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Post by Admin on May 14, 2008 11:58:58 GMT -6
Continued from: rpgqod.proboards38.com/index.cgi?board=armory&action=display&thread=38&page=3The hot dry air quickly over comes the elites as they soar over the first fringes of the blasted desert. As vegetation becomes thinner the sands become more abundant for as far as the eye can see. The mountains of dunes, crags of dried out canyons, wind arroyos slither across the valley past patches of scorched rocks that glimmer in the morning sun. Mirages on the horizon obscure the vision from long range view due to the excessive heat. Soon one can only assume that they are going in the right direction by the angle of the shadows and a personal sence of location. That is because the landscape becomes barren of easily identifiable landmarks besides the occasional cacti, desert shrubbery and colorful, hardy flowers that manage to grow in the low trenches. The newts are able to climb even higher in their flight as the heat makes the favorable wind even more favorable from the rising air off the hot desert floor. The altitude makes for less heat than the desert sands, but it is still getting excessively hot as the sun approaches it's midday peak high in the sky. Soon the Newt's will need to rest their wings and to perch briefly to recoup strength from their heavy load. Besides, one could swear Thane's stomach can be heard echoing off the shady canyons far below.
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Post by Lysandor on May 17, 2008 15:26:32 GMT -6
Despite the intesnse felt even so high in the air, Lysandor has clearly been enjoying being back in the air, even if it is on borrowed wings. He has to fight back the urge to encourage his mount into impressive feats of aerial gymnastics, or to indulge in some himself. Instead, the scarred Fallen contents himself to relax in the saddle as the world passes beneath them and eye the various aerial creatures of the desert play in the thermals.
He moves his mount closer to Thane's, far enough that the Newts could still maneuver easily, but far closer than any other sane rider would allow.
"How are you faring, Master Thane?" he asks, his voice raised slightly to be heard over the wind and space between them.
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Post by Thane on May 21, 2008 23:28:13 GMT -6
Thane's tongue has not been in his mouth since they began and he has yet to run out of slobber as it streams out behind him on the hot wind. He licks his muzzle before speaking. "I'm getting hungry and though I can snack on the fly I think we should rest the newts for a few minutes before they fall out from underneath us." He points to nice shady ravine large enough to accommodate them. "That looks like a good spot, shall we?" he says still eying at the shady crevasse.
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Post by Lysandor on May 26, 2008 15:51:02 GMT -6
"Very well, then," Lysandor replies as he signals the Newt toward the crevasse. Newt and rider descend rapidly, as steeply as the Newt will allow.
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Post by Thane on Jun 1, 2008 11:22:50 GMT -6
Thane nods as he follows Lysandor's dive to the valley floor. His eyes narrow and he tucks into the Newt as it drops from the sky like a scaly bomb seeking out a hapless target. As thy enter the narrow canyon the Newt spreads its wings and catches the thick air to plop them softly in the stone floor. Thane jumps down as the Newt comes to a stop and he is already digging into the saddle bags for some grub.
He takes out some closed containers and he opens it only to close it swiftly with a look of disgust on his mug as he looks up to Lysandor. "Bugs?..." He says with a sneer. "I thought these things preferred red meat." he says as the newt nudges him for the contents in the box.
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Post by Lysandor on Jun 2, 2008 23:55:21 GMT -6
Lysandor gives his mount the containor of bugs, which she eats with obvious relish. He looks at Thane with an almost perplexed expression of amusment as he picks up one of the bugs that had fallen out of the containor.
"Insects are high in protein," he says as he pops it into his mouth and eats it. "If you can get around the legs and antennae, they do not taste too bad either."
The Fallen turns back to unpacking his bags for food, leaving the Newt to her bug delights. A small smile breaks out on his face when he's sure Thane can't see him.
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Post by Thane on Jun 3, 2008 17:07:55 GMT -6
Thane looks in wonder at Lysandor and his bug. The hound sneers at the crazy fallen when he sticks the smelly insect into his mouth and eats it. Thane opens the box and sets it down for Lucian to eat. The hound steps back and shakes his head 'no' at the crawly meal.
"I'll pass. Enjoy your bugs, I'll find something more appetizing to consume." he then takes down a satchel of his own and produces a spiced cure and proceeds to nibble on it as he looks around the canyon.
As the newt feeds Thane wanders over to the muddy hole beneath the overhanging rocks in the cliff face and proceeds to poke at the thick mud with a dried sick. "There is a good amount of moisture here, I wonder if it has rained here recently?" He scoops back some if the mud to expose actual water in the goopy hole. "The water smells fresh and not stagnant as most seep pools. I wonder..." He places a large stone in the bog and watches it sink completely out of site as the water level remains the same.
"I'll be... a sink hole in this blistered desert, probably an underground water shed or river system." he slings the goopy mud off his paw as he looks up to Lysandor with a look of interest in his red eyes.
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Post by Lysandor on Jun 8, 2008 21:09:00 GMT -6
Lysandor turns to Thane with his packed food in hand. He follows the Rachet's gaze to the muddy hole and walks over. As he watches the rock sink to the bottom, he frowns minutely.
"Even in Hell, a desert is not wholly without life," he says, sounding almost amused. Lysandor looks up and gazes out at the sands, looking for any sign of movement. "We should count ourselves lucky that it is the middle of the day. If any creature lives out here, they will be attracted to this water like jackals to a kill. With the heat as it is, perhaps we will be allowed to rest in relative peace."
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Post by Thane on Jun 9, 2008 13:34:20 GMT -6
Thane nods softly in his gaze. "I whole heartedly agree. Look at the size of these scratches in the stone. Something big... and smelly was here not a day ago." He looks back to the newts as they are preening after their crawly meal.
"As intrigued as I am to what it was, I'm not so keen on meeting it on it's own terms." He says with a huge bite to his cured meat. He looks back to the hole and then he walks back toward the newt.
"It looks like these guys are settling in. We should take back to the sky before they get too comfortable and decide to take a nap." He says locking down the saddle bags for the continued journey.
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Post by Lysandor on Jun 9, 2008 14:10:55 GMT -6
Lysandor glances back over to the Newts. Phanlax is stretching her wings and looking as though she'll plop down at any moment to do exactly as Thane fears. He goes to the Newt and starts securing his own saddlebags while she tries to investigate.
"If we had more time in our mission, I would be more interested in tracking down such a creature to see what it might be," he says as he looks at the tracks around the watering hole. "Perhaps when we have more time off, then."
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Post by Thane on Jun 17, 2008 9:37:15 GMT -6
Thane leaps back into the saddle and he angles the newt for its leap toward the sky. He marks the place in his mind and he kicks the flank of the scrabbernewt. The beast rares up with a series of chirps and leaps into the bright sky. Thane barks to Lysandor as they lift off. "Last one there is a rotten newt pellet."
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Post by Lysandor on Jun 17, 2008 14:29:11 GMT -6
The Fallen Elite smirks slightly as he mounts the Newt, urging her on even before he's secured his seating. Newt and Fallen shoot up into the sky, wind blowing the uneven locks of Lysandor's hair around his face. He's right behind Thane, and gaining.
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Post by Thane on Jun 17, 2008 15:05:23 GMT -6
The newt climbs to the high stratus where the sweltering air is thicker and soaring is easiest. They cruise along With a good click as the winds push them further toward their destination. Thane looks board now as he simply is restless in the saddle. Travel has always been exciting for him when he can smell the trail he follows, but at this altitude nothing tantalizing reaches his nose.
He simply takes out his whetstone and begins to sharpen his already razor sharp throwing daggers. He looks up to Lysandor and he calls out. "What does that fancy map of yours say for how far distant the valley is from here?"
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Post by Lysandor on Jun 22, 2008 14:56:12 GMT -6
Lysandor digs in one of the outside pouches for the stone and pulls it out. He breathes on it twice and looks at the map. His brows furrow slightly as he frowns.
"We still have a long journey ahead of us," he says. "Even with the winds in our favor, we cannot except to arrive any more than twelve hours ahead of schedule."
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Post by Thane on Jun 24, 2008 14:51:31 GMT -6
The hounds nose wrinkles and the information. He sighs deeply and he returns to his sharpening. "I thought for sure we could catch more distance than we have already. Pity." he looks out over the scorched landscape and as the dunes shift beneath them he can't help but wish that they were there already.
Thane begins to hum to himself though he doesn't realize it right away. the tune is from a song his mother use to sing to him when he was a pup. He had forgotten long ago though he recalls it now with vivid clarity. He puts back his dagger and the whetstone knowing he can't make them any sharper.
He tries to sniff the thick air for anything he can get a whiff of. The miles crawl by as he struggles to remain conscious. Soon he starts singing out loud in a deep baritone the tune he was humming just to keep himself entertained.
As the sun sinks to the western horizon he gets excited about setting down so he can burn off this tedium with some minor exploring.
He points to a nice rock jutting up from the sand and he barks to Lysandor. "Looks like a good enough place to set up camp, some shelter and cover. My butt can't take much more of this saddle, and Lucian is struggling to maintain his pace. What do you think? He says with a look of excitement on his dogie mug.
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Post by Lysandor on Jul 2, 2008 18:02:34 GMT -6
Lysandor listens to Thane's singing as his eyes roam the countryside. As a being made for flight, he's not as plagued by the tedium of it as his companion. His head cocks, almost bird-like, as his sensitive ears pick out faint noises in the sky. The muscles along his back and shoulders move almost rhthymically, in time with the Newt's wing beats. The sound of Thane speaking breaks the Fallen out of whatever reverie he had been drawn into. His eyes follow the Rachet's finger, and he nods curtly.
"It should provide some shelter, though we may have to fight whatever has already laid claim to it," he replies, but angles his Newt toward the outcropping. "It would be good to be out of the sky..."
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Post by Narrator on Jul 4, 2008 10:09:16 GMT -6
As the elite descend on the rock. The sands of the dessert are bathed in a soft glow of orange and blue hues that make the sandy a sea of light and color in the twilight. When they circle the outcropping a curious little wagon sits under the stone. The hellish camels that tow this little wagon are kneeling down chewing remnants of their evening meal and begin to bray at the descending Elite and Scrabbernewts.
A well dressed little demonling scurries out from inside the wagon and sees the Elite making for the camp and scampers back to the wagon. She reemerges with a repeating Crossbow and a fist full of potions and stands defiant before her camp ready to defend it.
"This is my camp and to the screaming death with you if you think you can take it from me." She hisses at the clearly superior might of the elite, un-phased by the terrible odds of her survival should she have to defend herself.
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Post by Thane on Jul 4, 2008 12:13:37 GMT -6
Thane admires the view of the nightfall along the desert sands. He remains in his saddle as the little deminling puts up an impressive front to the Elite.
He leans forward as the Newt rests its weight softly on the cooling sands before the wagon. The hound raises his paw in a gesture of friendship. "Be calm friend. We are but desert travelers and we seek the shelter of this outcropping for the night. We are not here to roust you from your camp, we simply wish to share this spot for its shelter from the winds. Since you have claimed this spot already... We are soldiers of the Empire and as we are sworn to protect, we respectfully offer you good company if we may share your fire, citizen."
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Post by Lysandor on Jul 6, 2008 8:37:27 GMT -6
Lysandor watches from his Scabbernewt, ready to allow Thane to take the lead. Until he recognizes the Demonling woman. With a faint smile of greeting, he dismounts and steps into view.
"Pascha, will you not share your fire with an old friend and his companion?" he asks, his arms up and showing his hands to be empty.
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Post by Narrator on Jul 7, 2008 16:41:43 GMT -6
The little demoness looks to Lysandor and she points the crossbow at him. "Not so fast slick, shapeshifters can make a mighty friendly package but they are betting on familiarity and that is were they get you. Not me no siree. So if you are you look like you maybe... what is the thing you gave me that one time... by Belteshir?"
She says looking at him nodding slightly with her glossy eyes batting almost flirtatiously at the handsome fallen.
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