((I think an appropriate name will come about once we know the nature of the conflicts and alliances in our world. For now let us call it... Ascerta, the Plane of Ascention, in honor of the general temprament of the gods who are playing, many of whom appear to be either young gods, or recently ascended mortals.))
Two tiny dots the size of insects appeared on the river next to Aveceleba and Lilaceleba. Two small flatboats, hardly larger than rafts with a sail, began to travel up the river laden with finished goods. On the deck of each one two Vulpinans worked, each one taking an alternating shifts as they tacked up the river slowly.
Raom grinned as he sunk another fistful of practice arrows into the target that had been set up along the inside of the earthen paliside, the red fletched projectiles quivering as they stuck out in a perfect circle within the center marker.
It was a truly excellent day for practice. The sun was high in the air and there was no wind at all. Raom felt like prancing as he recovered his arrows, although her refrained from doing so, to fire them again. As he continued his practice, a crowd began to grow, watching with facination as the clean bolts whistled though the sky steadily embedded themselves in the wooden target. One after another without fail.
Taking little note of the small crowd that had gathered behind him as he loped forward to recover his arrows again. This time Raom backed up twenty paces, changing a moderatly distant target into a distant one. A murmer went though the crowd as the old ranger shot again, striking the kill zone on the wooden board as if it were childs play. This time Raom took note of the others who surrounded him, briefly noting the growing crowd thatwas exchanging bets on his performance. Raom, not one to dissappoint, took another twenty paces back at this.
Graed Cornwhisker, one of the newer migrants to Lilaceleba, scoffed openly as he saw the older vulpinan line up a new shot. "There is no way" He said in an undertone to a neighboring vulpinan who he didn't recognize, not that he knew many of them in all of his two weeks in Lilaceleba very well regardless, "No way that he can make that shot. Is he trying to loose his arrows?"
Graed's neighbor, a female about his own age, simply looked him in the eye. Her expression was patronizing as she shook her head in response, "You must not know him do you? He's Raom, the founder. He'll make the shot."
Graed shook his head in contention, refusing to be backed down. "No way, even a Ranger couldn't make that shot. That's got to be nearly fifty lengths." his voice carrying somewhat louder than he intended.
Suddenly the crowd was silent, every head in attendence turning toward Graed with shock in their eyes. Even old Raom was looking at him with a hard look. Quite suddenly Graed felt very self-consious, embaressed at his outburst. Scrambling to save face, the young male hurridly backed up his words, "You heard me." He said beligerantly, his tail flicking down between his legs and betraying his shame even as he called out to the old trapper, "Even the Ranger's couldn't make that shot, what makes you think you can old man?"
Everything was silent for a moment as the vulpinans around Graed backed away from him, not wanting to be mistaken for the brash youngster. Moments passed into minutes of silence as the old woodsman analyzed his younger counterpart. Finally, Raom replied cannily, "Would you like to take a bet on that, young man?"
Graed swallowed, hiding his fear as best he could with bravado. He had nothing to bet! But now his face was on the line, and if he backed down he'd never get any respect here. "I accept, what are your terms?"
Raom grinned, pointing to the target. "It's simple really. I fire at the target five times. If I miss one, I'll give you my bow and never shoot again. How does that sound?"
Graed's eyes widened as he looked at the old bow, the entire length of it a veritable masterpiece. Even though it was made of weathered wood, it was well-constructed and quite solid. A good laquar finish that ran up and down the wood giving it a unique shine. The grip was surrounded by a pattern of leaves carved into the wood. Each piece of the decoration delicatly placed. That bow indeed would be a prize to own. Fighting to keep his voice steady Graed replied, "And if you don't?"
"What does it matter, I'm not going to hit every shot from this distance anyway right?" The old ranger replied slyly as he brought a hindpaw forward to draw an arrow out of his quiver.
"I still want to know what you think I have in exchange for ...that." Graed replied, his eyes crawling over the silvery finish of the bow.
"Well... hmm" the old man said, thinking for a moment, "If I win, you'll train under me until you can shoot as well as I can. How does that sound boy? No weasling out or running away either, I mean you'll give me your word that you'll train with me until you are skilled enough to hit a target five out of five times from over fifty lengths. What do you say?"
Graed nodded, "You have a deal. Let's see your skill old man."
The crowd grew silent as Raom quietly dropped his practice bolts, reaching into a second quiver and drawing out five precious bismuth bronze arrows. With excrutiation care the old man drew back his bow and let the first arrow fly.
One. the first arrow sank into the target, on the top left of the bullseye.
Two. the second struck, shoving the target further into the palisade.
Three. Graed felt his heart sink as a third landed in the bottom left quatent of the bullseye.
Four. Compelting a perfect square, the fourth quivered as it embedded itself into the wood.
Five. Graed felt the jolt of the fifth arrow as if it were hitting his own heart as it thudded in the exact center of the other four. Bisecting the board with it's force.
The crowd gasped as the last arrow hit, all eyes falling on Graed as Raom called out, "Not a bad shot for an old ranger, huh?"
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Kara panted as delirium disguised the convulsions that wracked her body, her eyes glazed as another spasm overcame her, leaving her helpless as the creatures that carried her talked to her in incomprehensible voices. Voices that sounded like thunder and wind.
"Ye gods!" She called out as another contraction hit, driving the small fragment of attention that she had regained into an ether of chaos. There was a rocking sensation as the sun above jumped, suddently plunging below the horizon as she moved.
No, wait, she was simply inside. The light from the window showed her in a stone building with a thin curtain keeping the majority of the light out. A rich, tangy smell reached her nostrils. Someone, something was holding a handful of salts there and...
Kara gasped, inhaling some of the poweder and gagging as the chemical burned the inside of her nose. The pain dimmed only by the agony that wracked her uterus. The contractions were coming faster now, that's what the voice was saying. A dim, unfamilier voice in the spinning darkness. But still, a voice. A kind voice.
Will she be ok? Another asked, this one deeper, more familier... Erois, yes her friend. Probably the only person she could consider a friend now, it had been so long since she left Avecebela, she called out to him, or tried too. It was so hard to focus, so hard to concentrate and... oh the pain!
A clawed hand gripped Karaman's forepaw, speaking softly to her as the agony abated. Yes, he was here. A good friend who had stuck with her the over the last few months. He was there, a friend in a world where Karaman thought she would have none. He was... Karaman screamed as another contraction hit, and then another, and another, all blending into one long calaphony of pain.
Suddenly the pain was past. A soft mew echoed in the chamber and Kara felt lightheaded as the crooning of the dracon midwife, (or was she a vetranarian? In retrospect Kara wasn't sure she wanted to know) joined the child's cry.
Gently a bundle was placed into her arms, the soft bronze fur still damp in the desert heat. Off to the side the midwife clucked, shoeing somone out of the room hastily as Karaman laid eyes on her child for the first time.
It was a boy.
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Kara woke slowly, doing her best not to disturb the infant resting on her stomach. She couldn't remeber how much time had passed since she had fallen asleep, but now the sun was set and the moon sent silvery shafts down through her gauzy window.
Slowly, carefully, the vulpinan rolled over, cradling her child in her left forlimb as she walked carefully on the remaining three towards the window. Taking her first good look at Mutheithru.
"Well little one," she said softly to the child as the moonlight shone off of his bronzed fur, "It looks like we found our way here after all."
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Vime finished off the bunch of grapes, savoring the fruit as the tokens below continued their movements. With a grin he winked at Youh and pointed toward Campcastle.
"How do the dracon's procreate anyway? Are they egg-layers? Live birth? Asexual replication? Budding? I mean, not to detract from the excitement happening down there... but I'm seriously concerned with how much experiance your people have with mammilian births?"
Sitting upright, Vime suddenly became all business. "You can let your people know that a Vulpinan settlement at the south end of the desert will be founded soon right? I do have some interest in attaining a source of metal for my people and I know they have a lot of wood and plants that your dracon's don't. In particular I'm thinking about a type of herb that only grows in freshwater lakes that when processed correctly makes an excellent balm for preventing infection in burns, scrapes, and cuts. Also, I'm fairly certain that Aveceleba has acess to a plant that acts as an excellent colagulant, much more effective than pouring sand or salt in the wound as well as less painful. Plus there are a number of herbs and spices ...."
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Topic: Battle of the Gods II: an RP Thread (Read 106378 times)