[h3][center][b]Raux The Silver-Eyed Monk
-=Early Morning: Wilderness=-[/b][/center][/h3]

The gentle sound of the early morning rain bounced among the stone lips of a cave mouth. The natural groves guided and eased the sounds into a roaring echo that lead deeper down the tunnel and into a small cavern. An underground river broke through the cave wall, and flowed with eagerness into a channel that guided the water downhill and out into the rain. Droplets crawled down stalactites and fell to the hard ground with soft plats.

A lone female raksha was asleep on the ground. She lied on her back wrapped in her linen cloak and head on her bag. Her rags of clothes had been washed in the nearby stream and hung on the rock shelves to dry. She stirred silently. Her nostrils flared. Her lips flattened and pursed, and she shifted once more. A single eye opened, but saw nothing - no crack of light, no dancing shadows. Her jaws parted with her tongue slipping free, and  nostrils flared once more. She inhaled deeply.

The musty scent of earth was quick to greet her. It carried the scent of healthy plants, rotting wood, and of course… mud. The tang of salt and calcium from the cave walls near her accented the mellow scents, and gave the air a bit of zing in taste. But… she smelled something else. The musty scent of another creature.

She shifted once more, and she felt it. A long body slithering across her bare stomach and up to her chest. Her arms twitched, and she felt another. The body wrapped around her arm. Her tail twitched and she felt something dart past her leg. Her ear twitched when she picked up a soft flicker over all the sounds of the rain and the flowing water.

Ruax, as her name is, sighed and slowly but carefully sat up. Being careful to not agitate her uninvited guests, she reached into her cloak and grasped one of the bodys. She felt cool scales and the body squished. Upon feeling her grasp she felt it try to slither faster through the hook of her thumb. She allowed it do as it pleased, but she still wrapped her fingers gently around it and pulled it out. 

Once it was out, she heard the sounds more clearly. A loud hiss filled the air. A snake. The creature stared at her with beady eyes. The creature bore a simple pattern. Earthy brown spots covered the body, and were outlined with a few black scales. Outsides of the scales, it had a light tan back, and an enamel colored belly.

The monk did not look at the creature. It would do her no good. But she did gently run a finger along it’s body, starting from the back where her hand held it, and running down the spine to the head. She felt the snake real away… but found no signs of aggression.

[color=salmon]“Looking for a warm place to sleep, hm?”[/color] The monks soft voice rang out in the cave. She smiled as she held her palm out, and allowed the snake to crawl over her hand. She used it to guide it back to the ground. She pulled out the next snake, and allowed it to slither away. [color=salmon] “Sadly it is time for you and your friends to go. The birds are chirping, so the morning is here. It is time for me to get on with my day,” [/color]she rasped as the last snake soon slithered away when she shook her leg.


The cougar-like beastkin rose from the ground, clambered to her feet, then slipped out of her cloak. She then ran through her morning routine. She stretched, letting the muscles in her body grow limber once more after lying on the cold stones for so long. They were simple stretches at first. Then feats of flexibility. Touching toes, bending over backwards, splits, and twisting the spine, and pulling each leg up behind herself and over her head.

Then came the bath. Hygine was important to the monks she grew up with. And the lessons they taught helped her understand why. Her body was her true temple. Failure to take care of it, will mean that it will fail on you when you need it the most. Even the simplest thing such as an unkempt tuft of fur could lead to severe consequences. She scrubbed diligently. Her mostly clean and nearly water resistant fur becoming even cleaner… if it was possible. Her many ropes of hair would be agitated and dunked in the water to pull away any dirt or leaves that may have clung to her in the travels. Even her claws were carefully cleaned and sharpened to her satisfaction. This last bit… was more for safety than hygiene. Like a knife, a safe claw… is a sharp claw.

Finally… came redressing. The blind monk always thought of this as an odd part of life. She could never see the reason behind clothing. She had been told all of her life that it was to hide their shame. And that it improper to be naked in public. And that many were offended or embarrassed by the sight of another’s body. Well… none of it mattered to her. She was blind. She can smell most of what people wish to cover and it just became a part of daily life for her, as unpleasant or pleasant as that may sound. She wore clothes mostly for other’s benefits. Sadly… her clothings were not as hardy as their owner. Over the journey they have been reduced to tatters from many acts of self defence, or from trees and rocks tearing at them. Now… she wears them in ribbons and wrappings. At least it came close to satisfying both perspectives. Her’s and the world’s.

She had her breakfast. A hard tack, which she softened by dipping into the rivers water, and a pickle. A hard tack… is like a biscuit in the most unappetizing way. Instead of being soft, fluffy, and buttery, it was hard, shaped like a throwing disk, and tasted plain. The components that made an appetizing bisquit possible was removed for the sake of creating a bread that was able to last for a year without molding or growing stale. A favored meal of no one, but one of the easiest things to carry, make, or buy. The culinary disaster or genious… the hard tack. And she ate it without much thought. Even she, with her tastebuds more sensitive than most, could not pick up anything that was enlightening from such a bland treat.

[h3][center][b]-= Noon : Wilderness =-[/b][/center][/h3]

The scent of blood. The gentle breeze had done it’s best to push the smell away… but Raux had discovered it nonetheless. She had left the cave not long after she finished her meal. With her quarter staff in hand, she had trecked for a handful of hours through the peaceful drizzle. Once again, her cloak covered her body and did well at keeping the rain and mud off of her body. She was enjoying the day… till she came across this dreaded scent.

Oh yes… of all of the more exciting smells she wish to find… blood ranked the lowest next to a pile of fresh dung. The scent was fresh too… and too much must have been spilt if the rain was not able to mask it. A frown scoured it’s way onto the Raksha’s muzzle when something inside of her told her to follow. Her claws clenched tightly on her quater staff when set off to follow the scent.

Minutes later, and the scent growing stronger, she found herself near a thicket where a mix mash of scents had assaulted her at once. Her jaws parted, and she inhaled deeply. Her tongue flicked with each breath to taste the air.

Blood was definitely spilt here. The bitter taste of iron, and the sweet tingle of vitality danced in the air. Sweat and fury took on the sensation of a bitter aftertaste. And lastly… the smell of scavengers surrounding the area. All of these scents were fresh… they happened not long ago. But they were localized. She thoughtfully swept her staff in a circle near her feet. And sure enough, she felt the soft bump of a body.

A few bodies were strewn about on the ground. Some clung to their weapons. Others held fistfulls of mud… presumably when they tried to crawl away for their lives. Raux lowered herself down one, and sniffed near a cadaver’s neck. Her snout wrinkled as she pulled away. The man smelled as if he had died long ago. But the warmth from his body told the story that it was recent. A man with poor hygine. She could even hear the lice in the man’s beard scurry about. She felt the body… and felt the soggy touch of leathers. They were flexible, soaked, and about ready to fall apart. Oiled armor that may have been made by a great leatherworker… had fallen to nothing but trash. A touch on the blade showed many great nicks, deep gouges, damaged flats, botched sharpening, and bent edges from misaligned swings.

This man was no trained soldier. None of the dead ones were. They were likely bandits looking for an easy score. But from whom?

A ragged cough took her by surprise.

The monk, now alarmed, raised her head thoughtfully, and turned her ears towards the source. She heard the cough again.

[color=blue]“Aaargh..derm bastards phhhhuggered me good…… that soddin lot did…” [/color]The gruff voice said, his voice garbled. His breathing was broken up with pained wheezes

The monk, remaining in a crouch, edged her way closer. Her hand felt along the ground to warn her paws of oncoming tripping hazards. She stopped once she felt her hand brush against the other’s.  Her ear flicked, she could hear his heartbeat. It was alive… but it was not well. It missed beats occasionally… and she heard swirling… signs of a severe bleedout.

[color=salmon] “Hold still…” [/color]she said sharply. She had nothing she could staunch the bleeding with. She’d have to make do with what she had available. Her hand slid down to grab a ball of mud. Though when she touched the ground… she did not feel cool water. But warm water. She drew her fingers back, and gave the tip. She tasted the sweetness of warm blood. She dipped her hand back into the pool and followed the stream… it felt like it ran on forever… she wouldn’t be able to save this man.

She frowned… and grabbed the mud anyways. She packed it into the open wound to stop the bleeding for as long as she could. It’d risk infection, but it’d buy him what few precious seconds of life he had left. And if there was a chance in hell to save his life... the infection is a lot easier to solve than a man who ran out of blood. The human man squirmed in protest at the searing pain.

[color=blue]“SOD ME WITH THE MOON!”[/color] he roared as he kicked his legs. Blood sputtered from his mouth when he finally settled down and entered a coughing fit.

[color=salmon]“My apologies…”[/color] The monk said as she leaned in close to sniff the man’s neck. She detected a number of scents. Many which hold a much stronger presence than the battle that had taken place. Smells of others… one with the strength of passion… a wife. Two… with the strength of youth of energy… children. One ridden with alcohol and good times… a human… friend? She lifted her nose and sniffed the air once more. The man’s trail was still strong… if she’s lucky she could save him… but she was doubtful. Maybe if she could run at full speed… but with his weight and the muck...she would not be able to maintain a safe balance. She’d have to walk.

[color=salmon]“What happened…”[/color] the monk asked as she began to wrap the man in his cloak. She salvaged some rope from the dead bodies and tied it around him to hold the cloak in place and to give her a harness to help her carry him.[color=salmon] “... you have the voice of a man with experience and you…”[/color]

[color=blue]“... got my ass kicked by a lot of up-and-commin jackwagons?” the man weezed as he was hefted onto her back.[/color]

The monk paused… [color=salmon]“I was going to say wounded… I hardly call this a defeat.”[/color]

The man laughed… it was a horrible laugh. One that was broken up with a fit of hacking, with the sound of churning in his lungs, but he still laughed. [color=blue]“Lady, I don’t know what the hell counts as a victory in your book, but when you get stabbed multiple times when you’re trying to write your name in a bush with your piss… that ain’t no win. Damn well near loss my life!”[/color]

The monk smiled softly, but said nothing on the matter. She only continued to walk. [color=salmon]“To be fair… I am blind. I only smell the blood on you. And whos blood is who’s I do not know. You could have done yourself a favor, and told me a grand epic.”[/color]

[color=blue]“No shit…” [/color]The man wheezed. When the monk said nothing to confirm it was a joke or not. He weakly craned his neck to peer over her shoulder and under her hood. When she lifted her nose to take another sniff of the air, is when he saw the bandages. [color=blue]“Awww.. hell now ain’t that somethin.”[/color] the man made that horrible laugh again.

He was about to make another comment… but something seemed off. He felt like he was losing energy… all too quick. The world was swirling around him. And he could barely keep his thoughts straight. [color=blue]“Lass… where are we going…”[/color] he grumbled.

[color=salmon]“To a churigen…”[/color]
[color=blue]“You… blind…. A blind lassy take me to a churigen?”[/color]
[color=salmon]“I have your scent.  I can simply follow the trail and take you… home.”[/color]
[color=blue]“Bullshit…”[/color]

Raux said nothing. She waited… and listened. The scent in the air had not changed at all. She smelled no panic, heard no panic in his heart. Only that the beat was steadily fading away. And the man’s weazing grew worse.

[color=salmon]“It…. is the truth. However….”[/color] She said with a sigh. Her soft voice took a tone of pitty…[color=salmon] “I am afraid it won’t be to save you… but for your funeral preperations…”[/color]

[color=blue]“Aww… well aren’t you a kind girl…” [/color]The man chuckled softly. He coughed and a hand moved to clench at the mud packed wound in his chest.

[color=salmon]“You are…. Taking this well?”[/color]

[color=blue]“Well sure… sure… I mean… it’s not the way I would have wanted to die… at least I killed them after I finished up.”[/color]

The monk gave a solemn nod. The death was… unbecoming of a warrior. Her voice rang into the air once more, her ears fidgeted as it bounced off a tree, allowing her to make a small adjustment to her course to avoid it.[color=salmon] “How one dies… tells of how they lived. How would you rather die, sir?”[/color]

[color=blue]“Well… for starters… piss drunk and my head between a lass’s legs.”[/color]

That… actually caused the female raksha to pause mid step. Her jaw fell open for a moment. And then a giggle filled the air. A moment later, she was roaring in laughter. [color=salmon]“You’re rediculous!”[/color]


[color=blue]“Aw hush, every man dreams of that…” [/color]The weazing man laughed. His head began to hang in place, as he was no longer strong enough to hold it up right. That did not seem to stop his sense of humor. [color=blue]“What say you do a dying man a last wish? A little hairier than my type… buuut beggers can’t be choosers.”[/color]

The monk’s laughter grew louder now. [color=salmon]“Oh is that so? Face down or face up?”[/color]

[color=blue]“Heh… would face down… be pants down or up?”[/color]

[color=salmon]“Not wearing any…” [/color]The monk chirped, her laughter dying to a chuckle. But she paused when she noticed something different in the air. The lack of an extra heart beat. Her head turned slowly to look to the man on her back. He was no longer breathing. She shook her head softly. Her smile stayed, but it turned grim.

Her hand slowly reached behind herself to pull the dead man’s hood further down his head. She adjusted him, and continued on the trail. She began humming… then broke out into a song. It was a sad song. A song sang by soldiers as they marched off to war. A song for those whom will soon die, and those who will soon lose a friend.

[h3][center][b]-= Sometime in the afternoon - The Moving=-[/b][/center][/h3]

A few hours later, and Raux found herself overwhelmed with scents and sounds. She smelled fabric… everywhere. It was like one great big sea. She heard many of the tents with open flaps wave in the wind. She smelt the left overs of the morning’s breakfast from a tent somewhere in the distance. Oats? And bread? She could hear children gleefully play in the mud, sticks colliding against each other, and the boastful shouts of fictional knighthood.

The clattering of metal and leathers around her suggested that soldiers were moving about the camp. She could smell the tinge of salt from the sweat that dripped from their brows. But they paid no mind to her. Perhaps it was just her appearance… tattered clothing and a cloak suggested that she was probably some poor traveler that had wandered into… town. If this city of ‘sails’ could be called such.

Her nose raised up to the air, mouth parted open once more. She inhaled deeply. Many scents mingled in the air… many of which were simply strangers to her. But she did identify a familiar one that was nearby. The scent of booze… and a human. The drinking buddy she had smelled on the man from earlier. Her claws clutched her staff, and used the butt to give the ground a light tap on the ground. She listened carefully. Her ears swiveled and carefully honed in on the subtle echo that returned.

She followed the scent, moving gracefully to avoid the on coming traffic, and the occasional sapping or barrel that laid in her path. But eventually, she found a tent where the scent was at it’s strongest. There were more inside. All strangers. But she had a duty to attend to.

Her fingers ran along the tents curtain, and clutched an end where she felt a break. She swung it open and stepped inside. And just as her nose pushed past the entrance, and took a breath… the feline bawked in both surprise and disgust when she was met with a horribly strong stench of alcohol. Her head swam dizzily as she stumbled forward. She quickly jammed her quarterstaff into the ground, used it to hold herself steady.

[color=salmon]“Oh… dear. That smell is albit overbearing…” [/color]she huffed. Her nose lifted, raising the hood along with it in the process. Her head turned slowly over the guess, her nostrils flaring till she found the Human.

[color=salmon]“Ah… you! Erm… sorry for the intrusion, but I am Raux, a monk of Michael…”[/color] Raux spoke in her soft voice. She rose her icon from the necklace on her neck, and allowed it to fall once more. [color=salmon]“In my travels I have came across someone whom you may know.”[/color]

With that the woman swung the wrapped body from her back and gently laid him out on the floor, she slowly pulled the hood back to reveal a human man. He held a stupid grin on his face, as if laughing from a joke.

[color=salmon]“I know not the full details of what had happened… but from his few words… he was….. Taking a piss and was attacked by a couple of bandits. They had ran him through… but he managed to slay them all before leaving this world.”[/color]


[b]TLDR[/b]: Woke up, did morning routine. Found dying guy. Took dying and now dead guy to one of the familiar scents that was found on his body.