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| What sound does a goat make?; Yada'nok | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 23 2014, 07:25 PM (1,176 Views) | |
| Makaradhvaja | Feb 23 2014, 07:25 PM Post #1 |
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Maka worried about food. She knew that if she didn’t find some soon, and more than just the bugs hand rodents that had been a large part of her diet recently, she would be more than just uncomfortable. Considering the fact that she was essentially a wolf without a pack, roaming around the exclusively unfruitful Ashoka—even more so during the wintertime— she had very little choice. Compared to humans, a week without food was nothing for a troll….but several months with scarce meals so far in between wasn’t exactly a good thing either. In three days’ time, her trusty muscled legs carried her across the dry land to the Jungle, where she was sure that there was to be an abundance of food, but also where she was not so sure that she wouldn’t be bothered by human or other troll tribes. Maka stared at the thick brush through ragged bangs. Her leather attire was a bit worn out and she was covered in sand from head to toe. Maka had been inspecting it for some time, watching for predators. When she was satisfied, Maka grinned and eagerly entered the jungle with a cautiously raised spear, already imagining its head piercing through a great big fat warthog. Several hours into the brush and she hadn’t been able to find a single warthog, having instead found an abundance of juicy bugs and rodents, definitely better than the desert kind, some of which she had eaten on the spot; others, she had stuffed in her bag to save for later. Finally, Maka came upon a stream, and she found herself downright parched. Tossing her stuff aside, she liberally plunged her head into the cool water, taking huge gulps before reemerging seconds later and splashing some of the sand from her body, but somehow it made her look grubbier than before. Maka liked that. She smiled at her own reflection in the water… Except it wasn’t hers. The smile dropped from her face. Another troll’s big ugly face painted red with lines of war was there instead with a weapon in hand raised high above her head. Maka rolled forward and into the stream just as the troll brought it down where her head had been. She bore her teeth and moved to raise the spear, but found nothing in her hands. Her weapons and things sat on a rock behind the ugly painted troll. Others emerged, one by one, all male, all covered in jungle moss. They wore loincloths, skulls for shoulder pads, necklaces with bones of different kinds attached to them, and war paint of unique design to each covered their muscular green bodies. Great big menacing tusks sprouted from their mouths, much larger in comparison to her little ones. They were all at least three feet taller than her. Maka knew this tribe, and they weren’t all that intelligent either. There was no use negotiating anything with them, not like the Dualscars would do to confuse other smart opponents to get one step ahead of them. The tribesmen looked at their lucky find with a lustful leer. Maka clenched her fists and contracted the muscles of her body, still baring her teeth and letting out a low growl—a defensive stance and threatening gesture. Maka didn't trust other trolls, not after what her own brethren had done to her and the clan she belonged to. She was completely soaked now, her short hair pressed against her skull, and was standing ankle deep in the water. “Well wah di vekk duh wi ave here, uuuh?" Two trolls came up from behind the one that attacked her; the largest one, it seemed. "Looks like wi caught us sinting!" They were cornering her. Were they aware that Maka couldn't swim? She most certainly couldn't turn on her heel to swim across the stream. The only result of that would be Maka sinking like a rock to the bottom. No, they couldn't have been aware. They were far too stupid, and it's not as if they knew her personally. The one on the left pointed at her face. "She's suuuuh ugly. Like one of dem deh hairless ape...Look ah di scars pon har face, mon." He leaned in closer as if to poke her, but refrained from doing so, looking as if she might bite him if he did. And she would have. She would have bitten that finger right off. Maybe they weren't so stupid after all. The troll on the right leaned in to whisper into the leader's ear, but it was within earshot. "She's er Dualscaaaaar, mon…" Maka's eyes widened. She noticed the look of familiarity within their eyes. Their brains were working overtime, but one thing was for sure. They knew. The leader smiled, showing off his huge fangs and tusks and let out a hearty laugh. He pointed his spear at her, and Maka instinctively moved her arms before her face and upper torso. "Get wey fram mi, yuh rotting offspring of a jillik!" Maka spat. "Oooo....." They cooed. "HAH! You a long way fram home!" The leader shouted. "I wanda ef she tastes any good..." Whispered the whisperer. Or in this case, the cannibal whisperer.... "Let's find outa!" Together, they charged. Maka wasn't about to let a couple of good for nothing spear-brains take her down. She leaped to the left, avoiding most of their points and grabbing the left troll's point. She punched the top third of it with her free hand, successfully breaking the spear, and now she had the point in her hands. Now she was dangerous. The owner of the spear looked outrage, and she took his momentary distraction as an opportunity to stab him in the face with his point. The others turned her way, giving it another go, looking even redder in the face than their paint would allow. Maka kicked the troll whose face she had wrecked into them, sending a few tumbling down on the ground. Now it was her chance! Maka ran for the weapons still sitting on the moss covered rock and grabbed the stave. But someone else also grabbed the stave. There was a pair of arms coming from the rock, except... it wasn't a rock. Slowly, a troll unfurled himself and rose. Maka looked up at the troll that stood three feet over her with shock in her eyes. He smiled at her before butting her head with his. BAM! Her eyes shut in pain and fell on her back. Seizing the opportunity, their leader threw his spear, hoping it would hit home. It flew up in the air and down to where Maka lay. Upon opening her eyes, she saw it on time and managed to roll out of the way, but not before being nicked by it on her side. Maka looked around. It seemed only four of them had stayed, the rest having been scared off after she just outright killed one of their brethren. Not only were they dumb, but they appeared to have been cowards, as well. Most of them, anyway. "Now yuh just stand till-" ZAP! A blast of lightning went through him, throwing him back and into the stream. Maka's hand crackled with natural energy upon having released the spell on him. She watched the troll become electrified and saw the life leave his body upon it going limp and floating over the surface of the water. Water and electricity did not mix. Two other trolls advanced on her and tried to spear her to death, once again. But these two were much faster than the others. Maka dodged, left, right, back, down, left, over and over until she finally side stepped the point of one spear and simultaneously closed distance, giving him a swift knee to the gut. The other troll was still going at it, however, and managed to slash her arm before she turned on him, leaping on his torso and biting his face off like a rabid angry wolf. The final troll had decided that it was in his best interest to flee into the brush. After a few minutes had gone by and she had finished off the troll laying underneath her body, the adrenaline pumping through the blood in her veins began to die down and Maka then realized she was covered in oozing gashes. Perhaps she hadn't dodged the spears as thoroughly as she had thought. She rolled off of the body, stood up, and kicked it before walking away towards her supplies. Falling on her knees, she grabbed the leather bag and searched for potions and things but found it completely empty. "DEM VEKKING MURKA!!!" She threw her head back to curse into the jungle. "MURKAAA MURRKAAA murrkaaa, kaaa... kaaa.." Her shout echoed through the brush. They had stolen everything, minus the weapons. Yep. They were definitely stupid. Or incredibly intelligent. It was hard to tell which anymore. Maka grimaced at the pain and grabbed the biggest gash, the one on her left arm. She sulked forward, lowering her head and she sighed. "Maaaaaaaah." Edited by Makaradhvaja, Feb 23 2014, 07:26 PM.
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| Yada'nok | Feb 24 2014, 08:46 PM Post #2 |
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After his trading trip to Eldahar last week Yada'nok had returned with haste, or as hasty as one could with being accompanied by a little goat that kept complaining her feet were hurting from all the walking, and made his way to his Friend's yard to fetch his almost twenty-headed herd. For his relief they had kept themselves unharmed, since the sorcerer was nowhere to be found, but chose not to leave them there any longer and led them back to roam the Woods. They sure had made out some decent work of the yard, which made him think it was better to not be around upon the owner's return. Well, the shrubberies might grow back, eventually. He had staid near his Fort - a rough treehouse of some sort -the last couple of days, spending some time to rearrange his Treasures it held within. He hadn't remembered he had so many shiny little rocks, it taking him quite a bit to sort them out. The fact that all of them had a memory attached to them hadn't made the task any easier, for every time he took out another one he had to examine it for a moment, bursting into laughter or light chuckle in occassion upon recalling why did he have the rock in the first place. The so-called clean up had cleared enough floorspace to be slept on, yet he didn't do such a thing in his base for he prefered resting under a tree, curled up next to his herd. Ada was afraid of the dark and he thought it was best to be near her at night, since she couldn't really climb up to the Fort. Yada'nok had been on a quite cheerful mood from the moment he had awaken this morning. Not that there were that many times that he had actually been on a bad one, since he was just simply too happy to be alive and have the fresh Jungle air around him, along with his dear family it kept safe. The goats had been a bit disobedient today, none of them wanting to take a walk around the grounds like was his routine. Except for Ada, she loved walks and jumping and sprinting and... all that. Along with the fact that she would follow him everywhere, no matter what. The tribesman had picked up some fresh fruit from the trees surrounding his little base and stored them inside his cloak as usual, since it was good to have a snack when one took a stroll around the Woods. Also, having treats made sure that should Ada run away after a little critter out of curiousity he would be able to restore her attention with food. She sure did love sweet fruit. The daily walk had been quite peaceful, the two reaching the stream as planned. It had always been their turning point since there was no way to get cross from this spot, nor had they looked for a way to get to the other side. Was nice to have a landmark to indicate at what part of their path they were on and this was about half way, a bit downhill and he would be making a circle back to the Fort. Yup. The boy had chosen to take a little break at the bank of the wild water, reaching inside his garment for a delicious mango and a knife whilst hanging his bare feet over the edge of the dirt and down to the cool flow of the stream. Mmm-mmm, refreshing. He chuckled and sliced pieces out of the fruit, giving every other to the little brown goat that was resting her head against his lap, obviously awaiting to have some. The ever so lovely snacktime was interrupted however, for the goat raised her head all of a sudden and almost made him poke his eye out with the knife by bumping his hands on the way. Ada looked at the direction to their right, upstream, her ears perched and moving wildly. Yada'nok would have given her a piece of his mind about the hasty movement that almost had cost him his sight, but chose to keep quiet for now and look at her in curiousity. Wonder what was it she heard. He gave the goat's silky neck a stroke in attempt to calm her down, while his own gaze was sweeping the surrounding in search of a possible predator. Had something creeped on them? Ugh, he sure hated fighting wild beasts, but it was his duty as a Goatherd. And as a person that had a bunch of tasty animals as his family. Putting the knife away slowly and throwing the rest of the mango to the stream the boy got up, picking up his spear that he had laid beside him to the ground. He straightened his cloak and looked around for a moment in silence as if awaiting something to attack. There was no movement however and as his gaze bounced back to Ada he noticed the small being had already taken off, only catching a glimpse of her stump of a tail as she disappeared to the bushes that were blocking the view upstream. No! Come backsies! With the aid of his spear he leaped after his sister to the bushes, crawling under them rapidly for they were quite dense and he would have been unable to just walk through their sturdy branches. Upon getting to the other side of the quite thick growth he caught the sight of Ada, who now stood still before yet another bush in the distance, making him calm down a bit. Stay! He got up rapidly with a slight stumble, leaving a trail of leaves as he ran to Ada and grabbed her horn. " No running aways, Ada, how many times must I te- " He started, then stopping his rant mid-sentence and staring at the bush before him. Now he heard it too. Sounds of some sort of struggle, accompanied with yelling. He couldn't make up the words from this far, if it was in any language to begin with, but the loud voices sure did make him curious. And concerned, since he didn't like nasties that got near his family. Fighting was always a bad sign, but also made those brawling pay attention to each other rather than him and his herd, which is why he chose to approach and observe. He had to make sure who they were and that they wouldn't wander to the Fort. That would be bad. The tribesman brough his index before his lips and hushed Ada that gave out a jolly Baa, then crouching down and crawling to the bush with the goat right behind him. As he reached the edge of the thick vegetation he staid in the shadows of it, moving the big leaves off the way a bit so to peek out at the opening. He grabbed the goat that tried to push forward past him, giving it a grunt in dismay. Not everyone is friendly, Ada, we should look and see if they are nice or not. And so they did, witnessing what seemed to be a struggle between life and death, one against a bunch. He had seen trolls before and chosen to keep a distance with such beings, but what made him stay to watch was the strange colour on one of them. A shade of blue, along with them being a bit lighter build than the green ones. Were they an outsider? A newcomer? If so, he did understand why the other's were fighting them, for according to what he knew about trolls was that they were highly territorial. But he still saw it unfair to have a gang against just one. He felt even a bit sorry for them and was putting his hopes on their survival, cheering at them inside his Mind. A sudden flash of light made the boy shift in his place and wrap his arms around his sister's neck, trying to keep her from rushing off. No running now! They will notice and eat us! He muffled Ada's startled baaing with his palm while continuing to stare at the fight that now had taken a turn and the small blue had felled the bigger ones like hay. Upon them making a most brutal move of biting another troll's face off Yada'nok winced and covered the goat's eyes with both of his hands, hoping his sister not to witness such a thing. Ugh, all the blood. The particular event seemed to discourage the last opponent however and they ended up fleeing, ending the fight and leaving the Blue alone. The boy exhaled in relief, his tight grasp loosening a bit from around his companion's neck as he watched the remaining troll fall on their knees. Were they hurt badly? Oh noes. He shifted a bit upon them letting out a loud roar that echoed through the Woods, his eyes widening in confusement since he had no idea what they said. Murkaa? Was it some sort of a troll curse word? Shaking his head in indecisiveness the tribesman stood up in a slight struggle, pokin his head out of the bush. This was when Ada broke free from his grip, jumping to the open in a jolly motion accompanied with the happy jingle of the shiny bell around her neck. Yada'nok froze for a moment at the sight of her approaching the stranger so carelessly and slapped himself on the head as a punishment of his own stupidity of letting her go. NYARGH! Why this always happens!? " Ada! Come backs now! " He yelled at the goat that had taken herself all the way to the blue troll, trying to give them a lick as the blood probably looked tasty. The boy gazed upon the being that was surely taller than him, along with having quite a bit of strenght for they had been able to beat up those of their Kin that had been bigger in size. Now that he was closer it didn't take him long to notice they were hurt, not too badly but some of the wounds sure seemed a bit painful. He clapped his hands wildly in vain to try and lure the goat off, then reaching inside his cloak to take out a fruit. Only the sound of his garment rustling was enough for Ada to drop interest on the stranger and she bounced back to her elder brother. The boy smiled and threw the mango behind his back, sending the goat darting after it. Yup, she loved food. That being off the way the boy straightened up and put down his spear in attempt of showing he meant no harm, waving his empty hands around a bit for he had no idea if they would be able to understand his words or not. " Does you need help, Missus? " He asked cautiously, holding a position that kept him ready to grab his spear and run away, should the other end up being hostile. At first he had not been sure which title to use for them, but after a short ponder he had come up with them probably being female. Weight on the word probably. Oh, they sure would let him know if he was mistaken. |
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| Makaradhvaja | Feb 25 2014, 07:30 PM Post #3 |
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Maka wasn't so worried about her injuries. They would heal after some time, and she would be left with some pretty interesting scars, adding character to her appearance. They would go nicely with the tribal tattoos, too. Maka was brooding in a deep sea of anger and vengeance, with full intentions of hunting down every last Jungle troll and eating all of their faces off! They had stolen all of her food, herbs and potions, and left all of her weapons untouched. She would have preferred it being the other way around, thank you very much! However, the bloodshed that would have happened because of the murderous rage boiling inside of her being was prevented when a little goat decided to prance up and lick her face, or more specifically, the blood on her face. Maka blinked and sat back, bewildered at the adorable animal that had appeared before her seemingly out of nowhere. She wondered where it came form, and how a goat could have come to live in a jungle that was filled with vile creatures such as trolls, tigers, leopards, humans, etc. The list went on and on. And yet the goat looked healthy, as if it was perfectly happy living in the Jungle all by itself. Was that normal? It didn't matter to Maka. Goats were meat. Meat was food. Goat was food. Maka's face hardened and she carefully took the curved dagger that was laying next to her on the grass. She picked it up as gingerly and as quietly as possible so as to not startle the little thing away. Maka hadn't eaten meat in weeks. She could already savor the flavor of the blood coursing through its veins going down her throat, the texture of the flesh as she tore through it with her teeth. Maka licked her lips in glorious anticipation. Her eyes sparkled with an unsatisfied hunger. OH, thank the Holy Loa that sent the creature her way! And then there was the boy. The boy with the bloody mango. He tossed it and the Goat went running after it as giddy as a playful baby bobcat. Apparently Maka wasn't the only one that had food on her mind. He waved his hands around like a stinking ja'da. What was his big idea anyway? He asked her something in much better English than she was capable of. Maka was bleeding. Maka was hurt. Maka didn't care! She glared, clearly irritated at what he was doing. At what he had done. Maka wasn't aware that the boy had a connection with the Goat. All she knew was that he had interfered and that she wanted to stick the curved dagger in her hands into his jugular. She gestured towards the goat, shrugging her shoulders and pointing the dagger at him. "What da vekk are yah doin', mon? Yuh are scaring di food wey..." Edited by Makaradhvaja, Feb 25 2014, 07:35 PM.
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| Yada'nok | Mar 3 2014, 05:33 PM Post #4 |
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Eep. Seems we gots ourselves a language barrier. He froze his movement and stared in a slightly crouched and tense position, his arms slightly raised as if he was about to run off screaming any second. The expression on his face was somewhat confused however, not freightened as would probably been proper when one considered who he was talking to. The troll's words left him blinking and looking utterly stupid as his unexperienced brain tried to make some sense of what they might have just said. The way they gestured at the little goat with their dagger raised made his skin crawl, along with their most intimidating blood-soaked appearence. For all he knew they had just called Ada food. That was bad, very bad. Maybe approaching had been a grave miscalculation, no matter how much he would have hated to leave an injured Lady for themselves and the Jungle to tend to. After a short process -with his mouth slightly open out of indecisiveness- he straightened up quickly as if someone had given him an electric shock, correcting his garment just as fast and clearing his throat like a politician readying himself for battle. Of words. With someone to whom he might as well say nothing at all, apparently. Were they aware that they were a Lady? Guess not, but he chose to treat them like one nevertheless, respecting the ways he had been taugh. Or more like gotten chiseled into his thick skull, by the words of someone that had been unfortunate enough to try and teach him manners. " Umgh. Ada is Not Food, Miss. " He started, waving his hands and shaking his head in disagreement after pointing at the goatling. The tone of his voice was calm, with a hint of concern since he wasn't sure how an annoyed, injured troll would react to someone denying them from their meal. He didn't want to speak to them like they were stupid, for that they sure weren't. Just a bit... Disabled. In means of speech at least, but he took an understanding approach towards that due to those two big teeth that pointed out from their jaw and overlapped their upperlip just slightly. Or were they tusks? Reminded him of the wildboars a bit, now that he thought of it, the image of them shredding things into pieces with them not making him feel any more confident about his standing in the current situation. He glanced behind him, catching a glimpse of Ada munching on the fruit she had fetched like there was no danger at all, her mind obviously having drifted into a place of rainbows and happy things. Like other goats and sunshine. Bunnies too? He shook the thoughts away, his gaze and attention returning to the task at hand. Evading a possible troll attack. " If Miss puts the weapon down, I can help with the wounds. I gots food too to share. " He continued after a short pause, his hands now reaching before him in a wavy motion to possibly calm the angered Lady. Damn, he wasn't sure what he would do if they chose to attack... His qlueless look turned at his spear that still laid in the ground, then darting quickly back to the stranger so to not show any signs of fear or doubt. Or give them the image he was going to attack them. No, attacking Ladies was rude. Above all, they were injured. The little educated wheels and cogs inside his head clicked about telling him to offer help, even if his tiny flake of reason somewhere deep inside told him to throw fruit at the other as a distraction and take off as fast as he could run. Something kept him from doing so however. Wonder what. Just in case the Lady wouldn't be able to understand anything he had just tried to express Yada'nok reached inside his cloak and took a careful step towards the troll. After a bit of loud searching and a quick peek into the folds he was able to find a roll of cloth, that might have seemed like a distant relative to something called bandages. He tapped his nose for a second, then gesturing the other to wait and bouncing to the stream. Humming a cheerful tune he took out a handkerchief with the looks of something that was questionable to be in his posession to begin with - all the lace was confusing, along with the pure white colour - and with no hesitation soaked it in the flowing water. Guess he would have to let go off a few of his treasures. For a good cause. Without saying a word he turned in his place on the bank, bit his lower lip and squated humbly, his dark eyes ever observing the other as he placed the items on the grass next to him like it was some sort of altar. Atop the wet piece of cloth and a roll of bandages he placed one more thing. A chunk of dried meat he had gotten as a trade from someone in Eldahar. He didn't really like meat, but had chosen to keep it around for fishing. Guess it would act as a sort of... bait. Above the excuse of a first aid kit. He clapped his hands together, still seated before the Gift of sorts, and made a series of backrolls to distance himself from it. Should give the Lady privacy. Smiling widely in a way most disturbingly friendly -taking the hostility of the other- he took a good seating position on the ground, gesturing at the pile of items next to the stream and letting out a series of Nnnn-nnn-nnn sounds. In an ideal situation they would accept it and calm down. If not... Well... His spear wasn't too far away. |
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| Makaradhvaja | Mar 13 2014, 05:00 PM Post #5 |
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The boy just stared at her, with a look on his face that was so dumb, and the way he tilted his head, it made Maka so angry that she wanted to throw a rock to knock the rash spirits that clung to him away, though she didn’t think even that would do the trick. Clearly whoever mothered the child did not do a very good job of raising it if he didn’t even know how to react when spoken to. Speaking of which, where was his mother? His tribe? It wasn’t wise for a child to be wandering off all by himself with too many dangers present in the Jungle, especially when accompanied by an animal that could not protect him. Could it be that he was tribeless? Come to think of it, Maka thought that there was once a large human tribe that lived somewhere around there. There didn’t seem to be any sign of them, however. The boy straightened up, did a silly little dance, waving his arms around in the air for a reason that Maka was unsure of. Maka remained crouched down as she had been when she made an attempt at the unsuspecting goat’s life. She at first thought that he was going to call upon some terrible spirit to aid him against Maka, and she tensed, ready for whatever was to come forth, until he spoke, saying that someone called Ada was not dinner. The boy looked back at the goat, with clear concern written on his face. It took a second to put together that he was talking about the goat. He called the goat Ada. Was Ada his friend? Maka grunted in disapproval, lowering her weapon a tad at the distraction. But he continued to dance, and even offered his help with her wounds, and with food. Of course he had food to share! He was hogging it all to himself right behind him! It had four legs, and was covered in fur and went baaaah. Maka caught the look he was giving at his spear. Aha! The wriggling caterpillar was simply trying to distract her. When she had her weapon lowered, he would reach for the spear and attack! Typical, predictable scheme! He was giving himself away completely, the way he carried his emotions on his sleeve and looked to wherever his thoughts took him, just like an open tome. Maka raised the curved dagger back up just an inch. She would not be fooled by a human child. But then he did something quite strange. He began to pull things out of his bag. He ran to the stream and was back in a second, placing materials on top of a piece of fancy looking cloth Maka had only ever seen on raids with her tribe. As he did so, Maka grunted in annoyance and moved to pick up her things. Maka didn’t care much for the bandages. Her wounds were on their way to healing, although it was a process that took longer than she would have liked for it to take. It was the chunk of meat that really caught her attention. However, it was too small to gratify her large appetite. It had been a long winter and a small chunk of meat wasn’t going to cut it. He rolled away from his ‘gift’ towards the river and sat there giving her this ridiculous, inviting smile. He wanted her to take it. Fine, if that’s what he wanted…. The troll grabbed the spear the child had dropped. Maka gave him a mocking sneer and snapped it in half. That was the first lesson she would give him. Never drop your weapon in the presence of danger. She ran forward and attempted to kick the child into the stream. Maka reached forward and grabbed the cloth around the rest of the items like a sack and threw it in her leather bag. Then, she ran for the goat, her powerful legs carrying her fast across the distance between them. She scooped the goat up with her free arm and instantly, Maka was off, leaping through the air from tree to tree with the ease of a monkey. No way a young, skinny boy could keep up with her. Lesson two. “Hah. Silly child, goats fah eating. Nah bredren making.” |
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| Yada'nok | Apr 2 2014, 10:09 AM Post #6 |
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Yada'nok's look traced the other's movement, the wide smile on his features trying to signal his sincere means. At first he was sure they would accept the Gift - I mean, why wouldn't someone do so? - but as the Lady moved around their trail of step made a frown creep into his face. The bandages are that way... He was about to point at the direction of the pile of sacrificial items, in case the Lady had misunderstood, again. Why were they approaching his spear now? As they picked up his weapon he congealed completely. Were they going to attack him? He shot a look at Ada, panic freezing his reason solid. But, this is not how it was supposed to go, since he had shown friendliness and good will... Or so he had been taught. He turned his gaze upon the presumably hostile person. This was escalating way too quickly, why didn't they- Wait. That is not how one holds a s-- His eyes widened as sudden realization struck him. Hard to that, it was like a falling anvil. NO! In any other situation he would have bolted up and ran, but the crackle of the shattering wood and the sight of the polished pole being ripped in two had a petrifying effect on him. As the shards of shiny wood flew around he couldn't help letting out an aghast wince and slapping his palms against his cheeks as he held in the scream. He stared as time seemed to slow down, his thoughts racing yet getting nowhere. Why did they do that? Whywhywhywhy?! The boy was too busy being negatively astonished to notice the troll take another step, this time at him. Thus they managed to kick him before he had time to say or do anything. And so he flew. In a bit of an arch, accompanied by his protesting scream. Yargh! He submerged like a pebble, the chill of the water grasping his whole figure. It tingled his skin, soaked his being, strangled his breath with icy fingers. He couldn't swim. No one had ever taught him, neither had he ever seen a reason to get in greater contact with the Watery Depths apart from bathing in shallow puddles. Sure had always kept away from the wild water, such as rivers and streams like this, since Mother had warned him about their power that would snatch any living being away. Like it did to him now. For a moment, he heard and saw nothing. Why did it feel so cold? He opened his eyes that had closed in terror, looked up at the wavering Blue, framed by Green of leaves. The Spirit of the Stream begun her hum, a bubbling song that covered everything else under a blur of sounds. The rays of the Sun gazed down and warmed his back. Under his feet was the Forest floor, the dry leaves crunching like a bed of beetles as he ran. A light breeze swept through the Jungle, making the Nature shiver and chime on a hot summer day, a good sign. It made him smile, making his step swift as he brought himself to the familiar hut in the edge of his village, like every day the previous week. Maybe, just maybe, his persistance was to be rewarded, finally. " What do you want today, Yada'nok? " " I was wondering if you coulds make me a - " " No. Same as yesterday. You are too young to have an item of such value. You would just break it. " " But how am I ever going to learns to be a good warrior if I don't gets to practice, Mister Kib'ba? " " Use sticks like the rest of the kids... " " It is not the same, I can't hit anything with thoses... " " You are not supposed to, it is for gaining strenght so you may throw it far. " " What abouts preesiision? It is important too. " " Precision you mean. I still don't quite understand why you need that as of yet. You wish to kill things? " " Only meanies. And maybe fishes. " The old man paused, the hues of a withered Forest looking down at the boy that had been pestering him for days now, his expression somewhat pondering. Then he turned in his place, returning to whatever he was doing, as if it was his way of trying to dismiss the whole conversation, once again. " Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease!? " " FINE! But, you will have to get the materials for the pole yourself. And just in case it isn't clear already, I won't accept any branch you find lying around. " " THANKSIES MISTER! " And he was off. The Wind had turned, grabbing his cloak as he took himself to the Great Woods, having around nothing but greenery that marked all the options he had. Oh, it was like a treasure hunt. And a good way to slip from the day's work at the River, fishing got so dull at times. He had not noticed something following him though. Baa. He opened his eyes again. The hum had ended, being replaced by the chirp of little birds and insects, along with a loud concert of a toucan quartet that had their stage set in a nearby tree. His body felt heavy, limbs numb like they didn't excist anymore. The green garment felt cold against his chest, but otherwise it was warm, the mighty light of the sky blinding him. Soon enough something shed a shadow upon his beaten figure. There was a white goat, staring down at him, unblinking, its pure coat shining in the Sun like a field of snow in an almost eerie manner. Had he died? Was it the Mighty Sain- Nope. It licked his face. Deities don't stick out their tongues. He grunted and shoved the goat's face away gently, then straightening up on the stream bank in somewhat stiffened motion. Augh. It hurt everywhere. Don't go swim in the stream, Mother had said, well, don't know if being shoved into it really counts as a casual wade, but he sure knew why she had told him that in the past. Wild water was badbadbad, coldcoldcold and hurthurthurt. His ponytail had opened, the choppily cut hair hanging wet against his cheeks and the nape of his neck, the unpleasantry making him exhale sharply in annoyance. The goat stepped next to him, still staring. What do you wan- oh. It all came back to him in a violent flash. Thus why he bounced up like a spring, ending up blackening his vision for a moment and grabbing the goat's horns for support. Eegh, forgot about that. As his world slowly returned to him and stopped spinning, he straightened up and took a hasty look around. The troll... Where, no, what, Ada!? Yada'nok glanced at the goat that wagged it's stump of a tail next to him, forever unblinking. How did you finds me, Mother? She let out a baa, then turning on her place and clip clopping away to the bushes. Did she want him to follow? Did she know where Ada was? And why the heck had she wandered away from the Fort to begin with? He shook his head and whole body like a two legged dog, trying to detach the wet cloth from clinging onto his skin, then stroking the top of his head to move his hair off his face. Better go sees, Mothers mostly know overwordly well where their children are. After all, she had managed to find him, from the most unlikely place. As he leaped forward in the hoofsteps of the snowy animal and entered the vegetation in a loud rustle, he immediately made up where he was. The stream had taken him closer to the Fort quite a bit, downhill to be exact. The goat accelerated her pace to a light trot, jumping over the fallen branches and little patches of tall grass in the nible talent of a fawn. Slow downs, Mother! Whilst running he shot a look behind him at the distancing river, trying to mark the spot into the map he held in his mind. Would have to return for the blade... it was too precious to be left lying in the ground. Also, was his only weapon. And most treasured item he had ever had. After a bit of a jog he saw a flash of blue between a dense bunch of leaves. A familiar shade to that, and accompanying it was a mix of browns and stripes of white. Ada! He sprinted, running past the bigger goat that had led the way so far. Maybe he could hide in the bushes and observe for a moment. His look turned to look for Mother, ready to tell her to stay behind, but she was nowhere to be found anymore. What the... How did she vanish all of a sudden? Just like that... Ah well... Then he tripped into a root. His momentum had been too great for him to just fall to the ground straight away, so instead he made a little flip and stumbled, letting out a loud scream and a grunt as he flew through the wall of leaves. And landed on his face, into the open. Ugh, good thing Mother wasn't here to see his yet another fail in the fields of sneaky approach. What was up with the Gods jesting with him today... and the past year. |
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| Makaradhvaja | May 31 2014, 12:34 PM Post #7 |
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There was nothing wrong in enjoying the peacefulness of the wild Jungle, a relative peace that the hardest of trolls could appreciate. It was far from ideal, however. “Baaaah!” The little goat screamed, wriggling in the she-troll’s grip. Maka kept having trouble keeping a steady pace, especially when she was literally jumping from tree to tree, swinging on vines, and running across long branches. It was strangely lissome for an animal. Maka had to curse at it several times before it began to settle down. Maka did not bother to question how the goat to understand. It had been almost half an hour since Maka had made her escape and headed towards a shrine built for the Loa, which were generally built on lower ground and at a clearing commonly enclosed by exceptionally dense shrubbery that made one feel as if there would be no end to it. Although they were scattered all throughout Ashoka by the troll tribes, there weren’t very many humans that could easily come across it. The enchanted shrine made by troll-voodoo magic tended to confuse and rebuke them away. It did quite the opposite for troll-kind. With some effort on her part, Maka finally managed through break through the shrubbery. She scanned her surroundings with half-lidded eyes as a force of wary habit. It took her a moment before she decided the coast was clear. Maka looked to the shrine, which was covered in moss. It was far away from the river that ran through the Jungle, in which she had kicked that boy into. Maka refused to let herself pity him, or feel guilty for being about to eat his friendly goat. This was a hard life with hard happenings, another fact he needed to learn before it was too late. That was something she firmly believed, something the Loa had made her learn when she was far too young. And yet, Maka could not wipe the look of his broken face when she had shattered his spear away from her mind….. She violently shook her head and reprimanded herself. Maka only knew how to survive; she need not know anything else. Her race and culture hardly gave her any more choice than just that. It was all the Halfling needed to do what it was that she needed to do to ensure that she got to live another day. It was a rather simple goal that required no attachments, a fact that was rather satisfactory to Maka. Constantly being on the move would keep her safe. No one could find her easily and she had no place to call home, nor did she have any ties that could be used as leverage against her. This was as it should be. Maka looked up at the sun and noted that it just a little after mid-day. She tied the goat up with a strong vine to the shrine and gave her work a once over. The little restless thing kept tugging at the rope and making loud sounds which only a goat could make. She squatted down, held its head still, and looked into its eyes with an angry gaze, about to scold it for being so darn troublesome. Why couldn’t it just be quiet and wait to be sacrificed and eaten like a proper goat? But the goat looked back into her own eyes, and there was something there which Maka hadn’t ever seen in an animal before. She looked into its eyes and saw her human herself looking straight back. “By dah Loa….” Maka gaped for a moment, before making a disgruntled face and stepping away with a huff. Thinking back on the teachings of the Witch Doctor, Maka knew that everything, every person, every place had its own Loa spirit. There were different ones for humans as to trolls or dimwitted animals such as goats. But it wasn’t a goat’s Loa spirit that she saw in the animal’s eyes. It was human. Maka shuddered at the thought. In an instant, she understood why the human boy was fighting for Maka not to eat his treasured goat-friend. There was only one way to find out if her suspicions were true. The she-troll tapped into the magic that would little by little allow for her to transform. She bent down on all fours and her hands turned into paws, as well as her toes. Her back arched as the hair on her body thickened and grew, and a cat-like tail began to sprout from her bottom. Her mouth and nose shifted into a feline’s muzzle as her face stretched and her eyes became enlarged and the pupils in them shifted into sharp slits before Maka closed them; long sharp ears shifted from the side of her head to the top and shortening out. A low growl emerged from deep within her throat before her eyes opened again, and the Ghost Cat could see. In the place of the goat was a dark-skinned girl, similar in appearance to the boy from before, but much younger. She could see the silhouette of a goat over her. She had become much more terrified upon the Maka’s magical transformation, and for good reason. Maka had indeed taken the form of an even more dangerous predator—a predator that was no less ravenous than the troll, if not more so. She circled around the girl, as if inspecting her meal before she would devour it. “P-please don’t hurt me!” The girl cried with tears in her eyes. “Dis changes nothing, little pickney,” she said with a bitter taste in her mouth, baring her teeth in frustration at the pang of guilt. If anything, the sacrifice would be an even greater one with it being a girl stuck in a goat’s body. Perhaps by sacrificing her, Maka would be granted some peace of all the troubles she had faced. Maka hadn’t practiced her religion since the time of the great collapse of the tribes, but she had been raised by it through and through. “Zim’Torga, Madda of Prosperity,” she prayed to the Loa, “accept dis sacrifice as i sink mi teet inna ah flesh an spill ah blood inna your name. Grant mi relief of mi misfortunes.” Maka opened wide, revealing two rows of fangs and a pair of tusks, prepared to rip her throat out for her blood to rain down on the shrine, prepared to fill her stomach with fresh, warm, juicy meat, still alive, heart still beating, something she'd craved for far too long. There was the sound of rustling behind her. Maka turned her head and saw. The boy. A sudden wave of relief hit Maka. She was happy to see the boy alive. Unmistakably annoyed, but happy nonetheless. But the ghost-cat in her, the menacing hungry predator, it tossed the good feelings aside, filling her with rage as hot as the coals of a furious fire instead. "Yuh vekkin' Ja'da! I'll kill yuh forreal dis time. Yuh won't cum bak fram dis!" But all he heard was the growling and roaring of a ghost-like cat making its way towards him. Ready to pounce. Ready to kill. "May di Loa nah ave mercy pon your soul." Edited by Makaradhvaja, May 31 2014, 12:37 PM.
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| Yada'nok | Jul 11 2014, 04:56 PM Post #8 |
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// Sorry for derpy and belated post. x.x // He had hit the ground hard, screaming and kicking somewhat, now lying face down in the dirt. The dazed head lifted a bit in attempt to see where its owner had landed, ending up spitting out grass whilst his nimble hands reached to move the dripping strands of hair from hindering his vision. Ada was there, in the distance, but against his expectations there was no troll accompanying her. Was some other creature, its form resembling a feline even if its coat and other details were far from fitting what he had seen before in the Wild. Not to mention its presence was completely different, more of the wavering and supernatural sort than those of mere feral beasts. Had he stumbled across yet another Divine? For all he knew the world and Gods were full of surprises with their weird quirks. If it was a nature spirit as he first suspected, it was not of the friendly kind. His momentarily brightened expression sunk to new depths and he quickly took a crawl backwards in withdrawal, dark eyes staring at the ghastly cobalt hues in both awe and fright. What had he done to deserve the Gods to test him like this? Seemed more like an attempt of heavenly murder than a lesson, if he was any judge. Them Greater beings needed to give him a break, right now, for he had already witnessed slaughter, taken a dive, gotten his weapon demolished and sister stolen, not to mention the cookie that had been inside his garment that he had saved for later that was now inedible and soaked, all the tasty sweetness turned to mush. And for what. For attempting niceties. He swore at that moment he would never ever again offer his treasures to a person with a heavy accent. Or at least he would eat his biscuits first, just in case. I could've shareds the cookie withs the troll lady... Not sure whether to grieve more over the ruined treat or his evident doom that know stared at him straight in the eye, shining fangs pleading to rip him apart, he took another hasty stumble backwards on all fours like a mentally morbid crab until his back came to an immediate contact with a dense scrub. A snarl of despair overlaid his rounded features, chesnut gaze widened between the pitch hair that hung down, clinging to his cheeks when he slowly tilted his head in tracing of the approaching one. Words and prayers for mercy died in his mouth, only a mutter of Sorrysorrysorry directing in a rumble from his throat when he glanced at Ada's dumbfounded figure. Run aways, Sister, to the Fort, Mother is theres. Nows. And then, the curse acted up. A swirl of light and swimming colours engulfed his young essence, orbiting the morphing figure that slowly compressed into something much smaller and... fluffy. A long, ringed tail curled behind his back as the latest addition to his new appearance, the aghast amber of his starry gaze remaining on his 'opponent'. A squeal of protest erupted from his dainty snout then, mostly because the Beast looked to be of greater size now that he was even closer to the ground. Against everything his instincs said about running and hiding, he reached his tiny hands to shield his head, as if it was to make dying enjoyable. Hell, now he would at least fit to their maw whole, so saving them the effort of tearing him to pieces and sparing him from suffering too long. Amidst his surrendering shiver, a passive Baah-ha-ha split the heavy jungle air. It was of greater depth and rougher tone than that of the little goatling and one of enhanced hearing could also pick up a rumble that accelerated from over the yonder. It was getting louder quite fast, soon making a smashing entrance through the greenery somewhere to his right. The biggest -and undeniably fattest- goat of his herd, Mister Bakin'Kab, had by some twisted God's -or Mother's- order made it to endorse the scene, its round boulder of a form having left a wide path through the vegetation. A selection of branches and leaves adorned its curved horns, leadlike coat dotted by shards of bark from recently massacred trees and other pieces of nature that weren't able to run away. It let out another threatening Baah, one front hoof scraping the ground as it contemplated on charging at the spirit creature. Did someone order a mealtime interruption? |
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| Makaradhvaja | Oct 28 2014, 12:20 PM Post #9 |
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*Sorry for the derpy and belated post lol* There was an abrupt enchanting magic in the air. It surrounded the boy and transformed him from a skinny child into a tiny tailed fuzzy little animal. Maka lifted her head up and her chest out. Her cobalt eyes were wide with confusion and bewilderment as the dawning of the monkey boy materialized itself before her. The feline’s head turned towards his sister at the altar, then back to him. Then back at his sister. Then back to him. He cowered underneath his tiny little body, shaking with terror, eyes shut tight in distress. Suddenly, a sound broke the silence— a baah ha ha – and a gargantuan goat emerged from the underbrush, silhouetted by an equally great sized man. Maka’s jaw dropped. Was everyone in his damned family cursed? He charged her up. Maka glared and her nostrils flared as she bore her fangs at him. Maka took no pleasure in executing anyone, especially children, but sometimes such things were necessary; sometimes sacrifices needed to be made. Malignant spirits haunted her wherever she went, causing a great deal of misfortune on the troll, all because of her attempt to abandon her religion. Yet, she was the one who was chosen to lead the broken tribes as the Witchdoctor. The fact that her training remained incomplete didn’t matter to the Loa, so long as she fulfilled whatever destiny they had in store for her. It was exasperating. However, now that there was a new player on the field, perhaps she didn’t have to sacrifice the child goat after all. Perhaps the Loa would take greater pleasure in having the blood of a bigger, greater goat spilled on its shrine. Maybe then the monkey brat would leave her alone and they could go onto their separate ways. The wildcat’s lips parted upwards, as if smiling. Then, it slowly transformed back into the blue humanoid female. Maka lifted her hands and gestured for the goat to come at her; she was ready. Was he? It charged, huffing and puffing angrily with every leap it took towards the aggressive troll lady that was a threat to its precious loved ones. Maka braced herself firmly against the dirt, putting her hands out as she prepared to catch it. Faster, and faster, the distance between the two diminished, until finally, his horns connected with her hands, his momentum driving her backwards. Her feet sunk into the dirt. She leaned forward and held the goat with all of her strength; arms, back, and leg muscles bulged with the effort. When the goat’s energy gave way to her might, Maka already had him where she wanted him, and she smiled up at the animal man with a wicked grin. Maka held the goat down by the horns, then she wrapped her arms around its neck and wrestled the struggling beast to the altar of the shrine. “Mek nuh misteehhk, mi takes nuh pleasuhh in dis,” she growled into the goat’s ear, and warned: “Luk wey, children.” The menacing curved dagger was back in her hands, and with one fluid motion, the goat’s throat was slit, and blood spilled on the shrine. The goat dropped into a bloody heap as Maka bowed and uttered an undistinguishable prayer under her breath. |
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| Yada'nok | Nov 8 2014, 10:48 AM Post #10 |
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He had closed his eyes before Death that had come to claim him, for his crime in the past no doubt, only hearing the growl that was mere inches away. Until it suddenly stopped, overran by a rumble and series of different huffs of agression. Dumbfounded, he split his fingers just a bit, peeking from between at the disruption. The weirdly appeared Mister Bakin'Kab did a threatening twirl and threw his head, sending many of the remaining bushes flying around the spot he stood. On the opposing corner of a most primitive arena, the lady troll withdrew their ethereal form and morphed to their original self, but becoming no less threatening in the process. Maybe even more so, if he was any judge. Oh noes. Instead what he had expected to be his moment of utter and anticlimactic doom, a battle of Titans took place. Or so it felt to him, being the literal size of an immature primate. The goat lauched his long awaited charge fearlessly, galloping at his opponent of equal -if not greater- vigor and size, whom took the hit like no man he had ever seen. Damn, most of those in his village would've laughed and ran to the nearest bush for their little lives, if put against Mister Bakin'Kab. Goat or man, he was frightening. Mostly due to sheer size of him for he had very little other qualities to brag about. Not that he would've even known how to, the mild simpleton as he was. ![]() Everything happened so fast he had not even known which one to hail for, but guess for his own safety he should've cheered for the goat. He noticed himself recoiling when the two battling forces collided, a lightning of dark greys pummeling against an indomitable blue wall that slid backwards, still standing tall and victorious under the other's force. It was an ideal fight really, with sides of equal intensity in strenght, a struggle between two beasts. He had figured the troll might have more on the side of wit and nimbleness though, both a great advantage against brute force. Too bad they seemed to have quite a bit of muscle power too, in regards to the odds for the goat. He felt his fright subdued by excitement over witnessing a good fight, all the way until the cobalt aggressor had their opponent led to the altar after a set of strangleholds and other forceful acrobatics. Because that is when he saw the knife, his amber hues spotting its glimmer in the troll's hand when they prepared to swing a swift strike that was to end the animal for good. He caught a glimpse of Ada's pure white backside fleeing the altar and in a mere clip and a clop of hooves she disappeared to the brush, letting out a collection of generally aghast goat sounds, finally having the courtesy to leave when being told. The world went dark once more when his hands returned to cover his gaze in aversion. And then, just like that, the troll had drawn blood. He had lost the first one. When he opened his eyes after what had felt like a decade of silence, he could do nothing but stare. First at his palms that were probably dirtier than ever. Then at that which surrounded him. The whole of the jungle around had fallen quiet, something he had not noticed until now. No baaing, no croaking, no chirping, not even a distant sussurrus. Even the air seemed to stand still. As if reluctantly, his gaze traced the marks on the dusty ground, then climbing up the weathered stone steps one by one, all the way to the altar of a God he didn't know. Upon it, he saw that which he somehow had hoped that might not have been there. It was not that he had liked Mister Bakin'Kab. Even distantly, in his past life or the current. The man had been hardheaded before the curse and still was, always causing trouble and eating at the most inconvenient time and in places that made no sense. Not to mention that he had almost felled the tree that held the Fort, having some hidden grudges against plantlife in general. Still, none of the said meant that he had not mattered to Yada'nok. All that had taken place now reminded him that it might happen again. It was possible. They could all die. Unaware in their animal state, never to regain their human lives, forever under the curse that he so desperately tried to lift, unsure if such a fix even existed. Nevertheless, he couldn't stop trying. Never. Never ever. ![]() His peaceful gaze dipped down and he found himself exploring the muddy marks on his palms once more, jumping from left to right as if deep in thought. In truth, he was not thinking too much at all. In conclusion to his extended pause, he threw his hands flat on the ground before himself, levering his twiglike form up slowly like a child learning to walk. He flipped his loose hair backwards, took a few steps to what he presumed to be the middle of the dusty opening and tried the ground with his foot, stomping it twice. Would have to do. The dark of his eyes ventured to the troll briefly, questioning yet knowing. " Don't you dare eats him. " He uttered, voice bleeding a drop of threat when he raised his index at the she troll. And like so, he grouched down and begun to dig. With his fingertips, much like a dog, a faint smile tugging his lips when a hum attempted to escape from between them. // Full version of Maka. X The fight scene was awsum. // |
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| Makaradhvaja | Nov 9 2014, 01:47 PM Post #11 |
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*oh, my, that is quite awesome, sir!* Maka’s head was bowed, focusing on only one thing; praying to the Mother of Prosperity— Zim’Torga. The blood was spilled so that Zim’Torga would make it so that Maka did not have to keep facing such misfortunes in her wanderings. Maka was beginning to think that she was cursed! She knew that she is the reason for the Great tribes’ destruction, and the Loa were making it hard for her to live in the world. But hadn’t it been long enough? She could feel Zim’Torga; then, she could see her. The Loa stood over the altair in all of her imposing glory. Her black body halfway covered in rags glistened like obsidian. The mask over her face was carved and to look like a Kingfisher bird. Her long dreadlocks had different shaped coins tied to the ends, so when she moved, she jingled. She was responding to the sacrifice, but something was wrong. The Mother of Prosperity pointed to the boy that now stood on the altar, looking desperately lost and broken. A pang of guilt hit Maka’s heart like a sucker punch. “Yu cyaan siddung pahn cow bak cuss cow kin.” She spoke, and her voice was so powerful it made Maka’s very bones shiver with fear. wYou cannot sit on the back of the cow and curse the skin of the cow. What did she mean by that? Maka did not like it whenever others spoke in riddles. It would be best if Zim’Torga spoke straightforwardly so that she might understand. “W-wot dos dat meen?” “Remembah fi yuh fadah.” “Remembah mi fadah? But wot-“ Before Maka could utter another word, the world spun around her in colors of blue and yellow. She was spinning in a tornado before everything stopped so abruptly that she almost fell over. Maka was not longer standing on the Altar; she stood in one of her memories in the camp of the trolls which her father led. Her father, Zonzo, a gargantuan of a troll and leader of the Dualscar tribe, stood over a fire. He was also blue, like Maka, but with far bigger muscles, and a far more menacingly scarred face. There was a little troll that looked rather more like a human; her muscles were small and she little baby tusks that did not stick out of her mouth. She was only three feet tall, but at least she was blue, like Zonzo, and her hair was braided; Maka remembered that her father’s slave had done it. The clan’s Zul’jin, Kirtimukha, stood off to the side, ever watchful. There was a human boy tied and gagged, about Maka’s young size, kneeling by the fire. Maka gaped at the memory. She remembered it was the day her clan had gone on a raid, and it was her time to spill her first blood. It was Maka’s first birthday, after all. A knife was handed to her. Little Maka had held it in her shaking hands. “Now ah de tiem, Likle one,” spoke Zonzo, his deep, gruff voice resonating through her. “Tschwe et.” He spat the word as if it meant nothing. Tschwe. Kill. “Mi dun want to, Popah,” Maka’s young childish voice shook, as well. “Jen Maka. Yuh weel do et. Tek dah couto. Twche da boi.” “Nuh.” “Jen Makaradhvaja!” “Nuh!” Maka turned to make a run for it, bu Zonzo was fast. He had his arm wrapped around her abdomen in a second and he carried her over to the fire where the boy was. Maka punched, kicked, and squirmed, flailing this way and that, but it was no use against his powerful hold. Her stomach churned in discomfort and her heart swelled and beat like the flapping wings of a hummingbird. The young troll was disgusted and frightening of killing a child no bigger than herself, and looked so much like her. When Maka looked into his eyes, she wanted to cry. Zonzo set her down and wrapped his hand around the hand she held the knife with. Zonzo was so large he had to kneel to do what he did. With his other hand, he took the boy by the neck and dragged him closer. Even muffled, the boy cried. Maka saw his tears and her heart felt like it tore in twos and threes. She cried, and she begged. “Popah!! Nuhh! Nuhhhh!” With little effort, Zonzo, forced Maka’s hand forward and towards the boy’s chest. “Dere, dat wasn’t hawd, wasn’t pa… aryen, Maka.” He whispered as he patted her shoulder and walked away, her hand still holding the dagger, still stuck inside the dead boy’s chest. That night, they ate the boy for dinner. As the memory of her father passed Maka , she could see that in her father’s eyes was pity, sadness. Maka was always her father’s weakness. He would not do away with her, and in order to make Maka one of them, he had to make hard choices. Maka’s throat swelled. Why was the Loa showing her this? Suddenly, Maka was thrown back into the real world, back with the boy, and the dead goat. A finger pointed up at her. Maka didn’t realize she was shaking. “Don’t you dare eats him,” he warned as he spat venom towards the she-troll. Maka now stood, and she realized at that moment that he hadn’t seen a thing. He hadn’t seen the Mother of Prosperity reject her sacrifice, although Maka was confused as to why. It was a perfectly adequate one, in her opinion. Maka blinked, and suddenly, Yada was digging, a strange smile upon his lips. “Wah yuh ah duh?” Her voice cracked as she questioned the boy, and her hand reached out to grab his shoulder. *maka is about to have a huge moment of regret lol* |
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| Yada'nok | Nov 12 2014, 09:12 AM Post #12 |
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Dust rose slowly from his spot of labour, dry dirt digging under his fingernails as his hands repeated a pattern over and over. His Mind had dismissed the troll, now shutting out even time and place behind his stare that grew emptier, everything but the excuse of a pit before him becoming blurred. He had to dig, had to make it deep, had to burn him, had to cover and mark the spot, take his skull, had to... tell Mother. The thought turned his stomach, grasped his insides with taloned hands. What would she say? What would she think of him? Would she still accept him to protect the tribe with someone such as Bakin'Kab dead, who had been way greater of a guardian than he could be in his skin of a child? Not to mention it had been his fault, for investigating, for letting Ada to run away and get abducted, for allowing the troll to do all that they had. Were times like these that reminded him that he was not a man, but a mere kid, not worthy or powerful enough for the task. But, at the end of the day, he was all they had. His hum echoed in his ears, overpowering the steps of another when they drew nigh. A hand was placed on his shoulder adruptly, at which point he snapped out of the imaginary fields inside his head, those in which he was alone. His body flickered under the touch and his song came to a violent end mid-tune, both sound and movement turning to stone for several seconds. Had they come to kill him too? To add on top of the pile and the like. They had seemed oddly disappointed, shivering almost, at their spot on the altar above the split blood. Maybe their Gods or whatever demons they worshipped wanted more. Guess he should've ran, instead of landing empty threats and staying at the sacrificial site. Against what he had expected, that being a slash from a blade into the neck, nothing happened. But then he remembered the question placed in verbal realm, a heavy troll dialect hammering the back of his skull. And so, enlightened, he turned his head. ![]() " Were your Godses happy? " He opened, staring up at the tall figure in rather innocent curiousity. Behind his eyes laid grief, self-pity, regret, anger even, but for that moment his face betrayed none of them. Wasn't his part yet, there was a deed to be done. His gaze took slowly to detach from the troll when he tapped his hands together in some type of a conclusion, producing a cloud of dust. In a sigh he hoisted himself to stand straight, rotating on his bare feet to face the she troll properly. " Am diggings a grave, must buries Mister Bakin'Kab. " The boy responded belatedly and gestured at his painfully shallow digsite, then at the sacrificed goat, all of him so casual he might as well have been speaking about baking pie. " One makeses a little pit, puts firewoods into it and burns the dead. Then collects the skull to keep close. As a reminder. " His hues were slowly gaining a glimmer when he explained, the sunlight reflecting from his sockets clearer every passing second. At the end of his sentence he rushed past his conversational partner, forearm reaching to brush his face as he took to the altar. He sniffled, as silently as he could, and exhaled upon reaching the corpse, taking a little moment to examine it. The cut on the animal's neck was clean, sharp by the edges and positioned in a professional manner. Therefore, if he had to say one good thing, he was able to perceive that his fellow tribesman had not suffered. The end had been swift and mainly painless, like a little sting. They never counted the pain that came afterwards though, to those that were left to tend to the perished. In realization, mostly over how heavy a limp corpse of an overfed goat was and partly over his own weakness, Yada'nok crept a glance at the troll once again. " Can You helpses carry him downs? " |
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| Makaradhvaja | Nov 22 2014, 06:23 PM Post #13 |
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Maka watched hYada'nok dig a hole that wasn't even two inches deep. He planned to bury the goat, which was bigger than herself, in the most pathetic grave she had ever seen in her life. Maka gave him such an incredulous look as she wondered how in the hell was the boy not angry with her. Why wasn't he trying to avenge the poor old goat? Why was he holding back? She certainly didn't deserve it after what she had done. The boy’s goat friend… his blood… was spilled… for nothing! Maka’s chest swelled with a pained frenzy of blame, and most of all, self-hatred. It was at that moment that Maka understood the denunciation of the sacrifice. Zim’Torga was trying to tell her that she shouldn’t have ridiculed the boy. Worse yet, she should have never been ungrateful to, or disdainful of, his help. His prosperity. Now, she had tarnished him, one who had tried to assist her, shown her kindness by offering his food to her, and how had she responded? Maka had kicked him into the cold, raging river that swept him away, like he was nothing. Pa… aryen. Thus, in turn, she had tarnished Zim’Torga. She wanted to reach out to him, but Maka feared she had hurt him enough to make him turn on her. How could she so soon express her regret? She had slaughtered his goat only a minute before. She even seemed to enjoy it! What would he say? What would he think? Maka growled to herself. Why did she care?! It makes no sense to take precautions after she carelessly let a situation get out of hand. Maka didn’t know how to solve this problem. But something told her that is what Zim’Torga wanted her to do. Solve the problem. But… the problem was her, wasn’t it? Maka watched hYada'nok dig a hole that wasn't even two inches deep. He planned to bury the goat, which was bigger than herself, in the most pathetic grave she had ever seen in her life. Maka gave him such an incredulous look as she wondered how in the hell was the boy not angry with her. Why wasn't he trying to avenge the poor old goat? Why was he holding back? She certainly didn't deserve it after what she had done. "Dey loved it." He looked up at her with dull eyes, but they were far from empty. They were a dark vortex of raging emotions of varying degrees, and he was keeping them all carefully contained deep inside. Maka's anguish only grew when he explained what he was up to in such a casual manner. Maka looked down into those eyes with pity, and regret, before he shot past her.. She watched him examine the goat, and after a minute, Yada asked her to help him, probably with some reluctance. "Go collect da fiyawood, likle Pickney. I'll take care of tis." Maka snorted her dissatisfaction and went over to where Yada had been digging the hole. Then she bent down on all fours and pawed away at the dirt on the ground as she began to dig like a dog. Maka only paused to wipe off the sweat from her brow before commencing the repetitive motion. She could feel the earth working its way up her fingernails as she worked.The hole grew in width and depth until it was a perfectly adequate to bury the goat. Then Maka jumped out of the hole and went over to the slaughtered goat. In one fluid motion, Maka picked him up and slung him over her shoulder, and took him over to the grave. She tossed him down. He hit the dirt with a thump. Her vision began to blur as she looked into the goat's grave. Something got in her eyes? With a blue hand she reached up to wipe away whatever it was.... Before the boy got back. |
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| Yada'nok | Nov 25 2014, 12:46 AM Post #14 |
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- Dey loved it. In that case, it hadn't been in vain completely. It had carried a purpose, been successful even. It mattered not to him that his Gods were different, by both name and demand, for he believed them all to be connected one way or another. He had seen the markings on the troll, believing they were of tribal origin, so maybe their Gods were his too. Some Nature spirit like beings, with wavering presences and otherwordly deeds, roaming dimensions and sporting causes that sometimes made no sense. Most of the time actually, taking how they had chosen to command this troll to draw the blood of Mister Bakin'Kab, spill a life on the unknown altar, without no visible reaction to it. Guess they weren't mean to and it was rather the lack of reaction that shoved their approval, or something else just as uncertain. Strange ways, nevertheless. He had not expected the troll to submit help, his look widening in confusion when they did, giving him orders even. He wanted to weep, throw himself to the ground and call for his Mother, curl up into himself in the middle of his herd and pretend someone held him, dismiss the day and events in an unreal dream. It all was to wait, the shreds of his calmness pulling together a broken puzzle over and over as he tried to keep his composure the best he could, hands grabbing the edge of his cloak as he bit his bottom lip. He had known from the beginning they weren't like any troll he had ever seen, but the extent of the term only seemed to expand. Overwhelming it was, if anything. Unable to utter a single word, he nod his head to them and took off swiftly, jumping off the altar . He wasn't certain that they would do as they had alleged, if they were just dismissing him in order to further their rites, if he would be presented with nothing but a missing corpse upon his return. A greater part of him had been taught to believe in Good, an invisible quality that by his opinion was present in all beings. In some it was more suppressed, buried under a set of lesser things and apparent only in certain situations, in others it was the dominant side of an entirety. He hoped that the troll would listen to those little voices that encouraged the less evident conclusion, that of more effort but increased individual greatness. Should they end up not to, promoting dishonesty and evil within, he guessed he would then have to just cry some more. It was not like the World was to pat him on the back or anything for his naïveté. Yada'nok took his time, seaching for those pieces of deadwood, lunging at every dry branch and fallen tree he could find. A careful pile grew over the crook of his arm, extending slowly to a multitude that was becoming hard to bear upon his slender frame and limbs. He postponed his return, picking up just one more. And another and another. The moment he almost fell over, overwhelmed by his burden, he faced the fact that he would have to go back some time. To watch over the proper cremation and ceremony of claiming the skull, then taking it to its proper spot. He returned to the scene of action at last, huffing from running and carrying as much firewood as he even theoreticly could, slowing down his gait upon brushing past the last barrier of leaves. To an amount of relief he found the troll before an impressive pit, with the much dead goat in the bottom of it. Nodding in approval to the blue undertaker, he released the tinder to the ground adruptly and crouched down to set each piece carefully around the corpse. " You makses a good digger... " He stated, brushing his hair behind his ears while he gave the troll a little glance, trying half a smile. His eyes watered up and he sniffled again, withdrawing to his task at hand. It occured to him that he didn't know what to call them, not that there really had been any moment appropriate for introductions as of yet. Maybe that moment was now, as they both would soon witness the burial of his family member, stacking wood around the soon burning vessel. " What's your name, Missus...? Mines Yada'nok, Mother gaves me it longses ago, was afters my grandpa. " His voice flickered a bit, his hands reaching inside his cloak for flint and steel. Had been a gift from a friend, some time back, a real nice tool he had figured. He hit them together a couple of times, failing to produce even the slightest hint of fire. Sparks, sure, but nothing more. Maybe he was doing it wrong. " Can You uses these? " Reaching out at the troll in timid offering, holding the rock and metal on separate palms, he asked for aid once more. |
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| Makaradhvaja | Jan 1 2015, 10:34 PM Post #15 |
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Maka had composed herself well enough and managed to gather a bit of small kindling from birds nests around the area to help start the fire for later. Maka was picking a piece of charred cloth from her equipment, which she had left outside of the shrine, when boy returned from his mission and approached with a large pile of wood in his arms. He seemed satisfied over the grave site now that the hole was big enough for the large goat to fit. How did he even figure it was deep enough before? He was so young, so foolish. Maka watched him get to work on placing the wood around the goat's body in preparation for the ceremony. Maka walked over with the kindling and the charred cloth. He glanced at her and gave her a half-hearted smile. He tried his best at a compliment, but Maka could not ignore the clearly written anguish in his annoying big doe eyes. Maka was no stranger to pain and sorrow, and his was truly tugging at her heart strings. Damn his hold. 'No, likle one, you are jus' a lousy digga.' She wanted to say, but chose to keep it to herself instead and gave him a shrug and a grunt in return. So smooth. The she-troll did not look at him, choosing instead to focus her gaze upon the ground directly in front of her. He asked for her name and gave his to her; yada'nok, a good, strong name for a boy. Maka's brow furrowed in frustration and crossed her muscled arms. So we're they to now exchange names like they were the best of buds, as if everything that had just happened never did? How could he be so easy to let it go?! The boy's heart was too good, his manner to innocent. It bothered the hell out of her. Maka reached over and grabbed him from the hole, lifting him up by his shawl with ease and placing him directly in front of her. She looked down at him with a snarl, but with guilt in her eyes. Maka walked forward, poking him angrily. "Wak mek yuh ah being suh nice, YADA'nok? Mi hurt yuh mi kill fi yuh bredren. Mah mek? Mah mek be nice? Vengeance should be fi yuh." Maka placed her hands on his shoulders, squeezing, not to hurt, but to reach out, something the troll was unaccustomed to doing. |
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| Yada'nok | Feb 7 2015, 01:03 PM Post #16 |
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" Nnngh! " The tribesman retorted at the lift-off, hands and feet wiggling like those of a confused spider. He almost fell over when the ground connected again with the pads of his feet, wide look of sincere questioning directing at the Troll as he composed himself anew. Meeting their look, he concluded that they didn't look too happy. Rather like an infuriated wild animal, with the tusks and all adding to such an impression generously. By Ma'at, what had he done now? Then a forceful nudge came at him, forcing him to backstep and raising a strange worry to his eyes. His digits clenched tight around the flint and steel that he kept against his chest, shoulders afloat as his muscles tensed along their sentences. There was so much anger... It was the only thing he had observed of them so far, making him utterly uncertain where such an amount could've sprouted from. Even more interesting as that though, was the aspect of them having not killed him yet. He felt like curling up into himself and the depths of his cloaks, hiding behind strands of dark hair as they advanced with the questions, heavy dialect repeating... Repeating the same that he had asked of himself at first, but let dissolve to the sea of greater priority. Why he had done so, was not something he had been willing or able to face in all honesty. Not now... Not now. Please... His head, as if bowed in shame, snapped back at the Troll when they grabbed his person in a less gentle manner, in harshness of the Wilderness. They captured his terrified hues that had glazed, tongue indecisive and posture stirred, knuckles white from squeezing the firemakers. Silent, he stared for a good moment in attempt of blurting out some type of an answer. A reasonable one, that was. It was a downward spiral, thought disoriented and making a selection of circles that resulted to no words of reason at all. It didn't help either to be glared upon by those demanding eyes of another that pressured him for something that he did not have. Not now. He shattered. It begun with his legs giving up, the entity of his vessel collapsing to its knees and then further to a seat above splayed legs. His posture rounded and his chin dipped down in defeat, sorrowful brushstrokes striping his dirty cheeks. The tools fell from his hands that went to caress his visage, concealing the sudden flood that had broken all the dams. Under all his restraint and hollow exhales, crept the slightest of sobs. " You doeses it... for Godses... Revenge for that, wrong. " The tribesman managed, pausing for a sniffle in between. " Mine have abandoneds me... Don't want that to happens to you too. " |
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| Makaradhvaja | Apr 23 2015, 12:06 AM Post #17 |
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When Maka saw his tears, her heart jumped, trembled, then squeezed itself into the center of her throat. She was struck by uncertainty. Maka's first instinct was to put a hand over his mouth to keep him from crying out, but then doing so would have denied him of something he desperately needed. Yada'nok sounded so broken and hurt that Maka's heart clenched even harder. The half-ling did not have the will to prevent the boy's heart from breaking. This was one lesson she could not help him with. He thought his loss was cataclysmic, but Maka thought it differently. A loss couldn't be so bad if they taught the heart and soul their natural cycle of breaking and healing. That was how she had learned to cope after losing everything she had once held dear. It had taught her a valuable lesson about herself, as well as the kind of world that she lived in, and the kind of person she needed to be in order to live in it. "Life has meaning only inna de struggle, likle mon. Triumph or defeat, win or lass, ah inna de hands of de Loa. Yuh mus embrace dis struggle... as mi ave. " But her words were sour as they slipped out of her own tongue. Maka looked down at the boy, who was crumpled into himself, a weeping mess of snot and tears. She could only see herself as she once was. A puny, insignificant troll-ling with filthy hume blood running through her veins, tainting the noble clan's bloodline, breaking under the despicably harsh pressures of her race and the unrealistic expectations of her father. Everything that she thought she knew about the world. About learning valuable lessons one needed in order to survive. It all suddenly felt terribly, terribly wrong, although she knew it wasn't. Considering the state they were in, it was no wonder. Maka swallowed the thickness in her throat. She wanted to hold him, but didn't know if it would be well-received, and hesitated. Maka somehow managed to sum up the strength the boy seemed to have lost indefinitely. She knelt down in front of him on one knee and grabbed him by the shoulders once again. It was different, of course. Tentative. Shy. But it was a touch meant to console the boy, to ease his suffering, if only by a little. If only for a moment. "Listen tuh mi close. Yuh fear loss... enough to abandone yourself inna orda to kip tings stable, outside. Yuh smile wen sad, pretend to liek smadi yuh hate. You are... good. Foget teh Godses." Maka pulled him closer until she had him buried in an embrace. She was not sure if she had spoken the right words, didn't know if it had been the right thing to say to a crying boy, but for the first time, she found herself not wanting to push anyone away. Maka helped Yada up and held him at arms length. She lifted his chin up with a finger before wagging it at him. "Fi mi name ah Makaradhvaja. Chin up, Yada'nok. Nuh mo cry. Dere ah wuk left to be don." Edited by Makaradhvaja, Apr 23 2015, 12:07 AM.
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