Tips: 0.00 INK
by Tigeress on Sun Nov 20, 2011 3:00 am
The little Dou'far's nose twitched at the smells, a thousand odd, exotic scents that wafted over her, confusing her for a moment in its ovewhelming entirety. She could smell these travelers strange sweat, born from foods unknown to her. Their goods were overwhelming, even for what was pronounced as a "Small" caravan, and she slinked closer nearly invisible as she blended into the grassy outlands.
Jewelry, silks, fine spices, weapons, all packed away in organized splendor, too organized, perhaps, for the little creature, whom seemed to enjoy a haphazard existence. Even though none would have been able to make out her facial features with her head lowered impossible low for a "normal" humanoid could achieve, it was filled with wonder.
Her sharp sense of smell locked on suddenly to some strange new happening... a famillar scent was moving amongst the camp, towards a outskirt. It was the smell of the city. Lifting her head ever so slightly to peek out from her low lying cover, she could see odd pens in the direction the smell was traveling.
She moved slowly now, creeping through the grass so perfectly silent, that her own padded "steps" seemed to mimic the very rustle of the wind as it drifted gently throuhg the breeze. It was as if all her childish nature flooded away from her conciousness, filling it with only a raw beastial instinct combined with years of practice.
Three men... carrying something away from the others.. and she begun to take in their own unique scent, waiting for the wind to blow in her direction for a "imprint" of their bodies. THey did not smell like the "trade people", for they had more metal. These were "secret carriers", for they were different.
The wind died suddenly, calming to a almost non-existent whisper, and the little creature stopped herself, lying as low as possible. Her breathing became almost nonexistant as she merely waited with her face in the ground as the "Secret Carriers" moved far out of her reach, carrying the "City Scent" with them.
The sound of mewling and minor agressive roars sounded out, as well as the opening sound that almost all doors seem to make, a shrieking creek that was unique to only them. She could not smell the source of either, but the animal-like noises was reminescent of her own self, though feral, perhaps even driven crazy.
She would lie here for nearly a pair of hours in this state, waiting until it was begining to become dusk to slink away, resting herself below the massive walls. The only knowledge she had gained from this venture seemed to be that something was wrong. Things were not ok, and she had a sinking, almost sickly feeling in her stomache as she tried to put together the information.
In this relaxed postion, she picked up the smell of the "Hafjarl", the strangely cloaked creature she had came into contact with earlier that day. It was like he was searching for her... his blackened face where his head should be darting about slightly in the fading light.
Confused by the former events, the little creature did little to hide her presence, slinking up towards him with confidence. She could not help but to admit she liked him, even if he was silly and thought her name was "Dou'far". "Hello, Mah-Jeek-Man" she said, intentionally pointing out that he did magic tricks... her tone asking, perhaps, that he would show her anouther one.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Each heavy splash caused the messenger to become soaked as he run through various mud puddles in a attempt to hurry towards the commanders tent, dashing through throngs of battle weary troops as they rested for the next skirmish, huddled in well-made tents of hide as a light drizzle of rain fell upon it. Their lamellar armors of red lacquered plate and leather hung to dry seemingly in every dwelling, for this front was near massive swamp lands, formed from run off in the years past.
His legs burned with the effort to maintain this speed after his ride, for he had traveled a great distance in short time, as his task was only given to him this early morning, and he arrived just as dusk was ending, after continous trading between a system of horses so he would not have to rest the labored beast.
Loud hammering caused his already throbbing head to hurt slightly as he passed by several smiths reshaping metal on makeshift forges. Dozens of men reworking the edge upon blade, or patching a missing plate upon armor. THe stetch of this area was almost overwhelming to the messenger, for the workers seemed to be wet from equal parts rain and sweat as they cursed the weather loudly.
Here he stumbled, landing in the mud, causing it to splatter on several working men, whom all begun shouting at the poor messenger in anger, mostly threatening to break him apart. This he ignored, and continued on his path, his duty being of far more importantance than his pride.
Finally reaching a long tent, that he was quite sure was where the commander was, he stammered out a few words like "Message" and "Commander" towards the gaurds standing nearby, whom were in the middle of a late meal. The scent of smoked meat, mead, and even a pair of apples that the gaurds were just preparing to core caused his stomach to growl, craving food, for even upon the frontlines a soldier knew naught of hunger, so long as he was under Virnora's banner.
He was shown into the tent, and was delighted by the relative warmth as it caused his body to tingle, so drastic the change. His eyes darted about looking for somone to give his message to, glancing around the dozens of war maps strewn about the table in a orderly fashion, key locations marked upon them in various colors, with red, of course, representing his own nation.
"Well what is it?" the words were more like a angry bark than a question, causing the young messenger to jump as he looked in the direction, seeing a annoyed aging woman, her bob-cut brown hair clearly begining to grey in some areas.
She was the visage of a soldier in many ways, holding herself with a air of confidence, and her strict expression seemed to be weighing the poor messenger's every action as her blue eyes fixed upon him. Clad in the armor of his city, her rank was not apparent in its design, but rather in her mannerism. It was a combination of being ones elder and superior at the same time.
"M...message." he stammered, breathing heavily as he smelled that acrid smoke around her, noticing one heavily bandaged, red stained hand idly holding a long pipe, in the other was a long match which she set down, her chest rising as she took a deep breath, grinding her tabbaco stained teeth slightly. "What is it?"
"Er... Oh!" the messenger quickly gathered his thoughts, "I am to tell Commander Silvia to return to Virnora, as there is a urgent change. It seems outsiders have come to her gates." his eyes looked upon her face, hoping for approval. He had heard stories of this woman, and like most young soldiers, sought the approval of this living legend.
Instead, Commander Silvia took a deep inhale from her pipe and waved him away, "Order the men to leave." and she blow the smoke from upon the pipe out of her nostrils, sighing with relief. "If we are careful, they will not know us gone till morning, and we will be long gone." her cracked tanned lips found their way to the pipe again, but her teeth merely gnawed at the end in a thoughtful manner, and one could see bite marks upon the wood, "Tell me your name messenger."
The young man shifted himself as the two other gaurds went to carry out their task, clearly officers who were nearby for her to easily access for quick orders, it was impressive how well oiled the Virnoran war machine was at times, "I am called Yifue."
The woman turned her head towards him, her expression softening for a single moment, as she pointed towards a plate of food, clearly hers by its higher end quality, "At my age, I have trouble eatin', but I know young men do not have that issue."
Tip jar: the author of this post has received
0.00 INK
in return for their work.