Long Road [open]

[Arizae]

The world was going through a period of interest again. Humans were scrambling for food in the north and their kings were fighting whenever they got the chance. It was delightfully intriguing to watch the dragons and the beings with them destroy the smaller soldiers. They lacked the precision and grace of the dragons from before…clumsy almost. He had to wonder how the lizards didn’t fall out of the sky when their wings seemed so out of sync. Fire-breathing reptiles could use some lessons from their brethren of yesteryear. Too bad that Galbatorix man had taken it upon himself to kill some of the more entertaining creatures. Such a thick headed man, so focused on such simple things. No time for entertainment in that court. At first it had been exciting to be there, watch the executions see what the new young riders were up to. Then it got dull. Everything was so structured there was no time for simple random activities. Chaos was not an element that was welcomed by that palace. How wearisome.

Thankfully Eztli did not have to depend on that man and his Empire for his entertainment, otherwise he would be dreadfully bored. As his friends new boredom bred…hold on a flipping second there had he thought the word friend had applied to his skin? Now that was truly an entertaining thought. Friend. When had he last followed any creature on this earth as some of his race was so wont to do? The year escaped memory, but the face of the being did not. Such curious red eyes and extreme flaming hair. Eztli believed other races called such things ‘Shade’. Not so to this werecat, his previous…no friend did not work…let us say companion. This werecat’s previous companion was called many things, and none of them shade. After all there were many voices to speak to in that being and each one a curious name. That had been what he called his companion. It depended on the day; those spirits were always competing for more control. Whoever had most control would be the name for the day. Yes quite an interesting character. A shame that lizard friend had taken him from Eztli. Life was so utterly irksome that he had debated simply leaving. How long had he debated? He could not remember when the lizard friend had taken his entertainment from him.

Wait a second it had happened long ago! More fun things had come since that interesting spirit filled being. That thick-headed Galbatorix had made some fun for a while. It was boring for awhile after the man had crushed the eggs and hunted down the riders. What a sight those battles had been. Such a delight to follow the riders and wait for their untimely demise. Even more fun to mess around with the proud Galbatorix man by hiding the dead rider’s swords. Now where had he left so many of those blades? Did it matter anyway? No. He had no use for them. His own dagger was much more suited to his…size and style. So dull after all that fun, now Galbatorix would not let him in the castle. Naturally that could not stop one such as Eztli, but it was not as fun when someone tried to cut off your tail every time you hid a dragon egg for entertainment. Getting gore in ones claws was fun, but such a mess to clean. It became old when the funny guards would try to kill him on sight every single time. No new reactions, just kill and run, kill and run…nothing interesting or new that he hadn’t seen before. Now however, something new was coming to Alagaesia and he did not need to leave. In the Northwest a plague was spreading, killing the land, Eztli was determined to find whatever interesting creature was creating this disaster. Oh the entertainment he could have then.

Curiosity was driving him north now, the scent of this plague calling out to him. There was no plague to be seen in the southern lands he now passed through. After leaving Uru’baen he had passed through Dras-Leona then quickly moved on. That dreadful city had not changed, and it had pleased him for awhile. What with it’s chaotic streets and filthy inhabitants, but its simple pleasures could only occupy him for so long. Eztli had decided the Varden were long overdue for a visit. That dratted Solembum liked to chase him off whenever he came near. Eztli had half a mind to tear his fellow werecat to bits…but something kept him from doing so…instead he simply walked away each time. Was it that witch Angela? She was quite interesting, perhaps he would be able to shadow her one of these days. He would greatly enjoy that. But now this weather was becoming somewhat tiresome…he had not even made it before he’d heard whispers of this plague. With summer coming and something far more interesting in the north it had been a simple choice to turn tail and head for cooler weather.

Even now the sun was high, its vicious rays casting a harsh light on all unprotected by shade and burning that skin foolish enough to enter its gaze. Eztli knew it would be better to simply travel at night, but he was impatient, he would move both day and night. Had he paused to look at the land he would see its beauty, a deep blue sky littered with gentle puffs of calm looking clouds with the sound of songbirds filling the air. Luscious grass coated the hillsides and tall trees dotted the side of the path. War had not yet touched this land; he was within Surdan borders, though he drew very close to the line between countries. The werecat was a shadow across the lands, walking smoothly and swiftly without a sound. His feet had walked the ancient paths of this world and it was not his first time going north from Surda. Like a river cuts through the land so the black form made his way along the path, making sure to travel from patch of shade to patch of shade. Emerald eyes gleaming with annoyance as pitch black paws became dirtied from the road. Yet he was in a decent mood. There were Varden camps not far behind, and he was on the long road to an interesting plague ahead. The werecat traveled out in the open, not caring who saw him as he took the road north. It was always more interesting to catch the gaze of a passerby and send them a glare unlike any normal cat. Provided small entertainment while traveling. What fun would stealth be now?

[darthrevan]

As Goragath walked toward Surda, his thoughts on his destiny, he glanced a bit at the area around him. The blue sky was beautiful, and the green grass around him wasn't any less, but he still would have preferred the shade of a dark cave to walking out here, if only to avoid the heat. Maybe he would find his destiny in Surda, whatever it is.

Goragath looked at the trail and saw a cat, holding it's head high in pride, running fast towards the opposite direction. What would the domestic cat have to do in these grasslands. Well, he may just be looking for his next meal, but cats are usually territorial, they don't go through areas, they mark one and stay in it. Not to mention that this cat was awfully fond of the road. This world was strange indeed. But quite intriguing.

Goragath stopped in the trail, and waited for the cat's response. The average cat's survival instinct would make him run, but it was a wonder just how different this cat is.

[Almárean]

[ note : finally done! so sorry for the wait! ancient language translations are in black. ]

With the sun high in the sky above him, Almárean trudged on to meet his destiny. Beside him, the family's cart horse limped along feebly. With a sigh, he reached up a callused hand to give her a gentle pat on the neck. It'd been days since they'd passed a soul on the road, but Almárean knew that they were heading in the right direction. That was one of the first simple spells his mother had taught him; Vegr. (direct)

"Eka vætta nosu eru þar greiðliga," he drawled quietly to himself, "síðan nosu eiga fár atdráttr sitja..."
(i hope we get there quickly because we have few supplies remaining...)

Stamping his aching heels into the backs of his over-large leather boots, the boy contined to stumble his way down the seemingly endless road; in an attempt to save supplies, he'd skipped both this morning's breakfast and last night's dinner. Suddenly, with a scream, a rogue gust of wind slammed into him. Stumbling back as though he'd run into a solid wall, the boy cried out and startled his wounded horse. With a squeal, the mare took off down the road. Mouth a-gape he stared after her, stunned. Then, with a jolt, he realised that she had all of their supplies in her saddle bags. With a yelp, he ripped off his boots and took off after her.

In his mind he ran with his brothers through fields of young corn and was chasing nothing more than the wind, but in reality he was chasing his survival; there was no way he'd last more than a couple of days on these plains without the food and water she'd taken with her.

Bare feet bitten by sticks and stones, he tore down the straight-away behind her. With her lame leg and years of farmwork weighing on her she was no match for him, the well-muscled farm boy. Grabbing her reigns and pulling back gently so as not to ruin her mouth but to bring her to a gradual halt. Heaving a mighty sigh, he realised that she must have run-off her injury; it must have been nothing but a twinged muscle. With a shrug, he vaulted easily up into the sun-warmed saddle and gave her a gentle nudge with his heels. At a comfortable lope, they continued down the road with the wind buffeting them. Was a storm taking shape?

He was pulling his boots back on when a giant figure emerged on the horizon with horns protruding from its massive form. With a yelp, Almárean's fumbling hands grasped for his sword...which was nowhere to be found; the sheath was empty on his back. With a shock, he realised that it must have fallen when he'd been running.

"Iet sverd weohnata néiat waise iet freohr," he scoffed.
(my own sword will not be my death!)

With one boot still clasped to his chest, he cautiously continued down the road towards the Urgal.

[darthrevan]

Goragath saw a man approaching as well, he couldn't tell from the distance if it was an elf or a human, but he was guessing human since the mass was a bit large for the slender elves. The man reached over his back when he saw him, but his eyes enlarged with shock as he saw that it wasn't there. There was a horse with him, and Goragath was afraid his form would frighten the animal as well. Goragath was still interested in that cat however, and he wasn't planning on moving.

After a about a second of thought, Goragath did the best thing he could think of to inform this man that he didn't mean him any harm. Goragath unsheathed his sword from his belt, and put it on the ground in front of him, where he would obviously be unable to use it.

His own "sword" wasn't too much of a sword actually. It was rather a piece of dented metal he had found on one of his trails early on, which he had straightened (though this wasn't as effective as it sounds), sharpened on one end and wrapped with some thick rope he had found near an abandoned home. Not too much of a weapon, but he could always use his sheer size and claws if need be. He couldn't use his horns. They were flattened at the tip, a mark he had made for himself to make him different from the rest of his kind.

Goragath then proceeded to sit down at the side of the trail, in wait for the man, the cat, and the horse.

[Arizae]

The sound was coming from the opposite direction…heading into Surda, hoof beats and a fast breath, but closer yet was the heavy trod of a different creature. Perhaps some interesting things were on their way, did Eztli dare to hope that he would have some entertainment on his long journey? Not yet, for all he knew this was some boring scout for the Varden and some foolishly armored man. The werecat held his swift pace, not daring to hope that this new company would be interesting enough to look at. However he could not keep his mind from racing, could not halt his heart as it skipped a beat in excitement, this could be something of notice, there was a chance. The chance was slim that he would run into something he had never seen before, but that small bit of hope was enough to keep his ears pricked and his eyes discerning.

Eztli slipped into the shade of a nearby tree, feet still moving quickly below, and then his glimmering gaze fell on the shadow of horns. A monstrous form was on the road ahead and the well-traveled werecat had little trouble putting the creature into its correct category. He was frustrated with himself for a moment, how could he have not known those footsteps? A heavily armored man, no this was no man, this was urgal…Kull. Eztli would have to pay closer attention to the information received by his ears. Such a difference, between man and Kull, and he had not been able to see the difference. Perhaps his subconscious had warned him, that feeling of excitement had been greater than normal…yes his instincts were still as sharp as ever, this was something mildly entertaining to say the least. A lone Kull, a very rare sight, but not something he hadn’t run into before. The last time this had happened he might’ve been a kit for all he knew, so it was fun to see it again. What a curious creature, large curved horns…though flattened at the top, how interesting. And what was with that scrap of metal it carried? Was that supposed to be a sword? Kull were so tall, such funny and interestingly bloodthirsty creatures. Ah there ways of honor could be so entertaining to watch; perhaps this young one was off to prove himself! Perhaps Eztli would get the chance to witness some new crime. He hoped dearly that this was a creative creature; let him kill something in a new and enchanting way. Otherwise the werecat might have to provide the entertainment…eight foot tall creatures made such a funny noise when they fell to the ground.

Ah but he was forgetting the other party, the quick sound of hoof beats and the tired labored breathing of some working class horse. No proud war pony…so he had been wrong about the scout for some Varden soldier, the sound of this horse was not of some scout. This was a cart horse, some farmer’s steed that was barely fit for work carrying some measly cabbage to market. Now this was a sight indeed, for there on the back of the measly beast was a young man. A farmer’s child if Eztli had ever seen one, there was a clear bend in the kid’s left arm, a clear sign of a break set wrong and the telltale skin of one that worked outside his entire life. That and this young man had an empty sheath on his back and a shocked look on his face, no experienced swordsman would ever lose his sword. It was amusing to say the least, especially since this kid only had a single boot on. Feet looked rough and used to wear, but perhaps a bit beaten from a recent run. Ha! Perhaps that was why the horse looked so tired, the old weathered beast had took off from him, the lad had taken off his shoes for speed, finally caught the horse, and lost his sword on the way! What an interesting occurrence, poor thing was going to die out here…well, if the road didn’t kill him perhaps this kull would. However, Eztli’s biggest shock did not come from the strange appearance of the boy, but rather the soft words spoken in anger. The farmer scoffed, in nothing less but the ancient language! The werecats eyes went wide as his long stride broke to a softer trot, until he finally came to a walk. A simple peasant speaking full sentences in the ancient language? Since when had such a feat been possible?

The werecat momentarily forgot all about the kull. He had seen plenty of them before, and this one looked weak, why even his horns looked dull! The beast was even laying down its measly sword…stupid cow…what was wrong with it? Sitting on the side of the rode with a peaceful look on its face. Eztli kept walking, pausing to turn and look directly at the Kull, emerald eyes shining with scorn as the Kull sat in peace. If there is one look any cat can master it’s a look of disgust, for all creatures are below the cat, none are as great as he, and he the cat will let any know who is truly in charge. It was this look of pride and disbelief for other disgusting beings that Eztli sent towards the Kull, and then he flicked his tail and kept trotting on his way towards the farmer boy. He knew this kind, the runaway from home with daddy’s old mare. Fight against the evil Empire or whatever injustice, join up with…what new freedom fighting group was it this time? Oh yes the Varden, how had he forgotten? Well this boy was most likely on his way to try and learn how to handle a sword and chop of the heads of enemies. The werecat couldn’t help it, he grinned, that fiendish cat smile on his face as he looked up at the farmer boy. Here was one that death would take quickly and gladly, if this child could not remember where he put his sword he would not remember the steps to take away the life of a fully trained soldier. All the same Eztli would steal the young man from death’s attention for now, the werecat was interested, intrigued. This kid knew the ancient language, and that was not a common thing.

So Eztli sat on the side of the road, finding a lovely patch of broken shade. He wrapped his tail around his body, letting it rest on his front paws. Claws sheathed and ears facing fully towards this young man, there was curiosity in those deep green eyes, a quiet clam that looked up questioningly. And yet…there was knowledge, intelligence, something about Eztli’s stance that simply said he already knew everything there was to know. He had traveled the world many times over and you needed to be rather extraordinary to be of any interest to him. Just try to be a surprise and see what happens. Mixed with that slight feeling of omnipotence was a sense of dread, a deadly curiosity and thirst for seeing something new that was not above bloodshed and mutilation. All this things and more shone through the werecat’s deadly emerald gaze and calm seated position. And then he turned his head to the side, ever so slightly as the horse slowly approached. Tentavilely the werecat reached out with his mind and grabbed hold of the lad’s head. There was no blocking Eztli, but he did enter like a gentleman. His voice initially came across like silk, soft to the mind and enticing to hear. Yet there was an unmistakable undertone that he did not care to hide, a furious yet quiet edge that demanded an answer to his insatiable curiosity.

Tell me child how is that you speak the ancient tongue so easily?

[/blockquote]

[darthrevan]

The cat walked beside Goragath, looking at him with scorn, as if Goragath should be ashamed to call himself a Kull. Goragath chuckled a bit and shook his head. Perhaps he was different from those of his kind, but he wasn't physically weak, by no means. And the way this cat behaved it seemed to think that it would intimidate him. A domestic cat, intimidating the urgal who had run from his clan, almost dying in the process? He had seen far scarier things than a cat.

But then the cat spoke. This changed things. Goragath knew of the power of a werecat, and he wasn't planning on getting such power unleashed on him. And yet, Goragath wasn't scared, he was just cautious. What reason would this werecat have to harm him? It seemed he wouldn't have much to contribute to this conversation anyway, magic wasn't a thing that he had great love for, and though a human speaking the ancient language was a curiosity, it was that and nothing more to him. He would stay though, this may just be interesting.

Playing a bit with his fingers, Goragath sat and waited for the conversation to progress.