legacy

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-21-2012, 03:04 AM

[html]

(410)

The span of time allowed for memory to fade, for this was the way of all things. Lines pulled out and repetition settled in. Without change, with a constant, one soon settled into a lapsing pace that allowed for small errors to be forgiven. Some things could never be let go—Ezekiel still hated the madness in his own family for what it had done to Talitha, and still blamed her for costing him a dear friend, and equally blamed his father for abandoning the clan. His world was a complex place that often demanded escape in this repetition; he hunted, he ran, he slept. By doing this he could let his mind go dark.

So in instances like this his mind flittered and moved like a bird, unable to escape the cage of self. Ezekiel was a bright boy and always had been, but he was one trapped by confines of savagery and the inability to let himself rise above such chains. He could not forget the forest or the tundra of the north. He could not let go of those dark nights and those even darker hours when he had little but himself for company.

The Aquila nodded absentmindedly and looked up as the speck of dark began to descend. Viggo slowed at a subtle motion, and Ezekiel extended one forearm to take the weight of the raven. Large as he was, Ibsen still was dwarfed by the other birds who now called Inferni home. By speaking in the cawing, raspy tone of birds, he indicated for them to follow. He went on further, describing the area with great detail, but Ezekiel could not fully understand much beyond the concept of a pass suitable for the horses. With a response of thanks, in the equally rough cry, the Aquila looked to his companions.

“We need to follow him; the horses will need to move faster,” he added as an afterthought, looking to Kaena. Satisfied, he looked back to the raven. “Ready?”

“Keep up!” The raven said. It was strange for Ezekiel to hear him in high speech; the bird imitated his vocal patterns quite well, having been exposed to them above all others. Ibsen was capable of imitating further sounds as well—he made a quite accurate horse now and again. Squeezing the sides of the stallion, Ezekiel urged the horse into a trot. Ibsen took off, leading them towards what the coyote could now hear—the river.

Myrika Tears · 02-21-2012, 07:31 AM

[html]

(327)

Myrika is by Bobbi!

Part of Myrika still rejected the idea there was madness in her blood. Her grandmother had spoken of her own younger days, and the way the scarred hybrid had talked of them -- well, at the very least, it bespoke a direct pipeline to the crazies. That Kaena's age and family had saved her from an early end and the end of her familial line did not necessarily mean Myrika or any other individual of the younger generations of Lykoi would be so lucky.

Myrika listened with interest but no understanding as Ibsen spoke, and looked at Ezekiel with amused surprise on her face when he made a rather raven-like noise himself. Smiling, the woman listened and nodded her response to Ezekiel. She would have Eira pace Oblak, and she made ready by untying the rope from her saddle so she could hold it. It was safer for all of them this way -- at least if Oblak slowed or stopped suddenly, she could let go of the rope. Still, Myrika did not urge Eira to keep exact pace with Viggo, for the roan's trot was faster than the big horse's.

She jerked her head upward in surprise when she heard words she understood from the raven's beak, and looked toward the black flying shape with interest. The bird intimidated her, as did Zedekiah, but they had their uses, and Myrika was not one to make her discomfort known, in any case. Sometimes she hid it better than other times -- she hoped Ibsen and Zedekiah were blissfully unaware of her discomfort, and hoped for a future change in her own attitude. How wonderful it would be to have eyes in the sky, watching over her -- still, she could not overcome her distaste for their beady eyes and strange, scaled feet. Donovan was not so bad -- at least he had been gray, his appearance not so intimidating as the shadow-colored birds her cousins kept.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 02-21-2012, 02:46 PM

[html]

(380) Feel free to PP them crossing the river.

There was no true concept of ownership between Ezekiel and his animals, but he understood that he was master above them because of their needs. Ibsen could survive without him now, and he was certain the horses would as well, but he had confidence in his companionship with the animals. Viggo and Ibsen were brothers of a sort, and he relied on them for companionship as much as he did their other skills.

With the ground under them moving quickly, the trio cut through the empty land and soon came upon a barren area marked by a dark cut of water. Ezekiel slowed Viggo and as Ibsen circled his aforementioned spot, dismounted. “I’ll go look,” he called back to Myrika, motioning for the big horse to stay still. If there was any danger in the crossing he did not wish to risk his protégé or grandmother in the process. Aquila or not, Ezekiel cared little for his own safety—that was apparent by the way he fought.

Ibsen settled on a rock in the shoreline of the water, cawing. This was the thinnest area he had found, it seemed, and Ezekiel nodded. While he could see the bottom of the area closest to the shore, snow and mud had made the water beyond dark. Ezekiel retreated away from the water and began scouring the ground, looking for a branch long enough for his purpose. One piece of driftwood, likely left from a fallen tree, would serve his purpose.

He thrust the branch into the water, seeking to determine the depth. It was not much close by the shore, and after taking a few steps in until water reached his knees, he tried again ahead. This time the branch sunk lower, but he could still feel the bottom. Though the number itself was lost on him, the scale was not. The horses could easily ford the river, though it would mean needing to make a fire to dry their saddles once they stopped. Pleased none the less, he returned to the animals and remounted with a half-jump.

“I think we’ll be fine here; after this we’ll just keep going until we hit the beach, eh?” A toothy smile cut across his face, and with that the Aquila urged his horse forward.

Myrika Tears · 02-22-2012, 06:07 AM

[html]

Myrika is by Raze!

The water looked frothy and angry, boiling between the banks. Though the speed was not so rapid as even some of the small creeks in the Dampwoods near their home, Myrika saw how wide this lazier river was, and she peered across it anxiously. Myrika could not help looking at it even as they rode their horses at a faster speed. Steadily, Viggo started to slow, coming to a stop so Ezekiel could dismount, and remained remarkably still and quieted as Ezekiel gave him a hand command. Myrika watched anxiously as Ezekiel tested the depth of the water, wide turquoise eyes focused on her cousin. If he got swept away, she would have to dive in after him. He hadn't precisely told her to stay put, had he?

Her tawny cousin withdrew from the water and remounted his horse. Myrika nodded and offered a faint smile. I still can't believe this is the same damn river, Kaena complained, even as they started toward the water's edge. Ezekiel went first, and Myrika followed after Kaena's horses, taking up the rear. Eira was more nervous than usual in the river, but she dealt with it as well as any horse could. The far bank was not a great distance before long, and in a surprisingly brief time, they were clambering up the riverbank. Myrika glanced backward at the river and frowned. It had not seemed so narrow, and seemed just as wide from this vantage point, but crossing had been blissfully uneventful and brief. That was alright, she offered, smiling toward Ezekiel and Kaena both.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-11-2012, 03:06 PM

[html]

derp this is a useless post. maybe reach Hell's Coast soonish?

Morality was a concept that had little need within Inferni. Even Ezekiel, who knew the God of his father, could not deny that the ability and the need to change ones perceptions to suit a goal or a need. He was more manipulative than his father in this way, which allowed him the greater ability to do what even now was being worked and shaped. Myrika’s uncertainty and doubt were obstacles yet. Once she overcame them, the rest would be easy.

Their route continued eastward, through snow-brushed lands that bore the obvious scars of fire. In time they would fade further; what forests had existed were either reduced to blackened sticks or completely gone, but saplings were sprouting up quickly in the carbon-rich soil. It would take years, but perhaps someday canines would be able to return to these forgotten places. This open land suggested that they were nearing the shore, but it was hard to tell. There was not yet salt in the air, and so he spared a glance back to Kaena. Perhaps she had a better idea of the landscape, even if it was much changed since the days of her rule.

Myrika Tears · 03-15-2012, 03:45 AM

[html]

(369)

Myrika is by Kiri!

The tawny woman had never seen these lands when they were lush and green, but her grandmother had. Even so, the scarred woman, too, did not seem to recognize their surroundings. Myrika was not surprised -- it had been many years, and moreover, it had all been burned to ashes. In the far distance, she saw the hazy shapes of mountains along the coast, though the land between here and there seemed flat and utterly endless, dotted with only the smallest evidence of regrowth here and there.

Eira's sides were wet, but they dried quickly enough with their movement. Still, Myri would take care to make sure all the horses were well-tried, along with their saddles and any other equipment that might have been dampened in their trek across the river. She wondered where they would camp, and began thinking of Inferni and her house in the Great Village. She was sure the clan would be cared for well in their brief absence, of course, but the tawny-hued woman still worried, however faint that worry was.

I guess those are the old mountains, the old woman piped up, gesturing vaguely toward the rise of land in front of them. When compared to the Halcyon range, this was more a gathering of hills than real mountains, Myrika thought, gazing over the rises of land with suspicion. There ought to be a pass there, too. Almost cut right out of the mountain, the woman mused, shrugging her shoulders. Can't say just where it is, though. Everything seems all backwards, and I still am not sure we're even in the same place, for how different it all looks.

Myri wasn't particularly worried, despite her grandmother's misplaced sense of direction. They had Ibsen's eyes in the sky, and failing all else, they knew which way home was -- that was easy. A failure in this venture was not particularly catastrophic, Myri thought. Disappointing, yes, but it wasn't as if they were coming out here to recover some great treasure of Inferni -- and even in that hypothetical, if they'd gotten along without it for that many years, they'd continue on without it just fine, too.

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-18-2012, 12:06 AM

[html]

Viggo snorted in the cold air, his breath a cloud of steam. The stallion was a prime example of what it took to survive; while many of the largest animals had fallen without aid, the hardy had survived. Generations had provided a stock that produced animals capable of living in the demanding world without men. Luperci had made this easier; but there was still no denying that the animals who had survived had done so because of their natural talents.

Ezekiel listened to Kaena’s explanation, his eyes trailing to the rolling hills. At the mention of a pass, he looked skyward and spotted the dark shape of Ibsen. A loud, coyote’s cry summoned the bird from above. The raven circled and landed on an extended arm, cocking his head sharply. “Look for a gap in the hills,” the Aquila ordered, motioning ahead. The bird ruffled his feathers and rose once more. It took him several strong flaps to rise high enough to catch a thermal, and ride it high enough to see the ground from above.

Their pace was slow, which allowed the raven to look for the described area up and down. When he took to circling a specific area just south of their position, Ezekiel turned Viggo with a faint squeeze of one leg and urged the horse to a trot. Being large, the bouncy pace was not as unforgiving as a smaller horse such as Myrika’s—he was confident Kaena would be able to stay on for it. He doubted she was comfortable; unless one rode often the girth of a broad horse and unused muscles would tense up. With any luck the pass would be a short one, and take them to where they needed to be.

Myrika Tears · 03-18-2012, 06:03 AM

[html]

(403)

Where the terrain before had been desolate and grim, here it was a barren and flat wasteland. Scrub grass, yellowed and still winter dead, was the only plant life to be seen. Not even saplings grew this far north, and the mountains looming up ahead were bald rock faces. The fire had struck with brisance here -- here was the heart of the fire's domain. Her turquoise eyes appraised all of this, and she remained mute, though her ears were tucked back into the mess of hair atop her head. She watched Ezekiel indicate to the raven their intent, and her eyes followed the flight of the raven, losing him some time later. It did not seem the same was the case for her cousin, however, for soon after he drew his horse to a faster pace. Myri followed suit, sparing a glance for Kaena every now and again. She seemed comfortable, though Myri could not say for certain -- her face always looked the same with its mess of scars.

As they carried onward, the pass became visible quite suddenly -- it was gone one moment, there the next. Myri saw it was a jagged sort of valley, with steep and rising walls on either side. She peered to the ground beneath her horse and saw it was bone-dry, but peering up and around, she saw the rise and fall of the earth, telltale signs of a river's delta. Was there a river here when you last lived here? The question was directed toward Kaena, who shook her head firmly. Their horses were slowing as they drew nearer to the entrance of the pass, and Myrika looked over it with curiosity.

No, it was always dry. Sandy, she said, shrugging. Myrika nodded and turned her gaze forward again. Perhaps it had dried up years before Kaena's time, even -- it was unfathomable to consider things so old, and she smiled faintly, though she glanced to the sides of the narrow gorge and the smile disappeared from her face. It seemed the mountain loomed all around them as they passed into the canyon. Kaena had spoken true -- the soil here was sandy, but rather than the pale sand Myri expected, it was nearly black. As the horses' hooves dug deep into the ground, Myri saw lighter sands a layer beneath the darkness -- perhaps the uppermost layer was simply charred that dark gray color.

Myrika is by Alaine!

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-18-2012, 11:52 AM

[html]

In all of his travels, Ezekiel had never come across lands scorched by flame as these were. The northlands had been wild and old-growth forests save for a singular brisance left by men. While the machines had been long gone by his arrival, the empty expanse of stumps had suggested some sort of calamity. Saplings had been growing there, though—there were none here, especially in the area between the hills. While he kept his eyes and face forward, his hears constantly swiveled back to listen to the two women.

This pass was not as deep as the one in the mountain, but it was wider. The horses had more room between them though once again fell into a singular line, kicking up the untouched sand as they went. It was not a long trail either, especially at their quickened speed. When they emerged on the other side of the cut, the Aquila was met by more empty devastation. Here it was apparent that wind and rain had swept away most of the ash, but the ground was still a shade or two darker than average.

It was another sign that caused him to grow excited; the smell of the ocean. He looked back to Kaena, eager to hear her confirmation.

Myrika Tears · 03-19-2012, 06:45 AM

[html]

(411)

Myrika was glad to be free of the mountains behind her. They felt wrong, somehow -- as if they passed between the monuments to this former civilization, the place where they'd all come from, in some way or another. The tawny coyote squinted as they emerged onto the brightly lit beach. Whatever she had been expecting, this was not it -- the sand appeared to have suffered the same fate as that within the canyon, though perhaps not as badly. There was no vegetation within sight, and the woman frowned, shading her eyes as she peered up and down the beach. The sun was dipping low into the sky, but it still seemed to blaze here, uncannily hot on this desert of a beach.

The tawny woman's turquoise eyes eventually returned to her companions, and she peered from one to the next expectantly. Kaena shifted in her saddle and grunted, shrugging. This must be it, she said, sourness evident on her face and in her voice. Doesn't look anything like it used to, she carped, pointing at the ocean. Except that. That's the same, she said, and rather confidently.

Myri peered at the waves suspiciously; they seemed the same as any other waves, the water the same as any other -- it smelled different than the bay, of course, but what did that mean? Myri moved her horse closer to her grandmother's, frowning still. Sorry, she murmured. It doesn't look like there's anything left, she said, laying a hand on her grandmother's shoulder in comfort. The old woman shrugged it off and grinned, yellowed teeth against a grizzled gray and red muzzle.

There wasn't much here to begin with, the old woman confided. If either of you kids expected some sprawling mansion, a stone version of the D'Neville, you'll find it along the mountain's base -- maybe. If it hasn't been covered by sand or burned to nothing. It was a foundation, barely more than a few rocks stuck up out of the ground, in my day. I'd be surprised if it still stands, the woman said. There were trees and brush along the mountain's base when Inferni was here last, but that's about all that's missing. There was a certain pride to Kaena's tone, but Myri thought she heard derision there, too. This was curious, but she chose not to comment and instead looked at Ezekiel.

Myrika is by Alaine!

Ezekiel de le Poer · 03-21-2012, 01:14 PM

[html]

What stories he had been told of the coast suggested there had once been some sort of building, and he could recall vague memories of such a thing. These were more feelings then visible memories; sunlight, his parents bodies, and the vague sense of being high off the ground. He did not know much beyond this, for his time in this coast had been short lived. The fire had come when he was two months old and only just learning to form words. Most of what he could remember from his childhood was forced back in order to allow him to function—he did not enjoy recalling what times of joy there had once been because it only filled him with resentment.

The horses slowed in the sand, being forced to move at a different pace because of their weight. Ezekiel stopped Viggo fully, and dismounted. “Well, we might as well look around,” he told Myrika, and spared a glance to the ocean. “The horses will need a rest.” Viggo snorted in agreement, having recognized that food would be scarce for them here. Ezekiel had packed supplies on Oblak, but it was a traveler’s rations and favored the horses’ food over their own. The Aquila had intended to hunt, but now recognized that they would likely dine on sea creatures tonight. Few animals had returned to the forest, even after all this time.

Myrika Tears · 03-22-2012, 02:56 AM

[html]

I powerplayyyyyy your horse, yo. :|

Myrika is by Sie!

Myri nodded and dismounted from her horse, moving to help Kaena down from the saddle. The old woman stretched slowly, extending first her arms and then her legs, first one direction and then the next. Myri grabbed the reins of Oblak and Eira in one hand and led them toward Viggo, grabbing his in her other hand. She led the horses a few feet away from Kaena and Ezekiel and moved to care for them and unpack them. There was nothing to tether the equines to here, so she roped one horse to the next and made a ring to keep them close. There was little chance of their goods or horses being stolen or even seen by other eyes this far north, she figured.

There should be a stone... dock, I guess, to the north, Kaena offered to Ezekiel, pointing in the appropriate direction. An island, too -- maybe untouched by fire? How can fire cross water? she said, grinning her old woman's grin. The one-eyed woman spared a glance toward her granddaughter and her look soured. Will we camp here? she asked. What can I do to help? She had not come all this way to be a useless third wheel to this party of younger canines -- Causarius or not, she was not altogether helpless, and not altogether without skill. She had fished these beaches for long years before the birth of either of her grandchildren, and was confident she could still perform such feats.

Login




Remember me Lost Password?