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 Posted: Tue May 16, 2017 12:40 pm
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Finding a teacher
It was Prala's second week in Ashe, she earned her keep helping Sulyn around the house. The first time the old healer had brought in a fresh fish for dinner, Prala had been flabbergasted and disgusted. She ate raw fish? Sulyn had thumped her on the head, called her a 'foolish child' and pulled out a wire grate that set up over the fire. She'd confidently laid out the filets on a piece of sanded wood and sprinkled them with a few pinches of this and that from the jars in her pantry before laying the filets over the fire. Prala had crouched next to the flames watching in fascination as the meat cooked until the skin on her front was hot and felt tightened, Sulyn had smacked her back a few feet away from the fireplace at that point, chiding her that she had nearly frozen to death and now she was courting burning herself to bits over dinner. Prala liked the healer's no nonsense attitude, she felt more comfortable around Sulyn than she had felt around anyone since her mother died. She was so sure of herself, wise to the ways of things, she took no sass from anyone, especially her young patient. Prala's mother had been young, she was always nervous and loathe to stand up for herself against Prala's domineering father. Prala always had a sense that her mother needed someone to look out for her. Most of her life, that had been Prala's father, when he had passed, Prala had taken over, but it was uncomfortable, feeling as though you were parenting your own parent. It had always seemed as though a stiff breeze or a harsh word would bowl her mother over. Guilt washed over her even as the thought occurred, in the end, her mother had sacrificed herself trying to save her. Whatever else their relationship had been before that, her mother loved her, that was what really counted. Still, Sulyn gave Prala a taste of what she thought a mother was supposed to be like. The old woman seemed to sense that Prala was turning towards her like a flower starving for sunlight and allowed the young woman to stay and learn how to survive in the snowy tundra. She enlisted the villagers to teach her young ward how to use snow shoes, how to set traps for small game, how to fish. Prala was by no means a master but she grew proficient. Prala was an enthusiastic but untalented cook, she tended to flavor whatever she was cooking with most of the spices she could find with no method or plan to her madness. The nights Prala did the cooking, Sulyn would make faces when she thought the other woman wasn't looking but she never spoke a word of complaint. Prala loved her for that alone.
Sulyn had a simple bow from back when she was younger that she often allowed Prala to take out into the back to practice with. She waved away Prala's fervent thanks, stating firmly that she hadn't been strong enough to draw the thing for years so it was only gathering dust anyways. Prala had lost her sling, her pack, and her provisions on the boat. The captain and crew not believing she would survive long enough to miss her possessions anyways. She felt guilty for all the things Sulyn was giving her, she had given her a new pack, a full set of winter gear, a change of clothes, a water bottle and bed roll, along with the bow. Whenever Prala protested, Sulyn would insist that the captain had grossly overpaid her and besides, it was all the cast offs her daughter had outgrown anyways. The young woman was more than suspicious of the legitimacy of the woman's claims but it only made her more determined to repay the woman for her kindness.
Prala crouched behind Sulyn's house with the bow, her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth and her breath clouding the air as she struggled with the arrow. Her arms were strong from years of climbing, strong enough to draw this simple bow with ease, but the movements were so awkward and unfamiliar, she would not believe she had slain the Oban soldier on her first try had she not witnessed his death with her own eyes. Sulyn had remembered enough to show her the proper way to pull the string back, with two fingers. But every time she pulled the string back towards the side of her face, and the arrow would fall.
After the tenth or so reoccurrence, Prala screeched and stomped her foot in frustration. Off to the side she heard hoarse raucous laughter, she whirled to face the offending party and was surprised to see a middle aged man leaning against the side of Sulyn's house watching her miserable failure. She glared at him and then pointedly turned away, sticking her nose up into the air pompously. He laughed again and approached her confidently, taking the bow from her even as she determinedly rotated her body away from him again, determined not to look at him. He sighed, shook his head, took her shoulders and spun her back to face her makeshift target. Handing her the bow again he nudged her stance apart with his foot, corrected her grip on the bow and stepped back. "Now, draw." She cast him yet another scowl, but curious now, she obeyed. He sniffed disapprovingly and circled her, he grasped her elbow and adjusted it firmly and dispassionately, "You want to keep your elbow rotated straight up and down when you draw," he explained patiently. Then he poked her hand, "Loosen those fingers girl, you're drawing the bow not pinching it, you're going to end up with enough blisters before this is over and you get some callus, you don't need to add to the problem." Prala listened and made the adjustments he demanded, growing meeker by the moment as he ruthlessly tore apart her amateur technique and rebuilt it from the ground up.
The stranger tilted his head, took a step back, and crossed his arms. "There, that looks about right. Go ahead and let fly, girl, lets see what you can do." Prala complied and winced, flushing as her shot went far too wide and the arrow disappeared. She would have to hunt for that later.
The man laughed and clapped a few times, "Not too bad for a beginner, you show some promise. Lets see if you can learn from your mistakes. Draw again." Prala muttered to herself about nosy strangers getting bossy, but she obeyed and drew the bow, making sure her stance was wide, her elbow straight, and her fingers loose. The man made a sound of approval, "Much better," he moved in and slapped her abs with the back of his hand and Prala hissed at him. He chuckled and shook his head. " Aunt said you were a fierce one, no lie. Stop twisting your torso so much girl, draw with your arm, not your body!" She rolled her eyes, fixed her stance, released a slow breath and shot. Her arrow thunked into the outside edge of the target, she grimaced with frustration. She wanted to hit that 'X.'
"Stop being so hard on yourself, most don't hit the target on their tenth try, let alone their second. The name's Taos, Aunt Sulyn told me you're out here every day trying to master this bow and making a right mess of things. Said you needed a teacher. Well, just so happens I'm off work with a bum foot right now, so lets see what we can do to help you master the basics. More interesting than sitting inside while the wife pesters me and the brats climb all over me hour after hour wanting attention. Can't leave a body alone to save their lives. Well, what are you waiting for? Draw again girl, when I'm done with you you'll never want to see a bow again but by damn you'll hit the center of that target. Now its my reputation as a teacher on the line, you hear? So you better put in the work, or I'll know why!"
Hours later, Prala went inside with her bow. Her fingers hurt, her arm ached, she was exhausted and cold, but triumphant! She had managed to hit the center of the target not once, but three times! Admittedly she still had no idea what she had done differently to cause that sweet focused feeling when the arrow flew true, but Taos had pronounced her efforts 'passable,' and after spending the afternoon and evening with him, Prala recognized that was as close to a compliment as she was going to get from her grumpy instructor. As she fell into bed she was smiling, she was learning to defend herself at last!
--- 2 months time ---
Tearfully Prala bid goodbye as she set out down the path out of Ashe. Taos and Sulyn stood outside and waved her away, she had never thought a pair of strangers could win their way into her heart so quickly but the small family had welcomed her with such open arms it was impossible not to love them back. She walked confidently forward, snow crunching under her boots, mountains rising up before her in jagged peaks. The new bow and quiver slung across her back was already growing uncomfortable, but she supposed she would get used to it. They had been parting gifts from Taos, she showed some promise, he'd admitted gruffly, and by that he meant if she was shooting fish in a bucket she could probably feed herself, but she had better keep practicing. Prala had responded with a simple hug, her first in a long time. She'd kissed Sulyn on the cheek and set out while there was still plenty of daylight. The healer had loaded her down with plenty of fresh water and rations and extracted promises that Prala would return to visit someday. It hurt to leave her new friends, but the itch to continue on her journey had begun again a few days before and something told her she needed to keep going. Ashe had become like a second home to her but she was not prepared to settle there for the rest of her life. She liked the small town feel, but the land here was too stark, cold and far too barren for her liking. After some discussion, Prala was headed towards Zidel. Her journey would be long, but she hoped she could find some sort of work in the capitol of Zena, otherwise she was trapped in this frozen tundra with no way to pay for transport. That is, unless she wished to walk, her feet ached just thinking about it. Travel across Zena to the capitol would be adventure enough for now. Worries for another day, she supposed. She reached the edge of the small village, turned her face towards her destination and set out into Zena's wilderness. Hoping she knew what she was doing.
---
Prala had come a long way in the time she had spent with Sulyn and Taos. As usual, she had kept to herself most of the journey. She'd erected a tent overhead to shield her from the elements as she slept each night, she'd even managed to build a fire to warm herself by in the evenings although sadly she rarely had fresh game to roast. She practiced her archery every day, making slow but steady progress, the new bow was sturdier and harder to draw, but her muscles were slowly making the adjustment. Her proudest moment in her journey had been when she managed to shoot through the water to spear a fish. Of course, she had forgotten to tie a cord to the fletching, so in the end she had lost both fish and arrow, but it was still a success in her book.
She began to slow her speed as she came closer to Zidel. She had left home with an urge to learn, had traveled to Zena on impulse, wanting to see the world and to her joy had found a teacher that had started her down the path to becoming a great archer, but she had never seen a city as large as the capital. She could practically feel the bustling energy and controlled chaos rolling off the city. It made her nervous, she couldn't shake the feeling that once she entered the city something fundamental about her was going to change. She had lived a simple life for so long, the thought of being surrounded by so many other people made her feel claustrophobic. She felt aimless, she knew she wanted to keep learning, she knew she needed to earn wages if she ever wanted to leave Zena again, but other than that she was at a loss. A city like that could chew her up and spit her out as easily as help her. She finally reached one of the roads leading into Zidel and did her best to keep her awe and terror from showing on her face. Many of the people passing her by cast her curious looks. There were many different variations of earthling congregating in the city, but despite Prala's attempts to put on a brave and confident face it was clear to those around her that she was a lost and nervous as a fish out of water. Prala shied away from the glances and darted into the nearest crowd of people, not enjoying the special attention. She immediately regretted it as she was quickly swept deeper into the city, growing dizzy at all the sights, smells, and sounds that assaulted her senses. She broke free finally, and sat down on a bench alone, head in her hands as she tried to massage away a headache. She was entirely lost and alone in the largest city in Zena, just great.
2331 words
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Posted: Wed May 17, 2017 12:54 pm
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Class Quest: Prentice
Quote: Prala carries a lot of hate in her heart towards the Obans after what was done to her and her mother years ago. All that hatred weighs heavily on a person and isn't healthy. I want her to start to grow past those feelings and let go of the past so she can focus on the future. In this case I confronted her with a situation where she had to decide how to act, a large family of Obans traveling is attacked by a group of bandits. They put the family through something somewhat reminiscent of what Prala went through, but this time the roles are somewhat reversed. She has to decide if these people are victims deserving of her help or enemies getting a taste of what they dealt out. In the end, I think she will learn something important about herself.
Prala sighed and blew a strand of hair out of her face as she scooped the few meager coins off the table and pocketed them in her apron. So this was city life?
She thought of how hopeful she had felt as she stepped forward out of Juahar only a few months ago, it felt like another lifetime. Prala knew if her past self knew she was leaving her home to start waiting tables at a run down bar in Zena's capitol that she would have spun on her heel and walked right back into the rainforest without a second look back. But if she'd done that, she never would have started learning to shoot, she wouldn't have seen the vastness of the ocean, she wouldn't have met and befriended Sulyn and Taos who had softened her heart with their gruff compassion. Times changed, people changed.
Her shift over, Prala gathered her things, made a note of her hours in the paybook, and left without saying goodbye. Prala had always enjoyed studying the world around her and while the teeming overabundance of people in Zidel had initially overwhelmed her senses, she had watched and learned and figured out how she needed to change to survive in this alien landscape. She'd accepted a job serving, she didn't make much, but it was enough to scrape by. She'd been renting a tiny room at a tiny rundown inn with just enough room for a palette and a small closet. She went out to hunt and fish on her days off. She had no way to store the food, but she could often trade what she didn't cook right away for a meal or various other supplies. She wasn't able to save and that was the biggest issue, she felt trapped in this monotonous existence. She shuddered to imagine herself, old and toothless, still smiling with awkward faked enthusiasm at strangers for pay. Unacceptable.
She stopped at her room to change and grab her bow and pack. She needed to get away, breathe in some fresh air, connect with the land. She didn't look back as she walked away from the sounds and smells of the city. She had the next day off, plenty of time to get out and begin to feel more like herself again.
She walked for hours, climbing up into the mountains. The sky had darkened and the moon was full overhead, illuminating the land for miles around as the glow refracted off the snow. It was beautiful, the rough craggy rocks of the mountains were awe inspiring in their own way. She hadn't seen mountains before she'd come to Zena, Prala found she liked them.
Finally, finding a spot that looked like a good campsite for the night, Prala was too exhausted to bother lighting a fire, she set up her shelter, pulled out her bedroll and climbed in, falling asleep almost immediately.
Prala awoke to the sounds of screaming and shot up in bed, her heart hammering. For a moment she sat there, dazed and groggy, thinking the screams were lingering from one of her regular nightmares of the invasion, but as she shook off the sleep and fully came to she realized the screams weren't in her head. With that, she climbed out of the warm safety of her bedroll, pulled on her boots, grabbed her bow and slung her quiver over one shoulder. She moved with catlike grace and silence as she followed the sounds of the screaming and yelling, as she came to a rise, she ducked down below it, peeking out from behind a rock to behold the sight playing out before her.
Bandits.
She flinched, pulling back again until she was fully hidden from view, her heart racing. She took a few deep breaths and peeked over again, the criminals had accosted a small group of travelers, a few were currently in heated combat with three adults, a man and two woman, the others were busily looting the tents and setting them to blazing with torches once they'd finished each one, as well as rounding up those in the group that had tried to run for help. Prala burned with rage, seeing again the foul earthlings that had killed her mother and captured her without a second thought. She started down the rise, darting from boulder to boulder, wanting the element of surprise. As she neared the scene, she darted behind yet another rock when a pair of hands grabbed her, a hand clapped over her mouth to cut off Prala's cry of rage. A pair of very wide red eyes met hers, the orange crystals on the woman's face glittered in the torchlight. Prala's gaze went white with fury Obans!. She saw again and again the face of her mother's killer, she watched the blood blossom on the front of her mother's blouse and spill onto her, she felt the pain as her hip was torn out of socket. Her eyes were flat with hatred. The woman looked surprised, then frightened. Prala began struggling, the woman staggered back and held her hands in front of her beseechingly, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I thought you were one of the bandits coming to find me, please, please. Can you help us? My family..."
Prala stood there, staring at her as she panted, struggling to come to terms with what had just happened. For a moment, she wanted to turn and walk away. She hated Obans. Then she saw the tear tracks tracing their way down the woman's face and felt a surge of self disgust so intense she wanted to be sick. The Obans were the victims here, were not the criminals committed to killing and stealing for their own selfish gain. This woman was an innocent, traveling with her family, she had not asked for this treatment any more than Prala had asked for her treatment back in Neued. It was a bitter truth to swallow, so much easier when the world was black and white, good and evil, right and wrong. She had spent so much time hating the Obans as a whole for what a few had done to her she hadn't stopped to realize that not all of them were bad. There was the potential for good and evil in everybody, she had just felt the badness in herself for a moment, she would not allow herself to become the monster she hated. Her eyes softening, Prala nodded, pressed her finger to her lips, and poked her head around the rock to see what was going on.
The bandits had captured the Obans, most were tied up in a line but there were a few motionless bodies lying in a pile of crimson snow, Prala shuddered to think what their intentions were towards the rest of their captives. Her mouth was set in a grim line as she drew and arrow and placed it to the string. After hours of grueling practice and relentless drilling, the movements felt smooth, second nature. She sighted her target, took a breath, and released it slowly as she let her arrow fly. It pierced the nearest bandit through the chest, he dropped like a brick. Before he hit the ground, Prala had knocked a second arrow and was aiming for her next quarry. The feathers buzzed as the arrow flue, slightly offset by a gust of wind, it punctured the second bandits shoulder. The criminals were in a panic by now, they turned towards Prala's hiding place and started towards her, but the captives, beaten and disheartened a moment before had sprung into action. One swung her legs out to trip up the nearest bandit, another shot up and head butted a second. The woman who had been hiding with Prala ran out with a war cry and pounced on the injured man and drove her dagger into his throat before kneeling to start freeing her family. Prala continued to shoot steadily, although her lip trembled with nerves and adrenaline. When the last bandit fell, the Obans all ran to her and embraced her, she tried to shy away from their vigorous handshakes and triumphant shouts but despite her best efforts to peel away and slink back into night, and privacy, they were determined to thank her for her assistance. Prala smiled sheepishly and waved off their thanks, she had done what was right, nothing more, and she had nearly left them to their fate in the beginning.
---
Prala returned to her campsite some hours later with a heavy purse tied to her belt, feeling embarrassed but happy that she had been able to use her bow for something good and selfless.
She was not just a simple waitress, she had the power to effect change, she would not be forced to stand by and watch people suffer ever again. Prala realized her prejudice towards the Obans for their role in the war was unfair. She had been through something horrible, but she couldn't blame every citizen of Oba for the actions of a few. She still couldn't quite bring herself to like the fire earthlings, but she would work to temper her distaste. She packed up her things and started back towards Zidel with a light heart. Tomorrow, she would be back to working as a waitress, but she knew the job was a temporary annoyance, it didn't define who she was as a person. Prala was going to be an archer, thats all that mattered in the grand scheme of things. There was more work ahead, but she was ready for the next step.
1603 words |
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Posted: Sat Jun 03, 2017 10:57 am
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The Archer Life
Prala opened her eyes to sunlight shining through her window and frigid cold. She shivered and curled up tight in her blankets, squeezing her eyes closed against the light, wishing she could go back to sleep. But if she did, she wouldn't be able to get out and practice with her bow before her shift, and she would need food in her stomach to make it through hours with that rabble without trying to strangle someone.
Like it or not, It was time to start the day. Sighing heavily she poked her legs out of bed, whimpered at the bite of the frigid air, and began dressing herself. Her hands fluttered over the new armor pieces she'd picked up, they were custom, forged in the style and colors of the home she had left behind. She missed Juahar, and she wanted to return someday, but she was no longer sure that she wanted to live out her life in those familiar forests. There was so much yet to see. The armor had cost her a pretty penny, she had worked extra shifts for weeks to afford them, she wanted to wear them all the time but people didn't typically respond well to an armored waitress serving them their drinks. She was always loathe to leave them in her room for fear of thieves but it wasn't any safer for her to flash them around outside either.
Prala pulled her hair over her shoulder as she brusquely ran a comb through the long tresses, it was getting unmanageable. Since she had come to Zidel her already long tresses had grown to brush her thighs, she's started braiding it away from her face to make sure no hair flew in her eyes while she was shooting her bow, but it was getting kind of ridiculous. Perhaps it was time to cut it off... She thought dreamily of how easy it would be to shoot with cropped hair, and compulsively dropped her comb, knotted her hands in her plait and grasped it to her protectively. Wincing at the pull in her scalp.
Okay, maybe not, but she was going to have to figure out something!
Feeling forlorn, she began to pack her armor away and then stopped, fists clenching. She was doing it again, letting herself get swept away in the daily grind, sacrificing the present in hopes for a better future. What had that ever gotten her? She had a steady paycheck that barely allowed her to put anything away. Even if she squirreled away every spare coin there was no way she was going to be able to afford a ship any time soon. But she'd only taken a ship once before, and she had nearly died for the experience. No, screw this, she was done.
With an exultant smile, she pulled the armor towards her again, pulling on her long sleeved shirt, a pair of warm leather breeches, oversize but sturdy boots, gloves. She stuffed her meager belongings in her pack and strapped on her armor, her fingers fumbling both with the cold and the unfamiliar buckles.
There was to be a great gathering in Coeld, caravans had been leaving Zidel for days as people headed out of the city. She'd traveled across Zidel on her own before, but with so many travelers on the road anyways, it made sense to seek safety in numbers.
Taking one last look around her tiny apartment she wished it a silent goodbye, feeling a little surge of nostalgia that was quickly replaced by breathless excitement as she sprinted down the stairs. She dropped her key on the front desk, "I'm leaving!" she announced firmly, pushing the piece of metal closer to the startled landlord with a wild grin. "So I won't be needing the room anymore, best of luck to you." She was out the door again without a look back as she practically skipped to the alehouse. Her manager spun around and cast her a glare, "You're early, good, we don't have room for all of that clutter in the back though, you know that. You'll have to find some place else to stow it." Prala's grin widened as she ever-so-gently placed her apron on the bar between them. "I quit!" she announced with aplomb, tilting her head in interest as her boss's face turned pale and then red and then a very disturbing shade of puce. "Well, goodbye, then." She darted out the door and around the corner, collapsing in laughter as the man erupted like an angry teakettle in her wake.
She felt weightless, free for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. She had her bow, she had her supplies. She was done breaking her back to survive, she was going to live her life on her terms from this day forward.
Sometime later Prala sat on the back of a caravan, arms wrapped around her knees as she watched Zidel fade into the distance. It was a new beginning.
833 words
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Posted: Fri Nov 24, 2017 1:08 pm
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A Rescue and a Trap
Prala wasn't sure how she felt about this craggy, mountainous region. She stood atop a large boulder and surveyed the landscape with some disapproval. The trees here were small and bushy, hardly fit for the title. She missed the soaring behemoths she had grown to know and love in her younger years. The rocky ground of Sauti was speckled with small pools of water. At least she had noticed the slim iridescent bodies of tiny fish flickering in their depths as she passed, so dinner should not be an issue. The weather was an improvement on Zena, as well. She hadn't realized how tired she had grown of the ice and snow until she'd passed the border and found that, while the air here was cool, it no longer seemed to freeze her lungs with each inhale. She had happily shed her heavy winter gear and sold the lot of it in Liem. The border settlement was close enough to Zena to be able to sell the garments back to travelers heading back into the icy, mountainous region. She was traveling on foot and didn't feel like lugging the heavy garments through the mountains, on top of that, she had no plans to return to Zena any time soon. She had grown and changed there, but it was far too cold and barren for her to ever consider settling down there.
The strangest thing to Prala was the light, which was a strange misty golden color that made the whole region seem almost dreamlike. Indeed, she moved as if in a fog, her eyes devouring this strange new land.
Prala wasn't sure what she was doing here, the council in Coeld had been educational, to say the least. The advice to travel in pairs or packs echoed in her memory, but she secretly thought she would rather be snatched away by one of those bug mages than be surrounded by a hoard of strangers all the time.
She knew there were more plans to bring together yet, more leaders to discuss the problem, but honestly it seemed so far removed from her life she could hardly bother to follow what was going on. Maybe it was cold and uncaring but, with her mother gone, there was no one left she cared enough about to be worried over their safety with the looming threat. She owed no allegiance to country or cause. She had nothing to fight for, she felt removed from the cares of the world.
With no small shock, Prala felt a surge of loneliness.
She, who had spent most of her adulthood willingly isolated, lonely. It was laughable. Zidel had been a shock for her senses, she didn't miss the bustling crowds or the noise, but she found it rather sad that she had no connections to anyone. But how exactly did one form connections outside of blood? She had felt tied to her family, but with both her parents dead it seemed as though any tie binding her to the rest of the world had snapped, leaving her floating somewhere other.
But meeting people involved so much talking. Prala had clumsily managed to imitate the other serving staff with their inane smiles and friendly banter, but hers had always been just a bit strained, a tad off. All the patrons noticed, but they had found her shapely form and exotic features agreeable enough to overlook her odd mannerisms.
Still, she thought if she met someone who would just let her be, who didn't need to fill the silence by yammering at her, she might enjoy having company every so often. Good luck finding a person like that, she scolded herself, rolling her eyes. The vast majority of people she met seemed to want to talk until she found herself wondering if their tongues ever got tired from ceaseless wagging and how they managed to find time for a breath.
Shaking her head at such useless thoughts, Prala hopped down from the boulder and trudged over to one of the pools, pulling a skien of thread from her satchel and unraveling its' shimmering length until she had a couple feet to work with. Pulling out a hook she had carved from a branch of one of the twisted little trees, she attached it to her line with a few deft knots and gave it a few good tugs to test its strength. Judging it adequate for the job, she baited her hook and dropped it in the water, settling down for a wait.
---
Sometime later, Prala had caught a few decent sized Fenk, and was busily skinning them. Wondering to herself as she went how she was going to manage a fire when she hadn't thought to chop any wood. A quick glance around revealed no handy shrubs, so she would need to clean the fish and find some place to store them while she searched for some fuel.
A strange sound caught her attention, Prala whirled to her right and then lurched back as her eyes met those of a large reptillian creature that had crept close while she worked. "EEEeeek" she screeched in surprise, and immediately blushed at her maidenly cry, thankfully there was no one around to hear it but the creature in front of her, who indeed tilted its wedge shaped head and hissed at her antics, shifting back and forth on its clawed feet. Prala got back to her knees and held up her belt knife between her and what she now recognized as a sailscale. "What are you doing so close?" She hissed in return, her blue eyes flashing in irritation that it had managed to creep so close without her noticing.
The creature merely flapped its large wings at her, sending her hair whipping around her face. Prala's eyes narrowed as she spat long strands of white hair out of her mouth. "Well then, I was going to offer you some of this, but now I don't want to risk rewarding such rude behavior." She gestured at the remains f the last fish. It was impossible that it had understood her, but the creature seemed to perk up at her words and crept even closer. Its large eyes fixated on the fish with a furious hunger. Prala wondered what it was doing here alone, she had seen a few of these creatures in her travels through Sauti and they had always traveled in rather large groups. As the Sailscale turned, Prala's eyes went flat at the jagged, newly healed scar tissue on one of the creature's wings. It looked as though the sailscale had been caught by one of the Sermal's that hunted in this region. Likely to injured to keep up, it had been likely thought dead and abandoned by its group. The reptile was far too thin, and didn't look as though it had eaten much while it healed. Mutely, Prala handed it the remaining fish, and after watching the creature desperately snap up the treat, she pushed the rest of her catch towards it as well, withdrawing quickly as the ferosiously hungry sailscale snapped at her fingers. Dipping her hands in the nearby pond to clean them of blood, she wandered off a ways to give it some space.
Well that had been a stupid decision, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it. She reached into her bag and pulled out a few of the tasteless tubers she had gathered the day prior. They weren't particularly satisfying, but they took the edge off of her hunger. Walking back to the boulder that marked her camp for the night, Prala thought about whether she could set up some sort of contraption to help the sailscale catch food after she left so it could finish healing. Her brain was caught up in such thoughts when suddenly a pair of rough hands grabbed her hair from behind, jerking her head back. She had a moment to gaze with shock into a pair of unfamiliar green eyes before a sickly sweet smelling cloth was shoved over her nose and mouth. Prala tried to hold her breath but the hand wrapped in her hair at the nape of her neck gave a quick twist, startling a gasp of pain from her and before she could even curse herself for a fool, the blackness rushed in to cloud her vision and she drifted away.
1401 words
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Posted: Sun Nov 26, 2017 11:42 am
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The Return of the Vaughn.
Prala was moving, that was the first thing she noticed, the second was her head was one giant ache. Prala groaned, opening her eyes a crack before shooting up in bed and immediately emptying the meager contents of her stomach on the floor at the sharp stab of pain that flared behind her eyes with the sudden movement. She pressed her fingers to her temples and kneaded, trying to loosen the muscles. She felt as though she'd been sleeping for weeks.
She glanced around her, she was in a small room, bare of decoration. It had a bed, a small window, and a chair. The chair was pulled up next to the bed frame as though someone had been watching her recently. That would make sense if she'd been sick but the last thing she remembered she had been fine...
No. She'd been attacked, her head shot around again and she groaned against the rising wave of nausea. A man she'd never seen before had drugged her when she had been plotting how to rescue that Sailscale and she was either captured or rescued. The poor creature, her heard was heavy in her chest as she thought about the way it had ravaged the food she had offered. Prala had wanted to help it before moving on. Furious now, she threw back the covers and noted she had been dressed in a clean sleeping gown, her armor and weapons were no where to be found. Her hair hung around her in a glistening fan, untangled despite her mistreatment. What in all the hells?
Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, she had been cleaned up and dressed like a doll. She was going to turn whoever had done this into a pincushion.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she carefully avoided her mess and pushed herself up out of bed. Wincing at the way her legs trembled. She felt as weak as she had after her time spent recovering from the hypothermia back in Zena. She must have been sleeping for a long time. She hobbled over to the chair and sat for a minute, wracking her brain. Slowly, bits and pieces came back to her. The rocking thump of some sort of creature beneath her, ropes around her arms and legs, being held in front of someone in a saddle. Flashing impressions, each one ending with her betraying her return to consciousness in some way and the sickly sweet cloth being held over her face until she slipped back into the darkness.
Panic flooded through her veins now and she trembled, she had been kept unconscious for ages. What was happening?
Struggling to her feet again, Prala staggered to the door and threw it open, relieved to find it unlocked. She winced against the light of the sun and then stopped dead, blood draining from her face as her eyes found an all too familiar face. She's been forced to smile vapidly into those pale green eyes for months up until she had fled to Juahar with her mother. Her betrothed.
"Vaughn." She choked.
"Well, well. Look who woke up." Vaughn purred as he approached, one large hand wrapping around her waist as he pulled her close to him. As if she had been simply napping. Prala was too shocked to even react as her eyes slipped past the face of her would be husband to take in the world around them. She was back in Tale. The b*****d had dragged her all the way back to... No, this wasn't Yera. The earthlings there would have recognized her, would have been suspicious if she had suddenly shown up again after years away from her home settlement. Vaughn hadn't been the one who'd captured her, she hadn't recognized the face of the man who had done it. Some hired lackey. Prala's skin erupted in gooseflesh as she realized Vaughn must have been looking for her all this time. It had been years since she had left in the night to avoid their arranged marriage, and he had clearly never forgotten the slight. Something mean flickered in his eyes, as if he was daring her to contest his casual banter. Prala heard a loud cry and glanced over to notice a massive flock of Kinfa perched in the trees around the little roofed platform. She was in Vers or Yware then.
Her mind was still struggling to comprehend the fact that she had been carried through the length of Sauti and most of Tale almost entirely unawares when Vaughn's hands suddenly tugged her against him and his lips caught hers in a demanding kiss that made her hiss out a breath in shock.
"Prala." He grated as he pulled away and rested his cheek against the top of her head. "How I've missed seeing your lovely face. Finally, I have you back. I spent good money finding you too. I took the time while you were... away to expand my business," he swept one hand out, gesturing towards the Kinfa around them, even as he pulled her close against his side. "I am a very rich man now, Prala. Well, more rich." He amended with a chuckle. "All that was left to have everything I've ever wanted was to track down my vagrant wife to be. We've been looking for you for ages now, probably wouldn't have ever managed had one of my men not seen you standing on a bunch of boxes over the crowd back in Coeld. Your father wanted you with me, my dear. He knew a real man when he saw one, wanted you taken care of after he'd passed. I made a promise of course, and being the honorable man that I am I couldn't just leave you out there, exposed to danger, when I promised your father to take you into my household before he died."
Prala's face darkened with outrage, but she managed to bite her tongue. Let him dismiss it as a maidenly blush. Vaughn had always been self centered enough to think she should be flattered by his attention. She had been spineless and weak when he had last seen her. Resigned to a life laid out by her father. If he still believed her to be a meek, he wouldn't watch her as carefully.
"Don't you want to know how I found you?"
It seemed Vaughn was in the mood to gloat. How predictable. The man was nearly twenty years her senior and not hard on the eyes, but he was as petty and mean of a man as she had every had the misfortune to meet. When her father's dying gift had been to contract her marriage to Vaughn of all people, it had broken the last of her allegiance to her father's wishes. She would meekly follow the whims of others no longer.
Prala stared at her betrothed and seethed beneath the surface, he still couldn't see she was different. He thought her some silly errant girl, she doubted he even cared why she had left in the first place. He certainly hadn't bothered to ask if she wanted to marry him. He didn't care she had watched her mother die since they had last seen each other. That she had been captured and nearly killed by Obans during the war, managed to escape, and then lived alone for years as she tried to recover from the sight of her mother's blood spilling out in front of her. She had left the only lands she knew to learn to defend herself and had nearly frozen to death on the open sea, surrounded by men like Vaughn, who had dumped her body rather than try to help. Somehow she had survived everything, learned to shoot, fought off bandits, hunted to feed herself, seen creatures from nightmares snatch away innocents, and traveled practically across much of the length of Tendaji and back again. Admittedly she had been unconscious for the latter part of it... But still... To sit here and treat her as if nothing had changed, as if she was still the simple creature that he had once known... Unacceptable.
Her fists clenched. All the while he kept yammering away about his business and their upcoming nuptials as if mere days had passed and he hadn't arranged to have her kidnapped and dragged to him like some sort of prize Capramel.
Prala amused herself by recalling her vow that she would turn him into pincushion.
"Where are my things?" She interrupted suddenly, tired of the games and pointedly ignoring his verbal self congratulation. Her fingers were itching to wrap around her bow.
"Stowed away" he responded placidly. "You shouldn't have need of them. This is a peaceful settlement. They should fetch a decent price, perhaps we can buy you something nice with the profit."
Prala thought about all those hours spent earning the money for her armor and weapons and screeched like a teakettle. She wondered how much his little cut throat mercenary had informed him about her return. Vaughn was either too caught up in his own importance to notice or he simply didn't care that she had been carried here against her will. He seemed deluded into thinking that he could charm her into staying put now that she was here, as if the sight of him would remind her what she had been missing out on all this time. He was a man who tended to assume the ends justified the means. He would gloss over her kidnapping and expect things to settle into his perfect little vision of what life should be. It wasn't even worth wasting a perfectly good arrow on him.
Prala suddenly quieted, reaching up to place her hand against his cheek, smiling mindlessly, the way she had learned to do in Zidel. Her hand trailed down his neck, his chest, his stomach, and settled against his belt. Vaughn smiled widely in return, beginning to pull her closer to him and then suddenly stilled as she drew the knife from his belt and settled it against his throat in one smooth motion.
"It seems I made a mistake when I left the last time, dearest Vaughn." She hissed between gritted teeth. "I neglected to inform you in no uncertain terms that we are not going to be married. Not then, not now, not ever. I don't really give a damn what you decided with my father for me before he died. Since I've been away I've learned how to use this knife. I won't hesitate. I've shot better men than you with my bow and watched them bleed out at my feet. I've seen bug monsters appear out of thin air and snatch away unsuspecting victims. So to be perfectly clear, you do not scare me, and there is absolutely nothing you can do to keep me anywhere I don't want to be. So Back. OFF. Vaughn. I'm leaving, and you are going to find some other vapid female to play house with you."
"I didn't realize that was how you felt." Vaughn held up both hands before him in surrender and Prala began to let the knife drop. He nodded to someone behind her, but before she could react, a pair of rough hands grabbed her from behind and Vaughn laughed as the cloth was pressed over her mouth again and she slowly faded away.
Well, s**t.
She really needed to get better about this.
1914 words
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Posted: Sat Dec 09, 2017 11:28 am
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Escape and Injury
Her mouth tasted sour, as though she had been vomiting, but as she pushed herself up on her elbows, slowly this time, she could find no trace of it. In fact, the room looked freshly scrubbed. Likely, she had thrown up in her sleep from being exposed to whatever disgusting drug that was again, and they had cleaner her up. Prala bristled, she hated knowing her body had been moved while she was unconscious, if they had come in to clean her up, the least they could have done was clean her mouth out as well. Likely, though, they hadn't wanted to put their vulnerable fingers anywhere near her teeth in case she woke up during their administrations.
Prala had been deposited back in the same tiny room, its only window a tiny thing tucked high up the wall. The chair was gone. She frowned and crossed the floor to try the door. It was locked, predictably. She could just see out the window that night had fallen. The land around her was quiet except for the sounds of the beasts that emerged once the sun had gone to bed. Dangerous, to leave the settlement at night by herself, and unarmed to boot, but she wasn't about to stick around here to be married off to Vaughn the next morning. She realized she would quite happily face death in the wilderness than marriage in the settlement. The choice was so easy she didn't even need to consciously ponder it. She wasn't a thing. If he found her mutilated body in the morning from her escape attempt, it would be a snub on the nose to his pride. She could live with that. Still, she didn't want to die. And she felt bitter at the thought of abandoning her armor to these idiots to dispose of as they pleased, but she couldn't risk being discovered.
She put her hands on her hips, gazing up at the window with a critical eye. It had clearly been placed so to keep her trapped, good thing Vaughn had never bothered to look beyond her pretty face. She had spent most of her life climbing, the giant behemoths of Tale, and then Juahar. Prala backed up until she was as far from the window as she could manage and crouched, gazing hungrily at the window's sill. She took off running as fast as she could manage in the small space and leapt The fingertips of one hand just barely hooked it. She dangled there, muscles straining, heart thundering, and realized it had been a while since she'd climbed anything. And that 'while' had been enough to affect her, normally excellent, upper body strength. Prala made a mental note to correct that, and hissed in pain as her muscles protested, fingers slipping. She heaved, managing to hook the sill with her other fingers and sat there, stuck and panting in pain and exertion. She made herself picture what it would be like if she didn't make it out this window, what it would be like having to call Vaughn 'husband' to see that gloating, possessive look directed at her again, and felt a surge of adrenaline. Seizing the opportunity she swung herself up, there wasn't room to crouch in the window, she had to pull herself up enough to get her head through and hook her elbows around the opposite side of the frame and then she had to shimmy and pull her way out.
It was a long way down, she made herself ignore it as she scrabbled at the outside wall looking for purchase before she brought her legs out. She found the smallest notch in the wood, and muttering a prayer, let her legs fall out of the window. Feeling her world turn around as she went and then the sudden strain and pain as her arms caught her weights. She managed that for a few seconds, panting in pain, before her arms gave out and she dropped like a stone. The fall seemed to last forever, remembering her lessons on how to fall, she tucked and rolled the best as she could as she hit the ground, but the impact was still jarring and drove the air from her lungs in an "Oof."
She lay there for a minute, stars dancing in her vision as she wheezed, tying to reclaim the air that had been forcibly pushed from her lungs. In a few minutes, she was breathing normally again, but she felt as though she had well, fallen off of a building. She ached everywhere, but more worrisome was the dull, pounding throb in her right arm. She tried moving it and hissed as the pain sharpened. Prala wobbled to her feet and cursed, noting a few more sharp spots on her ribs when she inhaled. So, a broken arm and a few broken ribs. This would be interesting. She certainly couldn't fight her way out at this point if she was caught, so stealth was of the utmost importance. She was surprised her fall hadn't roused the guard, but, knowing the caliber of warriors Vaughn was likely to hire, they were probably holed up somewhere gambling rather than manning their posts.
She scanned the area, she was totally turned around, perhaps it was the momentary lack of oxygen. Not to mention, she had no idea where she should run to anyways. She couldn't trust anyone in Tale right now and she was too injured to hope to make it back across Tale to Sauti or her mother's people in Juahar. She would just have to walk and hope that the opportunity came up later to figure out where she was.
Prala turned away from the settlement and began to sprint, wincing as her ribs protested, but thanking the Gods that she hadn't ended up with a broken ankle. A broken arm was inconvenient and painful, but she could still run. She wished there was more cover in Tale, but she would make use of the night and find a good spot to hide in the morning. Once she found people, she had no idea what she would do. She was ragged and dirty, without weapons or supplies, and had no money so to speak. She had left it all behind, choosing her freedom. It would work out one way or another, if she could get her hands on a bow, she could figure out the rest, so that would be her first priority.
1082 words
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Posted: Sun Dec 17, 2017 3:22 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 11, 2018 4:01 pm
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Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2019 1:37 pm
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