Post by Venor Silenti on May 27, 2005 10:56:18 GMT -5
[shadow=red,left,300] Running. That's all It's life had been for the last few handfulls of moons and suns; the constant urge to move, south, legs pounding back the snow, and then slogging through rain, over coarse rock and branch, grass and raw dirt. The urge driving It was ruthless in it's insistance, hardly allowing peace enough to sleep, to eat, to do anything besides move ahead on...on what?
In the mind, all It could think of, was a hunt of sorts. And it all started over a name, muttered over laughter in the midst of a snow-logged caravan deep in the Torvold ranges. "Silenti". That's all that the primal mind heard, comprehended, if only for a flickering moment before It turned the hide-wrapped feet south, and that sparse body began.
Thus, here It was, three hands later and pounding It's way through the dense sweaty-warmth of green and wet brown, black earth and colorful fauna. The layers of uncured hide were shed in those days travel, falling in it's wake for the cool rush of the breeze on sweating skin long-dirty with It's own grime, the matted beard tucked back over the shoulder with the riot of dreaded mane, twig-ridden and dirty.
It all came to a head when It's eyes fell on an overgrown, time-eaten mass of stone, those steps hardsly stopping in their sudden push to be inside that stone, to cease that gnaw. Anything to end the urge! Hands grabbed to the planted runners, their curlers deep in the stone's cracks, hauling Itself up with toe and nail, hurling Itself over the edge of the parapits to get It's feet, and run for the open inside, green yet itself, yet not as thickly. A leap to a tree, high in it's age and flowering, brought It crashing down among the branches, barely minding the sharp string of the leaves or the heady rush of the flowers perfume, thick and cloying in It's senses. Only when It's feet touched down, did the urge pause in it's vengeance, leave It time to crawl forth among the brush to peer into the open, hungrily seeking out what It did not know.
A statue caught It's eye...still, yet flowing, painted and beautiful...It shifted lower to stare harder at that crafted thing with it's eyes staring into It's hungry blue eyes...pangs tugged at It's chest, It's eyes...and finally It's ears as the statue screamed. "Guards! Intruder!" The words meant nothing and everything all at once; It hardly understood, but did know the tone as familiar as the Tabuk horn-tipped lance came to hand, it's temwood length tight in It's fist as the thing lunged out, and on seeing the first mass of bodies rushing through the walls, hurled it sidelong into the gleaming chest of one body, sending it off it's feet with it's head flying off to bare another beneath.
It hardly cared as it moved on all fours, rushing those bodies before another Tabuk horn was pulled free of the corded leather band about one forearm, a sharp chunk of black shine-stone gripped in the other from It's waist as he leapt among the throng of bellowing bodies. This, It knew how to do; open the skin, flood the skies red, ignore the hard spray of warmth across It's face as the stone cut, and the horn stabbed up hard beneath a chin to lift that second head off from the first with a spring of crimson, moving past in a hurtling run.
It was a face that stopped him, a fear and affection intertwined in one heart-stopping moment that instilled a fear for the fight, a new and unusual sensation that sent It on it's heels for a moment, turning from the massive black form with a glance to the statue, now hiding...Why did It hunger for--
The face of Arculeius' blade struck the man across the head, smashing the herlit-skull helm the wretched thing wore and cutting at the edge of it's scalp, before a sandal'd foot was set to his shoulder, and the blade hefted for that ending blow while dark eyes turned to the woman who was His charge, and perhaps the things intended target. Her minor shake of the head was enough to have him sheath that blade, and stomp the urchin's face instead to keep him down, before the Mercenaries could recover sense enough to use binding-fiber on the man.
But he had to wonder...Why did that..thing hesitate?[/shadow]
In the mind, all It could think of, was a hunt of sorts. And it all started over a name, muttered over laughter in the midst of a snow-logged caravan deep in the Torvold ranges. "Silenti". That's all that the primal mind heard, comprehended, if only for a flickering moment before It turned the hide-wrapped feet south, and that sparse body began.
Thus, here It was, three hands later and pounding It's way through the dense sweaty-warmth of green and wet brown, black earth and colorful fauna. The layers of uncured hide were shed in those days travel, falling in it's wake for the cool rush of the breeze on sweating skin long-dirty with It's own grime, the matted beard tucked back over the shoulder with the riot of dreaded mane, twig-ridden and dirty.
It all came to a head when It's eyes fell on an overgrown, time-eaten mass of stone, those steps hardsly stopping in their sudden push to be inside that stone, to cease that gnaw. Anything to end the urge! Hands grabbed to the planted runners, their curlers deep in the stone's cracks, hauling Itself up with toe and nail, hurling Itself over the edge of the parapits to get It's feet, and run for the open inside, green yet itself, yet not as thickly. A leap to a tree, high in it's age and flowering, brought It crashing down among the branches, barely minding the sharp string of the leaves or the heady rush of the flowers perfume, thick and cloying in It's senses. Only when It's feet touched down, did the urge pause in it's vengeance, leave It time to crawl forth among the brush to peer into the open, hungrily seeking out what It did not know.
A statue caught It's eye...still, yet flowing, painted and beautiful...It shifted lower to stare harder at that crafted thing with it's eyes staring into It's hungry blue eyes...pangs tugged at It's chest, It's eyes...and finally It's ears as the statue screamed. "Guards! Intruder!" The words meant nothing and everything all at once; It hardly understood, but did know the tone as familiar as the Tabuk horn-tipped lance came to hand, it's temwood length tight in It's fist as the thing lunged out, and on seeing the first mass of bodies rushing through the walls, hurled it sidelong into the gleaming chest of one body, sending it off it's feet with it's head flying off to bare another beneath.
It hardly cared as it moved on all fours, rushing those bodies before another Tabuk horn was pulled free of the corded leather band about one forearm, a sharp chunk of black shine-stone gripped in the other from It's waist as he leapt among the throng of bellowing bodies. This, It knew how to do; open the skin, flood the skies red, ignore the hard spray of warmth across It's face as the stone cut, and the horn stabbed up hard beneath a chin to lift that second head off from the first with a spring of crimson, moving past in a hurtling run.
It was a face that stopped him, a fear and affection intertwined in one heart-stopping moment that instilled a fear for the fight, a new and unusual sensation that sent It on it's heels for a moment, turning from the massive black form with a glance to the statue, now hiding...Why did It hunger for--
The face of Arculeius' blade struck the man across the head, smashing the herlit-skull helm the wretched thing wore and cutting at the edge of it's scalp, before a sandal'd foot was set to his shoulder, and the blade hefted for that ending blow while dark eyes turned to the woman who was His charge, and perhaps the things intended target. Her minor shake of the head was enough to have him sheath that blade, and stomp the urchin's face instead to keep him down, before the Mercenaries could recover sense enough to use binding-fiber on the man.
But he had to wonder...Why did that..thing hesitate?[/shadow]