09-03-2012, 10:59 PM
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Valtiere nodded, a soft sigh escaping his muzzle as the other seated himself opposite the Mareck. "I can't really say I expected any differently. I have searched for nearly a year now, and never found any trace of her." Almost a year of my life, searching for her at someone else's request... I'd say I've kept my end of the bargain. Valtiere was ready for his journey to be at an end. "To find other nomads, though, it's... amazing." He searched unsuccessfully for a word to sum up his feelings on the subject, and settled for 'amazing', aware of how unsatisfactory it sounded.
A smile flickered across his features at the Issum's next question. It was only to be expected, really. What leader would want useless members? Valtiere nodded in understanding, reaching to the side to grab his pack. Deftly he laid out a few of the items from within, the tools of his trade: copper wire, polished clean until it shone like the sunset; a few scraps of metal wrapped carefully in a rabbit skin, bits and pieces that might be of use; and a Swiss Army knife, Valtiere's most prized tool. It's walnut-carved handled was worn dark and smooth from use, and it had served him well, as it had his mentor before him. "I'm a craftsman... a tinkerer, you might say. I can fix or replicate almost any broken thing, and make a few from scratch, too, with the right materials," he said, eyes glinting. With the same graceful economy of motion, he tolled the rabbit pelt back up and tucked his things into his pack once more - showing them had simply been an offering of proof, there was no need of them here and now beyond that.
"I can hunt well enough to feed myself, and gather useful components like bone and hide. I suppose I can hold my own in a fight, too, but it's never really been my strong-suit." In his birth-pack, Valtiere had had to learn to be swift and decisive, vicious enough that he was left alone rather than being targeted in the dog-eat-dog society. His grasp of the fighting arts boiled down to dancing out of reach of his opponents strikes, waiting for them to over-commit so he could deliver a lightning quick slice with his knife, or else evading them until they grew tired. A warrior he was not, but he'd learned to drive home that he wasn't someone to be messed with. The memories cast a dark shadow over his mood for a moment, and he held his breath for a second before releasing it slowly, letting the old bitterness and ugly memories flow away with the air. Letting them go was easier of late, and especially today, with the hope of a new home and new purpose so close he could almost taste it on the air.
Word Count: 480
Form: Optime
Walk "Talk!" Think
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Valtiere nodded, a soft sigh escaping his muzzle as the other seated himself opposite the Mareck. "I can't really say I expected any differently. I have searched for nearly a year now, and never found any trace of her." Almost a year of my life, searching for her at someone else's request... I'd say I've kept my end of the bargain. Valtiere was ready for his journey to be at an end. "To find other nomads, though, it's... amazing." He searched unsuccessfully for a word to sum up his feelings on the subject, and settled for 'amazing', aware of how unsatisfactory it sounded.
A smile flickered across his features at the Issum's next question. It was only to be expected, really. What leader would want useless members? Valtiere nodded in understanding, reaching to the side to grab his pack. Deftly he laid out a few of the items from within, the tools of his trade: copper wire, polished clean until it shone like the sunset; a few scraps of metal wrapped carefully in a rabbit skin, bits and pieces that might be of use; and a Swiss Army knife, Valtiere's most prized tool. It's walnut-carved handled was worn dark and smooth from use, and it had served him well, as it had his mentor before him. "I'm a craftsman... a tinkerer, you might say. I can fix or replicate almost any broken thing, and make a few from scratch, too, with the right materials," he said, eyes glinting. With the same graceful economy of motion, he tolled the rabbit pelt back up and tucked his things into his pack once more - showing them had simply been an offering of proof, there was no need of them here and now beyond that.
"I can hunt well enough to feed myself, and gather useful components like bone and hide. I suppose I can hold my own in a fight, too, but it's never really been my strong-suit." In his birth-pack, Valtiere had had to learn to be swift and decisive, vicious enough that he was left alone rather than being targeted in the dog-eat-dog society. His grasp of the fighting arts boiled down to dancing out of reach of his opponents strikes, waiting for them to over-commit so he could deliver a lightning quick slice with his knife, or else evading them until they grew tired. A warrior he was not, but he'd learned to drive home that he wasn't someone to be messed with. The memories cast a dark shadow over his mood for a moment, and he held his breath for a second before releasing it slowly, letting the old bitterness and ugly memories flow away with the air. Letting them go was easier of late, and especially today, with the hope of a new home and new purpose so close he could almost taste it on the air.
Word Count: 480
Form: Optime
Walk "Talk!" Think
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