The Great War

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by EquinoxSol, Jun 22, 2013.

Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.
  1. Shadowsigh can remember where he was and what he was doing when the war began. He had been standing guard outside of some nobleman's manse, standing guard over his beloved riches while he was away on holiday. To be honest, Shadowsigh had been surprised that he had been able to get such a well-paying job, as most city elves believed that the El'set were easily used and abused. This job had been his highest paying in easily a year, and once this was all over, he could afford to celebrate a little bit.

    He was in the capitol city, he could remember that. It was where the fighting had began. Some lord or lady or something had been assassinated, and no one was owning up to it. Because of that, arguing soon broke out between the various races that inhabited the city, as well as some open fighting. That fighting soon became heated, and the different races began fleeing to their own homes, either to gather their things and leave, or to arm themselves for war.

    Shadowsigh wasn't sure what he would do. He had already gotten paid for the job, so it wasn't like he couldn't just leave. However, he also knew that he had nowhere to go. The El'set surely wouldn't take him back, and his brother and he didn't say goodbye on the best of terms. Idly, he wondered if his brother had remarried. After all, he would need an heir to his seat, and if he didn't, then Shadowsigh would be the next in line. That was certainly something that he didn't want. He hadn't wanted it when he was a boy, and he most definitely didn't want it now.

    When one of those Alk'izra magicians approached him, magic crackling in his hand, Shadowsigh decided that the lord's riches weren't worth it anymore. Drawing a short sword and his dagger, he quickly fought his way through a crowd of people, determining that he should just make a small camp for himself out in the open plains and become a traveling hunter.

    Running down an alleyway, he sheathed his weapons, deciding that speed was a greater need than strength right now. All that mattered was getting out of the city, for in just a few hours, it would turn into an all-out bloodbath.

  2. Travelling the central plains were easy, if slow. The lands were generally flat, or a detour could be taken to conserve energy by going downhill, and one could return to the scheduled path without incident. Zajha often visited her map to plan her detours. At night, she preferred to make camp in the forests. With none around, she found a dip in the elevation and set up there. Tonight, she was camping out in a shallow divot near a town. That night, she noticed dark clouds and fire in the skies within the walls. Now was not a good time to visit the local merchant.

    A mercenary, sellsword, whichever you wished to call her, Zajha was just that. She fought and killed for money, but like many (but not all) of her kind, she had principals when taking a job. Many Alk'Izra took up swords on the behalf of a nation and fought each other over their wages. At the coming of age ceremony, one's eye was gouged out, and the remaining eye was tattooed over to release the magics inside. The clanmaster implored the ones who wished to become a mercenary that should they discover the death of a close friend at the hands of an ally, they should forsake revenge and grant forgiveness. It became Alk'Izra general morality to forgive those who kill their kin, however, when a dear family member was killed by an ally, it was no telling how an Alk'Izra would react. Luckily, Zajha's folks are merchants, her mother, a former bodyguard mercenary.

    The city elves running from their homes seemed rather alarming to the Alk'Izra. An unchanged werecreature - which she had pegged based on his frame. Large, with slightly odd proportionality. Glowing eyes. Humans would get pointed ears, and man or elf would have the lobe of their ear attached to the head. Again, that could only be known by those who knew him before.

    He held in his hand a large, heavy falchion. Based on the blood on his pants, and the tattered remains of his shirt, he'd say he had taken to banditry when the town began to riot. She wondered what kingdom would come to quell the riot this time. But that was unimportant compared to this situation. "If you want money, you'll have to duel me for it." A fair duel was Zajha's favorite manner of settling regular disputes. Her only rules? Stay in a defined area, and begin moving after a count.

    Not one much for a duel, the bandit lashed out at Zajha. Good thing she hadn't gone to sleep yet. She sidestepped the attack, but the blade gleaned off her pauldron scales. The bandit ended up with a makhaira in his gut, severing the spine on the other side. Withdrawing her blade, Zajha pushed the werecreatures corpse off her. It was still alive - for the moment - but would die shortly. "As you settle down to your last bits of lifeblood, the curse will leave your body. Forcefully. You will be in much pain. Should I kill you?"

    Blood dripping from the werecreature's lips, he nodded weakly. Zajha grasped her fauchard and got into position. She closed her eyes, the path of her blade defined. The tattoo over her eye began to glow, and the slit of her closed eye also gave off light. The blade began to crackle with a holy thunder as she raised it to her headsman's position. "I condemn your body to death, and commend your soul to the aether."

    The blade came down squarely on his throat. Witnessing the corpse lose any changes made by the curse was interesting. He was a pale elf. His eyes were hazel. She noticed as she closed them. He was tall for an elf, not losing much height.

    So this is the start of her adventure. She'd find a worthy companion to travel with here. One who would flee so they wouldn't have to kill anyone. Or anyone else, depending on who it was.

    It wasn't often one saw wild elves in the city...
  3. Inalu was busy tending to a murdered merchant he happened to stumble upon. From the looks of it, the poor soul was killed a couple of days ago. Not enough people passed through this area to deal with the corpse. If not that, nobody cared. Fortunately, there were enough remains to put together a proper burial. That was one of Inalu's specialties.

    Using his own two hands, the shaman dug a hole in the ground. Curious animals spied from the trees and bushes, able to hear the human's labored breathing beneath his skull mask. Pinned in the dirt was his staff, carved from a sacred tree and topped with a skull that belonged to one of his dead relatives.

    "Digging, digging, digging away. Then we will mourn this death today. That is all I have to say~" While the shaman chanted quietly to himself in a screwy kind of way, the voice of his mind was much more respectful: I could not save your life, brave merchant, but I can at least give your death the respect it deserves.

    The remains of the dead body were put into the hole when it was finished. Beside it, he stuck in a stake he cared so that some traditional decorations could hang from it. A few items from the walking salesman's fallen cart were placed around it after he attached some strings of beads to the stake. After a quiet prayer in his native tongue, the corpse was set on fire.

    Inalu knew exactly what happened to this man. The spirits told him this person's story, plus he could tell just by the way this scene felt that the slay was unjust. While the remains burned, he stayed knelt in front of the grave with his palms pressed together. A song was sang in the salesman's honor. Multiple colors of light rose from the flames, twisting into shapes of animals that danced in the air until their images faded back into smoke.
    #3 Fluffy, Jun 22, 2013
    Last edited: Jun 25, 2013
  4. Soaring above following the ensuing chaos of internal strife among the varying factions that shared the land, a large black bird soared effortlessly with white-to-gold primary feathers that joined the tail base to form a near-perfect triangular shape when full outstretched, red-tipped crests all around its head and down it's neck, and a long, fleshy tail with vibrant fire colored feathers panning out behind. It only took a few bordering-on-lazy flicks of the avian's massive wingspan to keep aloft, the winds strong today and making it easy to simply glide on the current.

    Even from a distance, the carnage following the outbreak of fighting was palpable in the air; the scent of smoke, blood, decay, upturned earth, and explosive powder. While fighting was not entirely foreign, it was still a bit much for the still-youthful Avaris as they decended somewhat to glide just above the ravaged cities and villages, and more to the amount of carnage and death than there having been fighting in and of itself. Surely enough there were skirmishes between smaller factions or bandit raids, but this was an entirely new level of destruction and hatred...

    A sigh escaped his lips even as he surveyed the scene below through veiled eyes. This was why the Avaris people stayed so resolute in their isolationism from other countries and their affairs. It had been a strong message drilled into his head since he was old enough to remember. No matter how good relations were today, they could crumble in an instant tomorrow, over a simple, petty misunderstanding, and accident...even simply because one person's ego was the tiniest smidgen too big for another's liking.

    "What foolish creatures..." He murmured, the spoken words a language that would be unfamiliar to any outlying country or land other than those of the Avaris' hidden societies. "Isn't that right, Khu?" The gargantuan bird gave a shrill cry that echoed across the crumbling streets and scattering of unattended bodies, avoiding pillars of smoke as it travelled a path from there and out further into the forests and plains beyond.

    Scouting...really? I thought I was above this by now. he rued silently, brushing a few locks of hair from his face as he pulled the cloth hood and the adjoining mask over his head and face, adjusting it slightly so that it was properly rested before moving his hand to the box of harness lines located just above him on the flying harness, lightly tugging at a few of them to signal his partner in the direction he wanted to go. But...I suppose if that's what I was tasked with, I'll simply have to put up with it for now.

    The large bird easily obeyed and drifted in the direction that he signalled with a few easy flaps of the wings, observing the scattered packs of people travelling in one direction or the other, some no-doubt to join the ranks of fighters and others more than likely turning refugee and hoping to find a niche free from conflict, if only for a time.
  5. The air was sharp and bitter with the smell of smoke. Densely packed trees filtered out much of the smoke but, great clouds pooled down into the lower valleys. A dark eyed crow watched from high upon Spirits peak, the tallest point on a small mountain close to the edge of the woods, it was almost completely bare at the top except for a few scraggily pines. The large bird cocked its head in interest as another plume of smoke drifted up into the night sky, the grey of the smoke stained red by the fires raging in the city below. For a while the crow just watched until a second crow alighted onto the branch next to the first crow. The two of them were kin although the first was several generations older than his kinsman. Some information was exchanged between the two and it was not long before the second crow took to wing again heading down to one of the lower peaks. The first crow just stayed where he was, perfectly still except for a single russeling movement that strongly resembled a human shrug, as though he was wonder what kind of trouble these strange two leggers had gotten up to.

    The line between wakefulness and sleep was very narrow for Giedra. With the defensive instincts of a hunter and the constant awareness of prey it was a wonder she got any sleep at all. This meant she did not make transitions slowly, and tonight was no different, her eyes snapping awake, and her spine forcing her into an upright sitting position. For a few seconds she just sat there, dead silent, trying to decifer what had woken her. The question was quickly answered as a crow appeared at the entrance of her den, giving another throaty cackle as though he sincerely doubted that she was truely awake. Shifting forward onto her knees Giedra crawled out of her den, doing her best not upset the piles of hides that lined the shallow cave and made up the majority of her bed. The night had a pleasant bite to it when she first emerged but, there was something foul on the air that caught her attention, something was very wrong. Swiftly standing up she held out an arm and the crow immediaty hopped onto it and began to relay what he had seen.

    The two leggeds nest is on fire, many flee many die. The crow spoke through a series of postures and deep crackles, and Giedra listened and watched in silence. After a few moments she asked in the crows' language Is Marnir waiting on The Mound? With a quick yes from the messager Giedra reached back in herden ad grabbed her pack before they were off. The run as up hill but, she showed no signs of slowing down even as she reached the last part and had to climb up a vertical wall of rock. Once she did crest the top of mountain she was almost surprised by what she saw. Smoke was still rising in great plumes above the city and if anything the fires had gotten worse than they were before. Breaking her eyes away from the scene from across the plain she approached a large knobbly pine in which Marnir was still perched not appearing to have moved from when the mesanger crow left to now.

    How long has the nest been burning? She asked in a softly making sure to use the proper respectful tones while addressing the leader of the crows.

    Since The Eye closed but, they have fought much longer than that. The old crow answered bluntly fluttering down onto a lower branch. Many run this way, I sent Carra to you as they will disturb much. Nodding in understanding Giedra thanked Marnir before turning sharply and heading off in the direction of the city. The run down the side of the mountain was hair raising as she slid down loose patches or rock and narrowly dodged branches reaching out towards her from the darkness. She stopped only once on a sharp outcropping of rock, to through back her head and let out a howl. Though she no longer lived with a pack she still had a love for them and it was the time of season when their pups would be den bound, better to give them an early warning than have some stupid merchant stumble onto a pack of hostile wolves. She did not stop again until she reached the edge of the woods. Here she paused just to survay the land before she broke cover, it was hard to hide on a flat plain but, seeing only a few shadows moving in the distance she felt that she could easily risk it. Just then a black shape dropped out of the sky to land on a branch nearby.

    Carra, did Marnir send you? The bird gave her a look and told her no and then shuffled down the branch he was perched on telling her to get moving. Smiling softly and glad for the company Giedra started off across the open field. She would need another pair of eyes to watch her back, who knew what kind of things the people were getting up to at this point.
  6. Zajha never buried bodies, only blessed them. Burials could only be handled by ritualists in her own society. Not to mention, this decapitated head would be hard to preserve, even if she could perform the rites. She was protecting herself, and caused this man to beg for death.

    A somewhat familiar shriek of a bird rang in the sky. She looked up and saw a bird she'd sighted before in the southern territories. She had never seen one up close. They were such secluded beasts, that even if she spotted one walking on the beach, it'd utter something in an unknown language and fly away. This gave her a hint that they weren't necessarily beasts. They were sentient, which caused her to gain interest in them. Of course, she had basically given up the idea that her interest would ever be sated. Not that it mattered, now, she might actually be able to befriend this one.
  7. Shadowsigh kept tripping, over rubble, over debris, and over bodies. The bodies were the worst. Every time he looked at one, he felt bad for whoever it had been. Mostly, the bodies were young men, but sometimes it would be women and children, and it would make his heart ache to see their faces, frozen in terror. Giant birds were flying the skies, fires were burning everywhere, and looters and bandits had seemed to overrun the city, despite what the guards did.

    After pulling himself to his feet after the most recent stumble, Shadowsigh turned a corner, to see another Alk'izra killing a werewolf, who promptly returned to an elven form. Fearing for his life, Shadowsigh ducked into the shadows cast by a large building, just as a bird made an ear-splitting call from the air. Flinching, he tried to keep from shouting out at the unexpected noise. Still, curiosity overtook him, and he left the shadows to get a better look at the bird. It would be easy for the Alk'izra to see him now. "It's beautiful," he murmured, entranced by it.
  8. "Come and sit by the fire. Pardon the body. He attacked me, and I was forced to defend myself. Didn't wish for him to suffer." She gestured at the wild elf, making himself more than slightly obvious. "You came to escape the carnage? It's everywhere it seems. Loyalties are being rather tested lately. I trust you know of my kind?" She impaled her spear in the earth and sheathed her blade, sitting down on a log she found earlier that afternoon. "There's a bucket there if you don't want to sit on the ground."

    It was a simple campsite, made with a small portable tent, and a table near the fire made from a large cross section of a tree drag over a pair of static logs. The provisionality of it made it obvious that the Alk'Izra sellsword, Zajha, preferred to travel lightly. "I have a few more rations. I was planning on getting more when I reached town, but of course, we'll have to go looting when the riot is quelled. There's no shopping there now. Not for awhile."
  9. Shadowsigh grimaced slightly. He didn't want to loot anyone's didn't seem right. Still, he wasn't one to simply ignore a polite offer of hospitality. Stepping forwards, he bowed his head slightly. "Thank you," he said, sitting down cross-legged on the ground."I had thought that everyone had gone insane and were just killing everyone...I was going to run off into the woods, to get away from the carnage..." He smiled politely.

    "I'm Shadowsigh..." He bowed his head slightly in greeting, not sure what was expected of him. "You don't have to share your food with me...I can handle myself." He looked around at her camp. It was nice, in a quaint sort of way. As a mercenary, he was more used to extravagant mansions, and hadn't been living outside of the city in easily five years. Taking a deep breath, he looked over at the Alk'Izra, trying to gauge what type of person she was.
  10. Zajha stood slightly to give a slight curtsy and nodded, sitting back down. "I'm Zajha N'drast of the northern clans. I smell the blood of my kind on you. Do not fret, I understand. You were likely defending yourself. You are absolved in the eyes of my people." Her focus veered back to the burning city. "I give it three days."

    She turned her attention back to the wild elf, going by Shadowsigh, which she had no doubt, was an alias of some sort, and drew her blade to stoke the flames.

    "Most of my people either pursue a career as a mercenary, or aid the few who choose to be merchants as a bodyguard. I was a bodyguard to my father first, he was a merchant. A few years ago, I left home to become a mercenary because my parents wished to arrange a marriage for me. I would not have my heart dictated by one who does not own it. I carve my own path. My body, heart, and soul are mine own, and I am not a fragile woman. Outside my clans, I understand women like myself are rare. You should also know that considering my father was a merchant, it's also rare for one of the same sort of family. Merchant families are always aristocratic, often arranging marriages. But my mother was a bodyguard. I suppose I took a lot after her. You could say I have a free spirit."

    It wasn't often Zajha had someone to talk to, so she just spilled everything she had on her mind. She was free, and loved it, but she was lonely. She wanted a friend, that was all. Hopefully Shadowsigh would make good company.
  11. Arching it's body and angling it's wings, the large bird slowed its descent and dropped to the ground amongst tall tussocks of grass and shrubbery flanking the roads, falling into an easy, long-legged stride. The bird easily towered over even the tallest man by double most people's height, the beak along large enough that it could probably crush a man's skull like a grape in most people's palms. Some that were walking eyed the bird with obvious fear, the trauma of recent events still showing clearly in their body langauge and expressions.

    The Avaris rider merely watched them and listened, taking in every bit of information sight and sound could give him as the avian strode along, stilt-like legs making even its casual stride easily outpace any man or beast walking on the road only some yards away and passing them up in no large amount of time at all. Not a single happy face could be easily found amongst any of the travelers, only grim countenances whether they be grieving, outraged, accepting, or any number of other emotions.

    A hop and few deft flap of the wings had the bird up again to perch on a higher elevated cleft overlooking the fields and woodland not far off from where the pair of elves were conversing.
  12. Feral dogs searched through the rubble looking for what scraps the two legged scavengers had left behind. There was little left and each dog had to defend its prize from all the other dogs that were just waiting to snatch what the others had found. One young female dog let out a low snarl as Giedra moved past, bowing low over the torn loaf of bread that she had grabbed. Such a threat was not appreciated and Giedra answered with a dangerous growl along with a pointed look. The young dog almost immediately backed down, laying down in apology but, still keeping her head over her prize. But, Giedra had more to worry about than a dog that was hardly more than a pup, destruction reined and she had to keep her eyes out for those who were looking for easy targets to rob.

    As she moved stealthily through the streets she found it a bit disconcerting as she switched from the disserted back alleys to the main roads that were completely packed with people trying to escape the city. To avoid the crush of the crowd Giedra scaled a wall using it as leverage to gain access to the surrounding roof tops. Large crowds posed a problem for her on most days but, now something was very off. The tension in the air fired her nerves, making her jumpy and wary of her surroundings, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as though it was competing with the cries and screams to see who could be louder. She almost felt compelled to stop and just sit upon the wall for a moment as her adrenaline burned through her veins. But, instead she choose to move away from the main press of people, towards the outer wall, to watch the stream of retreating people.

    As she sat upon the wall she heard a soft cackle from above. It was Carra, the crow glided down and landed with a soft thump on one of Giedra's knees.
    I thought you were going to be my eyes. Geidra said teasingly gently nudging the crow in the chest. A tall cousin landed close to here I wanted to observe. The crow said ruffling his feathers against the girl's fingers.

    Cousin? Giedra asked curious as to what bird the crow was referring to. With crows, and many birds in general they considered themselves to be cousins of sorts, different yet from the same family. Although they were birds that the crows refused to admit they were related to. Pushing herself up Giedra followed Carra's directions as to where this "cousin" was. It wasn't as if she was actually doing much, so she could afford to deviate from the city. From a top the wall she quickly spotted the bird that Carra had been talking about.

    Very tall cousin. She said surprised. Dropping down on the outside of the wall she used the darkness and the irregular hills to hide her approach until she was about thirty feet from the bird and about twenty feet from the fire. Pausing she contented herself with observing for now although Carra was feeling a bit bolder and was flying very closely over the heads of the two around the fire and over the Avaris.
  13. Inalu rummaged through the fallen merchant's supplies when the little ceremony was over with. There were some useful items still. Some food rations, a few pieces of jewelry, some herbs... The shaman stowed away whatever he could into his travel pack. Mostly, he picked off things he could make use of. The shiny valuable were left behind. Certainly, he could sell them or trade them but they would just take up extra space until then. Most people didn't trust him with sales, anyway.

    Walking along with his skull mask sitting atop his head, Inalu had a long pipe between his lips with a light smoke coming from the bowl. He had a youthful looking face for a man his age. There were green triangular shapes beneath his eyes and stripes of the same color down his neck. They were unusual markings. What made them more unusual was the fact they were permanent.

    Not too far off, he heard voices. Inalu smiled around his pipe while making way towards the noise, but he didn't get too close. He squat down beside a tree, using his staff for support so he could balance on his toes. There was a magnificent looking avian there, some strangers, a fire...

    Where did they come from, I wonder? I don't usually see many people in these parts. "I like fire too!" he whispered to himself in that usually crazy way. At least one of them probably heard him, despite his efforts to be quiet. These weren't ordinary creatures.

    Sigh. Stupid.
  14. A smile cracked upon her face. Today was a day of visitors. A day she had hoped for since she took hiatus from the mercenary business. Another wayward vagabond like herself, here to share the spoils of company. He seemed a bit dim, judging by his comment, but he could be incredibly wise. Just on the dim side. She decided to appeal to the side of wisdom with a healthy piece of poetry.

    "The spirits say we are to meet. Here, in this little divot in the hillock. Do you believe in destiny, oh friend of the forest?"

    The man seemed a druid when she caught a glimpse of her, but the staff said mystic. The pipe supported both. "Tell me, you are not of the civilized people, are you? But you speak the language of trade, I heard you myself. Come, friend, let us discuss the providence of our world. What do you call her, mystic? Gaea? Anu? I have heard many stories in my travels."

    She prefered conversation where she wasn't the only one talking. She was open, but the decorated armor pieces proved to shroud a bigger picture than she could ever explain with words. Perhaps these two had their own secrets.
  15. The voice of a female caught Inalu's attention. They were as sweet as honey to his ears with the elegant way they flowed. While she continued to speak, he shut his eyes and imagined a breeze carrying leaves on a crisp autumn day. Her words were refreshing, like the wind. Lovely. So lovely.

    Staff in hand, he made his way over to the fire. Streams of smoke twisted into unique shapes as he walked over, a bit clumsy from the way he was sitting for as long as he did. He dropped himself into a vacant spot, nodding his head appreciatively to those in his presence. It wasn't often that the shaman was invited to sit amongst others. Most people were too wary of his appearance. People were too afraid of those who were 'different'.

    "I am a shaman. Inalu," he said simply, after taking his pipe into his hand. The smoke piece was raised to the kind strangers before returning to his lips. Inalu's inner voice was relieved that nothing more was said. Making a good first impression was important, but he was rarely able to do so. His mouth could be so tactless sometimes.
  16. "A man of few words. I am Zajha." With that, the camp fell to silence once again. The bandits and looters had stopped coming out, but some were still running in. There was a steady ring of blood around the city, and another fire broke out in the slum district. Three days was seeming more likely than ever. All this havoc has occurred in a single afternoon.

    Zajha rose from her seat, freeing it up for someone else, and began shedding her armor. It was nearly night, so she figured she might go ahead and be ready for sleep. She had two men at the camp there to help her if she needed to defend herself to more, and she's faster out of her armor, so she felt rather safe - unless one of these two planned on assassinating her themselves. But they seemed benevolent to her.

    After she lifted her byrnie, she stepped back into plain view to check out the burning horizon again. She felt like running. The plains were vast, and it seemed like nobody would chase her. "You boys want to go for a run? I feel pretty light without all that armor on."
  17. For the most part the scene was unchanging. People continued to pour out of the city, some more sure-footed in where they were going than others. There wasn't much pertinant information to be found, many of them completely confused so far as to how the fighting even started. Completely useless to his task. He noticed a halt in the jerking glances that his bird partner made as it gazed around, he more slowly turning his head as a crow fluttered by with curious intent, and it wasn't more than mere moments before he noticed the woman that was watching them, gazing over at her through dark ruby-glassed goggles inlayed into the mask that he wore.

    ((Short post is short x.x ))
  18. The masked man tilted his head at the female as she suggested going for a run. Having just finished smoking from his pipe, his lungs probably weren't in the best condition for a race. That aside, he was gifted with running. One of the things that his spirit animal represented was speed. Another was an eagerness to explore, so as long as he was aware. Amongst these friendlies, he didn't feel too vulnerable. He saw allies in them.

    I would love to join you, kind miss. "I love to run, it's so much fun! Oh, teehee, that rhymed!" The shaman stood himself up, using his staff as support because his legs felt stiff. He stretched them out while situating some of the items on his person. The skull he wore was knocked backwards so that it hung from his neck by a string, exposing his head of dark hair and tribal marked face. His left eye was mostly closed; it was blind. The youthful man smiled toothily, his canines dangerously sharp looking. As savage as he looked, he meant no harm.

    Inalu made a cough into one of his fists, the cold air making his breath visible. Twisting his body away from the nice strangers, he spat a glob of black colored saliva onto the ground. Clearing his chest helped his confidence that he'd be able to job with the woman without any problems. It had been too long since he'd last enjoyed a sport with anybody.

    "Go?" he asked, tilting his head again while he looked at Zajha.
  19. A smirk and a nod, the crimson-headed madame started off slow, getting her legs loosened up before going into a full run, but saving her breath for a sprint. She bit her teeth together and allowed the breath to transfer through both the mouth and nose. It was a good way to keep stamina. Take in air through both orifices so one can breath more easily. It kept her from getting short of breath, which was always handy during combat. She vaulted over a rock, decisively planting a hand on it's surface and bounding over.

    "Come, Inalu! The plains are vast!" She kept her words short to keep her breath. She wasn't wanting to race, but if he was fast, she'd want to keep up.
Thread Status:
Not open for further replies.