01-14-2010, 07:30 PM
I do. I can't hide it. 476.
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She might not have known about the war brewing about in these parts, but at least she was intelligent enough to show deference to someone to the friendly local coyote clan. Snake remained on guard, though—he had been conditioned never to let it down, especially around strangers, no matter how feminine and unassuming. While she didn’t know about the conflict, she did not seem at all perturbed by it. She apologized, which he gave a nonchalant shrug to—he had told her just so she didn’t decide to go waltzing into Dahlian lands, though she wasn’t in any danger here if she continued to play the innocent, peaceful card.
The hybrid girl explained her name—a short first name that belied a much more complicated surname. Somewhat reluctant to butcher the exotic-sounding calling, he merely gave a nod to indicate that he’d learned it. She explained that she was from far away, which he could understand. Her looks were certainly not reminiscent of the coyotes and hybrids around these parts. She might as well be from across the sea; he had heard rumors of those coming over in great ships, though he had never seen one. He could also somewhat sympathize with her reason for leaving her old home—Snake himself had left New Haven (though he hadn’t really had much of a choice) largely because his life was in danger… and because he was being trained to be a personal guard for the most rotten werewolf in the city. He had come here on a whim, and he seemed to have found a good home in Inferni. He wondered if Niir had any intentions similar to his.
Niir was a little forward in asking his name and the name of the lands, despite what she added unobtrusively onto the end of the questions. He didn’t really mind replying, though. “My name is Snake Silverburgh,” he said, adding a superfluous surname for no reason. Snake in actuality had no formal last name, but a few that he picked from whenever he felt like he wanted to. Silverburgh was one, taken from the nickname of the creatures that had lived in New Haven. His half-brother Sigint had sarcastically nicknamed the decaying area the “Silver City” and its inhabitants “silverburghers”. Another of Snake’s available surnames was Hayter, the name etched into a pistol he found in Halifax. But that was all stories for other days. “You are on the borders of Inferni, the coyote clan of these parts. The rest of the area is infested with wolves—that’s why we are present here. We keep our own safe from the prejudices of the others.”
Inferni were perhaps the masters of having offense as their best defense. They kept intruders away with scary stories of their terrible deeds. It had worked well, up until a few days ago.
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She might not have known about the war brewing about in these parts, but at least she was intelligent enough to show deference to someone to the friendly local coyote clan. Snake remained on guard, though—he had been conditioned never to let it down, especially around strangers, no matter how feminine and unassuming. While she didn’t know about the conflict, she did not seem at all perturbed by it. She apologized, which he gave a nonchalant shrug to—he had told her just so she didn’t decide to go waltzing into Dahlian lands, though she wasn’t in any danger here if she continued to play the innocent, peaceful card.
The hybrid girl explained her name—a short first name that belied a much more complicated surname. Somewhat reluctant to butcher the exotic-sounding calling, he merely gave a nod to indicate that he’d learned it. She explained that she was from far away, which he could understand. Her looks were certainly not reminiscent of the coyotes and hybrids around these parts. She might as well be from across the sea; he had heard rumors of those coming over in great ships, though he had never seen one. He could also somewhat sympathize with her reason for leaving her old home—Snake himself had left New Haven (though he hadn’t really had much of a choice) largely because his life was in danger… and because he was being trained to be a personal guard for the most rotten werewolf in the city. He had come here on a whim, and he seemed to have found a good home in Inferni. He wondered if Niir had any intentions similar to his.
Niir was a little forward in asking his name and the name of the lands, despite what she added unobtrusively onto the end of the questions. He didn’t really mind replying, though. “My name is Snake Silverburgh,” he said, adding a superfluous surname for no reason. Snake in actuality had no formal last name, but a few that he picked from whenever he felt like he wanted to. Silverburgh was one, taken from the nickname of the creatures that had lived in New Haven. His half-brother Sigint had sarcastically nicknamed the decaying area the “Silver City” and its inhabitants “silverburghers”. Another of Snake’s available surnames was Hayter, the name etched into a pistol he found in Halifax. But that was all stories for other days. “You are on the borders of Inferni, the coyote clan of these parts. The rest of the area is infested with wolves—that’s why we are present here. We keep our own safe from the prejudices of the others.”
Inferni were perhaps the masters of having offense as their best defense. They kept intruders away with scary stories of their terrible deeds. It had worked well, up until a few days ago.