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WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised. |
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| Setting | Location | Form | NPCs |
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Location: The Trenches Date: ~1 Aug (Foredated) Weather: Overcast, foggy, humid Time: Late afternoon |
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Machidael is by me!
The rust-colored hybrid grunted as he leaned over his kill. The blade of his dagger flashed, slicing the deer in appropriate places. It wasn't a knife made for this work, but it would serve. He had a mind to try trading the raw pelt for more of the dagga, as Amaury called it, but Machidael knew no one. And -- even if he had, he doubted very much a raw, uncured pelt would be worth so much.
He'd tied his horse some distance from the kill, knowing the scent and sight of blood might madden her. Seraht was a feeble sort of mount, just the type of horse to make him miss Zahi harder -- but for the moment, she was his horse. The rusty-hued hybrid grunted and yanked at the deer. He scowled and the dark tip of his tail flickered as he worked. This carcass was larger and tougher than the antelopes he was used to dealing with. In his mind, this was an antelope -- a weirder one than he'd ever seen, sure, but an antelope all the same. He did not know the word for "deer."
More annoying than the virtual worthlessness of the kill was the damage it might have done to his spear. The animal had fallen on the side Machi speared him, and it had been a harrowing few moments before the chestnut-furred jackal could ascertain his weapon's wholeness. Thankfully, it was well-made and had suffered no damage. He glanced at it, leaned against a nearby tree, and returned to his work.
A crow cawed, and the rust-colored hybrid glanced up. Quite a few had gathered to watch his grisly work. Some perched in the nearby trees; still others circled up overhead. An especially bold bird, dark as night and with intelligent black eyes, hopped up toward Machidael. The jackal paused, frozen, to consider the creature and allow it further advance. The crow hopped forward, regarding him with his shrewd eyes. It made a noise, and snatched a piece of the deer.
Machidael let it launch itself into the air before he snapped forward and smacked it out of the sky. The jackal barked a laugh at the squawk the bird made and watched it tumble on the ground. It lay, dazed, before slowly getting up and wobbling away. Machi watched it go, still snorting under his breath. He called to it in Arabic. Try again and die, friend. Your kind picks at my leavings. Such creatures ought to know their place.
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