Post by Akante on Feb 1, 2012 0:13:39 GMT -5
Skyrim said:
The small preacher descended from the mountains through the heavily misted veil that shrouded the murky depths below. The air became heavy, clinging to her sanded pelt and dewing upon her crowned head. Her blue eyes were focused, her dainty paws stepping carefully down the grade as she made her way into the crater. When the scent changed she stopped, taking in the smells that told her a pack claimed the area beyond as their own. Here she paused, unsure of how to proceed. But she was determined to continue her search, and what she was looking for may lie in the lands beyond these borders, so she steeled herself and prepared to continue.
Heeding the warning smells, she refused to tread past the invisible line, but instead let out a yipping bark that would let any creature nearby that she was there. She was on a holy crusade, and she was not going to be hindered, border or no, but she found she was always more warmly received when she followed the rules of the territories she passed through. So she called out and then waited patiently for an arrival. She settled upon a jutting rock, keeping herself out of the mud and ensuring she would look pristine for when her escort arrived.
Mama said:
Creek Dancer wasn't any kind of lady, no matter how you looked at her. She was all muscle, fat, and thick hide, hinged with massive bones and armed with fatal nails at the end of each one-toed leg. Her teeth could clack behind velvet lips, but more often than not, the curly maned mare decided to settle her problems with intimidation. Mostly, it was because she loved and desired to be praised that she did not settle her secondary and more outrageous love--maiming.
So, when she saw this little thing sitting on the border so alone with treasures she could steal and give while being praised and fulfilling that first desire, but something withheld her. It was those colors and all that innate decoration. But that was an impossibility.
Still, the warmblood mare moved toward the fox, face all business and ears pinned back in an aggressive stance. Her thick, muscled neck snaked this way and that before she finally nickered out her question in a low, almost inviting warmth, "Who are you, and what do you want?"
The fox was lucky she looked like something Creek Dancer had long been conditioned not to hurt.
Skyrim said:
"Who are you, and what do you want?"
Skyrim turned her focus to the large equine that had come across her path and her memory sparked. She could not recall the creature's name, and it was certainly much bigger than she had last remembered, but familiar all the same. She turned her heavenly blue eyes to scan the creature up and down before she decided to speak, her voice loud and melodious as she began her sermon.
"Greetings noble mare, most glorious. My name is Skyrim, and I am a priestess of the most sacred of orders. I seek the divine goddess bound in mortal flesh. I wish to pass through this land and meet it's inhabitants, so I may check to see if she is among them."
She stood proudly, despite having to look up at the horse that was several times her size. There was no hesitance as she spoke, no doubt in her mind that what she was doing was the right thing, and absolutely no reason to believe her request would be denied. She was Skyrim the Holy, and she was on a crusade!
Mama said:
Goddess? Hm. Rita would like to be called a goddess, Creek mused. If nothing else, she would appreciate the many trinkets that the fox had. If it turned out too badly, she could always toss the fox in with Deerscream, let the human have a proper pet. Something to snuggle with at night. (All this with the assumption she could bully the fox into doing what she liked.)
Wait. Fox. Humans. Divine.
The horse let out an excited little squeal. "You! You-you're!" She tossed her mane in a fit of anger and jealousy then calmed as quickly as the event had happened. "You're doing well, Skyrim. I-I think there may be some kind of... divinity within the lands." The horse would lower her muzzle, eyeing the jewelry.
"That is, if you're willing to pay a little toll." There had to be something given to enter El Dorado. Creek Dancer had seen Deerscream give up much to get the two of them in. How would the pedestal fox feel about that?
Skyrim said:
The exclamation of the mare confirmed Skyrim's suspicion that they had met before, but the priestess still could not quite remember where, nor could she remember the horse's name. It had most likely been in the time she had spent amongst the two-leggers, but her memories from that time had all blurred together, and faces were not distinguishable for her.
"You're doing well, Skyrim. I-I think there may be some kind of... divinity within the lands."
"Wonderous! Then we must make haste!" She exclaimed, eager to be off.
"That is, if you're willing to pay a little toll."
Skyrim paused, cocking her head to one side at the mention of this. Most packs wanted food or whelps for a toll, but it was quite obvious she had neither, and the idea that she, a prophet most holy, would have to pay was quite forign to her. She found it quite insulting, and set herself in that stubborn expression that she used to lecture people.
"My dear, I am on a crusade! This dallying may cost most dearly! We must be off!"
Rita said:
[[ reusing because i caaannnn~ ]]
The female had been waltzing around the borders, laying down the scent markers to cover the rancid stenches of their previous owers. While she may have made an alliance with this Keep, she did not have to like them one bit. In fact, as far as the Captain was concerned, her loyalty would not be owed after she aided in the destruction of Almas Rotas. How could she have denied such a possibility? That pack, with their petty leader - Taramo - were dead to the blackblood mutt. Gaining land and securing his fall? Talk about two birds with a single damn stone. More like a boulder, if you thought about it.
But she wouldn't waste the time to do so.
Instead she picked up her pace, her fluffy tail waving behind her torso in a mixture of energy and exasperation. All the tendings that were due - setting up the terrain to her likings, letting in the worthy, damning the rest... all this was so unwanted to the female. All she hoped for was to have everyone in, BAM, just like that. Not everyone, exactly, but those who were destined to pull her pack up from the muck and into glory. Then again, how was she going to be able to distinguish those from the failures? Twitching her auds, Rita pursed her lips. Feminine intuition, perhaps? Her guts had rarely misled her, so why would she stop following them now? Puffing up her chest in her inextinguishable pride, the wolf lifted her head up as her paws led her further along the borders. So far everything seemed pretty empty - the last of the Marrains had moved their asses on out. About time.
A scent drifted past her nose, and she instantly that she was to be drawn over to the borders. A soft sigh sifted through her nose as she redirected her course, paws carrying her down a new trail as she made her way towards the outside world, where the one who'd caught her attention would surely be. And if they weren't? If they dared to walk away after having drawn the Captain out and wasted valuable time and energy? Perhaps the blackblood mutt might set out, establish a little case of revenge before carrying on, satisfied. But what if they'd thought themselves superior, and crossed over the borders into El Dorado's domain? A quick jugular strike would end that situation.
Nice and simple.
"That is, if you're willing to pay a little toll."
An acceptance, was this? Still a while away, the Captain could recognize the voice of one of her Watchmen...
"My dear, I am on a crusade! This dallying may cost most dearly! We must be off!"
A low grumbling stirred up in Rita's throat, her brows furrowing slightly as she hastened her pace to enter into the scene. She cast her gaze quickly from the horse - nodding to acknowledge her - to the one who had thought themself to be too damn important, too damn special to prove their worth to El Dorado, through El Dorado's means. A scowl spread carefully, adorned auds flattening out as Rita stood tall, her gaze demanding and fierce as she looked down onto the fox. A belittling glare, a daring one. Just try it again, I dare you. "Tell me, fox, why the hell are you too damn important to follow our procedures?" Her words were almost spat, her fangs wanting to be present and open in the tense conversation. But the Captain restrained herself, for the most part, and would simply let her cold words do the talking. Pale golden eyes noted the plentiful accessories bestowed upon this fox, almost scoffing at her because of it, and could only wonder why she had the idea that she couldn't spare a single trinket...
Who the fuck was this?
Mama said:
Creek Dancer pinned her ears back, lips pursing together to remind the little delicate thing exactly who was in charge here. However, the primival display of vegetarian power didn't need to be shown.
Rita showed up. The dun mare lifted a leg and met her nose with it, a curt little bow to her Captain. The horse, while aware she could probably give Rita a run for her money as far as a fight over disrespect went, figured she would be able to do what she enjoyed doing--pushing around weak little wolves--more often if she simply did what Rita asked. It wasn't like the wolf was a tyrant or anything; the tasks asked were fairly simple and easy to perform.
If anything, feeling like someone appreciated her felt nice.
Creek Dancer would blow out of her lips, showing frustration at the fox and slight embarrassment for having to let Rita know she kind of knew her. "She used to be worshipped, that's why." Those humans used to respect her. The horse looked at Rita then, waiting for the she-wolf to say something. "I can stomp her, if you want, Captain." If the fox made the wolf that mad, she could easily break the little creature's back, crush her skull or the like. With trinkets the fox wore, she may be worth more alive than dead.
Shifting her massive weight to only three legs, the mare gave a lazy look to Skyrim. Well, the fox had done it now.
Skyrim said:
"Tell me, fox, why the hell are you too damn important to follow our procedures?"
The anger and authority made Skyrim turn her head, preparing to explain that a holy crusade superseded mundane regulations, but before she could speak she locked eyes with the wolf before her, and her jaw dropped open in amazement. To Skyrim, she shone with a brilliance that rivaled the very sun. Even if she looked like a mundane wolf to everyone else, to Skyrim she was whom she had dedicated her life to serve. She stepped toward the wolf, mouth still gaping, and didn't speak immediately.
"She used to be worshipped, that's why. I can stomp her, if you want, Captain."
The mare's words went unheard by the little prophet, who was in shock at finally finding the being she had searched for. Realizing she was being rude, she fell to her knees in front of Rita. Her nose planted firmly against the ground. Her entire posture changed as she bowed to her goddess, and she dropped her ears and tail and practically lay on her belly before the Captain of El Dorado.
"Divinity!" She exclaimed in an awed whisper. "I am Skyrim, your loyal servant. Long have I been preaching the word of your greatness and searching for you. But to stand in your presence! This is truely a blessing beyond words!"
Rita said:
[[ sorry for the wait, guys~ ]]
To be honest, Rita didn't know what the hell to do with this fox.
As of late, every creature she'd encountered that had been accepted into her domain - save for Emila, the bitch - had been competent and capable. But this scrawny little pest had already been causing troubles during her own recruitment, so how would she be able to function within the pack? Questions and observations such as these made the Captain very wary about this vulpine's presence, almost wishing as if she could just kill the pest and harvest her accessories. It'd be the easy way out, now wouldn't it? A bow was offered by the horse, and the Captain would soak in this submission, inflating her ego and pride as she raised her head, brows raised over narrowed eyes as they cast a minute glance of approval over to her Watchman. She could scent the horse's presence all over the borders... she must be whipping those recruits into shape, now isn't she? Perhaps they will talk later.
But nevermind that. This pest was still here...
"She used to be worshipped, that's why."
Cold eyes returned over to Creek Dancer, as if appalled by her words. Being worshipped? As in religion? Ideals and divinities were not existant, and they most certainly would never be so unless the Captain approved. And since such worship and praise would be focused on another, more dominant, being, the Captain would never approve. Her lips twitched, ready to expose her deadly fangs in contest to the Watchman's defense - or at least it sounded like she had been defending the fox. At least until, "I can stomp her, if you want, Captain."
Much better. At least Rita knew the only deity that Creek would be submitting to is herself, as it should be. A low gurgle rumbled in the mutt's maw as she was about to go ahead and give the horse permission, because why not? Obviously this recruit would be of no use, and she wouldn't waste the food sources or the space on such a petty, disgraceful being. But the very moment her jaws parted, tongue on the roof of her mouth to utter a mere syllable, her pale eyes shifted to the fox. The stare, the bow, the... awkwardness?
Cue creepiness~
"Divinity!" Wait, what? Rita's eyes would widen a bit, her maw open just a tad in shock... confusion... a loss of words. "I am Skyrim, your loyal servant. Long have I been preaching the word of your greatness and searching for you. But to stand in your presence! This is truely a blessing beyond words!"
...
.....
What?
"BAHAHAHAAAAAHAA!" Her laughter was monstrous, bursting through the forests and probably sending countless birds into a frenzied flight. But who was she to care for that? This fox! This pest! She had referred to her as some sort of god - a source of divinity. Rita, herself, hadn't much experience with this type of shit, so she didn't know the nitty-gritty details... but all she needed to know was that this vulpine was out of her fucking mind! How the hell could she be warped into what the Captain needed in her packmembers? "Damn right it's beyond words..." Her chuckles and laughter was still rolled into her speech, her eyes watering from the onslaught of hilarity that had been shoved into this rather interesting conversation. But as a moment passed, she thought not of how this fox would be difficult to mold into what she needed... but of how she could manipulate her into what she wanted. Oh, such potential tasted even sweeter than the apple of sin... or whatever the fuck that thing was.
"What's your story...?" She was in, mostly for the Captain's own entertainment, but also for what she might be able to squeeze out of her in the future. In order to do so, however, she knew she'd have to speak her language somehow... "I've been hiding," I, your god, have been hiding, "They're searching for me..." They. She emphasized the word, meaning for it to sound as negative as possible. "Don't let them know I'm here..."
Or else.
Mama said:
What.
What.
What?!
The horse dumbly stared at the fox as it worshipped the wolf. Creek knew Rita was rather impressive, what with having worked out the system of El Dorado to encourage as much growth as possible and to be able to physically enforce it, but this? Creek kind of figured that the wolf was beyond average, but seriously.
Ugh. Whatever, the mare decided.
The horse's ears were pinned back in mild confusion and frusration as the Captain laughed. Several birds took to the air only to return to their branches, probably as concerned for Rita's sanity as Creek Dancer was.
As the conversation turned decidely initmate between Rita and Skyrim, Creek Dancer casually switched to watching the waters and the land, making sure nothing was planning to make a meal of her Captain. While the wolf could more than likely handle her own, if Rita died, who would become Captain? Would they treat the horse and her human as well as Rita had done? Creek Dancer doubted it, and that was all the reason the horse needed to be slightly wary on Rita's behalf.
A good leader was a terrible, terrible thing to allow to haphazardly be guarded.
Though, the mare did have to resist a snort of amusement at the notion of they. That may have been half-truth. They were pirates, after all.
[tl;dr: creek's just watching]
Skyrim said:
"BAHAHAHAAAAAHAA! Damn right it's beyond words..."
The little prophet cocked her head to the side, clearly confused at the goddess's reaction to her. What had she said that had been so amusing? She didn't dare question the Lady's mind, but she did not understand. However, the preaching fox simply dismissed it as something far beyond her comprehension. Perhaps a joke between the divine siblings? She could not hear the Sky God's voice, so it was possible Rita was not laughing at her at all. That must be it, she decided.
"What's your story...?"
"A long tale, Divinity. One I believe should be told in much more comfortable surroundings." She looked around, noting the heavy mist was becoming thicker, and the moisture in the air was increasing. It felt like rain.
"I've been hiding, They're searching for me... Don't let them know I'm here..."
Skyrim, of course, knew how others would wish to imprison a goddess in mortal flesh, and nodded eagerly as Rita spoke to her. Thoughts already turned in the fox's head. There were many she could think of who would want to do her Goddess harm, and Skyrim was not about to let that happen. The horse, she noticed, took up position as a silent guard, which Skyrim felt was a suitable role for her. With sharp hooves and strong legs, the mare could do serious damage.
"Of course, Majesty. There is much need for discretion. But what mortal name do you go by, so I may not draw attention to your presence? Although I mean no disrespect, Holiest of Holy!"