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Programming a Wasteland/Fallout 1&2 style game. Going so and so.

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Not now? What did this older gentleman mean not now? It was very important for her to know someone’s name. She could not describe someone to another by their scent. What was she to say exactly? Tell him that she was looking for a rough sounding man that smells like iron and bitterness? She wouldn’t be able to see the person’s expression.. But she had an idea. And by an idea… she really wasn’t sure anymore. But it must be very unkind. “Yes. Now. A name is your face, and body to a blind woman.”

She politely refrained from responding to Leouric, and only spared him a look before turning her head onto the sound of numerous feet pounding the muck. Among the barking and cawing of voices, the woman smelled a familiar scent. A drunken beard with legs, one of the companions to come. From the sound of it, he was of this shanty town’s guard. Though one question did arise. “What do I drop? I am unarmed.”
She remained still… waiting for the situation to disarm its self. But making no assumptions. While her sense of smell was partially blocked by a horse in rut, her ears could hear it all. The fast beating of hearts. The tightening of fingers that turned their knuckles white. The splintering of wood. And then finally, the sound of an object whirling in the air. “DOWN!” she barked, though she did not move. The sound of the weapon was slowly growing softer, not louder. It was not heading towards her.

It happened quickly. The metalic scent of blood. The sound of a compressing rib cage. Raux huffed a breath of air as she pulled a hand up to her own muzzle. The thumb snaked its way under the wrappings of her blindfold and pulled it back down over her useless eyes. Nothing approached her, and that was fine. But the confusion of sounds and the smell of the horse made things particularly… blurry for the monk.

But. There was something she was able to pick up on. Sounds of soft footsteps with a heart beat that did not match. A sneaky someone? Yes indeed. It seems that the one known as sneak blood was casually making his way around in the confusion. Then he drew in closer with his eyes settled on Reed. And closer… and closer.

The blind monk was not having it. Her staff was now taken in both hands and raised up from the ground, the bunt now hovering just closer as she quickly closed the distance. Before the man can get in striking range, she released the quarterstaff with one hand, and gave the bottom of the shaft a kick.

The weapon spun in her hand and planted an end firmly into the male’s collar bone. Feeling the resistance, she gave a hard shove to force him back and stepped forward. Her ears flicked when she heard an arm raised and metal ringing as it was flipped caught by the blade. She stepped to the side quickly and flicked her woolen cloak upwards.

A dagger met the heavy cloth pommel first with an audible puft, and bounced harmlessly towards the ground.
The cloak was now slown over her shoulder allowed to wrap around her neck to raise it out of the way of most of her body. And consequently showing off the scratched up and used metal plates that lined the side of her arm. And of course the worn but hard fighting gloves that covered her fist. Some areas of it stained black with old blood that periodic washing could not remove.

She spun her quarterstaff before herself, and allowed a slight embalance of weight to carry the long rod down it’s own length over her hand. When she felt the first signs of her hand nearing the end, she grabbed hold and allowed the momentum to carry it through the air and finally clapping down across her own shoulders.

“Quiet steps for a human who walks with brutes,” her voice rang softly, though now there was a rough edge to her tone. The male was in no mood for talking. His eyes glanced to his own weapon, then the bandage across the womans eyes.

Chancing his luck he charged. The weapon spun delicately in his fingers and he made a slash. The monk responded with stepping asside, her foot planting on his second dagger to hold it to the ground. Now closer, she could hear the weapon spin again and rise up. She tilted her head thoughtfully, finding it odd that the weapon was posed so high… when he was so far away.

Her toe wiggled feeling the edge of the dagger under her sole. It was sharp, had a few nicks in the metal that showed off use. The man was no fool it seemed. He wants his knife back, she concluded.

She allowed him to come, and when she heard a knee hit the mud she lifted her foot, and gave a pre-emptive swing. The loud crack of bone meeting bone filled the air as the thief’s arm bent unnaturally around her leg like a wrapping. The man growled out in distress.

The kick continued through, and the limb now acting as a rope drug the man along for the ride a short ways till it managed to get it’s self free. The leg raised up in the air as the monk spun her staff once more. This time it flipped through the air and tucked underneath the handling arm. The other one reached out towards the ground as her body tipped over in an overbalance.

She caught herself and allowed the momentum of the kick to swing her body about. She popped off her hand, landed on the other and continued the spin half way till the back of her leg met the back of the other’s neck. The limb quickly clamped down, the other locking her paw behind its knee - creating a vice.

The male gasped as her weight now bore down on him. His neck would have been broken if she didn’t plant a hand to catch herself. But the way she was squeezing, it was likely she had some intent to kill him. His legs kicked at the dirt, and his one good hand scratched and pulled at her fur.

“It is a shame,” She mused, her head tilting thoughtfully. Her tone was a cocktale of grim humor and a small pinch of sorrow for a man she barely knew. Her ears were flicking, searching for anyone who may draw near. “There was a good man that wished to die with his head between a woman’s thighs, I was unable to provide that wish in time. I am sure this is not what he meant, but what about you?” As if to drive the point further, she rolled to her side, her substantially larger weight easily flipping the man to his side. Now his legs kicked at the air as she squeezed as to drive a point. His face turning red and his eyes bulging. Though she had no intentions of killing him. She was just keeping him busy for now, playing with her pray. Like a house cat may toy with a captured mouse.
Inside Szazah’s Tent


The blind monk was unsure of what to make of what was going on inside this tent. The hard voice of the man who spoke, and his dismissal of the body that she had brought told the story of a man who had seen many battles, and had lead many more to their deaths.There wasn’t much more she could lable it as other than the traits of a military leader. With a tent of a man who had been through rough times. Raux’s chin dipped downwards to look to the body on the ground. It was interesting to see such a man as this lost soul around someone like that. Perhaps something changed this leader? Which ever it was, it was unlikly she were to find out. For now, she decided to stay in case this man wished to question her about what had happened.

And so she listened. Her ears picked up the heart beats of others. She had a hard time identifying them with her nose with the scent of alcohol so strong and trapped inside this tent… but she was eventually able to make them out. The first one, and the one that stood out the most was a Capbykin. There was a strong scent of kindle and ash that lured her senses to her. If her memory served correctly she had past a tent that was burned till it was no more. There were no questions or sense of alarm among the pedestrians… so it must have been a controlled burn. He was no mere arson… the smell of blood and urbs clung to him. A doctor? Then there was likely an infection that needed to be culled.

The next… this one smelled of strong alcohol, as if the water of his sweat had been replaced by it. There was a unique scent she had trouble with identifying. Not from unfamiliarity, but from rarity. A drunken beard with legs, a companion had once told her. Colloquially known as dwarf. She wasn’t able to pick up anything that would suggest a function, but stories suggest that there is never a dwarf who couldn’t beat someone to death with a door they ripped from the hinges.

There was a human, he did not smell of alcohol. His breath smelled of herbs, and there was a rough tint to his scent. He sat away from the others. Did he mean to isolate himself? There was the scent of a horse on him. A knight? Cavalier?

An elf. His scent was unusually pleasant. He smelt clean, saved for the few dollops of sweat that would come from moving around. He was odd… Raux had all the reason to believe he was not the sort to take to hard work… but he smelt leather and iron on him. Armor and blade.

A musky dragonoid with a large hint of soot and char in the mix. It was hard to not pick this scent up. It was strong. That was not to say foul, just very noticeable. A tribal most likely. The scent spoke of a proud warrior, she could imagine him easily towering over herself. Her head tilted slowly, would he be considered average or exceptional in his tribe? His precense was definitely putting up one hell of a fight against the bitter sting of the alcohol that drifted in the air.

Another human… there wasn’t much that she could identify on him of anything significance. Perhaps he was the most normal one here. Maybe she is wrong.

Regardless… she continued to listen intently. The man spoke of a people, whom sounded familiar. Similar to the story that the bard she had traveled with had once told. Though his stories were more detailed and elaborate than just mere snow people. Bards had a way of making even the dullest things fascinating. But here it was rather… odd for her to hear such a plain tale.

In fact… she found herself recalling the story that had captivated her. The vivid imagery. The sounds so well described by weaving words intricately to forming an atomsphere. It was like she was there herself. It was a beautiful tale. And one… that now had brought her some intrigue. The bard has said that there are truth in stories and legends. Perhaps this is such a case?

But… something had caused her thoughts to come to an end. Her ears swiveled as she picked up a very light thumping. A thumping of a heartbeat somewhere behind her. She tilted her head inquisitively and turned to look to the exit, though seeing nothing. Her nostrils flared, but she couldn’t find any new scents. Well… it is possible it was a child.

And it wasn’t much longer till the speech was over. The warlord… had walked past her without a word. She supposed… she didn’t have to stay. But hearing this conversation had intrigued her. In a way… she wanted to witness this wonder for herself. She had no obligation to follow, and she was not expected to. But from what she could understand… these people who were in the tent were expendable enough that no one would care, and chasing legends no one knew was true or not.

She spun on her heals, following after the human with the eyepatch. Her ears flicked when she heard the familiar hiss of the afternoon rain hit her hood. The cool water even ran down the sides of her snout. Her nostrils flared for a moment. She picked up many different scents. But most importantly, those of the group who left. Each one had ran off in their own directions… one apparently joined by another.

She slowly sturned about and walked aimlessly through the camp. She had no plans on stopping anywhere. She simply wanted to be left to her own thoughts. She continued to poke about, her staff occasionally knocking against a stationary object to warn her of it’s presence before she tripped over it, or bumped into it. But… eventually she found herself in an area of the camp. The ground felt as if very few people often come here. Her head slowly swiveled. Her ears rotating to find any signs of distractions. And all she could hear were the sounds of children playing. Satisfied, she lifted a foot and spun on the other.

She spun in place, her staff swinging off with her momentum and sliding in her hands. Her grip tightened as she felt a notch signaling she was near the end of the length and prevented it from going any further. Her spin came to an end with the lifted leg tucking it’s foot behind the other’s knee. The staff continued with the momentum spinning around and clapping gently against the back of her kneck. Her other hand reached up to grab the free end and hold it in place.

With one deep breath, her standing leg lowered her body to the ground in a sitting position. Another deep breath, and one hand fell from the end of her staff and into her lap. The other guided the butt between her legs, and allowed the length to rest on her shoulders. The fur of her cheek lightly brushed and kissed the smooth wood. She breathed deeply once more, and soon her sightless eyes were closed behind their coverings. She drew her next breath. The world began to feel as if it was speeding up around her as she exhaled. One final breath… and it felt as if the world around her didn’t exist.

Soon, she heard her own voice in her thoughts, singing. There were no words, but a beautiful harmony echoing in the abyss. A gentle creature brushed past her hands. A light bleat drifted into her ears. She felt it stroll around from her back and into her lap. Soon she was gently petting a creature she could not see, but very clearly describe. A lamb.

The Moving; Nearly an Hour later


The lamb stirred in her lap and lifted it’s head. It quickly hopped out of Raux’s lap and landed on nothing. And as strange as this was… she heard the sounds of hooves in the abyss when the creature trotted away. The monk sighed, her breath made no sound here. Suppose it was time to return to reality.

The world soon returned with a distinct sensation. She felt and heard everything in a matter of seconds. Footsteps rapidly slapping the ground and veering off in many directions. The few curious footsteps that drew close but not near enough to wake her, before wandering off. The rain drilling into her for mere moments before finally letting up into nothing.

Her breathing returned to it’s normal rate, just as the world began to slow down. Her eyes opened. And soon she rose to a stand. She took a deep breath and gave her legs a light shake. She pushed one out to the side, and crouched down to stretch the muscles, and did the same for the other. Once done, she turned and began to retrace her steps. It wasn’t long till she was back at the area in front of the tent. The rain had stopped and her hood had been let down.

She took a sniff. The scents of those that were going on this journey were still there. But they had veered off in many directions. Following one may leave her to be tardy as she’d only be retracing their steps. She could not explain it… but instincts and simple knowledge allowed her to find her way, somewhat, in the wild. She felt a ‘tug’ that usually leads her to her next destination. The occasional whisper, or conversation guided the course of this tug to her next desired location. But in cities? It disappears. It still was not a problem as the layouts were often predictable. But here… She frowned when she found that left only one option that wasn’t foolish. An option she hated… relying on someone else.

The edge of her lips diped downwards as she turned herself to the sound of a footstep. It felt as if her pride had already slipped the noose around its own neck. She held out her hand and a hard shell meet her palm. Metal.

The soldier looked down to Raux with a raised brow. He was about to respond with a generic response and well practiced response till he realized what had stopped him. His eyes lit up, and he nearly choked on his own breath. “O-oh! A Raksha! I don’t believe I have seen many of your kind,” The man’s voice ringed out. Outside of the excitement in his tone, his voice was young with rough edges. A middle aged man with enough experience in his belt to potentially become a mercenary later for a free company when this war was over. Should he survive.

“I do not believe I have seen much of my own kin either,” Raux spoke in her soft voice. She smiled at her own small joke. “Now I do not mean to be a burdon, but is it possible that you can take me to the exit? This place…” She looked around blindly. “The layout is a bit alien to me.”

The soldier’s brow quirked confusedly till they found the wrappings covering her eyes. He made a soft sound and a nod. “Of course! But… ma’am… where do you plan to go?” Before she could answer, she felt his hand take hers. A tug and the splatter of mud told her they were moving. She felt her cheeks burn furiously, and her tail waved to display her annoyance when she stumbled along.

If he had noticed, he didn’t show it.

“An adventure,” She chirped when she managed to bring her feet back under herself, and matched the pace of the other.

The man bawked in surprise, like she had said something ridiculous. “An… an adventure?”

“Yes,” And that was all Raux said. She could feel the discomfort in the notion through the man’s hand. She could even hear him nervously scratching under his helmet.

“Uhm… miss… are you… really…” He looked behind himself down to the wrappings that covered her eyes.

The monk smiled, and moved a thumb under the wraps. She pushed the cloth away to reveal the worthless organs, and allowed her hand to fall back to her side. Now uncovered, they shifted a bit and slowly rolled to blindly follow the sound of the man’s breathing. When they stopped, he could see them clearly. Silver had completely overtaken the eyris and had completely covered the pupils. If she was born without her birth defect, she’d have greenish-blue eyes as evidence by a barely visible ring where the iris should be.

She felt the man’s hand tighten around hers.

“That…” there was a hint of pitty in his voice. Her tail flicked and her smile soon warped to a frown. The man’s voice caught in his throat when. He understood very quickly that she was one of the sorts who valued independence.

He inhaled through his teeth and spoke again. “Ma’am are you serious? It’s not safe out there!”

“I am aware.” Her expression went flat, and her gaze turned towards the direction they were heading. Her grip tightened on her staff.

“Ma’am… I can’t in good conscience let you go alone.”

The beastkin tilted her head thoughtfully. That was a curious statement. Her tongue flicked out, and slid along her hips before she spoke.

“And why not?”

“Because it is not right… you’re blind! There’s wild creatures, cliffs, rivers, and bandits! Ma’am you should know that there are some men out there so fowl they will have no mercy to give you! They will do more than take your belongings, they may try for your body or your life!”

Her ear flicked.
"But what would damage your conscience more… letting a blind woman have her freedom and live a short life and die by her own means - and be happy till the end. Or to be miserable, and taken care of. To feel as if you are a burden by forcing others to take time out of their lives?”

The man clamped his teeth together, creating an audible clack. This question just felt like a mine field. One answer would be going against his internal morals, and she’d win the argument. The other would align with his views… but give her ammo to play the guilt card on him. “Now that is not fair!”

The woman grinned, and began to giggle. “Yes… that question was designed to put you at a disadvantage.” Her head tilted to one side. “I do realize the-”

She cut herself off when her nose picked up some horrible stench. She gagged, and made a horrible noise when her hands quickly moved to clutch her nose. That horrible and overbearing musk had practically set her nerve endings on fire, and sent a swirl of nausia into her mind. She nearly collapsed to her knees from the sudden blast if the man hadn’t caught him.

“Ma’am!? Something wrong?! Ma’am!?” the soldier called out in alarm.

She raised a hand to silence him. Tears were rolling down her cheeks. She was able to identify it very easily. It was the scent of a stallion in rutt. It was a very sharp stench with a bitter afterbite that mingled with a smell so unique… it could only be described as ‘horse’. Pheromones teased her nose like no tomorrow, they had no effect on her, but they smelled horrible. What’s worse is they were hard to ignore each one was unique, as each one had came from a singular mare. How many mares has this damned horse been with?!

She tasted bile on her tongue when it swirled in her mouth. She swallowed, then open her jaws to take a breath. Oh what a mistake that was. She could taste it. She could taste it all. She wretched, more bile rolled on her tongue and she was quick to swallow.
“Ma’am? Are you ill?”

The Cougar like beastkin slowly shook her head. She was about to respond… but she heard a strange commotion. Someone being ordered off of their horse. There were voices going back and forth. One angered, one calm. And one… that seemed interested in a fight.

She mentally cried when she dared to smell the air once more. She inhaled deeply with her jaws open to taste the air. The musky and horny horse rolled across her tongue and nearly caused her to vomit once more. She fought it back with teary eyes. But… there were two scents she was familiar with. The human who sat alone, and the dragonoid.

Her head lifted up queasily, and she tugged the man’s hand. “What is happening ahead of us?”

“Uhh… looks like a fight’s about to start. A little one sided though... “ he trailed off when he felt the woman’s hand leave his. He looked down to his side, and managed to just catch her making her way to the group. He reached out to try and stop her… but he paused for a moment. He thought about what she said, and gritted his teeth. One foot was already raised to chase after her… but it lowered… she wasn’t going to do anything stupid… right?

Raux, made her way blindly. Her ears swiveling and her staff lightly teasing the ground in front of her. She worked her way around the skin heads, and soon stopped next to the Dragonoid, and the Human. The scent of the horse… thankfully was downwind of her. She could still smell it… but at least it wasn’t as bad.

“If you do not mind, I have decided to come with you on your quest…” She said softly with a polite bow. Her snout soon slowly turned to face the six men. Her ears swiveled to each one. Six heart beats.. Many were elevated. They were planning on a fight… there would be no way to disarm this situation peacefully.

“... and it appears this adventure has already been waylaid. Why are these men eager to make a stand against you two…. Erm…… uhm…..” She paused for a moment, and tilted her head. She didn’t even know their names. But they knew hers. “I am afraid I know not your names. Would you mind sharing them now, or later?”

---
Summary: She's gotten accustomed to the scents of those in the tent. She waited for nearly an hour. Had a soldier lead her to the bout. Asked for names. For continuity purposes, her eyes are currently expose.
@Rilla I'll get started on a character sheet ASAP. Any roles that need to be filled?


Can't wait to see what you come up with :D
Raux The Silver-Eyed Monk
-=Early Morning: Wilderness=-


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.

“Looking for a warm place to sleep, hm?” 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. “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,” 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.

-= Noon : Wilderness =-


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.

“Aaargh..derm bastards phhhhuggered me good…… that soddin lot did…” 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.

“Hold still…” 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.

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

“My apologies…” 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.

“What happened…” 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. “... you have the voice of a man with experience and you…”

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

The monk paused… “I was going to say wounded… I hardly call this a defeat.”

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. “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!”

The monk smiled softly, but said nothing on the matter. She only continued to walk. “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.”

“No shit…” 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. “Awww.. hell now ain’t that somethin.” 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. “Lass… where are we going…” he grumbled.

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

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.

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

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

“You are…. Taking this well?”

“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.”

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. “How one dies… tells of how they lived. How would you rather die, sir?”

“Well… for starters… piss drunk and my head between a lass’s legs.”

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. “You’re rediculous!”

“Aw hush, every man dreams of that…” 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. “What say you do a dying man a last wish? A little hairier than my type… buuut beggers can’t be choosers.”

The monk’s laughter grew louder now. “Oh is that so? Face down or face up?”

“Heh… would face down… be pants down or up?”

“Not wearing any…” 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.

-= Sometime in the afternoon - The Moving=-


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.

“Oh… dear. That smell is albit overbearing…” 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.

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

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.

“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.”

TLDR: 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.
Yeah. Turns out. It really just links to the main guild discord, if I remember correctly.


Don't forget to add it! Or at least PM me an invite link :U

Anyways, I've settled on how to bring the monk to the group. Settled with dying scout. Seeing as a few characters have been friendly with Szazah, this scout probably has the man's scent on em from drunken merriment the night before. Doing the dead soul a favor by bringing his body to a friend or a loved one for a proper funeral... or whatever a human's customs are. My post should be up tomorrow. In the process of drafting now.
Just hit the link in my signature. It'll take you to the main chat.


The expanding horizons one?

Anyways, I'm going to spend a bit to figure out how I want to introduce my character. She doesn't really have a political agenda that would drive her to "The Moving" by choice. At the moment, I'm going to play with the idea of some invisible guiding hand, found a dying scout, or she found someone.

I will be drafting my post tonight.
@Tangletailyou shod have. Also. You're good.


Righty oh! Moved the sheet to the character page.

Our discord is live.


Don't forget to send me an invite link too!
@Rilla I probably should have added a mention to my application post :P
A complete character sheet. I smashed most of the errors. But there will probably be things I missed.
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