Strutting (open)

[Rooster]

Spring 1st 510AV

“COCKADOODLEDOOOOOOOO!!” is the noise of the dawn cracking.

He burped deeply, forcing odours of rabit stew, carrot and ale warmly through his hairy lipped mouth. The sun blinded brightly down from above, piercing through the pear coloured canopy of leaves, like a shovel to the face. Inside the tent, warm orange cotton glowed calmly as he slowly woke up, then after pulling apart the pavillion flaps the light stabbed at his eyes like golden white spears.

Tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch-tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch

Johnny clicked his neck to the left, squinting and wincing, and then yawned widely, punching his arms out as far as they would go in an almighty stretch. This transformed into a twitching movement, popping each of the limbs forwards and backwards; Rooster was dancing.

Tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch-tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch

His head started bobbing to the beat of his tapping foot and slapping hands, and he shuffled his shoulders in circles, launching his spine forwards and backwards. The birds were singing and there was a faint wind stirring the crispy dead leaves beneath him – plenty of music to dance to! It wasn’t a joyful dance because he wasn’t smiling. Instead, it was more of a wake up dance, a movement forcing his muscles to roll into action, his joints were flipping his legs and arms in all directions and his neck was twisting from side to side.

“Aoooooooo!!” He cawed into the air… This was his land and his morning! He jiggled over to his chicken coop round the side of his pavillion and scooped up a fresh, warm egg from one of his lovers. There was a mug left outside from yesterday evening half full of pungent red wine. With a flamboyant flick of his wrist, he cracked the egg open into the mug spilling the whites into his hangover cure, then laced it with the leftover milk he had left outside over night for the dogs.

Mug to the lips, down in one.

Tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch-tappata-tappata-tappata-tch-tch

“AAAIII!!” he sprayed the last drops out, mouth open, tongue gasping out for air and a crusty white ring of milk staining his chops. Another burp followed by a brief gag, then a slump into his damp, peeling couch to the right of his home. It was soaking up the sun.

All that was left was to dig deep into his pockets and to pull out a box of tobacco. Rooster was going to have a smoke.

[Lysandra]

Lysandra was doing her morning drill. Moving gracefully daggers in hand. She stretched, then slashed, bent and cut upwards. Then she bent as far back as she could then slowly came up again twisted threw a dagger at a tree and drew out her sword. In her mind she was surrounded by enemies and battle that drowned the racket that came from the a nearby clearing. She threw the other dagger which embedded itself in the hilt of the other one. She relaxed and smiled and went to retrieved the two daggers slipping them in her boots.
It was hot, the sun shone, reflecting her golden brown skin. She had feared it would be cold and that she would have had to buy some clothes with her little money but spring had thankfully arrived. In her shorts and simple leather corset she felt just fine, they were warrior clothes that left her arms and legs free to move and showed her gnosis mark.
Only then she noticed a tent with a chicken coop next to it. The sight was so strange that she started to walk towards it.
She sniffed, there was a pungent odour but she could faintly smell tobacco. Her dark green eyes surveyed the pavilion and she started circling the tent mingling into the surroundings like she had been taught.
She had been taught to identify smells of plants, animals and people. She thought for a moment then smiled: Kelvic. They had such a strange aura. In her homeland, no, not her homeland anymore she corrected herself, many Myrians bonded with Kelvics so she had grown used to the presence of that particular race.
In trying to identify the smell, she had become so distracted that she didn’t notice the figure seated in a couch next to the tent.

[Rooster]

What a fine morning it was to take a drag on his smoke, Rooster thought to himself, inhaling the tobacco from his pipe. He breathed it in deep and sighed heavily to puff out the fumes. He couldn't feeling the sun’s glare wash over him and smiling. It must have been around noon due to the position of it in the sky, but the wildlife around him was a lot quieter than it usually would have been at this time of day. His smile faded to a more quizzical and serious expression. The birdsong echoing off of the bark was distant, and the flapping of bird wings taking flight warned him – he had an intruder.

He cocked his head up, furrowing his eyebrows and looking sharply left and right. His eyes had never been perfect and the woods stretched on for miles from where he sat making it the perfect hiding ground for predators. His couch was facing his front garden – if you could call it that, a scrappy armchair lay toppled on the ground, made grubbier by the weather. He had a tribal drum to his left, not far from a very old tree stump which had his wood axe and a lantern resting on top of it, and a trough full of icy water was flat against a thick pile of wood. The grass around his home was downtrodden and dead, and strewn with shards of glass and splinters of wood from various drunken accidents, and there was a dead squirrel slowly decomposing square in the middle of his garden. Outside his glade territory, the trees were closer together and made nice shelter from battering winds.

There was a thud in the distance, the sound of something hitting a tree, followed by another thud and panicked bird flight. “WHO THERE?!” roared Johnny, spraying milk and standing on his feet. His arms hung tense from his side, ready for action and he stuck his chin out, looking around him for who made the noises. A dog barked behind him, and then a Caucasian Shepherd ran through the tent entrance and to Rooster’s side. “Atta boy” he encouraged, squeezing the snarling dog’s neck, “Go look for noise! We don’t like intruders now, do we boy?” he smirked, gazing around the woods. The dog snapped out a growl then sniffed the air.

Slowly but surely the dog set out to find his prey and make a judgement as to whether it posed a threat to his master or not.

[Skylar]

Oh, and poor little Skylar had just been walking by when all of this happened.

That wasn't entirely true. Skylar had a great deal of whimsy for someone so old. A twenty year old human might think nothing of the act of going for a walk, but it could be dangerous for someone like Skylar. After all, people will risk their lives less when they're thousands of years old.

Still, Skylar was a fool and as fearless in the face of death as any young human. Yes, he did not know the boy who's body he now inhabited but judging by his eventual fate he had been no stranger to death. Death comes for us all. Memento Mori, as they say.

And this had been a little far out of town for a simple walk. Actually, now that he thought about it, it'd been a few days since Skylar had started this walk. He felt no tiredness nor hunger pangs, however. Being dead had its advantages. And nevertheless he'd avoided any problems that couldn't be hidden from or simply ran away from.

However, he had heard what Johnny the Rooster had heard: That thwack-thwack sound. He'd decided to investigate. He was just coming into view of the whole situation with the chicken coop when a quite rabid looking dog bounded after him. The thing could almost certainly ascertain his undead status with its nose and was probably going to try and kill him. How troubling.

There was one way to deal with dogs like this though! Using his hypnotism he induced a 'flash' of fear into the dog's brain. The sight of some monster or other foul creature lurching up towards him, just for a moment. The beast would associate that frightful image with Skylar's smiling face. Just to seal the deal he also filled him with the emotion of fear. Against any sentient creature it'd be obvious he was messing with their mind, but against an animal the result was predictably effective. The dog would flee back to the safety of its master.

Skylar wiped his forehead. Oh, all the world's creatures were animals.

[Lysandra]

Lysanda dropped to her knees amidst some ferns as a snarling dog ran past her: her instincts had quickly made her position herself downwind.
She scolded herself: she had become to soft, she was letting her guard down a lot lately: the dangers of Falyndar seemed so far away...
She skimmed up a tree, powerful arms grasping for branches.
She chose a sturdy branch and made her way, balance perfect, till she was almost above the tent. She crouched there, senses heightened, daggers in hand and watched as the dog came whimpering back to his master. She noticed another figure in the wood, she watched it for some time then as the man fussed over his dog she quietly dropped down from her perch. She used a brief illusion to silence her landing and walking avoiding the litter strewn around and then she sat down on the couch in front of the pavilion waiting for the man to turn around and notice her.
The dog was traumatized it seemed, she crossed her legs casually and smiled: this would be fun...
She needed fun, after so much boring travelling she had to do something, her Myrian blood was craving for a fight.

[Skylar]

That Skylar was arrogant was an idea beyond reproach. Whether or not his arrogance had any sort of basis in reality. Whether or not he could back up his word, that was a matter of less certainty. It would be left to the scholars of later generations to try to piece that together from the various accounts of his life. If, indeed, Skylar wasn't still alive when the history books are written to help them out.

What this meant was that while the situation with the dog had gone according to his plan, and indeed, individual beasts like that were relatively easy to control, there was now a certain aspect that he had perhaps not fully considered when he had acted against the dog.

And that aspect was, of course, who was that girl?

As the man on the couch bolted off after his dog, Skylar thought he was alone, but then he noticed her, sitting there, pretty as a picture and with not a hair out of place. A myrian, if Skylar remembered his races right. And he did.

She looked like she could kill him pretty easily. This should be fun.

"Hello." He said, walking into view, a whimsical smirk upon his features. Come, now, Myrian, let's play.

[Lysandra]

Lysandras lips twitched in amusement as the man ran after his dog, then they became a broad smile as she regarded the figure that emerged from the forest. She got up swiftly and replied “It all depends on how you want to play and how much fun you want to have!”
She chuckled her dark green eyes measuring the man.
She stood on the balls of her feet seemingly relaxed but in reality ready to spring. Lysandra flexed her fingers and very small blades came out of her fingerless gloves. They were so small and expertly conceal people seldom noticed them.
A touch or a slap from Lysandra would be…cutting.

[Skylar]

Skylar's mouth widened into a strange smile as he walked closer towards the woman. Unafraid and unaware of the danger she could pose to him. Not that he had any untoward intentions towards her. He did not, as a rule, like attacking random strangers for their belongings like some clumsy mortal thug. No, Skylar was a man of wealth and taste. These sorts of incidents were more suited to the diplomatic approach.

Skylar raised his hands in mock surrender. "Come now, Myrian, you have nothing to fear from me. I go by the name Skylar. Perhaps the lady would deign to give her own? Unless, of course, you don't feel like I warrant trust, but how could that be? I am after all, a well-dressed stranger miles from civilization without any real reason to be out here and showing a remarkably fearless eloquence even in the face of such a stereotypically dangerous creature."

Skylar gave a laugh and, arms still raised, winked at the creature in front of him. He had no intention of harming her, it was true, but that didn't mean he wanted nothing from her. He was quite curious as to what kind of person this woman was, and he intended to find everything out.

[Lysandra]

Lysandra bowed
exaggeratedly saying “Heres to a well dressed stranger” She straightened and then she smiled, arching her eyebrow and continued “My name is Lysandra”
She chuckled when she remembered his lasts words “I’m sure a stereotypically dangerous creature would not attack an unknowing fair maiden” she used his own words on purpose suppressing a bout of laughter. Dark green eyes bright as a murky pool surrounded by moss covered rocks. She pushed a stray lock of dark red hair from her eyes.
She looked at the figure and smiled to herself, here was an interesting one, at last she should add.
Lysandra said in a striking clear voice “So, Skylar, what brings you to a clearing in the wild lands?"

[Skylar]

Skylar gave a light, mocking laugh, filled with real mirth and nevertheless laced with a weird insincerity. It was probably one of the stranger laughs Lysandra had ever heard. He bowed as she introduced herself. He had no reason not to treat her well enough... for now. Time would tell whether or not she was really worth keeping around.

"I'm not sure what brought me here, although, now that I am here, perhaps I will head to Sunberth. I had half a mind to visit there someday anyway. Nevertheless, you are right about something." Skylar strode towards her, covering about half the distance between them quickly.

"Yes, you are a fair maiden. Myrian, correct? I've met many Myrian I disliked, I hope you will prove an exception rather than part of the rule. No doubt you have trained extensively in many battle techniques?" The way he stared at her, it was almost clinical, the way he analyzed everything about her. He was even rating her attractiveness and her personality on cold, objective scales.

With a simple flourish he removed his shirt, revealing the malnourished body beneath. "Perhaps you would be so kind as to spar with me? I've always wanted to face a Myrian."

This was almost a joke... him, against a Myrian? He'd lose in an instant. But, he had other plans as well.