Closed Danger in the Grass [Modded Thread]

[Translucent]

Time Stamp: 31st Winter 513

Winter has hit the region now, there is little doubt about it as snow blankets much of the grasses and into the city of Riverfall. It is not the deep snow of the north, nor is there ice that makes traversing dangerous, but it does make for beautiful if cold scenery. The grass that poked up out of the grass was yellow and brittle, and was plentiful enough that the snow did not look quite as overbearing as it might have. The grasses also made good cover for those which wanted to uses it.

However out in the grasses, beneath the white snow dirt begins to move. Just the barest stirring of dark brown soil at first, then another, then suddenly a crude hand is pushed up. The nails are all jagged, none the same length as another, coated with soil, and a hibernating worm falls from the pinky to lay on the now blemished snow. Within ticks more hands stretch up from the snow to the sky, and the land for a full mile trembled and quaked as an army of yukmen began to rise from the womb of Mizahar. Their flesh were a muddy brown color, some with rocks protruding from their bodies, others with little winks of gems. This was a small batch, only about fifteen awoke from their slumber. Even though a low number awoke, there was still the customary 'culling' as they immediately fell upon two or three of the weakest, most slow members.

It was a vicious ritual, nails and teeth tearing yukman flesh, mud and blood now coloring the snow until actually four yukmen lay dead, leaving the final number to be at eleven. The first pushed a body back into a hole that had been left from their 'birth', crudely kicking the dirt back over it. Mimicking the first, the other yukmen began doing the same. These were humanoid in appearance, most ranging from four foot seven inches tall to five foot three, all where male. Turning, shambling in a random direction the Yukmen began to walk in a slow motion, toward RIverfall. Their eyes were dark brown to black, grunting and groaning in what perhaps might have been communication of some sort, though they seemed to all just move in a almost instinctual motion toward a population.

[Sybel]

Sybel felt out of place in a yvas. No matter where she sat upon it, the positioning just felt wrong. Kavala was working to teach her how to ride in one, rather than the conventional full-tack. But as much as she enjoyed learning, she desperately wished to do it upon her good friend Eplah, rather than the mounts that’d been temporarily loaned to her. The desertbred was the only thing that remained of her homeland. She’d known the mare since she had been small. They’d grown togther.

And now, the horse was slowly reaching the end of her life.

Sighing, she tried to put the thoughts from her mind. Once they circled back to the Sanctuary, she’d go spoil the horse outrageously. Eplah was getting plenty of rest and it seemed she was enjoying her new equine companions. Sybel realized with a guilty sigh that she’d worked the horse as hard as she worked herself, a pace that had become unforgiving over the years. They both deserved rest.

So she tried to turn her mind back to the matter at hand.

They rode out into the grass to meet Riaris, which was a grudging matter on her part. While she did not wish to see the relationship between Kavala and him end, it was only bred out of a desire for the woman’s happiness. Otherwise, she could’ve cared less. Riaris was inextricably linked to Recoomas and whatever he heard, the other heard too. There could be no trust between them, so long as the darker brother hid within, biding the time until he could again emerge and inflict pain.

Vanator would speak. Sybel was simply there to provide support and further, to ride with Caelum so that he wouldn’t find himself lost in the shifting currents of their desires. She could keep her heart simple enough, when she wanted. So she bobbed along her horse, thighs tight around the saddle, but loose enough that she wouldn’t cause discomfort. Her upper body rolled awkwardly against the motion.

She cast a smile at the two men flanking her and dropped further to the rear, allowing the two of them to intercept the large purple Akalak. As far as she was concerned, she had nothing to say to him. Instead, she fingered at the hilt of her longsword, eyes watching the grass.

[Vanator]

Dry, brown shoots of grass pricked out of the snow that covered the plains outside of Riverfall. The Striders responded to the cold with a prancing friskiness, as if eager to plow through the white blanketed grass. It was an outing instigated by Vanator, his motives manifold. He itched to get out into the grass, as he often did. The Denusk man was not accustomed to being this far north in Winter, the pavilions of Endrykas pitched in the slightly warmer climes of southern Cyphrus at this time of year. But the cold and snow did not diminish his need for the open plains.

The other was to get Sybel and Riaris used to riding Striders. Whether they ever bonded with one of the herd or not didn't really matter. But it would be a boon to Sanctuary and the things planned there if they could all move together swiftly on the djed-fueled mounts. Van would love for Sybel to bond with a Strider eventually, but that would be up to her. As for Riaris, well, things were not always peachy between Riaris and Kavala, but Van's guess was he would be around, and as a member of the Kuvay'Nas, and a friend, The Drykas invited him to join them.

Caelum, of course, retained the knack for the Striders, having learned to ride them ages before any of the rest of them were born. The horned Eth healer may not have looked like a Drykas, but he rode like one, and was skilled in horsemanship. Van would have liked Kavala to join them, but it was too soon after the birth of the babies, and with Ia’del still weak, he could not ask his sister to leave her. His twins, Aweston, and Chalce all agreed to help for a few bells while the others went for the ride.

They had ridden at a leisurely pace out into the grassland, when the group halted. Van shifted, adjusting the mail beneath his cloak. He had come fully armed and armored. They all had, knowing well enough what lurked in the grasslands. In winter, predators were more desperate. Van surveyed the terrain around them, then turned to Caelum.

"Alright Doc, I think this is a good place to let them stretch out their legs." Van then gave a wry grin to Sybel and Riaris.

[Caelum]

The name of Kasb’el Sunsinger’s strider had been Aingeru. Caelum had not known this for years following his fall, the life of the Drkyas whose skin he wore by night as distant to him as a city lost in history’s fog. The windmarks that littered his body told tales, but their cohesion was more artistic than it was translatable, and he could never quite suss out the secrets of their symbolism. It took one of his descendents, one of Kasb’el’s descendents, to tell him. The name Aingeru was known amongst some of the older tales of the Drykas, as was his own, a prominent figure of the horse clans in the age of the Valtarrian. That had certainly been a surprise to Caelum. He mulled over it now while on the back of a strider, comfortable as a bird in the sky. He seat was relaxed and his eyelids were so heavy he could have been dozing, lulled by the breaths of his horse and the familiar roll of the grasslands swirling around them. All of his limbs moved fluidly with his borrowed strider, working seamlessly with his mount who, he learned, was called Maron. He thought it an odd name at first, but as the day lengthened before them he decided he liked it. It fit. Maron. Caelum blinked, straightening out of his daydream. A smirk shot across his mouth without warning for being called Doc. The elegant shortbow slung across his pack bristled as he rolled his shoulders and turned his regard to Sybel and Riaris. “If you fall off, try not to land on your head,” he advised cheerfully.