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Post by fratrat on Jun 11, 2018 0:44:23 GMT -6
Rain hung heavy over the gloomy, rolling plans of Onea. The birds had gone silent in their nests and the only thing to be heard from here to a mile away was the soft sway and racket of the trees and branches that hung back from the clearing. The clearing sat off from the beaten path, lending itself to be the perfect resting spot for horses who just needed some time to get away from it all and relax in one of the more isolated spots in the war forged territories, but you would not find any of them here. None of them except Cerebina. Cerebina was a simple girl, one who enjoyed the isolation and being away from sexist men- you know, the Simple Pleasures, but there was one thing that Cerebina did not like, at all, and although the minority in the subject, the one thing Cerebina did not like was
MURDER.
And yet staring down at the flecks of blood on the grass beneath her hooves, the filly knew one thing was for certain.... something... was murdered. OR it could have just gotten injured, but even then, she rationalised, it could be murdered via its injuries by God, she rationally rationalised. This was a sound assumption, and she must go and find this creature. She knew she couldn't go alone however, so she stomped her hooves onto the moist ground and swung her head around to see if any poor soul was wandering around the clearing.
WC: 249
((FULL DISCLOSURE TO ANYONE READING; A HORSE WAS NOT MURDERED.))
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Post by themarinianwar on Jun 13, 2018 3:56:44 GMT -6
Oh, Onea. You might be a proud and mighty country, but you certainly were dreadful at times. And rain? Was definitely one of those times.
Revelin made himself a shelter within the forest, having been used to dealing with such fickle weather of the plains. He'd come to know all the safer areas of the treacherous forests, too, though laying on the soil on his pelt was less than ideal, and laying on his own legs was completely out of the question. It'd only been a light rain, but there was no real reason to be out there and get soaked when he could stay dry and thus warmer, so he remained hidden for a time. Even far after it passed, Revelin remained, though he didn't particularly know why. Perhaps it was just an inkling that he needed to be there. Maybe it was just his stubbornness keeping him from going out into the cold, wet, MUDDY world. Either way, once the small tent of leaves and branches had been removed, he began wandering out into the mud and made his way back towards his destination. The grumble he uttered at knowing he'd spend a while brushing out his feathers stirred the birds nearby who seemed tense, if not downright upset, over something.
Then, he heard stomping. The slurping of hooves against the moist ground caused him to pull back into the brush, attempting to hide. If need be, he'd charge and attack, but staying among the trees would be his best bet. His legs could blend in well, but the rest of him- so vibrant and pale, may have given him away.
Still, he watched quietly, keeping to the edge of the clearing nearby in an attempt to find out the source of the stomping. A Vagabond? This far out? It sounded like just one- maybe two. No way they'd travel on their own without a good reason. Eyes narrow, body ducking down against a brush until he saw her. Young, loud, rather valiant in whatever she was doing. It confused him at first to see her out here, but if he knew better, he'd keep his distance. She could be a trap for something far more nefarious.
"Stay where you are!" He called in as demanding a voice as he could muster, standing up and readying himself to react if need be. "State your business! I'm unarmed, but I won't hesitate to fight if you prove hostile!"
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WC: 409
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Post by fratrat on Jun 13, 2018 18:21:51 GMT -6
Cerebina stopped her clomping and dug her little hooves into the muddy ground, skidding to a stop. She lashed her tail and narrowed her eyes, how dare this guy think SHE is the vagabond? She's the scout here, one of the most noble and fearless ranks in all of onea, and this random bread boy is telling HER to stop in HER tracks? Incomprehensible.
"No." she chuffed, stomping a hoof onto the ground and splattering some mud on her ankles. "I am a War Forged scout, and I work to protect these lands from the murders that have happened." She stated, rightously but robotically, puffing out her chest as she did. "And are happening,"
She pointed a hoof at the bread boy.
"Who are you."
WC: 126 | Post 2
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Post by themarinianwar on Jun 15, 2018 19:03:54 GMT -6
A scout? It was common, true, but he'd never happened upon a scout yet in his own journeys, especially not one so far out. Still, a smile crossed Revelin's snout as he watched her defiant attitude and wondered if she spoke to everyone with such a fiery temper. It'd be charming, if he wasn't arrogant himself.
"Revelin of War Forged, a humble traveling merchant seeking only the finest of things for my clientele." It made him sound fancier, sure, but it really meant nothing beyond those fancy words. That's part of why he liked speaking of himself as such; it made him feel far more important than he was.
"A murder? In these parts?" The incredulous tone he took continued, ears perked and brows raised high, "oh my, I do hope you're not serious. Murder is a dreadful thing, Dearie. I wouldn't accuse such a thing so quickly. Unless, of course," he took a step closer, a few steps actually, until he was up close to her, "you've seen evidence?"
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WC: 170
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