed from sight, knowing he would not be so cavalier as to head straight for her, she eyed the seemingly unsuspecting sentry in the brightening mist and waited, listening~[/color]
Beast of Nyoka: No one questioned Krakatoa. Everyone just got the hell out of his way. Eating up the distance from the hut's entrance to the rise of land, he spun the spear lazily in his hands. It really wasn't a spear. A staff with chips of razored obsidian rock embedded into the tur wood on each end; it would rip into an foe quicker than the twin pangas he wore. Like a windmill in his hands, the spear circled round and round as he made his way up the slope. The land had been spliced to the point that the entangled roots that anchored the mammoth trees could be seen and using these hard winding roots as steps, the Beast silently made his way. Askari first and foremost, he knew that to approach the taluna bitch carelessly meant an arrow in his thigh. Plus, he took pleasure in getting the drop on her. She was still a woman, after all, and even though he made this alliance with her from time to time, she would always be a woman. When he gained the top of the grotto, he moved along it easily without snapping forest debris under his sandels. The sound of the whistle had been close and that meant she could be far. Around one tree, back to it cutting in towards the second line of trees where he curled around the next. The staff had been drawn up vertical as if he were a soldier and someone had howled Attention! Glancing behind it to the vector of jungle he could not see, he looked for her.
HuntressSakina: it would not be his thigh she aimed for, and she very rarely missed, always good practice to aim for the meat one had no use for if taking down a quarry after all, as it stood, she made no move save for the subtle tightening of fingers around the slim girth of her spear, its end lifted from the soft earth on which booted feet stoo, between two root, neither large enough for cover, but either useful in elevating herself as target if necessary, the difference between a killing and a wounding shot, there was a rush of adrenaline, a sharpening of senses, she knew he was close, and the primal dance of predator and prey was not something a Huntress took up and left off at the drop of a feather, a soft slow inhale, as if she might catch his scent, unlikely but a native instinct, she never underestimated any male, but he in particular she knew enough of to know that a heartbeat's hesitation meant the difference between breath and death, a purse of lips as she considered a moment, perhaps it was ego, perhaps it was simply the desire to sate the curiosity of what drew him to summon her, rare as such a thing was, but from pursed lips, as she tracked a bounce of branch and noted a jard take flight, it was its call she mimicked, three times, soft, if heard by sentry, the animal sufficed as cover, if he was near, her position was his to find more easily now, a subtle turn of head as she listened~[/color]
Amanita Vernia: What have I done... It was the question that followed each act of indecency. Acry that came with the realization of what had been done, blood on my hands or simply a life ruined by my deeds. I was no longer the victim, no longer a child, and still a woman with no less rights. Venor had been right. I would be his to control according to laws, closest male relative, had I not agreed to contract. Amanita was still in her cabin, she took breaks for eating and to check on their distance, but she kept to herself otherwise or with Arculeius. What she had envisioned as an adventure into the unknown jungles had turned into a visit to on her emotions. She had done all that a woman could to guard herself from letting anything harm her again, and yet.. it was never enough. Even when the beast failed, he had still succeeded, had pushed them along before they were ready and plagued them every step of the way. Even when the drums were not heard, when he was not upon them, they acted as if he might appear at any moment to overtake them. It wore on the crew, the same way the fear of the kurii left those in Kinshasha on edge. There were small hopes, Arculeius' kin being the best chance they had, and then the journal itself an offering on the table... but not for Krakatoa. They couldn't just hand it over and ask for this game to be over. They couldn't just go home. There was no home to return to. Only ash.
Beast of Nyoka: Come out, come out, where ever you are. It was a game they played. King of the Hill. One upmanship. Predator and prey. The pangas were his preferred weapon and he was death a'coming when he had their slick hilts in his grasp. His choice of weapon this morning purposefully was the spear. It was what he used to even out the playing field when he wasn't trying to slice and dice a body. Making it imposible for anyone to flank him, he kept his back to a tree and both tree-lined coridoors within peripheral vision. He had a direct line of sight on Jakabo, the man who was keeping watch up above Kinshasha. Jakabo had not seen the Beast emerge from the hut and had no clue that two dangers were just a hair's breadth away from him. Krakatoa found that interesting. Perhaps he should slay the man, or permit Sakina to do the offing. A startled jard exploded upwards and the Beast didn't even flicker with his postion. Jakabo, whirled around, panga brandished at the unseen intruder. None of this meant much to the man whom had heard the soft catcall of the would-be jard. He knew where she was now. She had given herself up which meant she hoped he would charging at her like a bosk bull in a china close. Surprisingly, he did run forward, quiet on his feet and keeping the thick trunk of a tree between them. Slamming the end of the staff into the mulchy soil, he used it as leverage to pole vault alongside that tree and falling to a crouch when the vault ended. If he saw her beside him (which is where he guessed her postion to be) , he spun the slim chunk of wood around in front of him in a wicked arc and tried to mow her down with it. Welcome to the jungle.
HuntressSakina: of course, the best place to be once giving up a position was, elsewhere, no darting, no swift flight, the movement of the sentry ignored but caught in periphery enough to assure he was not moving for her, a simple elevation onto one of the two large roots chosen for such movement, it was a simple enough shift, the displacement of air, a subtle sound, even she could not quite attribute what it was that drew her spear downward in a swift arc, instinct, survival, a flash of dark eyes, the sudden appearance alone might well have lost her balance for her had she not been on edge, still, her speed was no match for his, Taluna or no he was male, and as the wooden shaft came around in a wicked arc it might well have caught her had she not moved up, as it was the thunk of wood to wood was followed by a low grunt, her spear pressing his to the trunk where, she noted, it had hit with force enough to lay bare a chunk of bark, balanced easily on thick root, a brow lifted, a single comment accompanied the slight smirk and shake of head "ass"~[/color]
Amanita Vernia: ARCULEIUS // It was a white woman's womb he was brought to life from, his father was as dark as wet soil, together they made him a soft brown. An askari just as his father and a guard to a free woman of the cities, the same woman his father had died to protect. Now Arculeius was following the tracks of his father. Returning to the tribe he had left and with a woman of pale complexion. At least she did not carry his son the same way his mother had when she came into the jungle. The tribe did not welcome her. The other women did not accept her. She had finally grown so miserable that her wondering off into the jungle was nothing more than a way to end her suffering. Arculeius did not think of his mother often, he was young when she had left them, but his father's history was tangled up in his own. They had both left the jungles, their tribe, angered the uncle that he would now have to plead with along with Bila for passage. He spoke with confidence to the pirates, they could not know there was any bad blood or they might retaliate... they might, if the price was in their favor, turn the boat back towards Krakatoa and abandon both the expedition and the merchant. They now knew what secret key she was holding and why the map maker's former guide was so hot on their trail. There was much at stake now... much riding on the halfbreed askari to speak for them all. It was now him that much charm the Ubarate of Bila Huruma or his father's son and his white companion would not see much of a future.
Beast of Nyoka: He would not deign to ally with weaklings. If the woman died because she was clumsy or slow; then so be it. He tested her just as he did all his men because in this sleen-eat-sleen world, he wasn't going down because someone was soft or incompetant. So no-holes-barred here when he crouched to one knee and sent the business end of that spear around his body with the velocity of a sprung booby trap. The honed stone chips shaved off a swatch of bark. The woman would have surely been eviscerated if she had not moved, but she had. His gaze flicked up to her new postion as his weapon was pinned between her own spear and the tree roots. A brutal yank back would rip his javelin back into his keeping before he cycled it lazily about in that one hand. Rising up, he moved around behind her but keeping his side facing her. A dance. "Kitonge." He said quietly, completely the circle around to leap up onto that uneven perch of root, crouching like a jungle panther. He was right up to her, close and personal to the point he could have thumbed away the dirt patch at the corner of her mouth if he had wanted to. The weapon was used for balance, laying it across the tops of his knees. The taluna had never given him her name so the Beast had given her one. Slightly derogatory, kitonge meant morsel. In comparison to him with her slight build, he thought that he could blow her over with deep breath. "hungry?" She would know exactly what he meant.
HuntressSakina: a simple snap of the unclapsed wrist sheath could have sent a lethal flash of concealed steel across his throat had he been just about any other male, hesitation not in her nature, control, however, was and she had not traveled this distance for the sheer pleasure of drawing first blood, though the thought had its merits, innate balance not so much as trifled as he joined her on the root, his crouch bringing them to eye level, a glitter of amusement in dark depths, she knew he likely held a male's thought to proximity intimidating her, really, he ought to have known better than that by now, her appearance one of her greatest assets, not in terms of beauty, please, find a slave market and beauty was purchased as cheaply here as anywhere on the planet, no, it was her ability to seem so very harmless that worked so often to her advantage, men as a whole tended to see what they wished, most especially as it came to women, and she was intelligent enough to play that principle with the skill of a virtuoso, there could be no doubt her strength was nothing compared the to large male, but in her world size was not the defining principle, it all came down to skill, speed and being an ah-hil away from where the blow was aimed, a slight nod, bringing up a hand between them to brush a strand of hair from her face, with back of hand, allowing him to see the press back of steel and snap of clasp, she knew what he meant indeed "yes" it was a risky journey and she was hungry for information and gain, avarice a sin only if one thought of the world in such moral terms, she, luckily, held no such moral restraints upon herself~ [/color]
Amanita Vernia: THADDAUS // He was the third arm to this triangle, left behind, but not forgotten about. His job had been to find investors as well additional hands. Some aware of what they were hunting for and some left in the dark. What he hadn't planned on was being stuck in Schendi while the others ran off. Perhaps a lap dog would of just waited in the comforts of Pembe's Tavern and hoped that they would make it back in once piece and still be willing to give him a share of whatever it was they found. A thief, however, would be too paranoid to lay back and wait. A thief would not trust a merchant to be anything less than greedy, even if he had known said merchant for a number of years.... even saved her pretty rear a time or two near the Pier of the Red Urt... a place he'd rather be right now instead of hopping a ship with a bunch of slavers and heading down some slithering river right into to the hands of dark natives might wish him dead for being foolish enough to leave his city walls. Thaddaus was not, nor would he ever be, courageous. He didn't bother much with honor either, a hook knife in the back was as good a kill as any, just as long as it wasn't his back. And when it came down to begging, he just might get pretty humble if it came between his life and a few words. He was the talker between the other two sides of this triangle, he would of been happy to speak to ol' Bila, liven up his court, but the man was still in Schendi. Didn't these slavers know he had a schedule to keep. Let's go.
Beast of Nyoka: He would deal with her like this, face to face and close enough he might be able to smell whatever she had for breakfast on her breath. Stripped to the waist, the man had left plenty of open territory for the woman to toss in her chances on carving a chunk out of him with those wrist blades. Kitonge had never buckled under all that he had dumped on her pretty little head; which meant she could deliver when it counted. He rocked slightly back and forth on his heels and looked her over slowly, knowing that she would love to cut him down but that her greed for more more more kept her hand at bay. Krakatoa's strength had to do with knowing people and how to use them to their best abiities. He was the devil and he was handing out that candy that you couldn't resist. If you didn't take the bait; he killed you. It was a simple equation. "There is an expedtion that protects a woman and a journal that she holds." He wasn't going to send her out there without knowing where the pulse of the animal was. Impossible to make a clean shot if you didn't know that. "I want both. The rest of the expedition will be yours to keep." Changing up the light hold he had at mid-point of the spear, he slid his hands down it's length then slowly back again. He was watching her eyes. Haggling time. "First a head count of the crew. Feeling them out to see where the weak link is. Seperation of the woman and her prize. Sell or kill the rest. The ship isn't jungle craft, but sea worthy and loaded for kur as far as weapons, arrow points and supplies."
HuntressSakina: she preferred to think of herself in terms of simply...practical....on such matters, what was hers was hers, and what was yours she would help herself to if it was to her advantage, far too keen a sense of self preservation to act rashly, a subtle squint of dark eyes, glance aside as he spoke, the shift of gaze giving the appearance of seeing a balance scale before her, risk, opportunity, a slight arch of brow as he spoke of being after a sole woman and a book, nothing else, an icy finger of suspicion lifting along her spine and she straightened some, they had dealt with other intruders into the jungle, as she saw such expeditions, and never had he been so generous in his desired take of the spoils, she too read people well, and knew enough of him to know that of the very many things he was, generous was not among them, her head tipped slightly as she regarded him with eyes that reflected little, haggling indeed, though direct frontal attacks were beneath both of them and thus the overtly obvious question why was witheld, a slight exhale as she spoke "you do not know their numbers?" something on the razor edge of accusatory in the question, bait she might play, partner she could handle, but sacrifical verr, no way in hell "a locationthen?" words cool and calm as had they been discussing a pattern of flight of birds~ [/color]
Amanita Vernia: THE JOURNAL // Most of the details left by Shaba's pen described the land. One could see that he had fallen for the jungle, made a lover of her, and attempted to learn every piece of her that he could. The notebook that had somehow ended up in the collection of Vital Silenti was the last writings the map maker made for his love. The notations had left many places blank, perhaps details he intended filling in later, but his death interfered with that. His death was perhaps the one thing that kept others from finding the Eye, even the Kurii who the legend was only half right on it's prediction of this treasure. Shaba's journal had nothing written about treasure. Instead it described landmark and a culture, a tribe that when Amanita described them out loud to Arculeius, were unheard of. Though most of the people living in the jungles were almost all black, this group held none of the same traditions that marked each group. The men had no facial scarring, no brass rings in their lips, no headdresses. They almost seemed like servants to the priest-kings, wearing white cloth and shaved head, but they were all of dark skin. It was clear from the writing that Shaba believed he had discovered a hidden culture, that he revisited them many times and either went unseen or simply ignored. The merchant had studied this journal, but there were still so many secrets hidden between the pages that she might never solve. Had Krakatoa made an alliance they might both of been able to find what was in the heart of the jungle, but as she learned the hard way... the beast did not compromise.
HuntressSakina: the sky lightened further, her position beside the broad tur tree ensuring a decent vantage, high ground always a wise choice, patience as much a skill as lethal aim and tracking, dark eyes alert for movement in the ramshackle clearing of huts below, sights set for a moment on a sentry whose profile was towards her, eyes following the line of thigh to knee, for an ihn her thoughts considered the range and accuracy likely, a game of sorts, the signal having been given, it was a matter of time before he came, that he might have missed the signal did not occur to her, neither were so sloppy and he'd not have sent forth that summons if there was not cause, a subtle shift of stance revealing nothing of her position, steel sheathed in leather, even the head of spear burnished in the embers of a low fire until it was a dull black, unreflective, only the glitter of dark eyes moved, an errant brush of humid air, too thick and heavy to be called a breeze, caressed the length of braid, a subtle quirk of lips as the movement of one was noted, right hand flicking a clasp at left brace on wrist, that was all, one could never be too cautious, a roll of shoulder moving the crossbow slightly as she tracked the movement until he passed from sight, knowing he would not be so cavalier as to head straight for her, she eyed the seemingly unsuspecting sentry in the brightening mist and waited, listening~[/color]
Beast of Nyoka: No one questioned Krakatoa. Everyone just got the hell out of his way. Eating up the distance from the hut's entrance to the rise of land, he spun the spear lazily in his hands. It really wasn't a spear. A staff with chips of razored obsidian rock embedded into the tur wood on each end; it would rip into an foe quicker than the twin pangas he wore. Like a windmill in his hands, the spear circled round and round as he made his way up the slope. The land had been spliced to the point that the entangled roots that anchored the mammoth trees could be seen and using these hard winding roots as steps, the Beast silently made his way. Askari first and foremost, he knew that to approach the taluna bitch carelessly meant an arrow in his thigh. Plus, he took pleasure in getting the drop on her. She was still a woman, after all, and even though he made this alliance with her from time to time, she would always be a woman. When he gained the top of the grotto, he moved along it easily without snapping forest debris under his sandels. The sound of the whistle had been close and that meant she could be far. Around one tree, back to it cutting in towards the second line of trees where he curled around the next. The staff had been drawn up vertical as if he were a soldier and someone had howled Attention! Glancing behind it to the vector of jungle he could not see, he looked for her.
HuntressSakina: it would not be his thigh she aimed for, and she very rarely missed, always good practice to aim for the meat one had no use for if taking down a quarry after all, as it stood, she made no move save for the subtle tightening of fingers around the slim girth of her spear, its end lifted from the soft earth on which booted feet stoo, between two root, neither large enough for cover, but either useful in elevating herself as target if necessary, the difference between a killing and a wounding shot, there was a rush of adrenaline, a sharpening of senses, she knew he was close, and the primal dance of predator and prey was not something a Huntress took up and left off at the drop of a feather, a soft slow inhale, as if she might catch his scent, unlikely but a native instinct, she never underestimated any male, but he in particular she knew enough of to know that a heartbeat's hesitation meant the difference between breath and death, a purse of lips as she considered a moment, perhaps it was ego, perhaps it was simply the desire to sate the curiosity of what drew him to summon her, rare as such a thing was, but from pursed lips, as she tracked a bounce of branch and noted a jard take flight, it was its call she mimicked, three times, soft, if heard by sentry, the animal sufficed as cover, if he was near, her position was his to find more easily now, a subtle turn of head as she listened~[/color]
Amanita Vernia: What have I done... It was the question that followed each act of indecency. Acry that came with the realization of what had been done, blood on my hands or simply a life ruined by my deeds. I was no longer the victim, no longer a child, and still a woman with no less rights. Venor had been right. I would be his to control according to laws, closest male relative, had I not agreed to contract. Amanita was still in her cabin, she took breaks for eating and to check on their distance, but she kept to herself otherwise or with Arculeius. What she had envisioned as an adventure into the unknown jungles had turned into a visit to on her emotions. She had done all that a woman could to guard herself from letting anything harm her again, and yet.. it was never enough. Even when the beast failed, he had still succeeded, had pushed them along before they were ready and plagued them every step of the way. Even when the drums were not heard, when he was not upon them, they acted as if he might appear at any moment to overtake them. It wore on the crew, the same way the fear of the kurii left those in Kinshasha on edge. There were small hopes, Arculeius' kin being the best chance they had, and then the journal itself an offering on the table... but not for Krakatoa. They couldn't just hand it over and ask for this game to be over. They couldn't just go home. There was no home to return to. Only ash.
Beast of Nyoka: Come out, come out, where ever you are. It was a game they played. King of the Hill. One upmanship. Predator and prey. The pangas were his preferred weapon and he was death a'coming when he had their slick hilts in his grasp. His choice of weapon this morning purposefully was the spear. It was what he used to even out the playing field when he wasn't trying to slice and dice a body. Making it imposible for anyone to flank him, he kept his back to a tree and both tree-lined coridoors within peripheral vision. He had a direct line of sight on Jakabo, the man who was keeping watch up above Kinshasha. Jakabo had not seen the Beast emerge from the hut and had no clue that two dangers were just a hair's breadth away from him. Krakatoa found that interesting. Perhaps he should slay the man, or permit Sakina to do the offing. A startled jard exploded upwards and the Beast didn't even flicker with his postion. Jakabo, whirled around, panga brandished at the unseen intruder. None of this meant much to the man whom had heard the soft catcall of the would-be jard. He knew where she was now. She had given herself up which meant she hoped he would charging at her like a bosk bull in a china close. Surprisingly, he did run forward, quiet on his feet and keeping the thick trunk of a tree between them. Slamming the end of the staff into the mulchy soil, he used it as leverage to pole vault alongside that tree and falling to a crouch when the vault ended. If he saw her beside him (which is where he guessed her postion to be) , he spun the slim chunk of wood around in front of him in a wicked arc and tried to mow her down with it. Welcome to the jungle.
HuntressSakina: of course, the best place to be once giving up a position was, elsewhere, no darting, no swift flight, the movement of the sentry ignored but caught in periphery enough to assure he was not moving for her, a simple elevation onto one of the two large roots chosen for such movement, it was a simple enough shift, the displacement of air, a subtle sound, even she could not quite attribute what it was that drew her spear downward in a swift arc, instinct, survival, a flash of dark eyes, the sudden appearance alone might well have lost her balance for her had she not been on edge, still, her speed was no match for his, Taluna or no he was male, and as the wooden shaft came around in a wicked arc it might well have caught her had she not moved up, as it was the thunk of wood to wood was followed by a low grunt, her spear pressing his to the trunk where, she noted, it had hit with force enough to lay bare a chunk of bark, balanced easily on thick root, a brow lifted, a single comment accompanied the slight smirk and shake of head "ass"~[/color]
Amanita Vernia: ARCULEIUS // It was a white woman's womb he was brought to life from, his father was as dark as wet soil, together they made him a soft brown. An askari just as his father and a guard to a free woman of the cities, the same woman his father had died to protect. Now Arculeius was following the tracks of his father. Returning to the tribe he had left and with a woman of pale complexion. At least she did not carry his son the same way his mother had when she came into the jungle. The tribe did not welcome her. The other women did not accept her. She had finally grown so miserable that her wondering off into the jungle was nothing more than a way to end her suffering. Arculeius did not think of his mother often, he was young when she had left them, but his father's history was tangled up in his own. They had both left the jungles, their tribe, angered the uncle that he would now have to plead with along with Bila for passage. He spoke with confidence to the pirates, they could not know there was any bad blood or they might retaliate... they might, if the price was in their favor, turn the boat back towards Krakatoa and abandon both the expedition and the merchant. They now knew what secret key she was holding and why the map maker's former guide was so hot on their trail. There was much at stake now... much riding on the halfbreed askari to speak for them all. It was now him that much charm the Ubarate of Bila Huruma or his father's son and his white companion would not see much of a future.
Beast of Nyoka: He would not deign to ally with weaklings. If the woman died because she was clumsy or slow; then so be it. He tested her just as he did all his men because in this sleen-eat-sleen world, he wasn't going down because someone was soft or incompetant. So no-holes-barred here when he crouched to one knee and sent the business end of that spear around his body with the velocity of a sprung booby trap. The honed stone chips shaved off a swatch of bark. The woman would have surely been eviscerated if she had not moved, but she had. His gaze flicked up to her new postion as his weapon was pinned between her own spear and the tree roots. A brutal yank back would rip his javelin back into his keeping before he cycled it lazily about in that one hand. Rising up, he moved around behind her but keeping his side facing her. A dance. "Kitonge." He said quietly, completely the circle around to leap up onto that uneven perch of root, crouching like a jungle panther. He was right up to her, close and personal to the point he could have thumbed away the dirt patch at the corner of her mouth if he had wanted to. The weapon was used for balance, laying it across the tops of his knees. The taluna had never given him her name so the Beast had given her one. Slightly derogatory, kitonge meant morsel. In comparison to him with her slight build, he thought that he could blow her over with deep breath. "hungry?" She would know exactly what he meant.
HuntressSakina: a simple snap of the unclapsed wrist sheath could have sent a lethal flash of concealed steel across his throat had he been just about any other male, hesitation not in her nature, control, however, was and she had not traveled this distance for the sheer pleasure of drawing first blood, though the thought had its merits, innate balance not so much as trifled as he joined her on the root, his crouch bringing them to eye level, a glitter of amusement in dark depths, she knew he likely held a male's thought to proximity intimidating her, really, he ought to have known better than that by now, her appearance one of her greatest assets, not in terms of beauty, please, find a slave market and beauty was purchased as cheaply here as anywhere on the planet, no, it was her ability to seem so very harmless that worked so often to her advantage, men as a whole tended to see what they wished, most especially as it came to women, and she was intelligent enough to play that principle with the skill of a virtuoso, there could be no doubt her strength was nothing compared the to large male, but in her world size was not the defining principle, it all came down to skill, speed and being an ah-hil away from where the blow was aimed, a slight nod, bringing up a hand between them to brush a strand of hair from her face, with back of hand, allowing him to see the press back of steel and snap of clasp, she knew what he meant indeed "yes" it was a risky journey and she was hungry for information and gain, avarice a sin only if one thought of the world in such moral terms, she, luckily, held no such moral restraints upon herself~ [/color]
Amanita Vernia: THADDAUS // He was the third arm to this triangle, left behind, but not forgotten about. His job had been to find investors as well additional hands. Some aware of what they were hunting for and some left in the dark. What he hadn't planned on was being stuck in Schendi while the others ran off. Perhaps a lap dog would of just waited in the comforts of Pembe's Tavern and hoped that they would make it back in once piece and still be willing to give him a share of whatever it was they found. A thief, however, would be too paranoid to lay back and wait. A thief would not trust a merchant to be anything less than greedy, even if he had known said merchant for a number of years.... even saved her pretty rear a time or two near the Pier of the Red Urt... a place he'd rather be right now instead of hopping a ship with a bunch of slavers and heading down some slithering river right into to the hands of dark natives might wish him dead for being foolish enough to leave his city walls. Thaddaus was not, nor would he ever be, courageous. He didn't bother much with honor either, a hook knife in the back was as good a kill as any, just as long as it wasn't his back. And when it came down to begging, he just might get pretty humble if it came between his life and a few words. He was the talker between the other two sides of this triangle, he would of been happy to speak to ol' Bila, liven up his court, but the man was still in Schendi. Didn't these slavers know he had a schedule to keep. Let's go.
Beast of Nyoka: He would deal with her like this, face to face and close enough he might be able to smell whatever she had for breakfast on her breath. Stripped to the waist, the man had left plenty of open territory for the woman to toss in her chances on carving a chunk out of him with those wrist blades. Kitonge had never buckled under all that he had dumped on her pretty little head; which meant she could deliver when it counted. He rocked slightly back and forth on his heels and looked her over slowly, knowing that she would love to cut him down but that her greed for more more more kept her hand at bay. Krakatoa's strength had to do with knowing people and how to use them to their best abiities. He was the devil and he was handing out that candy that you couldn't resist. If you didn't take the bait; he killed you. It was a simple equation. "There is an expedtion that protects a woman and a journal that she holds." He wasn't going to send her out there without knowing where the pulse of the animal was. Impossible to make a clean shot if you didn't know that. "I want both. The rest of the expedition will be yours to keep." Changing up the light hold he had at mid-point of the spear, he slid his hands down it's length then slowly back again. He was watching her eyes. Haggling time. "First a head count of the crew. Feeling them out to see where the weak link is. Seperation of the woman and her prize. Sell or kill the rest. The ship isn't jungle craft, but sea worthy and loaded for kur as far as weapons, arrow points and supplies."
HuntressSakina: she preferred to think of herself in terms of simply...practical....on such matters, what was hers was hers, and what was yours she would help herself to if it was to her advantage, far too keen a sense of self preservation to act rashly, a subtle squint of dark eyes, glance aside as he spoke, the shift of gaze giving the appearance of seeing a balance scale before her, risk, opportunity, a slight arch of brow as he spoke of being after a sole woman and a book, nothing else, an icy finger of suspicion lifting along her spine and she straightened some, they had dealt with other intruders into the jungle, as she saw such expeditions, and never had he been so generous in his desired take of the spoils, she too read people well, and knew enough of him to know that of the very many things he was, generous was not among them, her head tipped slightly as she regarded him with eyes that reflected little, haggling indeed, though direct frontal attacks were beneath both of them and thus the overtly obvious question why was witheld, a slight exhale as she spoke "you do not know their numbers?" something on the razor edge of accusatory in the question, bait she might play, partner she could handle, but sacrifical verr, no way in hell "a locationthen?" words cool and calm as had they been discussing a pattern of flight of birds~ [/color]
Amanita Vernia: THE JOURNAL // Most of the details left by Shaba's pen described the land. One could see that he had fallen for the jungle, made a lover of her, and attempted to learn every piece of her that he could. The notebook that had somehow ended up in the collection of Vital Silenti was the last writings the map maker made for his love. The notations had left many places blank, perhaps details he intended filling in later, but his death interfered with that. His death was perhaps the one thing that kept others from finding the Eye, even the Kurii who the legend was only half right on it's prediction of this treasure. Shaba's journal had nothing written about treasure. Instead it described landmark and a culture, a tribe that when Amanita described them out loud to Arculeius, were unheard of. Though most of the people living in the jungles were almost all black, this group held none of the same traditions that marked each group. The men had no facial scarring, no brass rings in their lips, no headdresses. They almost seemed like servants to the priest-kings, wearing white cloth and shaved head, but they were all of dark skin. It was clear from the writing that Shaba believed he had discovered a hidden culture, that he revisited them many times and either went unseen or simply ignored. The merchant had studied this journal, but there were still so many secrets hidden between the pages that she might never solve. Had Krakatoa made an alliance they might both of been able to find what was in the heart of the jungle, but as she learned the hard way... the beast did not compromise.
