Fantasy Elvandar (Closed)

[heavenly]

Johno
"These days will absolutely be your last."

 

[Johno]

Fladogadoga

 

[Johno]

Kostel
​

Three weeks into the hunt and there had already been a dozen opportunities to strike. It was humorous at first, but now the lack of awareness his prey had was becoming frustrating. The prey made no effort these past weeks to scout its surroundings, no effort to be careful or mindful of its tracks. It was reckless and deserved to be hunted. Kostel followed at a distance, careful not to give his prey any reason to rectify its folly and wise up. He remained high when the forest was thick and low when the trees thinned into clearing, ever watching his prey. It was a perfect night to take a life, he thought. The moon was full and bright, casting grim shadows through the foliage above that danced across his skulking form. He shivered slightly in the night air. It was cold and wet, contrary to the humid warmth of the rainforest he was accustomed to. His prey stopped to make camp some hours before the sun had begun to descend into slumber, and it must have taken the better part of sunlight to even find a suitable spot. It was clueless and deserved to be hunted.

​

Kostel stepped with a precision that was more nature than skill as he stalked closer to his prey. His grip tightened around the hilt of a makeshift knife he had carved from the rib bone of a small monkey-like creature some years ago. His eyes narrowed and focused on his prey. The distance between Kostel and his prey closed at an increasing pace. The clueless, reckless, fool of a man hunched over a pathetic attempt at a fire, mixing a foul smelling stew contained within a metal pot. He was whistling to himself, as if that wouldn't gain the attention of predators. To his credit, the tune was lovely, a catching one that Kostel would find himself remembering for some time. As the whistling hit the peak of a crescendo, Kostel reached around his prey and pierced the knife into its sternum. That lovely tune quickly became the grotesque gurgle of a man choking as blood filled his airways. Kostel closed his eyes and breathed in, feeling his prey's life fade away within his embrace. To Kostel, he was absorbing a fresh kill, absorbing the moment and filling his drive to hunt once more.

In the final moments between life and death, Kostel gently lowered the body to the ground and cupped his prey's cheek. He didn't know it at the time, but Kostel had just killed a Son of Ra'kish who had wandered too far from the flock. Even if he was aware, it wouldn't matter. The Son of Ra'kish was a fool and deserved to be hunted. But now that his hunt was over and his journey at an end, Kostel found himself feeling empty, as if the life he stole had stolen his. The night was calm, he realized after a long moment of mindless staring. Not even the nightbirds made a chirp. There was no wind, no rustle of leaves, no howling, nothing. Just predator and dead prey. And so, he kept moving further away from his tribe and towards the distant mountains.

 

[heavenly]

Alish​

“You’re not listening” Alish hissed and she pushed a paper across the table. The few people who were in the room looked to their Chief. Few could read, and even fewer could write, so each time this woman came in with knowledge of both, they were surprised. Alish lifted her hand to reveal a small stack of parchments. She had drawn and written routes, and listed the other tribes and what she learned of them. In bold was the names Ra’Kish. It wasn’t spelled correctly, but the only one that would notice was the Chief. Arjin. He scoffed.
“We’ve been going the wrong way, there has—” The two behind her snickered and Arjin took a deep breath.
“You speak like you’ve been out there.” For now, his voice was patient.

Alish continued, “There has to be a different way around the mountains. You have never sent travelers anywhere but along the coasts.” She jabbed a finger at the excuse of a map she had drawn. The woman had collected information from those who had returned from their failed expeditions and compiled them in a rough summary of their surroundings. Beyond their settlement, the only mark on the map was a box where the Sons of Ra’Kish were. Her tribe avoided them. Bold X’s were scratched in each spot where past travelers perished. Lightly, Alish had drawn lines further south into the untraveled lands, “I think there should be a break in the mountains. A river.”

Almost as though he pitied her, Arjin lifted the papers. The woman stood a bit taller when he did and her fingers twisted through the grey-brown furs that draped over her torso. Blistering wind rattled the flap of the large tent but no one was phased.
With another deep breath in, the Chief exhaled and at the same time, severed the first page in half. Alish choked on her own tongue and she felt her cheeks grow hot. Someone else left the tent and took their laughter to the wind. Now annoyance was evident in the Chief’s voice, “This is what I think of your ideas. If I wanted them, I would ask.”

“Why do you think people keep dying?” Alish spat at him, and she stepped up to rip her work from his hands. He shifted on his feet and glared, “Why do you think you haven’t been chosen as a traveler?”
He continued to threaten and insult her, but she didn’t hear him over her own white-hot anger. His voice raised until he had begun to shout and she could smell the stench of his breath. She heard the word ‘weak’ leave his mouth and Alish’s head snapped to the side, “Weak?”

“Weak,” Arjin growled.
“My father raised me—” He cut her off with a laugh, and the woman groaned in frustration and changed the subject. She was so angered that tears burned in the corners of her eyes, “Then I’ll show you.”
“You’re no traveler,” Arjin reminded her.
Alish gathered her papers and made sure she had both halves of the one he ripped. She stepped until she stood nose to nose with Arjin. Anger burned inside of her. “I’ll show you,” She repeated lowly and it took every ounce of her control not to try and rip his head from his body.

“I will come back. You will know me. I’ll make sure.” She spat at his feet.

*​

It had been a month since she had stormed out of that tent with her promise. Alish had ripped the sword from the side of the man who had gone outside to laugh, and when he came after her for it she pointed it at him and Arjin told him to let her have it. We’ll get it back when we find her body. Those were the last words she heard from him.

The woman had gone south and she had stayed close to the mountains like she planned. Her notes were folded into a pathetic journal that sat at the top of her bag, bound by string. She had always been right about a river through the mountains. However, when she found it, it had been dried up and what was left of it was frozen. She took a chance, and she followed it.

*​

A curse left her mouth as Alish waded through a watering hole she found not far from her small fire. She spent her entire life in Rhe’ak, where it was never warm and there were only three weeks where there wasn’t snow on the ground. Her tribe had flourished there, but it was a growing concern that there was a world beyond the icy mountains that caged them, and no one was alive to say they found it.

Now, she was. And it was hot. She had abandoned her furs almost a week ago, but she still carried them because she refused to let them go. She plucked twigs from them before she slept and used them for cover during the cold nights.
Naked, cool, and drying, the woman returned to her fire and clothed herself again. By then, the creature she had managed to kill during the afternoon was well cooked in the flames and she chewed furiously on the meat. How she had survived the cold was a miracle, but she wouldn’t admit it out loud. She would, however, lie and say that she was fearless, and each time she was within inches of her life she carried on.

Alish sniffled and peeled the bark off of a stick while she ate. Her belongings sat to her side, her bag as a pillow and furs as a mat, and the world turned above her. The moon eventually replaced the sun, but she sat with her toes near to the flames until she grew tired.

 

[Johno]

Kostel
​

The breeze that caused Kostel to shiver had been progressively getting stronger during the few little hours since the last hunt, giving him reason to find some semblance of shelter in a nearby path of forest. The moon, now reaching its apex in the blanket of black above, struggled to pierce the dense woods. Kostel was accustomed to the nightlight, however, and the lack of light within the trees mattered little. With careful and practised strides, Kostel continued through the woods, ducking and weaving through the thicker parts of branches and plant until finally finding a suitable spot to rest for the evening. He broke the treeline without so much as cracked twig and cast his gaze upward. The stars that pierced the blanket of black seemed playful tonight, and he couldn't help but remember what his father told him so long ago, "That's your mother, Kostel, preparing the hearth and warming your bed." They flickered and danced as if celebrating his last kill. He smiled at the thought before returning to the task at hand.

*​

It wasn't long before Kostel had cleared a patch of ground large enough for a comfortable rest. He gathered the twigs and small branches that littered the clearing and bundled them at his feet when he kneeled. For a fleeting moment, he caught the smell of smoke on the wind. He darted his gaze around the clearing, sniffing at the air like a dog trying to locate a scent. Again, the hint of burning wood assaulted his senses. Someone had beaten him to the flames. Kostel abandoned the bundle of sticks at his feet and returned to his feet. He sniffed at the air with ever increasing ferocity. He caught the scent one more time, certain he knew the direction it came from. That emptiness was gone before he realized. It was filled with that familiar urge, that primal urge to hunt. With the desire to hunt now fueling his actions, Kostel began to follow the trail of smoke in the air. Each step was as quiet as the last, each movement as graceful as the one that followed. The scent was getting stronger with each pace he made and he heard the wind whisper that he was near. A minute passed before he saw the flicker of firelight through the thick. The beacon of prey ushering him forward. The light was salvation, and he needed saving.

The hunt had begun. Kostel skulked closer, careful not to disturb the flora around him. What he saw when his vision pierced the branches before him was not a sight he was expecting. He saw a mess of hair the colour of red maple bark, the skin of clouds on a sunny day, and the fire made so well he was almost impressed. It was beautiful in the same way that a male dimorphodon was. He had never seen a creature like that before. It was humanoid, he knew, but appeared so different to his people, or that of the Sons of Ra'kish for that matter. For the first time in a long while, Kostel reasoned to let whatever it was live for now. The hunt could wait. He wanted to watch this thing, learn it, identify what it was. With that in mind, as if he wasn't a seasoned hunter, Kostel leaned a little too far forward and applied just the right amount of pressure to a stick beneath his foot to send an all-too noticeable 'crrk' into the night. He fell silent after that, stone still and silent. He closed his eyes to ensure they wouldn't reflect the firelight and waited. Kostel listened for movement. He listened to know if the strange creature heard his mistake.

 

[heavenly]

Alish
​

Alish ground her bottom jaw against her top, and her chin dug into the flesh of her knees. Her brow was creased and she concentrated on the artwork she had dug into the ground beyond the edge of her makeshift sitting mat. The breeze kept her hair out of her face but every so often she used her fingers to push rogue strands out of her way. Into the ground she had carved a crude sketch of a body. One would only recognize that because she had made the feet too big, but she was almost too proud of it. To her, the only thing that was un-human-like was the fact that the body didn't have a head. At least, the head wasn't attached to its owner. A few finger-paces away from the drawing was a circle with nothing but two X's where the eyes would be. The red-head huffed to her self in amusement and she brought her chin away from her knees in order to blow the extra dirt away from her artwork. She scratched the name Arjin above it, and then went to work at drawing another figure, this one with a head, beside him holding a long sword. In the dirt it was just a line that extended from where her hand should be. Above that figure, she scratched her name. She stared at it for a little while, and for a moment the wind shook the flames of her fire in the opposite direction so she could no longer see it.

The woman drew in a long breath and brought herself to her feet to pace around the flames in order to stretch, with only one more glance cast toward her drawing. Alish cringed. Each night while she was left still and alone, she was left to dwell. She relieved their words, their insults, and their threats. When she had decided to take the sword she didn't realize that each time her hand fell upon it she was reminded that it was he who had supplied it. It made her sick, and she tossed her head back to look through the treetops. The proximity of the flames made it so that she couldn't make out the stars, and if it weren't for her fear of what called these woods home, she'd have voiced her frustration and anger. The idea that she didn't know where she was going was one that she often suppressed, but every so often she couldn't manage but think on it. She thought she'd make a map, but she hadn't realized how hard it would be. Alish kicked once at the ground and circled around to where she previously sat.

She had come to the realization that she had no final destination. She would return, but there was a large part of her that said not to. Not yet. This world, be it frustratingly warm, was vastly different from hers and she needed to see more. The woman removed her shoes and set them near to the fire so that they'd stay warm, but not too warm. She kept her toes on her furs and rubbed at her tired feet. She found herself staring again at her drawing, and a noise made her flinch.
Alish's head snapped to the side, then to the other side, and she squinted into the darkness for what could have made it. The light from her fire didn't spread so far, so instead of standing she only shifted her position.
"Hello?" She whispered into the dark, but then cursed herself for it.
The woman brought herself to her knees, and then sat back until her feet were tucked beneath her rear. She could stand quickly this way. One hand fell to the handle of her sword, and her other hand took to the stick she had been drawing with. She scratched half-hearted lines into the ground once more, but listened more than she tried.

 

[Johno]

Kostel
​

Kostel gradually opened his eyes after he was sure the danger of being spotted had passed. It took several long moments, but he was almost certain the cloud-skinned creature by the fire was unaware of his immediate presence. He stifled a laugh when her voice carried a greeting surely meant for him, and it was all he could do not to toy with the prey by replying with a creepy sound. She was human, he figured. At least, mostly. When his eyes opened completely, he was greeted to the sight of the creature by the fire propped up on her knees and facing his direction. He watched her for a moment before his eyes naturally fell along her body, spending a perverted amount of time admiring certain features. But it would be the sword grasped firmly in her hand that warranted Kostel to sway on the side of caution. The creature before him was clearly not going to be a simple hunt as he first thought. Perhaps she was deserved to live. He would test that in any case. His eyes fell once more, this time to her side, and he saw the drawing the woman had carved into the packed dirt. He couldn't make out exactly what the picture was supposed to be, but eventually reasoned it was a giant rabbit and a piece of round fruit, likely one she ate and didn't like considering the crosses.

The night air had become a frigid cold by this point, beating against the thick of trees that surrounded the makeshift campsite. Several hours past the Luna apex, Kostel was beginning to truly feel the wrath of cold brought down by the mountains on the horizon. If he didn't make fire soon, or find shelter from the wind, he would surely freeze to death during the night. The fire a dozen meters away looked inviting, and the cloud-skinned creature that sat beside it looked worthy to be hunted. Kostel knew that directly killing, at least attempting to, would be a fool's errand. The woman looked weak and afraid, but he reasoned that she wouldn't be alone out here if she actually was. And so, Kostel had a choice to make. Either he could turn back and make camp, or approach the creature and attempt to learn about it. The frigid cold sent a gust of wind barreling towards the treeline he stalked behind, clearing a few stray leaves from his vision, and he took that as a sign.

Without so much as a second thought, Kostel parted the branches before him and stepped through the trees and into the dim-light of the fire. He kept his gaze locked with the creature by the fire, refusing to yield his stare. For a brief moment of weakness, Kostel lost himself in the hue of ocean blue he saw like gems socketed in her skull. It was like none other he had seen before. Whatever this cloud-skinned, red-haired, ocean-eyed creature was, Kostel was becoming increasingly curious. He made long, confident strides towards the creature, reaching down to his side to find his bone knife no longer on his person. He grunted beneath his breath and slowed his pace. Kostel couldn't think of something to say, nor could he realize how strange he must have looked approaching slowly with his hand on his hip, silent and shivering slightly. Instead, he turned his gaze from the ocean blue towards the ever inviting glow of warmth beside them, then back again. This time, however, Kostel noticed the thick furs beneath the creature, furs that were clear from a beast deserving of being hunted. Kostel had something to say now, or at least, something to comment on.
"What is it?" He said as he drew near, as if the woman was supposed to know what he was speaking of.

 

[heavenly]

Alish​

The sharper end of the stick penetrated the soft ground beneath it. Alish sliced it through a wide semi-circle around her drawing. She was careful not to tamper with her artwork, and she kept her head aimed toward the ground. Her eyes, though, were cast every so often in different directions. The wind blew and carried her hair from behind her shoulders and into her view. She sat back quickly and dropped the stick in order to toss it back where it belonged. The woman gnawed on the inside of her cheek and used thee light from her flames to look for something to tie it into place. She gripped her misbehaving locks as yet another chilly gust carried them into her view.
Frustrated, Alish untangled her fingers from her tresses and clawed them through until free. She’d deal with it later. She plucked a few strands she had accidentally ripped out from the spaces between her fingers. She looked up to watch them blow away. The heat from the flames carried them up, and as she tried to follow them with her eyes she caught the movement that took place across from her.

Her eyebrows fell into a bushy v, and her hands fell to her side, one finding her only way of defending herself.
Alish held her breath, as if maybe ceasing her movements and breathing would bring the creature to forget about her and carry on. But the heat on her cheeks reminded her that the flames surely lit her figure well enough to be spotted. So then she breathed, and her chest heaved as she took in oxygen once more. She had thought the creature to be like any other she had seen in these trees. Four-legged and plant-eating. Her eyes focused on what approached her.
A human.

Quickly, the redhead scrambled to her feet. Her ankle twisted beneath her and she cringed, but made a poor attempt at smothering her mistake with her words. Her fingers gripped the cold handle of her sword.

“Who are you?” She demanded, but he spoke at the same time as she did. The same language. Good.

As the person drew nearer she took a step back so that he’d continue forward into the light of the flames. His skin seemed darker than hers, but it could have been the night that made it seem that way. He was oddly dressed. Where were his furs?
His words registered and she hastily brought the tip of the sword down into the dirt so that she could scribble away her spiteful drawing, clearly misunderstanding his question.

“Leave,” She said, but still eyed him with an immense amount of curiosity, along with caution. The wind blew at her back again and her blade poked at the edge of the flames before attempting to fling embers up at him, as if he were a cat and she were splashing water at it.

 

[Johno]

Kostel
​

Bright, burning embers shot into the space between them and flew straight towards Kostel. He raised a forearm and turned his head a fraction, shielding his eyes from the heated projectiles. His efforts were only partially successful, however. The wind carried a stray ember beyond his arm and pushed a single ember against his the corner of his eye, causing him to flinch and shuffle back. It took a moment for Kostel to rub the ember free and regain his composure and turn his attention back towards the cloud-skinned woman. His eye started to water and reflexively squinted. He lowered his arm and frowned.

"I am Kostel of the Azgardie tribe," he answered with a stifled grunt, "and if you do that again it will be the last name to leave your throat before I cut it."

The wind carried a strong gust once more, enough to dry his eye and return his ability to keep it open, albeit slightly. It was in that moment when his eyes were no longer a wet blur that Kostel noticed the sword held firmly in the woman's hand. It was enough for him to rethink his next move. He was unarmed and almost blind - it would be foolish to pose a threat.

"You a hunter?" He asked, flicking his chin towards the fur that lay a heap beside the fire.