|| Stat Page || Updated: Nov/25/17 Experience || 0
Inventory
Weapons Simple Bow
Items None
Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2014 3:05 pm
Updates
11/25/2017 Stat Journal created 11/19/2017 Rolled Stage 2 stats 05/22/2017 Prala's Stage 2 Art is Dropped OMG FLAN!!!!!! <3 05/18/2017 Prala's Class Quest to become an Archer is approved 01/20/2014: Character Quest is approved! 01/09/2014: Created Character Quest for Prala
TOC Cert Updates/TOC Character Information/Inventory Growth Requirements RP/Battle Log/Art
Faithofthefallen
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Faithofthefallen
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Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2014 3:06 pm
Character Info
Name: [ Prala ]
Age: [ Stage 2 ]
Race: [ leaf-shifter earthling ]
Gender: [ Female ]
3 Base Traits: [ Willful, Energetic, Sincere ]
Class: [ Archer ]
Current location : [ Sauti, various locations ]
Personality:
[ Prala has always been a bit withdrawn from others, even her own kind. Since her youth, she has never allowed herself to grow attached to any one person or let herself get too close to others of her kind for reasons even she herself can not entirely put into words. The Oban war exacerbated her disinclination to engage, but the tendency to isolate herself has persisted from a young age. Prala socializes when the time calls for it, but she still comes off as very distant and uncaring more often than not. Cold, some would call her, heartless even. Others would say she was just incredibly shy. The truth is, no one can say for sure what's going on in the mind of Prala, not even herself.
Because she led a very sheltered childhood, Prala has a somewhat naive innocence about her and is often thrilled to pieces about what may seem commonplace to others. She's used to getting her own way and she can be prone to losing her temper if forced to bend to another's will. Prala can also be headstrong and indifferent to the point of arrogance when it suits her, usually when she wants something taken care of in a hurry so she can get back to business as usual. She doesn't really understand that her manner may have an impact on the way people treat her in return. She takes great joy in learning new skills and gathering knowledge about the world around her, savoring the freedom and feeling that she is making up for her lost childhood. Prala can be difficult to get close to, she has thick walls. After witnessing her mother's murder and being subsequently captured, Prala harbors a deep distrust bordering on hostility towards people in general and Obans in particular that she is having to learn to set aside. She relaxes around wildlife and nature and feels much more at home and comfortable living a simple life away from the hustle and bustle of other people. She is more inclined to flee or try to intimidate strangers than greet them and try to make friends, but she's trying to overcome this, her greetings are often strangely forced as she fights between instinct and training. Prala has a gymnast's lithe gracefulness as well as their stamina, she feels quite comfortable in treetops and tends to walk the unseen pathways in the forest canopy vs wandering around on the ground, she feels safer there.
Her deeper nature is one of considerable selflessness and fierce loyalty, she does not desire material goods or power, she simply wants freedom and the strength to defend it. Should someone have the patience to learn her mannerisms and recognize the person behind the temper, they would find a genuine heart hardened by much suffering. She is capable of being kind and gentle, but she doesn't understand how to portray that without feeling uncomfortably vulnerable. Prala, true to her upbringing as a leaf earthling, considers herself a protector of the world around her. Prala believes strongly in the necessity of balance between life and death in the natural world and will react with instant hostility towards anything or anyone she feels is offsetting that balance.]
Physical Features: +Short, moderate chest, wide hips +Long white hair, wavy, loosely curls at bottom, parted in the center with a jeweled leather thong over the top. +warm golden sand colored skin +Overlarge expressive ice blue eyes, white angled eyebrows, full lips +Light pink crystals clustered along her cheekbones, a single teardrop shaped crystal at the center of her chin, dusted along her collarbones, shoulders (spiky) and hips/lower stomach (wherever else) +Long tapered ears
Hunter +Outfit I can't draw boots, but there are boots on under shin guards. Dark and medium brown, tan/gold, emerald and leaf green. (Cape is emerald green) Forehead jewel is emerald green Her gauntlets look like bark. I couldn't decide what sort of design for the tassets, maybe something like This. Stance is standing, but otherwise CC Hair
History:
[ Prala was born and raised in Yera, Tale. The child of a shifter mother and a leaf father. She grew up in a very sheltered environment. Everything was done for her, even her thinking. She had no original opinions as a child. She was neither creative nor curious as most children are. Her father was a very controlling man by nature, liking all of his ducks in a row. Nothing was to be done with out his consent. Even his "beloved" wife was kept in line at all times. For him, it was a means of protecting himself and his family, for those around him, it was often suffocating.
To say the least, Prala's parents had their differences, although initially very physically attracted to one another, the excitement and allure of their whirlwind romance would not have lasted very long had their tryst not resulted in an unintentional pregnancy. They stayed together for their daughter but they fought constantly about every little decision, often in front of Prala. She was often the subject of their spats. Both thought they knew what was best for her. For her father, it was isolation and for her mother, it was freedom. Unfortunately, her father always won in the end. Prala's mother felt alone and vulnerable living amongst the leaf tribesman, uncomfortable asserting herself amongst those who looked and acted so differently than she was used to. She felt alone and voiceless, powerless to stand up on behalf of herself and her daughter against her husbands wishes.
Prala began to lose her childhood passivity when she became a teenager, she never actually acted out against her parents' choices for her because she felt guilty doing anything to insert more turmoil into their family dynamic than was already present, but she no longer believed that her father was the all knowing, ever wise man that she had once trusted implicitly. She started becoming curious about the things she had missed so far in life and feeling cooped up and resentful of what was essentially her gilded cage. Her mother told her stories of her own childhood when her father wasn't around to stop her and did everything she could to fuel that curiosity and reverse the damage her father had done to her daughter's spirit.
Prala's parents muddled along together until Prala was fully grown, raising their daughter the best they knew how, both ended up taking lovers on the side, something that was unspoken but acknowledged by everyone involved, and generally avoided contact with the other as much as possible... Until the day Prala's father died. He had been sick for a long time so his death had not come as a surprise to anyone, but before he left he made one final decision on behalf of his now grown daughter, and arranged to marry her off to his wealthy friend's much older son. Prala's father had intended it as an act of love that would reach beyond his grave, ensuring that his daughter would be taken care of when he was gone, but for his wife and daughter, it was the final betrayal.
By that time, Prala had reached adulthood. She was still well behaved but bursting at the seams with a desperate thirst for something more out of life. While her father was sick, although she was sad to think of him dying, a small, guilt ridden part of her mind looked foreword to being able to live her life as she chose without having her father around to disapprove of her choices. When he did finally die she felt a terrible mix of despair and relief that left her emotionally exhausted and bedridden for days after his passing. When she finally began to function again, the iron clad arranged marriage was revealed and Prala felt as though her entire future was being crushed before her eyes. She didn't like the man she was to marry. He was almost old enough to be her father himself and he was a vain, incurious, and mean spirited man, often singling out those who were weaker than he. He had put his best foot foreword and suppressed his true nature whenever he was around her father in order to persuade him to give him Prala's hand. It worked, her new fiance was, after all, a wealthy, seemingly well adjusted man, but the fact that her father had seen fit to make such a personal decision for her finally broke the ties he had forged so carefully to control his daughter all her life.
Prala and her mother played along with the agreement until after her father's funeral and then fled together back to her mother's homeland of Sol in Juahar, where Prala hoped for a new beginning.
New beginnings she may have found, but certainly not happy endings. Prala and her mother's arrival in Juahar was shortly followed war and invasion by the Oban army. Prala was captured and her mother killed during the battle of Neud. After healing, she was able to lull her captors with a broken spirited facade and then make a break for it. She escaped, barely, albeit with blood on her hands as she had stolen a bow and managed to use it to kill an Oban guard who pursued her. Since then, Prala withdrew deep into the nearly inhospitable rainforest of Juahar, done with earthlings, done with battles, fully prepared to live out the rest of her life in seclusion. But the days became months, and then years, and eventually Prala grew tired of the stagnant life she had built for herself. She packed up rations, broke her camp, and set out to find someone who could teach her to use the weapon that had once saved her life, so she would never be helpless to protect herself again.]
Religion/Beliefs: [ Prala's religion is a very even blend between leaf and shifter, having been tutored separately by both parents in their people's beliefs. Having grown up among the leaf tribe, Prala is passionate in her belief that she is connected to the earth and has a deep respect for the land and all of its creatures. She, like the other members of the leaf tribe, believes that everything has a spirit, and she does her utmost to respect those spirits and will punish anyone she feels to be disrespecting or endangering them. Her shifter mother's heritage blends almost seamlessly with the beliefs of her father's people. Her mother shared with her stories of the lesser gods and Prala's favorite, the Moon goddess Serin. She would say that the land is part of her, she was born from it and will some day return to it, but she has a worshipful adoration for the moon goddess, it is a source of ethereal beauty and mystery and yet she feels a connection to it.]
Strengths: [ Upper body strength, flexibility, speed, survival skills ] Weaknesses: [ Social skills, her temper, her pride ] Fears: [ Commitment, vulnerability ] Aspirations: [ To learn new things, to become strong, to find her place of belonging ]
Total:22 growth points 5230 words [300 word solo] x 17 = 17 points (remaining words = 130 ) [7 posts in Meta] = 5 points
RP Growth Points || 300 word solo = 1 point || 10 post RP = 5 points || 7 posts in meta = 5 points
|| RPs consisting of two to three characters will have a 10 post minimum requirement per character to count for growth. || RPs consisting of more than three characters will have a 7 post minimum (also per character). || RPs cannot be added together to create one growth req (ex: two 5 post RPs will not equal a growth requirement) || RPs consisting of double the posts can count for 2 Rps (and triple can count for 3, etc.) || Owners cannot RP more than one character combined in one post even if they are related or otherwise (ie: Aminah and Sathe cannot have one block of text to count for both of them. Aminah's post should be clearly labeled as her post, and Sathe's should be clearly labeled as her post.)
EXP Growth Points || 1 crafting solo = 1 point || 1 beast battle = 1 point || 1 battle = 2 points
|| EXP growth points include battles and beast battles. || Battlers must have at least half of their battle reqs from battling, and beast tamers must have at least half from beast battling. || Battlers and Beast Tamers cannot use crafting solos to fill their EXP growth points.
Prentice - Stage 2:
1 Set-up Journal
1 Month's Time
25 RP Growth Points +Fire and Blood - Journal Entry, 1161 words +Injury and Escape - Journal Entry, 1372 words (Class affinity?) +Re emergence - Journal Entry, 888 words +Frostbite - Journal Entry, 1955 words +Finding a Teacher - Journal Entry, 2331 words (Class affinity?)
Total
xxxxIncludes one (900 word minimum) solo is required to show class affinity 1 Completed Class QuestPrentice Class Quest
➸ Yera, Tale: Birthplace, Prala lived here up until her father passed away. ➸ Neued, Juahar: Prala visited with her mother on the eve of the Oban's invasion. It was here that her mother was killed and Prala captured and held by the army. ➸ Ashe, Zena: Prala was abandoned here in healer Sulyn's care with life threatening frostbite. She stayed for a month and began her archery training with Sulyn's nephew, Taos.
Prentice [X] Official art [X] (Unofficial | Concept Art by Elf Princess Flannery <3 [X] (Unofficial | Avatar by Akuma Kessaku [X] Art by Kaname [X] Art by Kaname
Special Attacks: Pointblank Shot: Your arrows do +3 more damage this turn. || Can only be used once every 3 turns. || Considered a full turn action. _____________________________________________________
[b]Special Attacks:[/b] [b]Pointblank Shot:[/b] Your arrows do +3 more damage this turn. || Can only be used once every 3 turns. || Considered a full turn action.[/size][/color]
Faithofthefallen
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Faithofthefallen
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Posted: Mon Jan 20, 2014 3:15 pm
heart
Posted: Thu Dec 04, 2014 9:37 am
Fire and Blood
Prala sat huddled at her desk by the window, swinging her legs and staring out at the colorful canopy. Her pointer finger was absentmindedly tracing a swirling pattern in the grain of the wood, over, and over. She was feeling melancholy. She and her mother had traveled to Neued to reunite with a childhood friend a few weeks prior and while Prala had enjoyed the adventure of exploring a new place at first, it wasn't long before it became clear that the threat from the Oban;s to the south was serious and she had been forbidden to leave the house alone. They were to return to Juahar the next morning, Prala was looking foreword to it, they hadn't decided whether they were going to continue north, she could tell her mother was hesitant, after spending so long away from her home with Prala's father, to leave it again so soon. Prala didn't want to go either, she wanted to fight for their home, but her mother called her silly and forbade her to touch a weapon unless it was in defense. She glanced darkly at the door, they had gone out to look for... something. Prala had been too irritated with her mother at the time to really listen, she had instead continued to stare blankly out the window in silence. She knew her mother had stood there for a time in the doorway, staring at her. Prala had wanted to throw herself into her arms, confess the darkness that had been swirling inside since her father's death and subsequent betrayal, but her lips had remained sealed as tightly as if they had been glued and after a few minutes, her mother had simply sighed and shut the door. Prala glanced over at her bags packed on the floor, she had gathered most of her belongings earlier, only a few things were scattered about the room she shared with her mother, satisfied that she would be prepared when it was time to go, she walked over to the bed and lay down. She would rest and when she awoke, make up with her mother so they could enjoy their last night in Neued together,
-----
Prala awoke to the smell of smoke and the tramping of footsteps. Her heart thundered in her chest as she stumbled, groggily, to the window. Strange men and women were filing down the streets like a flood, dark skin, dark hair, she recognized the descriptions of the fire earthlings. Her eyes widened, she grabbed her bag and flitted around the room to gather the rest of her belongings, her hand hovered over a necklace that her father had given her, something within her hardened and she clenched her fingers into a fist, turning her back on the necklace and striding resolutely out onto the next room where she thought to find her mother. But it was empty. She glanced worriedly out the window again and saw the army advancing, they were checking the homes. It was taking a while to climb up to the roofed terraces, but they were coming and it was clear she wasn't safe where she was. Rather than taking the main door, she hung her legs out the window, gripped a nearby branch and swung herself nimbly into a neighboring tree, and then the next, and the next until she felt safe climbing down to the forest floor, her bare toes and slim fingers easily finding purchase in the rough bark.
The moment she hit the ground she set off at a trot, she had to find her mother and they had to get out of here. With a jolt of regret, she realized she had forgotten to go back and grab her mother's bag out of the bedroom before she had left. She reasoned her mother would say nothing in it was worth their lives, but Prala still felt a surge of guilt that her own belongings were slung over her shoulder while her mother's were left behind. Her head flicked from side to side, searching for familiar features, it was difficult. Before, in their old village, it would have been easy to spot one shifter in the crowd of leaf earthlings, here it was no small feat. Especially since entire families were pouring out of their homes and fleeing in the opposite direction, jostling her, for she was sure her mother would have gone back to the house to save her.
Finally, Prala spotted her, she was heading away from where they had been staying with a panicked, sick look on her face that made Prala's heart lurch. The Oban's were ahead of them now, they had already passed this area and clearly her mother thought she had been captured. She increased her pace, wanting to allay her fears, when a pair of rough hands grabbed her arms from behind. She was spun around to face the grim visage of a fire earthling holding a length of rough rope which he swiftly looped around her forearms from wrist to elbow and tied in an efficient knot. She was captured. Her mother had spotted her now and was running, she was holding a sword she must have stolen from a fallen Oban, it was too big for her, and seemed awkward in her grip, but she was determined. Her mouth was open in a silent war cry as she ambushed the soldier and drove the blade through his body, leaving it lodged in place as he fell. Prala let out a clipped cry as he hit the ground but rushed into her mother's waiting embrace with tears of gratitude. Her mother spun her around and swiftly to slice the ropes binding her with a belt knife and then pulled her into a tight embrace. Prala returned it warmly, desperately inhaling the familiar scent and closing her eyes in bliss as the familiar hand ran down her long hair soothingly. "Mum, I'm so-" she began, but a loud buzz and thwunk interrupted their reunion. Her mother stiffened and Prala felt something sharp pricking her middle and then a rush of warmth against her front. Panicking, she pulled back and screamed, an arrow had pierced her mother from behind, a belly shot. Her mother gripped the blade of the arrow, eyes wide, mouth gaping in pain and shock as she sank to her knees, "Go." she said simply, before falling sideways. "No, no, no, no!" Prala chanted under her breath as she dropped beside her, tears streaming down her face. "NO!" she screamed, losing it now as her mother's eyes slid closed. She grabbed a limp hand and pressed it to her face while frantically searching for a heart beat. The tramp of feet, feeling as if she were in another world, Prala carefully folded her mother's hands across her chest, grabbed the dagger from her hand, and fled in a blind panic. She had to escape, her mother had told her to 'go.'
1161 words
Faithofthefallen
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Faithofthefallen
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Posted: Wed Aug 05, 2015 11:40 am
Injury and Escape
Prala's eyes were glassy as she stared at the bindings chafing her wrists. Her shirt was stiff and crusted with blood. Her mothers' blood. Prala squeezed her eyes shut, but there were no tears left, only rage that simmered on top of a bottomless pit of empty hopelessness that threatened to swallow her up whenever her rage dissipated.
She was so tired, she had ran like her mother asked, but had been captured in a trap before she could reach safety. Blinded by her grief, her fear, and her rage, she hadn't paid attention to where she set down her feet. One minute she was running, the next, a noose had tightened around her ankle, whipping her up into the canopy by one leg and leaving her hanging. The sudden pain in her hip socket was stunning and she dangled there for who knew how long trying to summon her strength to move despite the throbbing. It had taken a few attempts and an incredible strength to pull herself up enough to saw at the rope that held her. Once she had cut through enough of the fibers, her own body weight had made the rope snap and drop her heavily to the ground where she lay, gasping to regain the breath knocked from her lungs. The knife lay a few feet away, forgotten. Prala rolled to the side, her hip was on fire. She raised one shaky hand and ran it down her stomach to her thigh and grimaced, her leg was pulled inward at an abnormal angle. Slowly, Prala pulled herself up to a sitting position and cursed, the rope had yanked her femur out of its' socket. She sat there, trembling, the smells of smoke, and sweat, and blood overlaying all her senses until she wanted to curl up into a ball and sob like a small child. But no, she had to get out of here.
Reaching over, she grabbed the belt knife and placed the handle between her teeth, biting down hard. She lay down, and rolled onto her stomach, whimpering as silent tears of pain ran down her cheeks. She guided her leg as slowly as possible until the ball of her femur was lined up with the socket it had popped out of . She took a few deep breaths, and threw herself onto the side in a desperate attempt to pop her hip back into place so she could continue her flight. She screamed from the pain, the knife fell from her lips, her vision whited out, the last thing she saw before passing out entirely was the glint of red armor...
....
She woke up in a prison camp. She had made no attempt to escape, her hip was back in place, her attempt to realign it on her own had failed, the fire earthlings' healers had put it back. She still had severe bruising throughout the entire area from throwing herself on it and she could barely walk. Some part of her knew she needed to escape before the fire earthlings packed the prisoners up to take back home, but the fight had finally fizzled out of her. Instead she lay on her back, staring up at the canopy, numb and deaf to the sounds of misery and fear that surrounded her. She tried to remember what it felt like to swing through the trees, to run with wild abandon, to be free. But as the days and weeks ticked by, she began to feel like she had always been a prisoner. The fire earthlings were not cruel, but the conditions in their camp were harsh and the prisoners were treated like slaves. As Prala's leg began to heal, she was expected to work, the guards reluctantly let her use a sturdy branch as a crutch, fearing that she would use it as a weapon against them, but they needn't have feared. Her spirit was broken, her depression, debilitating.
It was over a month before Prala could walk on her own again. She woke in the morning and stood up, reaching for the branch, and then stopped. Testing her weight on the limb a few times. It felt stiff, sore, but the sharp shooting pain was gone. She rolled her ankle a few times and bent her knee. She winced, her leg was weak from disuse and the muscles were still tender where she had teared them but she decided it would be better to start using the leg before it began to atrophy. She walked, even when penned up with the other prisoners, she paced the perimeter of their camp. After another month, her body felt sound again. She was left with a very slight limp, but she could move with her old speed again. As her body healed, so did Prala's mind. She began to process her grief over her mother's death, she cried, she raged, she forced herself to accept the reality of her loss. The hardest part was knowing her mother was buried somewhere out there in an unmarked grave, Prala had no idea where her final resting place was. Perhaps that was for the best, not knowing where her mother lay meant that Prala had nothing to tie her to this place. She decided to escape.
Prala watched the guards, listened, came to know their habits and their weaknesses, all the while maintaining her empty eyed facade for their benefit. Finally, the opportunity came, Prala killed the fire earthling remorselessly. She tucked his knife into her waistband, it was now much looser than it had been before her imprisonment, but it was all she had. On impulse, she pulled the quiver of arrows from his back and slung it over her own shoulder, tucking her slim arm through the strap. She gripped the bow itself tightly in her sweaty palm and crept out of the camp as quietly as possible. she knew where the gap in their guard was, she had watched and planned for this moment. When she reached the perimeter, she broke free of the underbrush, feeling lighter than she had in ages, and heard a loud crack behind her. She whirled around instinctively, her hand darting up to grab an arrow, she smoothly knocked it and released, to her amazement, the arrow buzzed through the air and piercing the fire earthlings' throat with a dull thwunk. They stared at each other as he slid to the ground, life bleeding away. Skipping into action, Prala lunged forward, tugged the arrow free, put her arm through the bow and scaled the nearest tree like a squirrel. She sighed with relief as she reached the highest boughs that could hold her weight. She was safer up here. The bow and arrows limited her speed, she didn't want to dislocate a shoulder if a strap got caught, but she was still quick as she leapt from tree top to tree top, moving away from the terrible memories that for years would make her wake up in a cold sweat, hand covering her mouth to hold back a scream that could bring the enemy upon her when she woke.
As she settled in for the night, she eyed the bow and arrow that had saved her life and wondered if she could ever learn to shoot like that with intention. She'd used a sling since she was little, shot small stones to warn away intruders or predators. Her aim was good, but with no adrenaline pumping through her veins, the bow felt foreign and awkward to handle. But when she'd shot that Oban guard she'd felt... Powerful, in control. Master of her own fate. She liked that. Prala did not know where she was going, nor did she know what she would do when she got there. Everyone she knew or loved was gone, she was alone. She felt lonely... and guilty, because part of her relished being able to make her own decisions for the first time in her life.
She stared at the moon a few nights later, letting the night's breeze wash over her, ruffling through her hair and clothes like a cool caress. She would return to Juahar for a while and from there... Who knew?
1372 words
Posted: Wed May 10, 2017 9:32 pm
Re emergence
The air was hot and humid.
Prala stopped to catch her breath for a moment, she slid down to straddle the branch beneath her, fanning her face with her hand as she gazed around her at the colorful leaves and delicate flowers that were peppered across the tree tops. A familiar site, but she was about to leave it. For years she had lived isolated in the dense forests of Juahar, living off of what meager food she could gather or hunt in the forest with her sling. She managed, although she was clearly underfed, her clothes still fit, thank the goddess, but they hung loose. She scowled as she leaned her head forward, gripping the branch with her knees expertly as she lifted her masses of ivory hair off of her neck for a few minutes, closing her eyes and sighing as the air cooled her flushed skin. She carried precious little with her, a few rations, some water, her sling, a small knife, and a rudimentary woven hammock that could be unrolled and tied between whatever branches happened to be nearby.
She was nearing the border between Juahar and Tale. She had been traveling for weeks, choosing to widely skirt the border Juahar shared with Oba, she had no desire to face those invaders ever again. Her wiry strength propelled her from branch to branch, jumping when possible, swinging on or climbing the tough vines, it was safer to travel up here, and in her opinion, much more beautiful. But the trees were thinning to the point where she was going to have to walk the rest of the way on land. She grimaced, let her hair down, and then gripped the branch with both hands. She allowed her body to swing around until she was hanging from the branch like a sloth. Her wiry muscles bulged slightly as she released her legs, dangling there by her hands for the sheer enjoyment of it. A cluster of small crystals broke off of the behemoth tree and fell... And fell.... Reminding Prala that losing her grip now would be inadvisable. Her arms weren't tired, but her hands were somewhat slippery from the climate, and the smooth purple bark of the tree was not ideal for gripping with sweaty palms. She swung her lower body forward, her toes easily finding purchase in one of the many grooves on the trunk of the tree. She tested it, and finding it satisfactory, walked her arms over as well until she was flush with the trunk. She stopped a moment again, to rest, and then squirreled her way down the tree until her bare toes met the black soil.
She stepped away but kept her palm pressed against the trunk as if seeking reassurance. It had been years since she had willingly interacted with the world, now she was leaving the home that had grown familiar to her to enter society again. Where there was pain, and awkwardness, and confusion. She wanted to learn to shoot though, she could still remember the sudden intense focus, the stillness of concentration, the smooth movement as she knocked an arrow and let it fly... Straight into an Oban warrior's throat. She wasn't sure who had been more surprised, she or the soldier. She'd carried the bow with her for a few days after fleeing, but it had been heavy and awkward. She'd tried to shoot again, but she couldn't get the same feeling, could barely nock the arrow properly, still, she'd tried. Eventually she'd ditched the whole setup in a petulant rage and kicked the weapon off of her branch, sending it spiraling to the forest floor below. The loud crack told her it had snapped, and that was the end of that. She'd made do with her sling, but it wasn't the same. She'd grown bored of her isolation, she was still young and there was so much to learn, but no one to teach her. She'd resolved to leave Juahar in search of a master who could teach her to fight. She'd packed up and left that very day, there wasn't much to carry. Still, it was one thing to say and another to do, and as she closed the distance between herself and the border and looked out across the off white sand of Tale, she felt a shiver of fear. She'd grown up in Yera, lost her father, fled from this region in the night like a thief with her mother from an unwanted engagement. Coming back felt... Strange. She weighted her options, glancing back into the cool darkness of Juahar with longing, but Prala had outgrown the tedious existence of a hermit. She could turn around and try her luck in one of the shifter settlements, but it brought back painful memories of the war. No, this was the best way. She'd decided this weeks ago, she was leaving. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward into the soft sand of Tale and waited... Nothing. She felt the same. Prala opened her eyes and huffed a little laugh at her foolishness, Tale was just a place. The memories and emotions she associated with it were hers alone. She wiggled her toes in the sand and started walking forward, hitching her hammock higher on her back. She was a wanderer now.
888 words
Faithofthefallen
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Faithofthefallen
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Posted: Mon May 15, 2017 8:56 pm
Frostbite
Prala tossed and turned in her sleep, shaking her head from side to side as she dreamt of blood and agony, fire and a loss so deep that her heart would never full recover from the pain.
A sudden jerk made her sit up with a start, clammy hands grasping the threadbare blanket close. Her body tense and her mouth opened in a silent scream. She blinked a few times at the unexpected darkness, panting, the taste of salt in the air making her wish for enough spare water to thoroughly clean her mouth out.
As her breathing slowed and her heart resumed its normal pacing, she began to reorient herself to her surroundings. She was in the sleeping quarters of a ship bound to Zena. It was a trading vessel, the captain had repeatedly stated that he did not often accept passengers, but as a few of his crewman had been lost at sea during a storm, he was in desperate need of help, short on money, and was looking to hire workers and pay them with transport and lodging only. As he needed to leave as soon as possible to make it to Zena in time with his shipment, he could not afford to be picky with his choices. The first time Prala had presented herself for muster, he had eyed her up and down, a lustful glint in his eye that made her want to slap the stupid grin of his face as he winked and intimated that should she desire a less arduous position on his ship, she could make her way to his bunk, although she'd find it no less of a strenuous assignment. The rest of the crew had laughed uproariously, Prala had flushed furiously, although she hadn't dared to say anything, fearing that he would leave her stranded behind in Tale should she provoke him. She was the only female on the ship and although the men hadn't done anything to make her fear for her safety, the captain liked to leer at her whenever he retired to bed and inform her that he slept with the door unlocked. It was enough to make her yearn for the forests of Juahar and her solitary existence.
The memory of her mistreatment made her face burn with rage, Prala wished she was more of an intimidating presence, no one would dare treat her in such a way if she looked like more of a warrior. She steadfastly ignored the crew most of the time, despising them for not standing up to their bully of a captain. She certainly did not need their help learning to mop the decks, and for the most part they accepted she had little desire for conversation or companionship and left her alone.
She clasped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut as the ship crested another wave and sank down again, her stomach rolling in complaint. She swing her legs off the side of the bunk and let her head rest between her knees as she took deep breaths but the dizziness persisted. It was the worst inside. The air smelled of sweat and bad breath, the darkness was filled with snores and grunts. She wasn't used to sleeping inside, and she certainly wasn't used to being crammed close together with so many unwashed bodies. Prala staggered to her feet and tiptoed to the cabin door. She winced when it creaked as she pushed it open, but she was able to slip outside and shut the door again without waking anyone.
Outside, Prala was struck by a freezing gust of wind that immediately raised goosebumps and set her teeth to chattering. She shuffled across the deck until she was crouched behind a stack of crates lashed down with ropes that served as a wind break. She clutched the rail and leaned over the side as she emptied the meager contents of her stomach. She leaned there in abject misery for what felt like hours, heaving unproductively, the sweat beading at her temples cooled her skin and finally her stomach settled enough that she leaned back and sat down in a heap. The damp wood against her back was uncomfortable but she felt much better out here with the light of the stars and most importantly the pale glow of the moon shining down on her face. The sea spray thrown up on her was freezing and she wished she'd thought to bring her blanket up with her, although doubtless it would have blown away or gotten soaked. Her teeth continued to chatter incessantly and her limbs grew heavy, cold, and tingling. After a while she didn't feel the cold as much, in fact her hands and feet were starting to grow warmer even as her eyes grew heavy. That didn't seem right, she glanced down at her hands and saw they were pale and waxy looking. How strange. Why had she come out on the deck again? Prala blinked slowly, feeling confused. She gazed out at the ocean through the gaps in the rails and would have been flabbergasted by the ice that seamed to float on the ocean like giant glass boats had she not felt so exhausted. Her breathing was shallow and labored as she her eyelids slid closed and she surrendered to sleep once again.
When she awoke again, she was no longer laid out on the deck of a ship, she was wrapped in a blanket made by some sort of thick hairy hide. It smelled, but it was deliciously warm. The light was flickering strangely, she turned her head and was surprised to see fire dancing in a square stone pit inside the strange wooden room. The smoke escaping out the roof by some clever mechanism she couldn't quite grasp. The delicious heat rolling off the flames made her squeeze her eyes shut in pleasure. It felt good to be warm again, it wasn't the humid heat of home, but she wasn't suited for the cold that had seeped into her bones... Last night?
Prala felt disoriented, this room was not onboard the trader's ship, she had cleaned that vessel from stern to bow for weeks and had never seen anything like this. In fact, the only room she had refused to step foot in was the captains.... She shot upright in the bed and immediately regretted it, but her eyes were searching for some sort of weapon. Her gaze was drawn to the window instead and to her utter shock she saw flakes of white billowing outside as though the clouds had come down from the heavens. She slowly rose from the bed to walk over for a closer look, but her feet stung the moment she put weight on them, a feeling like pins and needles. Her feet and hands were mottled and swollen.
"Aaah, so you've awaken have you?" Prala whirled around to defend herself and yelped as she lost her balance and fell over onto the bed. It was not the voice of the hated captain but an old woman with laughing golden eyes. Her skin was pale blue and her hair a shining blue so deep it seemed almost black. The woman walked over to her brusquely and helped her right herself, she held a steaming cup of something out as she sat next to Prala on the bed."You should drink" she stated in a tone that would clearly not condone any foolish defiance "It will help with the pain." Prala took the mug meekly and raised it to her lips, sighing in pleasure as the warm liquid seemed to make heat blossom from the inside out.
"Thank you." Prala murmured, "That was wonderful. The woman sniffed and stood again, as if to say of course!. She walked to the fire and used a long stick to adjust the logs within. "You nearly lost those limbs girl, what were you thinking?" She clucked disapprovingly, "Zena is no place to galavant outside in... Whatever you call that getup!" She fluttered her fingers condescendingly in Prala's direction. Prala flushed, glancing down at herself. She didn't see anything wrong with her outfit, it was pretty basic garb in Juahar. "What do you mean?" she challenged, feeling a sting where she kept her pride, "Whats wrong with my clothes?"
The woman rolled her eyes and scowled at the spike in Prala's temper, enraging the young woman even more as she continued to build up the fire. "Nothing in theory, child, but you're displaying a lot of bits and pieces that you'd sorely miss if they froze and broke off of you." The woman quirked a brow, "You might have trouble attracting a mate if your goods are all gone," she cupped her heavy breasts and let them fall suggestively with a silent laugh. "If you plan to spend any time out in the ice and snow you're going to need something much more substantial. Furs, leather, something to hold the warmth in so you don't freeze to death."
Prala sobered as she listened to the woman recount how she had been found by the night watchman, pale and unresponsive. They had carried her inside as quickly as possible to start the warming but they didn't have the means on their ship. Not wanting to have to explain why his crew had arrived with a dead body in tow, the captain had ordered the ship to dock at Ashe, and he and his men had unloaded Prala onto the nearest healer. He had thrown enough coins at the woman for her to keep her mouth shut about who had dropped off the girl in case she'd died and then hustled out, eager to be long gone before anyone could commit his face to memory. She'd been kept asleep for a full day as the healer worked to mend the worst of the frostbite and had slept another day to recover from the healing.
"You saved my life" Prala whispered, "I didn't know... I've never traveled beyond Juahar or Tale before. I didn't realize the cold was so dangerous." The woman softened at her apologetic tone and motioned for her to wait there as she swept into the other room and returned with a thick furred jacket and cape, long pants, gloves, and sturdy boots. "You look to be about my daughters size, these should fit you. your fool of a captain was in such a rush when he left you he paid me much more than I think he intended to take you off his hands and forget he'd ever passed through. What he gave me will more than cover the cost of the clothes, some food, and a few nights rest. Plus, then I know you won't be wandering around out there courting frostbite again. I put a lot of work into making sure you recovered, I don't like to waste effort, so take care of yourself, you hear?" Prala nodded soberly as she continued to sip the hot drink. The woman grunted irritably, "My name's Sulyn by the way," then she spun on her heel and left the room, calling out over her shoulder that Prala would need to stay for at least one more night before she would be fit for travel.
Prala wiggled her toes experimentally, they ached but it was a good healing kind of pain. Her voyage had been spontaneous, she'd wanted to experience lands and cultures unlike her own, but her arrival in Zena had been much more eventful than she had originally anticipated. Still, she was here, and she was whole. Prala wondered what other adventures awaited her in this land of ice and snow. Only time would tell.
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