Quest The Extermination Pt. 1: The Call

[Voodoo]

OOCThis thread is only available to those that showed interest on the original quest thread. The quest is full, so please do not post if you did not reserve a spot.

25th of Summer, 514

The true source of knowledge was information. It was their business to know, to plan, and to act. The Mengintai were the finest trackes and scouts in all of Taloba, and Naekasi was easily one of the wisest and most well informed of them all. Well, aside from Rahi, whom was her superior and the City Atasan. Naekasi stood behind her desk, which was littered with handwritten notes and maps, looking out the window. Large marks of red paint were placed on the maps, marking areas of interest. The jungle, normally teeming with life, had lost a significant amount of lives of late. In the areas of interest, some distance away from Taloba, hunters were reporting absolute silence. There were no bird chirps, no animal calls, and very few shrills of animals dying by predators. In a sense, the jungle had died. This information, as it came in more frequently, began to concern Naekasi more and more. Her job had been easy most of Spring. Towards the end, things had begun to get more complicated. Myrians, children and adults, had been disappearing. Animals were showing up in ways that would churn the stomachs of most untrained warriors. There was just something about a carcass ripped to shreds that made her adament something was wrong. Most Myrians knew how to treat their prey, to strip a skin properly, and to use all the bits of their kill appropriately. This kind of massacre was far less sentient than she would have liked.

A knock on the double doors did not phase her thought process. Without even waiting for permission, they opened to reveal another soldier dressed in simple black fabrics. On her chest, the Eye of Myri was painted in striking white against the black canvas. She lowered herself to her knee and waited until Naekasi turned to look at her. It was only then that the soldier lowered her gaze. Some said it was out of respect, some said it was because Naekasi’s unseeing eye bored deep into a person’s soul. Either way, her ghostly eye was unnerving to her subordinates.

“Yes?”

“Kepala. We have had another report. A male brought the body of his daughter back to the city. He had no tale for us, just her gruesome remains. She looked like she had been-“ Her voice faltered a moment as she took a deep breath. It was at this point that Naekasi noted that the woman was shaking ever so slightly. “-chewed. Not by a beast. The marks were something different, something slightly more…Myrian.”

“Stand. Did he give a location? Show me.” Naekasi was firm in her instructions, approaching her desk at the same time her subordinate did. A flurry of fingers and another red spot appeared on her maps. “Thank you. Myri be with this father. Make sure he makes it back to his longhouse safely.”

“That is not all, Kepala. A Tiger has been found dead.”

“A Myrian Tiger? Where is the rider? What is the location?”

“The rider found the body. It was found here, in the city.”

This alarmed Naekasi far more than her subordinate would ever know. With a simple wave of her hand, she dismissed the warrior. It was her duty to form groups to take care of these issues, but her soldiers were already stretched rather thin. With a grumble, she started to garb herself for a public appearance. She was going to need some help to get rid of these problems.

-----

Three Bells Later; Taloban City Center

Naekasi had two guards with the Eye of Myri on either side of her. Her own baggy clothes were black as night. Both of her shoulders and her chest sported the Mengintai symbol. She took great pride in being a part of the army. Not only that, she was a ranking officer that was rather feared for superstitious reasons. This fear made it easier for her to get information, and with it, knowledge. Mounting a higher post, she took a deep breath in before belting out a silencing call.

“My fellow Myrians! Hear my call!”

She allowed a chime or two for people to gather and listen before speaking again. While she waited, she lowered the hood of the short cape she was wearing so everyone who knew who she was could see who was speaking. Finally, she commanded silence by raising her hands.

“Hear my brethren. Something grips the jungle and our city. I need volunteers whom are interested in answering my call. This will not be easy, nor will it be unrewarded. To the champions go the spoils and the stories. Who shall be my champions?”

[Zemeia]

Zemeia sauntered her way through the crowded city, happy to be on her way to gather herbs for her newest customer. A lively tune lilted off her tongue, her hands weaving a tribal beat in snaps and taps, slaps, pats, and claps, as she made her way toward the city gates. Pat-snap pat-snap, tapa tapa clap clap. Pat-snap pat-snap, tapa tapa clap cla...

The beat suddenly trailed off as a measure of the spring faded from Zemeia's step. three black - clad figures cut across the path infront of her, and an old familiar tension crept it's way through her form. Carefully alert, Zemeia fell in line behind the figures - two marked with Myri's eye and a third, a Mengintai, in the center. Zemeia followed and watched as the center figure scaled to the highest point of the locale before a commanding voice called the area to silence. Zemeia blended into the crowd with calculated ease, and instinctively sought out a perch to make her vantage point. As the Mengintai lowered her dark hood Zemeia heard a ripple of murmurs wash through the crowd, interspersed with one or two isolated and ill-disguised gasps. Keenly she scrutinized the woman's form, noting the tense posture and stern features. But what stood out most was the woman's one cloudy, milky eye. This must be the one known as "Ghost - Eye". In all her years of military service, Zemeia had only heard whispers of this woman and the fearsome power - both mundane and otherwise - that she is said to possess. For her to be making a public announcement... something must be dangerously awry.

Taking a slow, deep breath Zemeia closed her eyes and forced her muscles to relax. Consciously she focused on each of her senses - the feel of jungle-summer sun on her skin, the sound of the crowd, the smell and taste of the humid breeze - allowing each to intensify individually under her focus and concentration until finally she arrived at sight. Opening her eyes, Zemeia focused all of her attention and concentration on the woman as her pupils narrowed and then dilated as the woman's aura came in to focus.
Her aura was cloudy, much like a dense fog - unsurprising given her profession. The pattern of swirling spirals with in it slithered about with a nervous, pressing energy. A soft rushing sound, akin to the rustling of leaves or frantic whispers, ebbed and flowed with the shifting of the swirls. And the distinct sensation of clutching vines wrapped it's way up Zemeia's arms. She only had a few fleeting moments to take all this in befreo realizing that the woman had already begun addressing the crowd, but one thing became very clear to Zemeia - an urgent and impending danger.

As her concentration faded, the sound of the woman's commanding voice filtered back to Zemeia's ears. "...thren. Something grips the jungle and our city. I need volunteers whom are interested in answering my call. This will not be easy, nor will it be unrewarded. To the champions go the spoils and the stories. Who shall be my champions?” Zemeia watched as the crowd turned, as one, to murmur amongst themselves. It struck her as an oddity that no one spoke out right away. But then, neither had she. Silently she pondered her role in all this. It had been two years since last she fought for the defense of Taloba, and in that time she had felt utterly lost and useless. What had she done for the city, save birth a few of it's children? It was true she was no expert combatant, but decent enough; and an even better medicine woman. Surely she was as qualified as any civilian to aid this ghost eyes Kepala. In fact, would it not displease the goddesses should she not? Myri would surely frown were she to shrug this duty to her city, as would Dira should she shrink from death, and Kihala would should she refuse to defend the cycle. No. In this there was no choice. She would champion this woman's cause for the safety of Taloba, the service of the goddesses, and her own honour.

Standing from her perch Zemeia gave the woman a tradition Taloban salute, and stated with firm surety, "I am Zemeia of the Red Orchid, and I will face this threat, whatever it may be. Myri's vengeance and Dira's embrace wait at the edge of my daggers for any who would threaten Falyndar or Taloba!"

[Kol]

It had been almost twenty days since Dalia's trial, each morning starting off the same way. Kol would rise from a restless slumber, trekking every morning to Taloba's gates in expectation of his sibling's return. And.... unfortunately, each day ended in disappointment, but never a loss of hope. His baby sister would break through the trees, maybe tired, maybe bruised, but home. If he wrote her off like the others in his clan, when she finally did walk back into Taloba, how would she feel to know that her entire family had given up on her?

Kol was a lot of things. He was short tempered, stubborn, a bit too blunt for being a male, but he was loyal. He was dedicated. And Dahlia was his sister and friend. She was more than a grim death ceremony. She deserved more. But, even with his promises to wait for his baby sister to walk through Taloba's gates, Kol could not ignore what was going on in the city. He could hear the guards talk, whispers of dangers in the jungle. Every Myrian knew the risks, but there was something else, something... different.

Kol had been there, when the Myrian male came back, girl in arms. For the briefest of moments, Kol's stomach dropped, his blood ran cold. Dahlia? He started walking towards the grieving father, convinced he held his sister until the head of the corpse turned, its lifeless eyes staring into his. He started breathing again, time stopped being slowed down. Kol began to notice details his panic had not allowed him to before -- the dead girl was stockier than Dahlia had been, her hair was shorter and a bit too dark.

Without shame, Kol watched in relief as the guards began handling the situation. He waited only a little longer, till he sun stopped touching the tree tops, and headed inside the gates as well.

---

He had been aimlessly wandering the city, contemplating what to do. Something had killed the girl. Was it the same thing that he had been hearing whispers about? There was evil out in the jungle, creatures that may be the reason Dahlia had not finished her trial yet. He needed to get out there, to find her. He needed to do something.

Just then a voice called out, gathering the Myrians. Kol's head rose, his expression grim and more serious than usual. Weaving his way through the masses, he listened, watching the woman remove her hood and speak her request of volunteers. It was a noble speech, short but direct. Militant. For the briefest of moments, Kol thought he caught the woman's eyes; one a cloudy white, the other intense with purpose as she looked across the crowd, and when a dark skinned female stepped forward, Kol watched her as well.

The first volunteer spoke of Dira and Myri, of protection. The salute that followed the introduction brought back Kol's memories of his time spent in the military. He crossed his arms, dark gaze flickering between the two. He took a step forward, breaking from the crowd, "I will be your champion," Kol's voice was deep and loud, but not arrogant. He followed it with an introduction, and then the same Myrian salute the first had offered, an action so practiced it came naturally, even after its disuse.

"Kol of the Tempered Steel."

He offered no more. Not reasoning or honor. Just his name. For Dahlia.

[Kwantu]

There were far too many things on his mind. The trouble with the fang, the growing tensions between the members of different clans. Members had begun looking at each-other a little more suspiciously. He thought that he could escape it if he broke away for a few bells, and make his way further out, to the edges of the city itself; as far away from the courtyards and the bunks. He was almost brushing the edges of the city, and he kept going; slowly walking along the edges of the grounds and occasionally pushing a little farther, while he thought quietly. Occasionally, the butt of his spear clashed with the floor, but he kept it upright for the most part. He didn't want the noise to disturb anything. Why has everything been spiraling so far...

He got his answer. Not the one he'd been hoping for. It came in the form of a small glimmer that barely caught his eye. At first, he passed straight over it with his mind turned towards itself and little else. But as he thought on it, an as his mind suddenly snapped.. he slowly found himself so drawn that he stopped, dead in his tracks, and turned towards it. A person.. carrying something. At first he couldn't make out what it was.. it looked like just a lump of tanned meat with a strange skin stretched out over the surface and with strange lumps pushing up. The man didn't look like a butcher or an assistant so it was certainly enough to push at the mans attention for a few long moments.. until.. he took a much closer look, and immediately fell like he was going to be sick. Somewhere amidst the meat was a face. A normal, Myrian face. Fair, young... but the way that she'd been chewed just wasn't right. It wasn't clean like a tiger or a wild animal would go about it.. not with claws and teeth.

It just wasn't right. Something was terribly, horribly wrong. For a few, long chimes he could only watch the man stumble forwards with the dead remains clasped tightly in both hands, before he turned his back like a damn coward. The last thing he really noticed as he sped away was a group of soldiers moving in towards the man to inspect the damage and begin interrogation. Apparently there was no need to alert anyone of what he'd just seen.. and that suited the Myrian just fine. He just wanted to forget that little, innocent face staring up at the sky. She'd be with Myri now.

...

There were few things that could really frighten Kwantu. But the memory stayed with him over the rest of the course of the evening. Through food, through drink, through practice.. there was nothing on his mind but the sight of the glimmering, glassy and unmistakeably dead gaze of the girl shining through the shadows. Eventually, he broke away from his fang-mates for another walk, in the hopes of finding something else to open up his mind yet again. And indeed, he found it quite quickly. Barely a few steps passed the center, he heard a call. That, in itself, wasn't very surprising because there were plenty as it was. However, the fact that the caller in question not only held three copies of the Mengintai symbol around her clothes, but was flanked by two more Myrians armed with the Eye of Myri.. well. That was unorthodox enough for him to turn and actually pay attention when she began calling to the swiftly-gathering crowds.

He couldn't speak for what gripped their city. Or their jungles. But he knew there was something going on in there. He was almost tempted to report it back to the fang, but something told him to trust the woman. Maybe it was the unmistakeable gaze that she held with one milky eye. But in a moment, he sealed himself and opened for the task. Perhaps it would open an opportunity to prove himself to his fellow fang-mates if he managed to complete the tasks set on his own; he might get a little more respect from it all, in the end. "I will answer. And I will not rest until this grip is broken beneath my spear."The heavy bottom of the long-spear slammed once against the floor, as if acting as confirmation.

Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue

[Oryani]

Oryani had given up trying to understand the explanation for why they were doing this. Reylil had attempted, but it was too complicated to explain with their combined simple Common skills... and it was an odd reason anyways. Nothing to do with their usual work. However, she'd followed anyways, as the instructions for their 'activity' were relatively similar... lead her given horse, and follow her employer. The horse wasn't even a tricky one, just a leopardbred mare who followed her instructions placidly.

"Oi," she muttered harshly when the horse ducked its head to nibble on some grass. Maybe not so placid, then. She dragged the creature's head up with her lead rope, before calling out "Walk on," to catch up with Reylil. She was following behind anyways, so it was hard to notice, but you always wanted to be careful with horses... unless you were very sure of yourself, it was never a good idea to walk too close behind one... as some had a tendency to kick. Instead she left a good length of space between them.

She hadn't been paying enough attention, though, and nearly ran into Reylil's horse a few moments later... though it seemed to be partially Reylil's fault. The woman - who Oryani had only recently discovered was half Chatakwe - had halted, staring at an odd crowd that had grown. A Myrian stood in the city center, apparently gathering quite a bit of attention. She called out something loudly, in their native language, a kind of announcement of some kind. Oryani nudged her horse farther up and to the side, so she could stand nearby Reylil... but not so close as the horses could bite at each other.

"What is it?" she asked, glancing over at her boss. The half-Myrian glanced back.

"They want... people. Help people. Problem... in jungle. Fight, maybe." The woman pointed to a few who stepped forward. "They help." Oryani eyed the trio so far... and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She recognized two... one by name, and the other simply by sight. The former was Kol, whom she'd met at the bonfire at the beginning of the season along with Tazi. The latter was that odd man who'd turned up at Hooves n' Horns, whose image was vaguely familiar to her.

"Help?" she repeated, curiously. A thought, a small thought came to her. The Myrians regarded her as less, because she... simply wasn't them. She hadn't proved herself. From what she'd discovered, Myrians proved themselves to other Myrians when they were the right age... or something like that. Helping... that would be her chance. She didn't know why, but she still wanted to prove herself... to do something. If only to get out and fight again.

She reached back with a free hand and rubbed the bow that she'd brought along, strapped to her back. The quiver was there too, and she had her vambrace on... though that had little to do with actual fighting. "I want... help. To help. Um..." She was about to step up and volunteer, for whatever it was, but she glanced at her lead rope awkwardly. She couldn't exactly leave the horse behind.

"It ok... We here." Saying that, Reylil raised an arm and waved at pair of Myrians, who'd been hanging around the edge of the crowd. They jogged over, one happily taking Oryani's lead rein, before chatting happily to Reylil in Myrian. "Go," the woman added in Common to Oryani, before focusing fully on the conversation.

With the chance in hand, Oryani shuffled through, standing up with the others, feeling slightly awkward and out of place... though that was a familiar feeling.

"I want to help. I am Oryani Darkeye," she stated a little too loudly, trying to pull herself straighter and look fit for whatever needed help with.

- Pavi - Common -

[Voodoo]

Naekasi waited patiently, not annoyed in the slightest by the first wave of silence that overcame the crowd. She had come to a place in the city that was not frequented by those in the army. Instead, brawlers and weapon-ready Myrians that did not like the order of the military frequented it. Those that were a part of the army lurked on the edges of the gathering. They had been placed here to keep the peace if anything were to get out of hand. What she needed today were those interested in getting the messy job done, no matter what it took.

Her eyes landed on the first woman to speak up, dressed in bright red cloth. Naekasi registered the name and quickly began wracking her brain. This woman had served her time already, and if she recalled correctly, was an adept healing during her service. This would surely come in use for the group she would send out into the forest. She lowered her head in a nod of acknowledgement. Before she could send words of thanks to the Myrian, another stepped forth to offer their services. Her good eye landed upon this male. He too had served his time. Naekasi did not know much about him, and by his curt answer, she knew why. He must have kept to himself in his time, understanding his place in their matriarchal society. As bag and masculine as he was, she was somewhat surprised he had not tried to attain something more during his service. After all, she could see many great women vying for his attention. Again she nodded, and again she was unable to speak as another man stepped forward. He was a classic Myrian male, dark skinned and rather grungy looking. The point of his spear was sharp, and she registered that he was an active soldier. Good. Maybe she could entrust him to lead with tactics.

Naekasi waited a moment more. Three Champions for her used seemed to be a little sparing. She understood that no one wanted to volunteer his or her services without more information, but she did not want to alarm the city. Rumors and stories could poison one’s mind, and she knew they were already flying rather feverishly through the streets. Even as she had stalked to this portion of the city, she had heard murmurs of chewed children and missing soldiers. She couldn’t blame those that had gathered for being scared. Something was targeting them, and it needed to be dealt with. Just as she was about to speak again, a small voice came from the back. She rested her gaze upon a tanned woman whom she had absolutely no knowledge on. Her counterpart probably knew more of her existence, and Naekasi would be sure to inquire later. Yet, an outsider was willing to help. The crowd gave Oryani some distance when she spoke, so she stood out like a sore thumb. Only when Naekasi nodded did they seem to relax a bit. Maybe she had skills they would need.

“Myri has spoken through these brave souls. Your champions stand before you, people of Taloba! Now, be off about your business. Champions to me.”

Again it was short and to the point. Naekasi descended from her perch as the four came closer to her, standing in a single line before her. Of course, she held up her hand slightly to prevent them from talking. They could get acquainted with on another later.

“You three…” Naekasi motioned to Zemeia, Kol, and Kwantu. “Gather your weapons and some other necessary items. You have a bell. Meet at the main gate. You will be given further instructions at that time. Now go.”

Naekasi than turned to the tanned outsider, focusing both her milky eye and her brown one on those deep black pits. She took a breath before smiling. Her behavior changed slightly, softened as she spoke Common to the young woman, thinking it would be easier to understand. “I need you to help with a mission in the city. Bring someone you trust, and is fluent in Myrian, and meet me at the Tower of Bones. I shall give you further instruction on your mission when you arrive. You have a bell.”

With order given out, Naekasi promptly turned on her heel to leave the area. Her Mengintai soldiers fell in line with her. Emblazoned on all three of their backs, the Eye of Myri watched the four as the parted to prepare.

OOCThere has been a slight change-up. Zemeia is joining Kol and Kwantu in the jungle quest. Oryani and an NPC of your choice (one of your exile friend maybe?) will handle the other quest. This is due to time commitments and to keep everyone involved. You'll receive small grades when this thread is finished, mostly for lores and such.

Post once more here, it doesn’t have to be long, and once I see everyone in your group post, I shall set up the next thread, in which you will have far more control. I’ll be playing the bad guys from here on out. Good luck. ~VD

[Kol]

Kol heard the dismissal loud and clear, giving a dip of his head and turning promptly on his heel. His eyes scanned over the other volunteers, passing Oryani and nodding to her silently in acknowledgement. He remembered her, and respected her desire to want to help out his home city in crisis. Kol spared no words, weaving past the Chaktawe and towards his home to retrieve his gear. As always, his whip and dagger hung from his waist, but his other gear would be essential. He did not know how long this mission would take, nor what they would be facing.

Once he made his way to his clan home, he went straight to his room, grabbing his backpack with some food rations and supplies, looking around for other useful items. He didn't own much, and already his flint and steel were packed away. Kol opened a chest in his room, pulling out a shirt that had been given to him by a friend. He folded it over in his hand, the memory bittersweet. Folding it up, he shoved it into the bag and tied it up, exiting almost as quickly as he had arrived.

Dark hair falling forward, Kol tightened the laces of his boots and started running towards the gates. His heavy footprints thudded against the dirt, his pack bouncing on his back, and he kept his breathing level as he moved. Picking up speed, Kol jumped and weaved through the Myrians walking around the city, bare chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

The gates came into sight all too quickly, and Kol slowed to a jog, looking for those he would soon call partners.

[Zemeia]

Zemeia eyed the men who stepped up beside her. The first was a hulking beast of a man - taller than herself - with a chiseled physique, and a dark, brooding stare; a perfect Myrian specimen if ever there was one. "His Matriarch must be proud" she thought before moving on to the second man who'd called out. This one was smaller; shorter, even, than Zemeia by at least half a foot. "He is so young," she thought as her eyes rested upon his youthful features. For a moment she allowed herself to be reminded of her younger brother - now passed. They had the same dark hair, small stature, and reckless, wild air. But that is where the similarities ended. This young man had clearly seen his share of combat. He wore his scars with apparent pride. And there was something almost Machiavellian about his eyes. He was a survivor. Her bright red turban bobbed a bit as Zemeia gave a subconcious nod of acceptance and approval. They were men, but they seemed fit, competent, even dependable; well suited for combat.

The smaller woman who'd come from the back of the crowd, however, was intriguing. She was small, clearly a foreigner, and much harder to judge. Zemeia found herself fighting the strong urge to read her aura; to delve into the well of information that would be so easily accessible. But she was already weak from her earlier exploits, still had a had unknown trials ahead of her, and already Naekasi was giving orders for their dispatch. The dark eyed woman would have to wait.

She did not wait long enough for introductions, or even to give a proper salute as Naekasi departed, but headed straight for her hut to prepare in a flurry of pressing purpose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

A handful of chimes later, and Zemeia found herself waiting at Taloba's main gate. Her usual attire had been sacrificed for simple cotton clothing befitting the situation. Even her signature turban had been left behind, in the knowledge that it would stand out amongst the foliage of the jungle. Her hair cascaded in streams of long braids from a high, tight pony tail; the beads and trinkets which decorated them, collected from years of service and battle, on display for the first time in years. She shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably, wriggling her toes about in her tightly laced boots, no longer accustomed to the feel enclosing leather. Almost instinctively her hands found their way to the small, carved knuckle bone that hung from a cord around her neck. And as she traced it's intricate design, she calmed a bit. Slinging her pack from her shoulder she knelt to check her packing for the umpteenth time since leaving her hut. Rations, a smattering of pre - prepared medicines, bandages, water... everything looked right, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something. With a heavy sigh she gripped her Tamo daggers tightly as they hung from her belt. "As long as a Myrian has her weapon, she has all," Zemeia repeated her Aunt's soothing mantra quietly, and prayed to the Goddess that it would prove true.

Heavy footfalls jarred her from her prayer as she recognized the tall Myrian approaching. She stood and gave him a nervous smile and curt nod in greeting, feeling (and probably looking) a bit awkward. She was really no good with social graces, even for a Myrian. She had already given her name publicly. Did she really need to do so again? "Maybe not..."she thought and silently hoped that, perhaps, he would spare her the floundering agony of small talk as they waited for the third and final member of their party.

[Kwantu]

Truth be told, by the time they'd all stepped forth, Kwantu was left glancing over the other candidates. He didn't pay too much attention to them, although he swept his gaze over them long enough to catch the bare essentials that he'd most likely need for the future before focusing elsewhere - particularly in the number. Three Myrians, of the entire crowd. He had to admit, it was rather baffling that no other would step forwards.. although. It as then that he began to question just how much these others knew.. what they had seen. Had they saw the same as he had? The child, mauled in such a way that it almost seemed as though what should have been impossible, had indeed occurred. Maybe they had seen even worse things than he could think, happening elsewhere around the city. He did not know, and so his mind wandered further and further into the possibilities. They were enough to draw a shiver from his body but little else, thank goodness.

Why was this outsider being entrusted with what could essentially equate to the safety of Taloba itself.. was she special? As his eyes roamed her briefly, in an attempt to gather as much as possible without actually giving off the appearance of staring, he couldn't see much that would mark her as anything other than a foreigner. Certainly not Myrian, and possibly not even human. He struggled to avoid wrinkling his nose because one way or another, she'd found her way into the city and now she stood unmolested, which meant she was worth something.

She was even being allowed to perform inside the city while she worked.. and entrusted with keeping another friend in her aid. Oh well. There were other things to concentrate for the moment, although he'd be keeping his eye on her nonetheless. He needed to gather what little other gear he could find, and make his way to the front gate. And that he did. For whatever reason he could not understand, he was now under strict orders to follow out an unspecified task outside the city that he could only guess would have relations to whatever the heck he'd seen that morning. Certainly, it was bound to be an interesting day, and when he passed his fang-mates and went about collecting what little things of use he could gather before disappearing back out, he threw them a sly little grin. Time to find out what's really going on.

There was no point in changing. As usual, all he wore was cotton in the form of a loin-cloth and a few sparing scraps around the shoulders. There'd be no hiding the puckered and worn scars clouding the length of his spine and shoulder-blades, as well as the rest of his body, from view. Spear in one hand, his wares and possessions stuffed into a bag hung by the other.. he was ready for the outside world.

Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue

[Voodoo]

Kwantu, Kol, and Zemeia:

Your thread and directions are located here: I shall grade this one and give you all lores and skill points as necessary.

Oryani:

I have sent you a PM with instructions.