Hunting Wyverns of Strange Ritual
Posted: Sun Jun 23, 2013 7:24 am
((started as chat rp))
Ayana. The great unknown. The band of brothers sisters was hired for a single purpose: to extinguish the mountain wyvern that terrorized the village of Agnaruz. Cat, with his newly human body, had traveled to this great continent for adventure and passion. Cat carried with him a spell book and a set of jars and glass things attached to his bag, jingling and jangling as he walked along with the party. Comparitively, he was the weakest of them. His strengths lay elsewhere.
*
It figured Leni'd be the one to draw the fucking short straw. It figured she'd to knock some heads together to sort out the pissing churls who'd thought to snicker behind their hands at her. Not that it mattered, because she was going and there weren't nothin' to change that. To make the whole of it all the more stinking of shit, she'd been saddled alongside amateurs who like as not knew nothing of the sharp end of the stick from the dull. She'd said as much to their proud and oh-so-stuck-up leader. She'd been told to stick it back up her ass where she'd sent her honor and pride so many years ago.
Oh, that'd stung. Stung right good. So Leni'd shut her mouth and fallen along to the back to seethe and invent fun and new things to insult the fucker with. About five minutes into that, she'd gotten right tired of going for it alone. Which left Cat beside her. She eyed him right speculatively the first couple minutes she'd left off her word-jangling. Then she'd thought about what she might do to a green man. Then, smiling, she'd sidled up alongside him. She was old and gnarled compared to him, a twisted up veteran of these sorts o' things. She was his better. Yeah. His better. She knew what to do with underlings.
"'Oy," she said by way of greeting. She'd mostly ignored him before, dismissed him out of turn. She'd been fucking rude to him. It was how she treated most people. "Y'look right ready t' piss yer trousers." She slid her hand deep into her jacket, and pulled out a flask. She gestured it towards him, her smile turning into a wicked grin.
*
Chip was a quiet thing of burrows and warrens, a local inhabitant occasionally referred to as the ghost rabbit. A rabbit in truth, Chip was a shifter who had shunned the society of men and lived mostly as a rabbit. The presence of the Wyvern had made life worse, and Chip had resolved to aid in the efforts of restoring tranquility to the woodlands he called home. Uneasy in human form, the lithe and tanned young man was dressed in old tribal leathers and carried a bundle of simple throwing spears. Were it not for the dun tones of his skin, the man's white hair and red eyes would have pegged him as an albino.
The group out of Agnaruz would find the young man on the road just beyond the village's line of sight, jogging from one foot to another in impatient little hops. The young man would almost bound over in an awkward attempt to get the introductions over quickly. "Gree-greetings I am Chip, I am living near here and wanting to help in the hunting. I am being no burden, no, and am hunting with the spears, yes? I will accompany." It was, Chip thought, a very eloquent greeting. He had obviously not lost his touch with speech in the years since he'd last conversed with a human.
*
The small porcelain doll had escaped from the home of the woman who had bought her in the market as soon as she had the chance. With a wooden box rigged up as a pack on her back with ribbon, Tanya keeps to the long grasses and wild flowers whose Colors hid her well. Upon hearing voices ahead of her on the road, she paused to hear what was said. Ever since the witch who had aimed to kill her and snatched her body then her father's death afterwords, Tanya had been in search of the old woman.
*
One of the first things that Cat had done when he'd been turned human was fuck a whore. He did it so that he wouldn't be tempted to jump the bones of the very first woman he saw. Right about when Leni handed him the flask was when he looked at her, and was suddenly more thankful to himself than ever that he had paid good money for a proper whore. Sandy-haired and smooth-cheeked, Cat was a fancy man with fancy looks. He was repulsed by people like Leni.
That was all the better, as he didn't feel the least bit offended that she was rude to him. Well, the offended feelings he felt were completely out of principal, rather than hurt feelings. He gave her a sideways frown, rolling his eyes and pushing away the flask with a dainty hand. "And you look 'right ready' to get your little self killed," he contended.
Foolish people. Foolish mission. Cat knew wyverns from his old books; they were nasty critters.
The road, wet and muddy, had but a single person on it, hopping toward them in a manner most odd. Something in Cat made him want to chase the man. He introduced himself as Chip and said he wanted to hunt with them. Cat looked at the awkward, creepy-eyed boy with doubt. "If you'd like to get yourself killed, then by all means." Cat raised his hands in the air and looked from left to right as he said it, an invitation for the young human. He did, to be fair, have several spears.
He could have sworn that he'd heard something in the grasses just beside the road, but when he looked, there did not appear to be anything there. The grass moved suspciously, and Cat narrowed his eyes.
*
Little self. There was a done deserved retort on her tongue when they squelched to a stop, and she found herself interrupted by the presence of yet another stupid fuck. This one though, this one looked native. Them folks were strange to her eyes and ears, and behaved in manner unlike any she'd the chance to encounter. O'course, being that Leni was a boat and a big puddle away from home, it woulda made sense. Too bad she didn't have the time or the inclination to be doing anything that involved sense.
"Me? Changers piss on the thought," she muttered, despite Cat's attention having already shifted. "But I'll be right sure t' burn yer corpse when t'time comes."
The thought was cheering. She handily unscrewed her flask and took a deep drink, watching Cat with narrowed eyes all the while.
Rhia 'Zephyr' Llujorie, their fearless, prissy cunt of a leader, took a step forward as Chip named himself. Her lips thinned at Cat's words were the first to fall upon Chip's ears. It was not a movement often found reassuring to those of the Society regularly placed under her command. Still, half of them had been brought separate from the Society's involvement, and they were only tenuously connected. It had been a problem.
"Greetings. . .Chip," she said, her voice cool. "We shall accept your offer of aid. Is there any information you might offer us?"
Neither Zephyr nor Leni noticed the presence of the doll.
*
"Wait!" A voice called from behind them. The figure was of average height and the voice female. The clothing was functional - an oil skin coat with a hood hid most of the woman's features. A pack, with an oil skin cover, was a lump on the woman's back. Sensible, sturdy boots peeked out from beneath the jacket as she trotted toward them from the direction of the town.
When she caught up to the group, Miré glanced around. "Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to make sure I had sufficient supplies. I saw a post for a healer. I'm Elémiré Ouranraé." The woman offered a pleasant, nice smile to each in turn. Her eyes were dark brown and what could be seen of her hair appeared to be dark brown or black. "If you still need that healer, I'll go with you."
*
Syrathan lay in the tall grass, quietly eavesdropping and cursing his luck with the arrival of more, and certainly less desired, mongrels. None of them looked particularly challenging, but they may be troublesome; only hunger pangs kept him from slinking away.
He could smell oil and dirt, as well as all of the unclean odors around him. It was disgusting.
Their speech was as of yet meaningless, but time was on Syrathan's side. He fingered the hilt of his dirk in anticipation, and barely contained the shiver of ecstasy. Unfortunately for his pestilence-ridden luck, they were mostly females; at least he would have enough meat for a day or two. That is, assuming he was able to down all of them. Pity he left Paragon and Bastion behind; he didn't think he would have to end the worthless lives of more than two mongrels this day. Anger forced his teeth to grit and his muscles to tense. He almost decided just to run at them and take as many with him as he could, maybe get lucky and live, but that would be dirty as well as foolish.
For now, Syrathan contented himself to wait.
*
Chip's nostrils flared in the presence of Cat, whose presence seemed to poke at his primal flight response. The red-eyed youth's nostrils twitched several times as the wiry youth jigged uneasily for a moment before regaining control of his movements. How did people live in these ridiculous bipedal forms anyway? It was like every step was just an attempt to prevent the stupidly tall body from toppling to the ground. "I am not liking to get myself killed. I am spending many years in the humble pursuit of not getting myself killed. Not getting myself killed later means hunting big wings of terror now. For this I can be scout, yes? That is term for man running fast in wrong direction? Yes, scout."
Unfortunately, Chip's ears couldn't twitch, which further discomforted the youth. Why have ears which couldn't turn to better make out the sounds of approaching danger? It was stupid, stupid, slow half blind and deaf and stupid! Even the nose was insufficient. The youth followed Cat's gaze to the hint of sound in grass before turning to Zephyr "Ahhh, yes, good that you accept, and now I respond with gratefulness by providing the information I have, yes. The wings of terror are big, big and big again, it is feasting then sleeping then flying and feasting again. That who and which it has eaten have made rotten the scent of its dung in the woods, dung which piles larger than that of bear's dung." It was an affront to come, eat so much, and disturb the pleasant scents of his home, Chip believed. An offense worthy of a spearpoint in the eye or throat.
A moment later, Chip had cause again to revile this human form, when his first awareness of the newcomer was her loud request for a pause. It was simple reflex that caused Chip's legs to bunch beneath him, and send the twitchy youth into a jump spanning several feet, the graceful spin to the leap causing the youth to land facing the sound of the noise, eyes wide and hand reaching for a spear. A moment later, Chip stilled his beating heart and stammered out a perfunctory greeting to the newcomer. Why were there so many women and people not of the village? Had the village no warriors left already? Worrying, worrying. Chip took to making up for his ears' inability to shift direction by constantly shifting his own body to better gauge incoming sounds and smells. It gave the overall impression of a man dancing on an ants nest. "We should not group up so tightly, no, that is asking for death from the winged terror all at once. Force it to pick one, try not to die if picked, that is what you must do, yes."
*
The small porcelain figure had crouched down to keep herself as well hidden as she was able as the people's eyes more than once paused over where she hid. All gathered were so much different from the farmers she had grown up with. One in particular had reacted with such energy at being startled, he jumped several feet straight into the air! Tanya jumped a little from being startled herself, the porcelain of her body making the faintest of tinkling sounds. The contents of her box shifted with her movement and made rustling sounds of the objects settling again. If she had a heart, it would have been in her throat.
*
Cat hated Zephyr. She was all cheekbone and no class. Actually, Cat appeared to be the only one with class, yet again. He always seemed to get himself stuck in these sorts of situations. This time he was stuck because he was broke and the only skills he had were with the Astral plane, and catching mice with his bare hands. He made a "psh" sound at Zephyr's acceptance, flipping his well-combed hair.
Leni had said something, he just realized. He thought about asking "what?" but instead just pretended that he had heard her, and ignored whatever rude thing she had countered with.
And then Miré.
Cat was easily charmed by women. It had been his downfall. Even after being turned back into a human, his goods were still the most easiest part of his body to manipulate. Her voice was clean and clear, and beneath the hood he could make out some form of softness. Dark hair. He felt a bit of blood rush downward, and he wanted to smack himself. Idiot, he thought. It's only a woman. Not a vagina on stilts. Chip had been talking the whole time, but Cat's ears had suddenly becomed tuned to woman.
However, his eyes were another story. This time, his peripheral (and thank goodness for the human peripheral vision) caught not one, but two movements of the blades of grass. The great trees around them, spruce and cedar things, towered nearby. They bent with the wind.
"There's something out there." His voice was taught with anxiety. "And it isn't a 'winged terror,'" he said. He stared at the location of the doll, preparing a levitation spell in his head, just in case. Then the tinkling sound.
"SURGUNT!"
Cat moved his gentle hands in a sweeping motion, followed raising them. The command brought the doll in the grass two feet above the earth she had stood upon. Cat was so surprised by her identity that he almost dropped her. His mouth opened in amazement. What amazing gnome had conjured such a thing?! Gently, he levitated the doll toward the party. "What the hell?" he said, squinting his eyes at her strange face. He set her down in front of them. It was a doll, a moving doll, not much more than a foot tall.
It was adorable.
*
It was a problem.
Zephyr had listened to Chip with an upraised eyebrow. She'd even accepted his broken speech. True, the lot of them made her want to strangle someone, but at least Chip had already proven some usefulness. He could track. That was a start. He was biddable. That was good. But his last sentence set her back to the sneering frown she was so famous for in Apthoni.
"Scouting," she began, when she was interrupted by a new arrival. Immediately her demeanor soured. Rigidity stole over her posture, and she turned towards Miré with a crispness that would have fit into many an Eyropan city guard. "I would suggest you consider some measure of punctuality the --"
Interruption. Again. This time it came from Chip. She turned her head to admonish him about necessary rules if he was to join them, when next there were words from Cat.
Leni was watching the lot of 'em with a knowing smirk. Zephyr's attention had been pinging between all the gathered puppies like she was the bitch that birthed 'em. It gave Leni great joy to see the duty of it off on the bitch. Not that there were many higher up in the ranks than her that she had cause to like, but she and Zephyr went back. Unhappy places. At least the dandy, Cat, was amusing. Zephyr didn't have much in her in the way of humor.
"Toss it," she said, though she looked at Chip. "Piss off if yer afraid o'--"
"I will have order!" Zephyr wasn't yelling, exactly. It was more a loud command. Though, Leni reckoned the irritation in the woman's voice sort of ruined the effect that'd probly been intended.
Leni snickered. She couldn't help it. It got stuffed quick when Zephyr's icy glare fell upon Leni, but lucky dog she was today, the glare was soon transferred to Cat. "I have had enough of your mouth. Keep your little pet or no, you will remain quiet unless called upon. You," Zephyr turned to Miré, "fall in and if I find you are nothing more than a quack there will be consequences." Finally, she turned fully to face Chip. "You will scout ahead of us -- not in the wrong direction -- to ensure we are headed the correct way. We seek to find the thing's lair." Zephyr turned in place so that her eyes fell upon the lot of them. "Am I clear?"
*
So many things happened at once, but the sharp voiced woman claimed her attention. Mire raised her eyebrows, but kept quiet, choosing only to nod in agreement and "fall in." It was going to be one of those. Not that she had many forays under her belt, but she knew a military type person when she heard one. This wouldn't be much different from dealing with the local military force. Keep a pleasant, compliant expression; establish her skills when needed, but not before.
She was curious about the man who could leap so well, the Mage (as she'd labeled Cat in her head), and the little doll. Mire shifted the pack and stepped in line with Leni.
"The Wyvern's landed on Mount Farmore, a little to the north of here near the heat geysers."
*
Yes, there! That was not a proper sound for grass! Sound does not make that noise, no, it is all soft and whoosh-rustle, not tinklescritch. Chip's leg muscles tensed.
"SURGUNT!"
Chip's muscles sent him in an entirely different direction than originally planned. Mostly 'Away from the Loud Noise', the agile and highstrung figure spinning once again to face the source of sound: Cat. He didn't get enough time to examine the strange thing brought to light by the man who hinted of animal, because two of the women chose that moment to start competing with each other for the title of 'loudest mouth of the village'.
It was, Chip thought, getting to be a little nerve-wracking being around all these suicidally noisy and aggressive people. Didn't they realise that they were doing it all wrong? Like a group of rabbits hopping directly into a fox den? It was necessary this hunting, yes, but even so going towards the winged terror was definitely the wrong direction, no matter how necessary. Stupid loud people. They exemplified every reason why he had shunned their kind for so many years. Chip did not supply the noisiest woman with a spoken response. Instead, with a quick flick which turned his body to face the right way, the wiry young man simply bounded ahead of the group in long leaping strides.
Chip didn't want to go to the Fire Mountain, but the winged terror needed to go. So Chip scouted towards the fire mountain where the winged terror dwelt. Very much going in the wrong direction.
*
Panic shot through her when she had felt herself raised up in the air, exposed for them to see. Her eyes were wide and an aqua blue color, her corn silk hued hair catching a bit of the sun light. Tanya's emotion seemed to eminate from her small form as she feared for her well being. What if they litterally toss her and she cracks? There was no way of knowing what would happen to the her inside the antique doll. She raised her face to the one who had captured her, waiting for him to decide what he would do with her.
*
Cat studied the item. To him, it was simply an object. It had a painted face with strangely real features. The eyes were large and almond-shaped, lovely and glossed. The skin was pale and shimmering like fine china. He bent his knees and crouched to better view the doll. She was a lovely little thing. He barely listened to what Zephyr said, even though she was yelling at him directly. He was too charmed by the face of the doll, temporarily distracted from Mire, who was mentioning some very important information on where they needed to go.
He was also missing Chip being an idiot.
But he didn't care. The little thing was panicked. She looked like a fairy, only creepy. He smiled. "I'll keep it with us," he murmured, and picked up the doll. He still had no real idea that it was a conscious person, only that it was some sort of miracle device. He began to carry the item, moving toward the mountain and rolling his eyes at the rodent-like boy.
*
Chip running away couldn't be stopped, at that moment. Zephyr didn't bother to try. Instead she gritted her teeth and pointed to Mire, gesturing the woman forward as they started to walk. "Is that nesting at Fire Mountain, or is it simply rampaging there?"
Leni turned her attention away from Zephyr, bored with the autocratic attitude of the other woman. Cat's little game, instead, was much more interesting. Particularly the thing he'd caught. "Changers' balls," she said, clapping him hard on the shoulder, "you've some use t'you after all! Here I was of the thought that y'were along t'be bait."
She held her hand outstretched as if in demand to see it.
*
Chip enjoyed the sensation of movement, the ground passing beneath him at a rapid pace. He enjoyed the quiet too, now he was out of immediate earshot of the rest. If it weren't for the necessity of his weapons, he'd have reverted to trueform, and scampered along as a proper rabbit should. All the same, the youth was remained twitchy, constantly scanning the terrain around him and skies above for any hint of danger.
The youth didn't bother keeping the rest of them in sight. It would be all too easy to find such a raucous bunch when necessary. No, his role would be simply to act as an early warning system if something was amiss on the route to the Fire mountain.
*
Mire moved forward to Zephyr. Her tone was modulated and polite. "Nesting." She lifted her chin a little, indicating the direction Chip had run. "It's rampaging territory covers everything from here to the mountain." She had more information, but figured it would be of little use. She suspected the woman already knew the outlying farms had gotten the brunt of the "rampages," bringing the beast closer to the village daily. Before long, the village would be on the menu. Certainly, travelers and livestock already were.
Mire glanced out to the grasslands, letting her eyes travel over the swaying, wet grass. She hoped to pickup a few wild herbs and other medicinal supplements while they traveled.
*
Her small leather shoes feet kicked in the air as her little hands gripped her captor's fingers. Relief from his saying that he would keep her turned to indignant at being manhandled. A frown was on her face as she was carried as if Tanya was no more than a stick. When the woman clapped him hard on the back, the things in her box rattled and made her stop kicking, her hands gripping his fingers harder. She looked up at the woman with the air of a mother scolding a child for running in the house. Tanya points a tiny index finger at the woman in warning then tapped a China cheek, making the tinkling sound. The doll was trying her best to caution the woman that she was fragile and to not be so rough.
*
The doll kicked, she struggled as his fingers gripped her waist. He noticed that her clothes were made of real fabric, and her skin was porcelain. The more she moved, the more he realized that she was hardly a doll at all. She was more like a little person who happened to be made of something breakable. His thoughts went somewhere dark as he wondered briefly what all she had under those tiny clothes of hers. He grinned, but when Leni approached him, he pulled the doll away from her and scowled. "It's mine you old hag," he hissed, showing his teeth in a ridiculous gesture of aggression. It took him a second to remember he was human, and he closed his lips in a deep frown instead, hoping she wouldn't notice.
But Leni noticed everything. Damn.
They moved toward the wyvern. A roar rang out from the distance, and a shiver crept along his spine.
*
"That is not the information I was given from reliable sources." Zephyr kept her gaze locked on Mire, and held up a hand as she stopped moving forward. The rest of the group was expected to stop, also. "Now," her voice went lower. She took a step towards Mire. "What think you the cause of this discrepency?"
The roar was unexpected. The direction it was coming from was not in the direction of Fire Mountain. It also wasn't in the direction Zephyr had expected it to come from, and she cursed under her breath. They could head towards the sound, but it might not be there by the time they got there. On the other hand, if they chose one lair over the other and the information was false, they might wind up waiting for too many hours. She shut her mouth, and grimly waited for Mire's reply.
Leni stopped only because Cat had withdrawn from her. Her lips tugged into a murderously happy expression. "Well aren't you summat of a fun skut. I wonder," she took a step closer, dropping her hand to her belt and the personal defense dagger there, "if th'rumors runnin' helter skelter about yer head got some truth to 'em. Here, kitty kitty."
Leni's eyes had dropped to the doll, her expression not altered a whit by the pantomime. She wasn't a cruel woman by nature, she just liked to pay the world back by fucking with it and its people as much as they'd fucked with her.
___
Separate from all of them, the wyvern was feasting. But more than that, it was having a good day. It had finally gotten near-full, and it finally had enough skins for its ritual. Now was just a matter of going back to Fire Mountain, and gathering up the rest of the supplies that had been secreted there. Or, rather, sort of tumbled around the base of it in wyvern-style, since what did it care about order or secrecy? Anything that touched its stuff was getting a good sized portion of dead and eaten.
Towards the mountain itself, there would be heaps of all sorts of oddities. Iron, for one. Badly skinned pieces of rotting human, for another. There were also a lot of dead and dying irises, and the odd piece or two of unidentifiable wood from a place far distant to what trees populated the area. It was the sort of odd piles that just don't happen naturally, and what's more? They stank. They stank quite badly.
But that was far distant from the wyvern. It was happy playing bloodspatter picnic, crudely cutting away the humans' skins. Once that was done, it was back to Fire Mountain, and the ritual that would see its plans to fruition.
*
Miré jumped slightly when the wyvern roared, her skin paling somewhat. She pushed the hood back from her head and dark eyes searched the skies. Her ears were pointed, like an elf's, but not as long. Based on the angles and curves of her face, she didn't appear to be a Darleone Elf. She might be a half-breed, or she might be full-blooded. "My reliable sources say its been landing and keeping to Farmore." She shrugged. "My kin live in the woods near to the mountain. I believe them."
Miré scanned the skies again. "We might be better served to keep low to the ground or head for tree cover."
*
Much farther ahead of the group, Chip was given the nerveshattering experience of both the Wyvern's roar where nobody could see him jump several feet into the air. A moment later Chip had noted down visual landmarks, gained his bearings, and was off across the countyside like a jackrabbit cutting a line intersecting between the source of the roar and Fire Mountain. Predators ate, Chip reasoned, then predators returned to their dens. That was the way of things.
No doubt a nearby farm was being added to the massive winged terror's meal. Well, Chip figured, there was only one way to do this: which was to let the annoying loud people do the hard part. Still, he'd prepared for this.
Slowing long enough to put his throwing spear back in its quiver, Chip reached into his pouch as he ran and pulled out a rolled-up leather thong. Unfurling his sling, the youth withdrew a trio of carved wooden balls from the same pouch. Crafted with care in Chip's quiet hours, the carved holes resembling the design of a whistle. Mostly for scaring things away, they could also serve to attract attention. In this case, the kind of attention Chip was not really wanting.
Fortune favoured the prepared mind, and Chip's reasoning allowed him the dubious pleasure of being the first of the group to spot the large scaled wingspan of the wyvern. Now all he had to do was bring it back to the group. Dropping one of his whistleballs into the cup of his sling, Chip began to spin the sling in large and rapid circles, moving to intercept the Wyvern's line of flight. A few minutes later, far from the main group, a wooden ball whistled through the evening air, dropping short of the Wyvern, but catching its attention. Chip almost voided his bowels.
Chip stood his ground to send the other two whistleballs at the Wyvern, whose responding roars convinced him that he had regrettable obtained its undivided attention. As the Wyvern changed its course, Chip did what rabbits do best: ran like he had a fox on his tail.
The first ten minutes were fine. The Wyvern was slowly gaining on Chip, but was far enough away that Chip could focus on running in a straight line: pointed squarely at where he imagined the loud group of noisy nuisances might be. They hadn't been moving very fast, really.
Then things got difficult. The Wyvern came within range, and swooped. Chip bounced and launched himself sideways into a small gully he'd been keeping to his side. As the Wyvern's claws gouged the soft earth, Chip leaped from the gully on a tangent, hurled one spear, then another, into the softer target of its left wing, then took off again at a bounding, sure-footed sprint.
By the time Chip reached the general area of the larger group, he had no spears left, and the last of his whistleballs in his sling. When he finally caught sight of the group, Chip let fly at their general direction with the whistleball as the Wyvern dived once again at the fleet-footed pest.
An earth-shuddering thump is followed by the wyvern's enraged roar. Pounding the air with a flap of spear-pierced wings, The wyvern takes to the air with a slightly off-kilter aerodynamic, like an oversized bumblebee, clutching an array of leather clothing and spearquiver in one claw.
Off to one side, there is a white flash as a rabbit skitters into the undergrowth.
Ayana. The great unknown. The band of brothers sisters was hired for a single purpose: to extinguish the mountain wyvern that terrorized the village of Agnaruz. Cat, with his newly human body, had traveled to this great continent for adventure and passion. Cat carried with him a spell book and a set of jars and glass things attached to his bag, jingling and jangling as he walked along with the party. Comparitively, he was the weakest of them. His strengths lay elsewhere.
*
It figured Leni'd be the one to draw the fucking short straw. It figured she'd to knock some heads together to sort out the pissing churls who'd thought to snicker behind their hands at her. Not that it mattered, because she was going and there weren't nothin' to change that. To make the whole of it all the more stinking of shit, she'd been saddled alongside amateurs who like as not knew nothing of the sharp end of the stick from the dull. She'd said as much to their proud and oh-so-stuck-up leader. She'd been told to stick it back up her ass where she'd sent her honor and pride so many years ago.
Oh, that'd stung. Stung right good. So Leni'd shut her mouth and fallen along to the back to seethe and invent fun and new things to insult the fucker with. About five minutes into that, she'd gotten right tired of going for it alone. Which left Cat beside her. She eyed him right speculatively the first couple minutes she'd left off her word-jangling. Then she'd thought about what she might do to a green man. Then, smiling, she'd sidled up alongside him. She was old and gnarled compared to him, a twisted up veteran of these sorts o' things. She was his better. Yeah. His better. She knew what to do with underlings.
"'Oy," she said by way of greeting. She'd mostly ignored him before, dismissed him out of turn. She'd been fucking rude to him. It was how she treated most people. "Y'look right ready t' piss yer trousers." She slid her hand deep into her jacket, and pulled out a flask. She gestured it towards him, her smile turning into a wicked grin.
*
Chip was a quiet thing of burrows and warrens, a local inhabitant occasionally referred to as the ghost rabbit. A rabbit in truth, Chip was a shifter who had shunned the society of men and lived mostly as a rabbit. The presence of the Wyvern had made life worse, and Chip had resolved to aid in the efforts of restoring tranquility to the woodlands he called home. Uneasy in human form, the lithe and tanned young man was dressed in old tribal leathers and carried a bundle of simple throwing spears. Were it not for the dun tones of his skin, the man's white hair and red eyes would have pegged him as an albino.
The group out of Agnaruz would find the young man on the road just beyond the village's line of sight, jogging from one foot to another in impatient little hops. The young man would almost bound over in an awkward attempt to get the introductions over quickly. "Gree-greetings I am Chip, I am living near here and wanting to help in the hunting. I am being no burden, no, and am hunting with the spears, yes? I will accompany." It was, Chip thought, a very eloquent greeting. He had obviously not lost his touch with speech in the years since he'd last conversed with a human.
*
The small porcelain doll had escaped from the home of the woman who had bought her in the market as soon as she had the chance. With a wooden box rigged up as a pack on her back with ribbon, Tanya keeps to the long grasses and wild flowers whose Colors hid her well. Upon hearing voices ahead of her on the road, she paused to hear what was said. Ever since the witch who had aimed to kill her and snatched her body then her father's death afterwords, Tanya had been in search of the old woman.
*
One of the first things that Cat had done when he'd been turned human was fuck a whore. He did it so that he wouldn't be tempted to jump the bones of the very first woman he saw. Right about when Leni handed him the flask was when he looked at her, and was suddenly more thankful to himself than ever that he had paid good money for a proper whore. Sandy-haired and smooth-cheeked, Cat was a fancy man with fancy looks. He was repulsed by people like Leni.
That was all the better, as he didn't feel the least bit offended that she was rude to him. Well, the offended feelings he felt were completely out of principal, rather than hurt feelings. He gave her a sideways frown, rolling his eyes and pushing away the flask with a dainty hand. "And you look 'right ready' to get your little self killed," he contended.
Foolish people. Foolish mission. Cat knew wyverns from his old books; they were nasty critters.
The road, wet and muddy, had but a single person on it, hopping toward them in a manner most odd. Something in Cat made him want to chase the man. He introduced himself as Chip and said he wanted to hunt with them. Cat looked at the awkward, creepy-eyed boy with doubt. "If you'd like to get yourself killed, then by all means." Cat raised his hands in the air and looked from left to right as he said it, an invitation for the young human. He did, to be fair, have several spears.
He could have sworn that he'd heard something in the grasses just beside the road, but when he looked, there did not appear to be anything there. The grass moved suspciously, and Cat narrowed his eyes.
*
Little self. There was a done deserved retort on her tongue when they squelched to a stop, and she found herself interrupted by the presence of yet another stupid fuck. This one though, this one looked native. Them folks were strange to her eyes and ears, and behaved in manner unlike any she'd the chance to encounter. O'course, being that Leni was a boat and a big puddle away from home, it woulda made sense. Too bad she didn't have the time or the inclination to be doing anything that involved sense.
"Me? Changers piss on the thought," she muttered, despite Cat's attention having already shifted. "But I'll be right sure t' burn yer corpse when t'time comes."
The thought was cheering. She handily unscrewed her flask and took a deep drink, watching Cat with narrowed eyes all the while.
Rhia 'Zephyr' Llujorie, their fearless, prissy cunt of a leader, took a step forward as Chip named himself. Her lips thinned at Cat's words were the first to fall upon Chip's ears. It was not a movement often found reassuring to those of the Society regularly placed under her command. Still, half of them had been brought separate from the Society's involvement, and they were only tenuously connected. It had been a problem.
"Greetings. . .Chip," she said, her voice cool. "We shall accept your offer of aid. Is there any information you might offer us?"
Neither Zephyr nor Leni noticed the presence of the doll.
*
"Wait!" A voice called from behind them. The figure was of average height and the voice female. The clothing was functional - an oil skin coat with a hood hid most of the woman's features. A pack, with an oil skin cover, was a lump on the woman's back. Sensible, sturdy boots peeked out from beneath the jacket as she trotted toward them from the direction of the town.
When she caught up to the group, Miré glanced around. "Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to make sure I had sufficient supplies. I saw a post for a healer. I'm Elémiré Ouranraé." The woman offered a pleasant, nice smile to each in turn. Her eyes were dark brown and what could be seen of her hair appeared to be dark brown or black. "If you still need that healer, I'll go with you."
*
Syrathan lay in the tall grass, quietly eavesdropping and cursing his luck with the arrival of more, and certainly less desired, mongrels. None of them looked particularly challenging, but they may be troublesome; only hunger pangs kept him from slinking away.
He could smell oil and dirt, as well as all of the unclean odors around him. It was disgusting.
Their speech was as of yet meaningless, but time was on Syrathan's side. He fingered the hilt of his dirk in anticipation, and barely contained the shiver of ecstasy. Unfortunately for his pestilence-ridden luck, they were mostly females; at least he would have enough meat for a day or two. That is, assuming he was able to down all of them. Pity he left Paragon and Bastion behind; he didn't think he would have to end the worthless lives of more than two mongrels this day. Anger forced his teeth to grit and his muscles to tense. He almost decided just to run at them and take as many with him as he could, maybe get lucky and live, but that would be dirty as well as foolish.
For now, Syrathan contented himself to wait.
*
Chip's nostrils flared in the presence of Cat, whose presence seemed to poke at his primal flight response. The red-eyed youth's nostrils twitched several times as the wiry youth jigged uneasily for a moment before regaining control of his movements. How did people live in these ridiculous bipedal forms anyway? It was like every step was just an attempt to prevent the stupidly tall body from toppling to the ground. "I am not liking to get myself killed. I am spending many years in the humble pursuit of not getting myself killed. Not getting myself killed later means hunting big wings of terror now. For this I can be scout, yes? That is term for man running fast in wrong direction? Yes, scout."
Unfortunately, Chip's ears couldn't twitch, which further discomforted the youth. Why have ears which couldn't turn to better make out the sounds of approaching danger? It was stupid, stupid, slow half blind and deaf and stupid! Even the nose was insufficient. The youth followed Cat's gaze to the hint of sound in grass before turning to Zephyr "Ahhh, yes, good that you accept, and now I respond with gratefulness by providing the information I have, yes. The wings of terror are big, big and big again, it is feasting then sleeping then flying and feasting again. That who and which it has eaten have made rotten the scent of its dung in the woods, dung which piles larger than that of bear's dung." It was an affront to come, eat so much, and disturb the pleasant scents of his home, Chip believed. An offense worthy of a spearpoint in the eye or throat.
A moment later, Chip had cause again to revile this human form, when his first awareness of the newcomer was her loud request for a pause. It was simple reflex that caused Chip's legs to bunch beneath him, and send the twitchy youth into a jump spanning several feet, the graceful spin to the leap causing the youth to land facing the sound of the noise, eyes wide and hand reaching for a spear. A moment later, Chip stilled his beating heart and stammered out a perfunctory greeting to the newcomer. Why were there so many women and people not of the village? Had the village no warriors left already? Worrying, worrying. Chip took to making up for his ears' inability to shift direction by constantly shifting his own body to better gauge incoming sounds and smells. It gave the overall impression of a man dancing on an ants nest. "We should not group up so tightly, no, that is asking for death from the winged terror all at once. Force it to pick one, try not to die if picked, that is what you must do, yes."
*
The small porcelain figure had crouched down to keep herself as well hidden as she was able as the people's eyes more than once paused over where she hid. All gathered were so much different from the farmers she had grown up with. One in particular had reacted with such energy at being startled, he jumped several feet straight into the air! Tanya jumped a little from being startled herself, the porcelain of her body making the faintest of tinkling sounds. The contents of her box shifted with her movement and made rustling sounds of the objects settling again. If she had a heart, it would have been in her throat.
*
Cat hated Zephyr. She was all cheekbone and no class. Actually, Cat appeared to be the only one with class, yet again. He always seemed to get himself stuck in these sorts of situations. This time he was stuck because he was broke and the only skills he had were with the Astral plane, and catching mice with his bare hands. He made a "psh" sound at Zephyr's acceptance, flipping his well-combed hair.
Leni had said something, he just realized. He thought about asking "what?" but instead just pretended that he had heard her, and ignored whatever rude thing she had countered with.
And then Miré.
Cat was easily charmed by women. It had been his downfall. Even after being turned back into a human, his goods were still the most easiest part of his body to manipulate. Her voice was clean and clear, and beneath the hood he could make out some form of softness. Dark hair. He felt a bit of blood rush downward, and he wanted to smack himself. Idiot, he thought. It's only a woman. Not a vagina on stilts. Chip had been talking the whole time, but Cat's ears had suddenly becomed tuned to woman.
However, his eyes were another story. This time, his peripheral (and thank goodness for the human peripheral vision) caught not one, but two movements of the blades of grass. The great trees around them, spruce and cedar things, towered nearby. They bent with the wind.
"There's something out there." His voice was taught with anxiety. "And it isn't a 'winged terror,'" he said. He stared at the location of the doll, preparing a levitation spell in his head, just in case. Then the tinkling sound.
"SURGUNT!"
Cat moved his gentle hands in a sweeping motion, followed raising them. The command brought the doll in the grass two feet above the earth she had stood upon. Cat was so surprised by her identity that he almost dropped her. His mouth opened in amazement. What amazing gnome had conjured such a thing?! Gently, he levitated the doll toward the party. "What the hell?" he said, squinting his eyes at her strange face. He set her down in front of them. It was a doll, a moving doll, not much more than a foot tall.
It was adorable.
*
It was a problem.
Zephyr had listened to Chip with an upraised eyebrow. She'd even accepted his broken speech. True, the lot of them made her want to strangle someone, but at least Chip had already proven some usefulness. He could track. That was a start. He was biddable. That was good. But his last sentence set her back to the sneering frown she was so famous for in Apthoni.
"Scouting," she began, when she was interrupted by a new arrival. Immediately her demeanor soured. Rigidity stole over her posture, and she turned towards Miré with a crispness that would have fit into many an Eyropan city guard. "I would suggest you consider some measure of punctuality the --"
Interruption. Again. This time it came from Chip. She turned her head to admonish him about necessary rules if he was to join them, when next there were words from Cat.
Leni was watching the lot of 'em with a knowing smirk. Zephyr's attention had been pinging between all the gathered puppies like she was the bitch that birthed 'em. It gave Leni great joy to see the duty of it off on the bitch. Not that there were many higher up in the ranks than her that she had cause to like, but she and Zephyr went back. Unhappy places. At least the dandy, Cat, was amusing. Zephyr didn't have much in her in the way of humor.
"Toss it," she said, though she looked at Chip. "Piss off if yer afraid o'--"
"I will have order!" Zephyr wasn't yelling, exactly. It was more a loud command. Though, Leni reckoned the irritation in the woman's voice sort of ruined the effect that'd probly been intended.
Leni snickered. She couldn't help it. It got stuffed quick when Zephyr's icy glare fell upon Leni, but lucky dog she was today, the glare was soon transferred to Cat. "I have had enough of your mouth. Keep your little pet or no, you will remain quiet unless called upon. You," Zephyr turned to Miré, "fall in and if I find you are nothing more than a quack there will be consequences." Finally, she turned fully to face Chip. "You will scout ahead of us -- not in the wrong direction -- to ensure we are headed the correct way. We seek to find the thing's lair." Zephyr turned in place so that her eyes fell upon the lot of them. "Am I clear?"
*
So many things happened at once, but the sharp voiced woman claimed her attention. Mire raised her eyebrows, but kept quiet, choosing only to nod in agreement and "fall in." It was going to be one of those. Not that she had many forays under her belt, but she knew a military type person when she heard one. This wouldn't be much different from dealing with the local military force. Keep a pleasant, compliant expression; establish her skills when needed, but not before.
She was curious about the man who could leap so well, the Mage (as she'd labeled Cat in her head), and the little doll. Mire shifted the pack and stepped in line with Leni.
"The Wyvern's landed on Mount Farmore, a little to the north of here near the heat geysers."
*
Yes, there! That was not a proper sound for grass! Sound does not make that noise, no, it is all soft and whoosh-rustle, not tinklescritch. Chip's leg muscles tensed.
"SURGUNT!"
Chip's muscles sent him in an entirely different direction than originally planned. Mostly 'Away from the Loud Noise', the agile and highstrung figure spinning once again to face the source of sound: Cat. He didn't get enough time to examine the strange thing brought to light by the man who hinted of animal, because two of the women chose that moment to start competing with each other for the title of 'loudest mouth of the village'.
It was, Chip thought, getting to be a little nerve-wracking being around all these suicidally noisy and aggressive people. Didn't they realise that they were doing it all wrong? Like a group of rabbits hopping directly into a fox den? It was necessary this hunting, yes, but even so going towards the winged terror was definitely the wrong direction, no matter how necessary. Stupid loud people. They exemplified every reason why he had shunned their kind for so many years. Chip did not supply the noisiest woman with a spoken response. Instead, with a quick flick which turned his body to face the right way, the wiry young man simply bounded ahead of the group in long leaping strides.
Chip didn't want to go to the Fire Mountain, but the winged terror needed to go. So Chip scouted towards the fire mountain where the winged terror dwelt. Very much going in the wrong direction.
*
Panic shot through her when she had felt herself raised up in the air, exposed for them to see. Her eyes were wide and an aqua blue color, her corn silk hued hair catching a bit of the sun light. Tanya's emotion seemed to eminate from her small form as she feared for her well being. What if they litterally toss her and she cracks? There was no way of knowing what would happen to the her inside the antique doll. She raised her face to the one who had captured her, waiting for him to decide what he would do with her.
*
Cat studied the item. To him, it was simply an object. It had a painted face with strangely real features. The eyes were large and almond-shaped, lovely and glossed. The skin was pale and shimmering like fine china. He bent his knees and crouched to better view the doll. She was a lovely little thing. He barely listened to what Zephyr said, even though she was yelling at him directly. He was too charmed by the face of the doll, temporarily distracted from Mire, who was mentioning some very important information on where they needed to go.
He was also missing Chip being an idiot.
But he didn't care. The little thing was panicked. She looked like a fairy, only creepy. He smiled. "I'll keep it with us," he murmured, and picked up the doll. He still had no real idea that it was a conscious person, only that it was some sort of miracle device. He began to carry the item, moving toward the mountain and rolling his eyes at the rodent-like boy.
*
Chip running away couldn't be stopped, at that moment. Zephyr didn't bother to try. Instead she gritted her teeth and pointed to Mire, gesturing the woman forward as they started to walk. "Is that nesting at Fire Mountain, or is it simply rampaging there?"
Leni turned her attention away from Zephyr, bored with the autocratic attitude of the other woman. Cat's little game, instead, was much more interesting. Particularly the thing he'd caught. "Changers' balls," she said, clapping him hard on the shoulder, "you've some use t'you after all! Here I was of the thought that y'were along t'be bait."
She held her hand outstretched as if in demand to see it.
*
Chip enjoyed the sensation of movement, the ground passing beneath him at a rapid pace. He enjoyed the quiet too, now he was out of immediate earshot of the rest. If it weren't for the necessity of his weapons, he'd have reverted to trueform, and scampered along as a proper rabbit should. All the same, the youth was remained twitchy, constantly scanning the terrain around him and skies above for any hint of danger.
The youth didn't bother keeping the rest of them in sight. It would be all too easy to find such a raucous bunch when necessary. No, his role would be simply to act as an early warning system if something was amiss on the route to the Fire mountain.
*
Mire moved forward to Zephyr. Her tone was modulated and polite. "Nesting." She lifted her chin a little, indicating the direction Chip had run. "It's rampaging territory covers everything from here to the mountain." She had more information, but figured it would be of little use. She suspected the woman already knew the outlying farms had gotten the brunt of the "rampages," bringing the beast closer to the village daily. Before long, the village would be on the menu. Certainly, travelers and livestock already were.
Mire glanced out to the grasslands, letting her eyes travel over the swaying, wet grass. She hoped to pickup a few wild herbs and other medicinal supplements while they traveled.
*
Her small leather shoes feet kicked in the air as her little hands gripped her captor's fingers. Relief from his saying that he would keep her turned to indignant at being manhandled. A frown was on her face as she was carried as if Tanya was no more than a stick. When the woman clapped him hard on the back, the things in her box rattled and made her stop kicking, her hands gripping his fingers harder. She looked up at the woman with the air of a mother scolding a child for running in the house. Tanya points a tiny index finger at the woman in warning then tapped a China cheek, making the tinkling sound. The doll was trying her best to caution the woman that she was fragile and to not be so rough.
*
The doll kicked, she struggled as his fingers gripped her waist. He noticed that her clothes were made of real fabric, and her skin was porcelain. The more she moved, the more he realized that she was hardly a doll at all. She was more like a little person who happened to be made of something breakable. His thoughts went somewhere dark as he wondered briefly what all she had under those tiny clothes of hers. He grinned, but when Leni approached him, he pulled the doll away from her and scowled. "It's mine you old hag," he hissed, showing his teeth in a ridiculous gesture of aggression. It took him a second to remember he was human, and he closed his lips in a deep frown instead, hoping she wouldn't notice.
But Leni noticed everything. Damn.
They moved toward the wyvern. A roar rang out from the distance, and a shiver crept along his spine.
*
"That is not the information I was given from reliable sources." Zephyr kept her gaze locked on Mire, and held up a hand as she stopped moving forward. The rest of the group was expected to stop, also. "Now," her voice went lower. She took a step towards Mire. "What think you the cause of this discrepency?"
The roar was unexpected. The direction it was coming from was not in the direction of Fire Mountain. It also wasn't in the direction Zephyr had expected it to come from, and she cursed under her breath. They could head towards the sound, but it might not be there by the time they got there. On the other hand, if they chose one lair over the other and the information was false, they might wind up waiting for too many hours. She shut her mouth, and grimly waited for Mire's reply.
Leni stopped only because Cat had withdrawn from her. Her lips tugged into a murderously happy expression. "Well aren't you summat of a fun skut. I wonder," she took a step closer, dropping her hand to her belt and the personal defense dagger there, "if th'rumors runnin' helter skelter about yer head got some truth to 'em. Here, kitty kitty."
Leni's eyes had dropped to the doll, her expression not altered a whit by the pantomime. She wasn't a cruel woman by nature, she just liked to pay the world back by fucking with it and its people as much as they'd fucked with her.
___
Separate from all of them, the wyvern was feasting. But more than that, it was having a good day. It had finally gotten near-full, and it finally had enough skins for its ritual. Now was just a matter of going back to Fire Mountain, and gathering up the rest of the supplies that had been secreted there. Or, rather, sort of tumbled around the base of it in wyvern-style, since what did it care about order or secrecy? Anything that touched its stuff was getting a good sized portion of dead and eaten.
Towards the mountain itself, there would be heaps of all sorts of oddities. Iron, for one. Badly skinned pieces of rotting human, for another. There were also a lot of dead and dying irises, and the odd piece or two of unidentifiable wood from a place far distant to what trees populated the area. It was the sort of odd piles that just don't happen naturally, and what's more? They stank. They stank quite badly.
But that was far distant from the wyvern. It was happy playing bloodspatter picnic, crudely cutting away the humans' skins. Once that was done, it was back to Fire Mountain, and the ritual that would see its plans to fruition.
*
Miré jumped slightly when the wyvern roared, her skin paling somewhat. She pushed the hood back from her head and dark eyes searched the skies. Her ears were pointed, like an elf's, but not as long. Based on the angles and curves of her face, she didn't appear to be a Darleone Elf. She might be a half-breed, or she might be full-blooded. "My reliable sources say its been landing and keeping to Farmore." She shrugged. "My kin live in the woods near to the mountain. I believe them."
Miré scanned the skies again. "We might be better served to keep low to the ground or head for tree cover."
*
Much farther ahead of the group, Chip was given the nerveshattering experience of both the Wyvern's roar where nobody could see him jump several feet into the air. A moment later Chip had noted down visual landmarks, gained his bearings, and was off across the countyside like a jackrabbit cutting a line intersecting between the source of the roar and Fire Mountain. Predators ate, Chip reasoned, then predators returned to their dens. That was the way of things.
No doubt a nearby farm was being added to the massive winged terror's meal. Well, Chip figured, there was only one way to do this: which was to let the annoying loud people do the hard part. Still, he'd prepared for this.
Slowing long enough to put his throwing spear back in its quiver, Chip reached into his pouch as he ran and pulled out a rolled-up leather thong. Unfurling his sling, the youth withdrew a trio of carved wooden balls from the same pouch. Crafted with care in Chip's quiet hours, the carved holes resembling the design of a whistle. Mostly for scaring things away, they could also serve to attract attention. In this case, the kind of attention Chip was not really wanting.
Fortune favoured the prepared mind, and Chip's reasoning allowed him the dubious pleasure of being the first of the group to spot the large scaled wingspan of the wyvern. Now all he had to do was bring it back to the group. Dropping one of his whistleballs into the cup of his sling, Chip began to spin the sling in large and rapid circles, moving to intercept the Wyvern's line of flight. A few minutes later, far from the main group, a wooden ball whistled through the evening air, dropping short of the Wyvern, but catching its attention. Chip almost voided his bowels.
Chip stood his ground to send the other two whistleballs at the Wyvern, whose responding roars convinced him that he had regrettable obtained its undivided attention. As the Wyvern changed its course, Chip did what rabbits do best: ran like he had a fox on his tail.
The first ten minutes were fine. The Wyvern was slowly gaining on Chip, but was far enough away that Chip could focus on running in a straight line: pointed squarely at where he imagined the loud group of noisy nuisances might be. They hadn't been moving very fast, really.
Then things got difficult. The Wyvern came within range, and swooped. Chip bounced and launched himself sideways into a small gully he'd been keeping to his side. As the Wyvern's claws gouged the soft earth, Chip leaped from the gully on a tangent, hurled one spear, then another, into the softer target of its left wing, then took off again at a bounding, sure-footed sprint.
By the time Chip reached the general area of the larger group, he had no spears left, and the last of his whistleballs in his sling. When he finally caught sight of the group, Chip let fly at their general direction with the whistleball as the Wyvern dived once again at the fleet-footed pest.
An earth-shuddering thump is followed by the wyvern's enraged roar. Pounding the air with a flap of spear-pierced wings, The wyvern takes to the air with a slightly off-kilter aerodynamic, like an oversized bumblebee, clutching an array of leather clothing and spearquiver in one claw.
Off to one side, there is a white flash as a rabbit skitters into the undergrowth.