- Invitation Status
- Looking for partners
- Posting Speed
- 1-3 posts per day
- Multiple posts per week
- One post per week
- Slow As Molasses
- Online Availability
- On fairly regularly, every day. I'll notice a PM almost immediately. Replies come randomly.
- Writing Levels
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Primarily Prefer Male
- No Preferences
- Genres
- High fantasy is my personal favorite, followed closely by modern fantasy and post-apocalyptic, but I can happily play in any genre if the plot is good enough.
Litonya stood at the edge of the ruined village, her lips pressed together in such a way that they were little more than a thin line, her jaw clenched so tightly she could feel her teeth aching. All the same, she didn't unclench either her lips or teeth, as she was certain it was the only thing keeping her from screaming in raw hatred.
The remains of the village were a tragic sight. What had once been a flourishing community, filled to the brim with little wooden houses, now looked like a field of broken matchsticks. Ruined wood littered everywhere, the heavy logs splintered and splayed from heavy impact. At some point during the devastation a fire had started, and both the ground and some of the wood was seared into charcoal black. The smell of smoke filled the air, but even that heavy smell was not enough to cover up the scent of rot. The air reeked of day-old blood, bitter enough to make Litonya think she was going to gag. Flies buzzed through the air, filling the sky to the point that it looked like the village was covered with thin black clouds. Blood was splattered across the wood that hadn't been stained black, and here and there she could pick out parts of bodies, scattered limbs mangled into unrecognizable lumps. It was impossible to guess just how many people had died.
When Litonya had left her village, slipping away in the night with her heart filled with determination, she had never guessed that this would be the sight that would greet her. It had taken her two days of careful probing to learn where the nearest Outsider village was, and she'd spent three days after that to carefully gather her supplies, prepare her story. After all, the outsiders were just as distrustful of the Miwyek people as the Miwyek were of the outsiders. Instead, she'd found this, and it was like she was plunged into the past. Every corpse around her, for one moment, became the scattered limbs of her parents and grandmother, cousins and friends.
It was the distinct musk of a Tin'yti that filled the village which nearly drove her over the edge. As much sensation as actual smell, it tingled her nose like she'd just eaten a spicy pepper. Forcing herself to focus, to forget, Litonya inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the rotten tang of dried blood that filled the air. Instead, she focused on the scent of the Tin'yti, dropping into the forced calmness of her training to help her carefully decipher its nuance from within her memories. Slowly, Litonya entered the village.
As the smell around her grew denser, Litonya began to pick out more information. This Tin'yti had been relatively young, strong and excited for its youth. It was already well past the age where it would willingly and playfully interact with people, but still years shy of true adulthood. In human terms, it would probably be accurate to call it a teenager. Her grandmother had always told her that this was the age that a Tin'yti got the most rambunctious. As their strength and size rapidly grew, they went to great lengths to revel in newfound freedom from their parents. These Tin'ytik were often the hardest to commune with, as they were no longer young enough to have the happy innocence of children, but not mature enough to understand reason.
Litonya continued to study the village with care, examining all the signs of the damage it had left behind. Slowly, she began to piece together more information. There was no denying that everything in the village had been broken. The ground was dented from the signs of heavy impact, splinters lying everywhere from shattered wood. However, none of the damage bore the distinctive scoring or punctures that would come from impact with claws or teeth. Quickly ruling out many of the more predatory of the Tin'ytik as the perpetrators, Litonya continued to search.
Finally, she stumbled across a gap in the ruins of the village, a large courtyard of sorts with a perfect footprint situated in the middle. The footprint was near circular, with three distinct toe prints jutting out from the front. Her eyes fluttering closed, Litonya scanned through her memories, before finally making an almost certain identification.
This had been the work of a Tin'lejy, likely male if she compared the size of his footprint to the smell of his age. Broad, stocky, four-legged beasts, Tin'lejyk were masters of widespread destruction, able to bowl over anything in their path with a single step. As if that wasn't enough, their long, heavy tails and the two massive tusks that jutted from their mouth were devastating tools when swung quickly. Whatever fragile barricades a village like this could put up would shatter like paper in front of a Tin'lejy, and unless someone could get an attack into the folds of their skin and attack the delicate inner creases, most attacks would bounce harmlessly off their outer hide.
Tin'lejyk were, under normal circumstances, relatively peaceful, but they were quick to enrage when they believed they were being mistreated. If the village had launched an attack, it was no wonder the entire place had fallen before they could get any support.
Litonya continued to search the village almost mindlessly, her thoughts elsewhere. She wondered if the village had enough time to send off a messenger to request aid from the Jinya'jyk before the whole place had been destroyed. If they did… did that mean they were coming here?
The girl couldn't help the faint sense of excitement that bubbled up inside of her at the thought. She'd been raised on the stories of the Jinya'jyk. Her grandmother had called them murderers, killers, worms in human skin that weren't worth the shit they produced to fertilize the ground. They were people who hunted the Tin'ytik, feasted on their divine flesh with abandon. They were people who imagined themselves equal to the god-like Tin'ytik. For a long time, Litonya had hated them, alongside the rest of her people. It was only now that she understood, it wasn't arrogance or pride that drove them. It was guardianship, to protect those who could not withstand the force of the divine. And it was a deep need for vengeance, to right the wrongs that the Tin'ytik had brought with their harm.
But to fight against gods, you needed their power.
Almost lost in her thoughts, Litonya's eyes abruptly froze as they landed on several pairs of footsteps. Someone had survived the massacre, was her first thought. But as she followed the footsteps, she abruptly realized her assumption was wrong. These people had come from outside the village, surveyed it, and then left again. Left following the footsteps of the young Tin'lejy.
Another tremble of excitement ran up her back, and Litonya took off after the footsteps. As they exited the village, the footprints spread further and further apart, testaments to the speed and power of their owners. Even the most powerful shaman or tribal chief couldn't run that fast. It was testament to exactly how much Tin'yti flesh they must have consumed.
It's them, Litonya thought, her breathing fast and short. The Jinya'jyk.
At their speed, Litonya knew there was no way she'd be able to catch them. But they would stop when they found the Tin'lejy, and maybe then, just maybe, she'd have a chance. Taking a deep breath, Litonya began to jog, chasing down the people she had always believed nothing more than murderers.
The remains of the village were a tragic sight. What had once been a flourishing community, filled to the brim with little wooden houses, now looked like a field of broken matchsticks. Ruined wood littered everywhere, the heavy logs splintered and splayed from heavy impact. At some point during the devastation a fire had started, and both the ground and some of the wood was seared into charcoal black. The smell of smoke filled the air, but even that heavy smell was not enough to cover up the scent of rot. The air reeked of day-old blood, bitter enough to make Litonya think she was going to gag. Flies buzzed through the air, filling the sky to the point that it looked like the village was covered with thin black clouds. Blood was splattered across the wood that hadn't been stained black, and here and there she could pick out parts of bodies, scattered limbs mangled into unrecognizable lumps. It was impossible to guess just how many people had died.
When Litonya had left her village, slipping away in the night with her heart filled with determination, she had never guessed that this would be the sight that would greet her. It had taken her two days of careful probing to learn where the nearest Outsider village was, and she'd spent three days after that to carefully gather her supplies, prepare her story. After all, the outsiders were just as distrustful of the Miwyek people as the Miwyek were of the outsiders. Instead, she'd found this, and it was like she was plunged into the past. Every corpse around her, for one moment, became the scattered limbs of her parents and grandmother, cousins and friends.
It was the distinct musk of a Tin'yti that filled the village which nearly drove her over the edge. As much sensation as actual smell, it tingled her nose like she'd just eaten a spicy pepper. Forcing herself to focus, to forget, Litonya inhaled deeply, trying to ignore the rotten tang of dried blood that filled the air. Instead, she focused on the scent of the Tin'yti, dropping into the forced calmness of her training to help her carefully decipher its nuance from within her memories. Slowly, Litonya entered the village.
As the smell around her grew denser, Litonya began to pick out more information. This Tin'yti had been relatively young, strong and excited for its youth. It was already well past the age where it would willingly and playfully interact with people, but still years shy of true adulthood. In human terms, it would probably be accurate to call it a teenager. Her grandmother had always told her that this was the age that a Tin'yti got the most rambunctious. As their strength and size rapidly grew, they went to great lengths to revel in newfound freedom from their parents. These Tin'ytik were often the hardest to commune with, as they were no longer young enough to have the happy innocence of children, but not mature enough to understand reason.
Litonya continued to study the village with care, examining all the signs of the damage it had left behind. Slowly, she began to piece together more information. There was no denying that everything in the village had been broken. The ground was dented from the signs of heavy impact, splinters lying everywhere from shattered wood. However, none of the damage bore the distinctive scoring or punctures that would come from impact with claws or teeth. Quickly ruling out many of the more predatory of the Tin'ytik as the perpetrators, Litonya continued to search.
Finally, she stumbled across a gap in the ruins of the village, a large courtyard of sorts with a perfect footprint situated in the middle. The footprint was near circular, with three distinct toe prints jutting out from the front. Her eyes fluttering closed, Litonya scanned through her memories, before finally making an almost certain identification.
This had been the work of a Tin'lejy, likely male if she compared the size of his footprint to the smell of his age. Broad, stocky, four-legged beasts, Tin'lejyk were masters of widespread destruction, able to bowl over anything in their path with a single step. As if that wasn't enough, their long, heavy tails and the two massive tusks that jutted from their mouth were devastating tools when swung quickly. Whatever fragile barricades a village like this could put up would shatter like paper in front of a Tin'lejy, and unless someone could get an attack into the folds of their skin and attack the delicate inner creases, most attacks would bounce harmlessly off their outer hide.
Tin'lejyk were, under normal circumstances, relatively peaceful, but they were quick to enrage when they believed they were being mistreated. If the village had launched an attack, it was no wonder the entire place had fallen before they could get any support.
Litonya continued to search the village almost mindlessly, her thoughts elsewhere. She wondered if the village had enough time to send off a messenger to request aid from the Jinya'jyk before the whole place had been destroyed. If they did… did that mean they were coming here?
The girl couldn't help the faint sense of excitement that bubbled up inside of her at the thought. She'd been raised on the stories of the Jinya'jyk. Her grandmother had called them murderers, killers, worms in human skin that weren't worth the shit they produced to fertilize the ground. They were people who hunted the Tin'ytik, feasted on their divine flesh with abandon. They were people who imagined themselves equal to the god-like Tin'ytik. For a long time, Litonya had hated them, alongside the rest of her people. It was only now that she understood, it wasn't arrogance or pride that drove them. It was guardianship, to protect those who could not withstand the force of the divine. And it was a deep need for vengeance, to right the wrongs that the Tin'ytik had brought with their harm.
But to fight against gods, you needed their power.
Almost lost in her thoughts, Litonya's eyes abruptly froze as they landed on several pairs of footsteps. Someone had survived the massacre, was her first thought. But as she followed the footsteps, she abruptly realized her assumption was wrong. These people had come from outside the village, surveyed it, and then left again. Left following the footsteps of the young Tin'lejy.
Another tremble of excitement ran up her back, and Litonya took off after the footsteps. As they exited the village, the footprints spread further and further apart, testaments to the speed and power of their owners. Even the most powerful shaman or tribal chief couldn't run that fast. It was testament to exactly how much Tin'yti flesh they must have consumed.
It's them, Litonya thought, her breathing fast and short. The Jinya'jyk.
At their speed, Litonya knew there was no way she'd be able to catch them. But they would stop when they found the Tin'lejy, and maybe then, just maybe, she'd have a chance. Taking a deep breath, Litonya began to jog, chasing down the people she had always believed nothing more than murderers.