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a goose

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  • Birthday 04/15/1998

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    i do music stuff i guess

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Savage Inferno Awakened

Savage Inferno Awakened (212/293)

  1. IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) The new boss? "You don't believe I imagined it." It was a guess, but an educated one – something in the Bone Hunter's reaction spoke more to shock than disbelief. Somnii's tone had shifted, now; it was more gentle, more conversational, perhaps even sympathetic. "You don't know for sure, and we both know at least some people have seen him. That means he's keeping his inner circle sworn to secrecy, and hiding himself from the rest. Why, then? Why doesn't he want you to know what he looks like?" OOC: @Toru Nui
  2. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) Not stupid, he thought; Brazen. Isolation and enmity had blinded the Ash Tribe leader, but Tueris saw a cunning in the actions of the Bone Hunter. As he'd heard it, Raanu knew Somnii's family well – hearing the Hunter's story, seeing her body laid out before him in that state, it felt like a calculated move. Raanu was a wise man with a nose for danger, and he'd been raising red flags about recent changes in Bone Hunter activity. Tueris couldn't help but wonder if that had made him a target. On top of that, if the Bone Hunter was lying, they were walking through ****** and straight into a trap; if he wasn't, the same held true, and he got rid of the only person that could've told them not to. Either way, instead of guarding caravans and travelers, Glatorian from all over were off on an arduous journey to their near-certain demise, just in time for the busiest season the roads ever see. Great business for slavers. He looked to Aurax. "It's strange, alright. On that much we agree. And as for the Bone Hunters…" He trained his eye upon Somok, a new harshness in his expression. "It's easy to dismiss as savagery what we don't understand. You may not think much of Raanu, and I can hardly blame you, but I actually know him. He's a great man, and a wise leader; if he takes the Bone Hunters seriously, then so do I." Seriously as a threat, or as a source, he felt no need to clarify. To his mind, they were the same thing. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad
  3. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) "We don't know for sure that there even is a plague." Tueris stroked his chin absently, and allowed the silence to linger while he gathered his thoughts. "Raanu met with a Bone Hunter, who claimed he and some others found the Iron Tribe leader half-dead from this 'plague' in Iron Canyon. Only word about it came from them, and since they burned the poor girl's body to a crisp after she 'succumbed,' we don't even have any evidence – 'sides a charred corpse – to back their story up. So, you see our issue." OOC: @Nato G @~Xemnas~ @Burnmad @oncertainty
  4. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) "You've really heard nothing? Seen nothing?" Tueris' eye was suspicious, but his tone was not. Though it went against his own advice, he had to ask the question the Ferrumite had overlooked; if they failed to arm themselves with as much information as possible, this expedition would be over before it had even begun. "We were hoping you might know more than we did. I know you're all pretty isolated, but if anyone would know anything…" OOC: @Nato G @Burnmad @oncertainty @~Xemnas~
  5. IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "...You don't know, do you?" The words somehow left her mouth with more confusion than judgment, genuine surprise undercutting what could otherwise have been a taunt. So taken aback was she that she almost – almost – failed to notice the Skrall slave's odd expression as he left. It was a familiar kind of admiration; acknowledging it always brought a twist of guilt to her stomach, something she had been unsettled to learn was not simply natural for anyone who found themselves placed upon a pedestal. To her mind, she was no better than anyone else – all she had ever done was speak her mind, and listen. Still, for those used to being unheard and seeing corruption go unchallenged, her attitude had often seemed to be a great relief. To Somnii, that wasn't a reflection of the quality of her personhood, or even of her leadership; to her, it was the bare minimum that should be expected of anyone, especially those in power. Therein lay the guilt: being praised and admired for so little was a reflection of how little people had come to expect. It was a failure of herself, and those in positions like hers, that led to it. For now, she filed away a note in her mind that recognised the slave as a potential ally, and turned the totality of her attention back to Taldrix. "He was the one who brought me here. Honestly, I just kind of assumed he's the guy in charge." OOC: @Toru Nui @Mel
  6. IC: Skrall (The Prison Wagon) "Have you ever seen evidence of witchcraft with your own eyes? Even once?" Skrall did not wait for a reply. "I survived because I started collecting and drinking water in the way the prisoner did; he told us the truth, from the start. We didn't face a single struggle that we ourselves didn't create – all our ailments were entirely preventable, if we had only asked the locals for help, instead of treating them with suspicion and condescension. My comrades weren't killed by witchcraft or hardship. They were killed by Skrall superiority. And if you keep thinking it's treason to admit we aren't invulnerable, you won't last very long in the Wastelands." OOC: @skrall but especially @Toru Nui
  7. IC: Skrall (The Prison Wagon) "We were a party of six; our leader died first. We initially believed that he was simply going mad – he became confused, unsure of who and where we were, then turned paranoid. We were considering killing him in his sleep – mutiny was a crime, but in this case, it could also be a mercy. He spared us the trouble by never waking up. "We thought he'd been cursed by the people of a nearby village. We took the man we thought responsible as a prisoner; when we returned to Roxtus, he would come with us to answer for his crimes. But then he started talking." Skrall's face betrayed a cold fury, passionless and raw. "Sunstroke. He diagnosed it easily, the moment we mentioned our leader's lack of sweat – as the only named one among us, he had insisted it was due to his mental and physical superiority, the same reasoning by which he refused to rest in the heat of the day or take shelter from the sun. He was Skrall; such weakness was beneath him. "Oh, we didn't believe the prisoner at first, thought it more tricks – after all, what reason did he have to tell the truth? But we favoured the shade and travelled by night from then on, and none of us met our leader's fate. But it wasn't long before the rest of us fell ill, clearly the doing of our bound companion. We were suffering fatigue, dizziness, nausea; one of our number succumbed to delirium and wandered into the desert, convinced he had seen an oasis on the horizon. We found his dessicated body lying in the sand three days later, picked clean by carrion. We were growing weaker by the day, and after another of us died in his sleep, I stated the obvious: we weren't cursed. The prisoner showed the same symptoms as us, and had identified the cause days earlier – much of our water had evaporated in the heat, and with no way of recovering what had been lost, we were rationing it. And we were rationing it too tightly." He heaved a pained sigh, clearly still troubled by the recollection of what came next. "The prisoner had suggestions – cutting into cacti, turning over rocks. Superstition and nonsense. We were Skrall, we knew how to fend for ourselves; we dug down and used the groundwater. Not two days had passed before all three of us who remained were struck down with fever and agony of the stomach; what water we drank, we passed immediately, now saturated with blood. One more scout took his own life rather than endure the pain. We two who remained knew that we were dying, and my comrade blamed the prisoner. Even I could not deny that he was the only one who was not suffering as we did, but rather than kill him as my comrade bade me, I asked him why." Skrall produced a flask of water and took a swig, savouring it. His mouth felt dry from the memories alone. His eyes, which had turned to the middle distance during his tale, fixed themselves again on the fool Skrall. "Tell me, Skrall. Tell me why I lived, and my comrades did not." OOC: @skrall but primarily @Toru Nui
  8. IC: Skrall (The Caravan) Skrall began to chuckle. "You know who I am, don't you? What became of my unit?" He turned to look the suicidally overconfident Skrall dead in the eyes. "Care to wager a guess at the glorious manner in which they fell?" OOC: @skrall, but primarily @Toru Nui
  9. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) Tueris nodded to Aurax, though his expression was grim. Each additional member of their party was an additional life to worry about, and an additional vector for transmission. He had once read a story of a boat, travelling down a river of water; it stopped again and again along the banks, taking on a new passenger each time. It never reached its destination. The weight of its occupants forced it below the waterline, and the lot of them drowned. He followed closely behind the Ferrumite. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad
  10. IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "Wait." It went against her every instinct, but she knew that she was powerless here. She needed leverage. She needed information. Planning an escape would only go so far if she didn't even really know who she was escaping from. "Who is the four-eyed man?" OOC: @Toru Nui
  11. IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "******, I guess not. They must have been a little busy with the whole 'being dead' thing." Somnii rose unsteadily to her feet, fists clenched. "Newsflash, shitbird – you don't know me. Go find some other effigy to burn." OOC: @Toru Nui
  12. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) The journey to Precipere was worryingly uneventful. Even the trails and tunnels connecting it to Vulcanus were in shockingly good condition, given how little use they saw; Tueris supposed he should be glad. After all, as he and his party emerged from the mouth of the cave directly overlooking the village, the sun had only just begun to rise, bathing its primitive stone structures in blood-red light. A more superstitious Glatorian might have considered it an ill omen, particularly given the Ash Tribe's macabre traditions. Tueris knew better: None of them were making it back alive anyway. No omen could change that. "Once we're in the village, stay silent unless spoken to. These folks aren't likely to take kindly to a bunch of heavily-armed mercs swaggering into their home. Ruster, you take point; less bad blood between your tribe and theirs." In case the epithet wasn't clear enough, Tueris fixed his one good eye on Aurax and nodded to him. OOC: @~Xemnas~ @oncertainty @Nato G @Burnmad @Geardirector @Toru Nui
  13. IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Long Road to Ferrum) "Then it's time we left. It'll be dawn before we reach Precipere, and we need as many daylight hours in Iron Canyon as possible. The heat may be nasty, but Skopio are nastier." IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "That's funny, I don't remember ever seeing you in Ferrum. Maybe I couldn't see you past that nose of mine." Somnii's eyes burned bright with resentment, and she felt more awake than she had in what felt like weeks. "Or maybe you're confusing me with someone else. Do you often find yourself projecting childhood grudges on people you don't know?" OOC: @oncertainty @Burnmad @~Xemnas~ @Toru Nui @Mel
  14. IC: Skrall (The Caravan) "If what you say is true, then your punishment appears unjust. I can listen to and understand that much, and it surprises me that Tirveus didn't – if anything can cut through a party of Skrall that quickly, then your presence would only have meant one more corpse on the ground. But your story invites questions: where the enemy came from, where they went, why you alone were spared. How can anyone listen to answers you won't give?"
  15. IC: Skrall (The Caravan) Skrall wanted to scoff, to dismiss the story out of hand. He had no patience for superstitions and ghost stories; whatever had driven Tirveus and the Legion south, it was flesh and blood. Sure, his brethren had come to Roxtus with all kinds of stories – but Skrall had been living here, in the real world. There was no room for such fanciful excuses in the south. And yet, something about the telling made the hairs rise on the back of his neck and sent a chill through his core. "Surely you must have seen something. Nothing is fast enough to kill a whole patrol and simply vanish into thin air." OOC: @BULiK @Vezok's Friend
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