09-01-2012, 09:06 PM
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[/html]As one creature laid in the sun, another looked towards the sky with a confused mind.
The sun must be broken.
Definitely broken, because if it was working properly, as it had back at home, the south end of Africa, it would be dimmer. Colder. Perhaps the ruler of the sun in this district had improperly left it up too high. Not that this particular fault was unpleasant, but combined with the heaping pile of various reversals of what should be natural, the ponderous hyena grew increasingly cynical. If the spirits had done their job properly, there would be no gangly jackals challenging all that was beautiful, proper, and natural with that alien two-legged posture. Moreover, three of them would not be able to subdue an entire clan of the the only correctly-made creatures in a world of deformity. Most of all, they would not have been able to put that clan on a witch-touched log, a boat, a thing that, in the proper scheme of things, would still be a tree. None of them would have been sent off into the great saltwater abyss that killed all of them but one.
The fateful, magicked wood had only born the poor creature off to an even more perverted wonderland. Food with quills. The more the beast thought on the concept, the more mind-numbingly stupid it seemed. Food existed to be eaten. Sure, they could put up token resistance: hooves, horns, speed, and the like. But food completely covered in spikes--
There it was again. The headache. The land stretched on before the dark, spotted paws of the African, a space pregnant with fresh perversions. For a moment, staying still sounded like the best plan. After all, the porcupine had left the unfortunate attacker with a dozen quills in the upper foreleg area. At least I got the thing.... It probably bled to death. A comforting thought. That'll teach it.
The hyena's jaws clamped around another spike and yanked hard. The pain sent ripples along the muzzle and the quiet scent of blood off into the air. At home, blood beckoned predators.
With a sigh, the tired beast continued forward, not really looking at the path ahead until the presence of another manifested itself on the winds.
The creature looked up and sharply to the right. When had that other thing gotten there, the--and the proper word escaped for a moment--wolf? Did he just sit down there, or had he been sitting there for awhile? Something escaping the notice like that... well, the thought was troubling, even if the unawareness came from injury. Wolves looked disturbingly like jackals. They had the same low noses.
Shylome took a few steps in that direction, sitting down and staring for a moment. Then came the laugh. "Wie's jy, jakkals?"
A pause. Oh. That's right.
Another laugh, "Apologies. Who are you?"[html][/html]
[/html]As one creature laid in the sun, another looked towards the sky with a confused mind.The sun must be broken.
Definitely broken, because if it was working properly, as it had back at home, the south end of Africa, it would be dimmer. Colder. Perhaps the ruler of the sun in this district had improperly left it up too high. Not that this particular fault was unpleasant, but combined with the heaping pile of various reversals of what should be natural, the ponderous hyena grew increasingly cynical. If the spirits had done their job properly, there would be no gangly jackals challenging all that was beautiful, proper, and natural with that alien two-legged posture. Moreover, three of them would not be able to subdue an entire clan of the the only correctly-made creatures in a world of deformity. Most of all, they would not have been able to put that clan on a witch-touched log, a boat, a thing that, in the proper scheme of things, would still be a tree. None of them would have been sent off into the great saltwater abyss that killed all of them but one.
The fateful, magicked wood had only born the poor creature off to an even more perverted wonderland. Food with quills. The more the beast thought on the concept, the more mind-numbingly stupid it seemed. Food existed to be eaten. Sure, they could put up token resistance: hooves, horns, speed, and the like. But food completely covered in spikes--
There it was again. The headache. The land stretched on before the dark, spotted paws of the African, a space pregnant with fresh perversions. For a moment, staying still sounded like the best plan. After all, the porcupine had left the unfortunate attacker with a dozen quills in the upper foreleg area. At least I got the thing.... It probably bled to death. A comforting thought. That'll teach it.
The hyena's jaws clamped around another spike and yanked hard. The pain sent ripples along the muzzle and the quiet scent of blood off into the air. At home, blood beckoned predators.
With a sigh, the tired beast continued forward, not really looking at the path ahead until the presence of another manifested itself on the winds.
The creature looked up and sharply to the right. When had that other thing gotten there, the--and the proper word escaped for a moment--wolf? Did he just sit down there, or had he been sitting there for awhile? Something escaping the notice like that... well, the thought was troubling, even if the unawareness came from injury. Wolves looked disturbingly like jackals. They had the same low noses.
Shylome took a few steps in that direction, sitting down and staring for a moment. Then came the laugh. "Wie's jy, jakkals?"
A pause. Oh. That's right.
Another laugh, "Apologies. Who are you?"[html]