Post by Akyra on Aug 10, 2009 14:38:27 GMT -5
Blood filled and spilled from his mouth as his claws dug into the skin of Varg—no, the skin draped across his back. Frothing, the blood stained his lower jaw a pinkish, then crimson color. As the two plummeted toward the earth, the pelt, now snagged in his left claws, was dragged from Vargspar’s back, no longer his armor. It pooled to the earth, and with a quick flick of his foreleg, his claws were again free. Again he struck out for the unseen but known opponent, meeting instead the breast of Lady Log. No. He was tired of the Log and her interference. Already her love scaled her, uneven footing the Lord’s only downfall. The don had to move quickly, and he did—he had flung himself quickly away from the Lady, ripping away that glimmer of hope from his prey. He’d begun to shake the wolf unmercifully when the unthinkable happened… interference. A streak of red, and the first wolf had launched at him. Soon, other hidden assailants had materialized from the forest. His guards had fought hard, but the entire business reeked of treachery. With the Lord’s life in his hands, the great lions had been forced to retreat with the wolves of Alteron snapping at their heels—never again would they perform a favor for the lying and conniving Queen. While the lions had superior manpower, the wolves vastly outnumbered them, and Aryion’s mercenary group was at a disadvantage in their home territory.
The driving army of Alteron split the group, separating Fortune and Sekkai from the rest of the muscle. What became of the larger group, Fortune had never discovered, and it was miraculous enough that he and his childhood friend escaped with their lives. It was not without cost—once significantly beyond the borders of Alteron’s filthy jungles, Sekkai succumbed to a debilitating leg injury. He had loyally stayed by her side as she withered away, and despite his great sorrow there was nothing he could do. He was battered and bruised, his jaw torn and weakened. Sekkai passed, and he mourned her for several more days, chasing away carrion birds that meant to make a feast of her flesh. Such cold anger filled him in these days, mixing dangerously with his intense anguish, that a calculating eye was set on Alteron—he vowed that they would one day pay for their lies. It was blood for blood, even if it had all been about business.
Finally he had to turn from the body of his friend, walking stiffly away from the direction they’d come from. The damage to his jaw had temporarily hurt his sense of smell, and unknowingly he drifted further and further from Aryion, the territory unknown to him, no landmarks there to guide his path. For many days he traveled, making small meals out of woodland creatures he could catch, when he could. His health suffered, both from injuries and insufficient diet. It wasn’t until he hit savannah that he realized without a doubt that he had gone the wrong way—he recognized the land, but it was not his own. Quickly enough he was made to pay for his trespass, a male who rivaled his size took his presence as a threat. Fortune’s strength, dwindled as it was, was not enough to defeat the other male. It wasn’t until after the battle, which left fresh scars on his hide, that the older male demanded his name. Wheezing, Fortune had given his name, and the older male had fallen back into his own lands. Fortune slept.
That evening he was awoken by females hovering over him. His eyesight was dim and hazy at first, but as they came into focus, he recognized them—one was his mother, Grief. Another was Sekkai’s mother. He closed his eyes again as a third lioness crept forward, younger, no more than a couple of years. Her snout had wrinkled in disgust, and she’d turned to Sekkai’s mother, voice drawling, disrespectful.
“Who’s this fella’? Wait, why do we care? He’s disgustin’.”
Grief immediately boxed the younger lioness between her ears, causing her to shriek as if she’d been wounded, stumbling away from the living corpse that was the don. Stooping over him, she said lowly, dangerously.
“That’s my son. That’s Fortune, Charlotte. Your brother.”
She’d begun to clean his wounds, the rebuked adolescent sulking in the background. Sekkai’s mother assisted, and for the first time in months, a mighty purr stirred in the don’s chest. Unable to stop, he gave into the kittenish behavior in his depleted state, enjoying the company of his blood family at the edge of the Oakli territory.
He was permitted to stay after much pleading from the lionesses, his father begrudgingly keeping him at arm’s length. Despite being the son of the mighty Yeru, he was still a threat to the aging lion, and as he regained his strength he was to be increasingly distrusted. His mother doted after him as she had when he was a yearling, and under the care of the lionesses his health improved. As his jaw healed his sense of smell returned, never again at its original strength, but workable. The lioness, Charlotte, always skulked nearby. He watched her closely, grief welling in his heart with every furtive glance. She so resembled his fallen friend, Sekkai, and If she were alive, this creature was a tie between them. She was a sibling to them both, thanks to the mechanics of the pride. She was not as kind as Sekkai had been, not as worldly, much to his unhappiness, but her curious nature and the knowledge of what she was endeared her to him nonetheless. It was no surprise when it was time for him to leave Oakli that she tagged along behind him.
It hadn’t been difficult at first to stand her, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Fortune found it harder to endear himself to his traveling companion. Charlotte was flighty, rude, and didn’t much care for anything that didn’t concern herself. However, he found himself unable to rebuke her or turn her away, despite all of her failings. All she had to do was lock eyes with him and flash her smile to melt his heart. How funny, that the hard ass could be so easily tamed.
The journey was a long one, but Fortune had taken the path once before and remembered it. With his senses working with him, he was able to navigate their way to the far side of Aryion. Luck was not on their side, however, and as they crossed the threshold, the telltale scent of smoke assaulted first Charlotte, and then soon after, the don. Brushfires had struck the heart of his territory, and left with no other option; they had been forced to retreat, driven away and separated from the pride, which fled in the opposite direction. The fire raged on for days, perhaps weeks, and in that time Fortune came across another refugee, a yearling lioness who called herself Julip. She and Charlotte had bonded, and despite not necessarily caring for the company of another being to care for, Fortune permitted it under the circumstances.
It wasn’t until the fires had died down and the ash had settled that they breached the borders of Aryion yet again. The land had begun to heal in some places as they crossed the expansive territory, skirting around the Badlands to avoid confrontation with Aryion’s outcasts. The closer they got to the heart, the tenser the party became. Fortune’s gait had stiffened, and when they passed a gnarled tree, he paused to give it a long sniff, searching for scents he knew. Some were familiar, though some were not. He’d lifted his leg and brazenly left his own scent by urinating on the brush. This could very well get him killed, depending on how often the pride had changed hands since he’d been gone. He didn’t seem to care, however, and in an unusual display of arrogance he continued deeper into the pridelands, not keen on stopping unless made to. The two lionesses trailed behind.
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #1 on: July 05, 2009, 01:02:53 PM » Quote
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The Savannah seemed to lie upon its death bed, scarcely moving; even when a breath of life could be detected, it was shallow and unimpressive, like the shadow of a great monster: forever connected to a source of power, but in its current state, completely harmless. Wouldn't even hurt your feet if you stepped on it, and this was apparently true of Fortune's experience as well, if he could so effortlessly cross into the remnants of Aryion's core without an interception from the pride.
Sakhmet didn't mind the solitude or diminished social interaction that accompanied this lull. She was emotionally independent, and though both allies and companions were always welcome, she certainly did not require them to be comfortable. What did bother her, at least somewhat, was the lack of progression. Ayrion could have a future, a great one, if only their numbers were not so few. Lions mastered physical strength by their birth alone; an army would be unstoppable, and the pride would have limitless opportunities for growth. She'd known this when she had joined the pride. There was honor to be had, and respect. Formula and Belle, the two lionesses in charge around here, weren't oblivious to reality or in any way unintelligent. They had to be aware of the potential before them, so why they hesitated to pursue it was beyond Sakhmet's understanding.
It was so frustrating to see the prize, but find no one willing to reach out and take it.
No matter. In due time, change would happen. It always did; if you idled for too long, something else would find you and force a shift on its own terms. Ideally, the queens would solve the weakness of the pride before something detrimental to their rule arrived and complicated circumstances for everyone. Until something changed, Sakhmet could find other means of occupying her time.
Today, it was experimentation. It had been far too long since she'd found the plant, this belladonna lookalike... When was it, the first day she'd first crossed over from the Badlands into the mainland of Aryion, when she'd located it? Yes, that was it. Her memory never deceived her. Yet despite its discovery, she still had yet to test it and verify that it was indeed the same herb as what she remembered so long ago, in the man village. Its visible features were identical, but she would not leave its effectiveness to fate in the event its use became necessary. In meaning to kill another, you had to be sure it would work the first time; you may not get a second chance.
Catching a small field mouse had exhausted little to no energy. These were stupid creatures, after all. Their knowledge of the world was confined to the last three seconds of memory, it seemed, because even if she managed to be seen in the hunt, waiting outside the mouse's den always resulted in a catch. They were also mute, or at least did not speak her language, and so it took some time to communicate that not only did she not plan to eat it, but the mouse was also welcome to the food Sakhmet had provided. Foolishly, it trusted her peace treaty, or simply could not override its instinctual desires, and consumed the leaf and root-infused berries. Within minutes, after a series of spasms, what appeared to be hallucinations, and an eventual paralysis, the mouse was dead. Success.
Oh, my devil's cherry, how the witch loves your trickery. What fun, you naughty little thing.
Fairly elated at the results, Sakhmet shoved the mouse into one compartment of the small pouch she carried with her. It would be disposed of properly, as were all her subjects. Not until the cleanup was complete did she pause, relax from the intense focus she always assumed during her work, and fill her lungs with a deep, calming gush of oxygen... and a scent. Strange, that it hadn't been obvious before she'd started the procedure. Unless, of course, it had appeared during her absence, when she'd first captured her unfortunate victim.
Further observation proved the theory; it was recent, this marking, and was just as foreign. Intrigued, the caracal followed what scents and footsteps she could locate in the area, in hopes that their origin would surface... And it did. It would have been hard to miss, this scarred giant and his party. Fortune was right to be confident; removing him from the pride lands would be quite the task. She was mildly impressed by his size and appearance, though as brains were far more valuable than brawn, until he spoke a full judgment of this trespasser could not be passed.
No sense prolonging the inevitable. With a soft voice riddled with sophistication and grace, she made herself known. "Greetings, stranger... I noticed your mark a while back. I don't suppose you mean to take Aryion for yourself? There... isn't much to claim, these days." The slight pause clearly indicated her disdain. "That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation."
She had no reason to fear him, and so her words and expressions did not suggest any level of discomfort. But Sakhmet was one to speak truth, and the truth was, Fortune was a force to be reckoned with. The females with him would be, for the time being, ignored. It was his mark, his message. The Number wasn't about to waste her time on irrelevant followers, when someone interesting was at the lead.
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #2 on: July 05, 2009, 08:22:26 PM » Quote
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((spot save: belle))
Where had her Pride gone. What had become of the once booming and busy land she came to when Fortune took her under his wing. She had come from far to Aryion, young, frightened and alone. Why? Had she come here to feel involved and safe? Or had she been foolish and in love. The Queen set her mind on both answers, unable to pick between them. Aggravation fled over her on this day, perhaps not the best day to have things be meddled with. Though it was a rare occasion on when things went well on these low tolerance days. Although Belle was a patient lioness, sometimes the serious feline found herself growing frustrated with her lions. Especially the laziness! She felt her blood boiling under the hot sun just at the thought of them. Demotions were in order, and promotions for the others.
Feeling happy with this decision she stretched her long legs in front of her, followed by an arch of her back and finally a long tension-releasing pull at her hind legs. Ahh, that felt so much better. Casting her deep amber glance around the dry area she gracefully set off to find her partner in crime: Formula. Or perhaps even Serenity, both of them being around would be wonderful. Even if Ser was a night owl due to that allergy of her's to the sun. Moving quickly along the fallen tree's remains and ashes she averted her eyes, so she could forget those moments for now. Forget how she dug sand onto the flames and how they burnt her paws and eyes. As well as the terror she felt for her family, her pride and friends.
Things were fine now, all those who had been injured were recovering. That quick pace of her's became a steady and smooth trot towards where she knew Formula would be. Though as she neared the dark female she noticed she was speaking deeply with a few others, and Belle nodded to them as she passed by. She'd have to speak later on that night with her, which would mean Ser would be present. The Comare wouldn't complain for now, she knew it'd be better with their wise Albino friend nearby.
Belle didn't stop her trot as she moved towards the boarder without reason, she figured she might as well do a check to ensure they were secure. Suddenly though, a breeze brought a scent her way. Floored she froze in her tracks, nearly stumbling forward in her haste to stop. Without thinking she redirected her movements and headed off towards the scent at a graceful bound. She felt her heart beginning to pound with excitement and nerves. This could be a false alarm, a family member. Or an imposer ready to attack! Oh how could it be though? It was so familiar, she felt the lump in her throat growing and gridded her teeth to compose herself.
"That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation." First her eyes fell upon her Pride member she recalled meeting a few times, known for her petite size and beautiful markings. They then moved to The two females, one whose scents were familiar to a member she had met before. Though slightly off. A sibling? She swallowed and they moved again.
He was here. She felt her heart almost burst and her stomach fill with butterflies. Her expression stayed serious, though those deep amber eyes softened in both confusion and bliss. She felt as if all the air had left her lungs, and she was forgetting how to breathe. Belle had dreamed so many times of seeing this face again, though nothing could of prepared her for this moment.
"F-Fortune?"
« Last Edit: July 05, 2009, 09:00:53 PM by Belle » Logged
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #3 on: July 07, 2009, 10:55:41 AM » Quote
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And another came.
In hues of fire, reds and oranges and whites, she was the phoenix above the savannah, burning the grass, the sun lighting from the glossy coat and setting the reflection alight. Paws in the grasses, dried corn-husk masking the tread and elevating the gait to a smoothness that seemed less of corporal lioness than of firebird, masked and moulded into feline flanks and parted jaw and muscle layering over a massive skeleton.
Eyes, too vibrant, too verdant to be natural; they shone like absinthe, light filtering and glittering in a gaze that could stun the feathers from the birds and the mane from a wolf, not paralyzing with awe at any beauty (no femme fatale, she played a much more vital role) but with the freezing, stilling breathlessness that a flash of lightning could evoke. A sudden presence, a sudden light, and even when the lioness aged into a grizzled old cat, those eyes would still burn with an unholy green iron.
But now, the Consigliere, advisor to the top members of the family, playing the role of the aloof, the uninvolved, trekked after the Don in her own return of sorts. How ironic, to be upstaged by the older lion, as she returned unmarked, sleek, in her prime. Padding through past the fringes of the territory and into it, not disrespecting her family but seeking them out, drawing on traces of scent and old, near-invisible pathways through the grasses.
Jaws parted, black lips baring, whuffing a breath, the heat of the midday burning into her spine and haunches. Close now, they were close, and here they were. Number, Don, Comare.
Which would know her? Which would recognize her?
Old memories, blurred and broken, and there were holes in the experiences of the Consigliere. But she would fix that now, would return to claim her rank and place and greet her old alphas. Only Formula, perhaps, would know why the phoenix had flown from her coop.
"Welcome back, and hello again..."
Unsure of what to say about the rest, liquid green eyes gleaming at each in turn, greeting them respectfully, disinterestedly. She would have greeted them by rank, each one, but there were lionesses here that Cinnabar did not know. She would be hard-pressed to blabber out the second names of the family members to any random passerby who might or might not have the right to hear them.
The leaders of Aryion would recognize this as loyalty, and not informality, if they retained their senses in this ghost town of a pride.
« Last Edit: July 08, 2009, 10:08:06 AM by Cinnabar » Logged
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #4 on: July 07, 2009, 09:12:12 PM » Quote
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Kafele's creamish tan paws swatted relentlessly at bugs and blades of grass. What it was that fascinated him so much was beyond Afua. His childish energy was yet a mystery. Every moment brought another smile to his face, another flick of his tail, and he pounced again, whether it was rocks or grass, it didn't matter.
He kept growling playfully to himself which eventually got on Afua's nerves. The older lion lay silently on the ground, a quiet groan rumbled from his jaw and he pulled a paw over his muzzle. "Can't you hold still for five minutes kid." He complained with out opening his eyes.
Kafele grinned deviously and crouched, and growled once more, contemplating whether or not he dared pounce his possibly irritable brother. The light colored cub flicked his tail a few times and decided better, pouncing to the side instead.
Kafele slowly wandered further away and Afua was blissfully ignorant in his sleep. It wasn't long before he caught scent of something different and familiar at the same time, if Afua were there he would have said "Stay here Kafele." If Afua were here Kafele would have flopped to the ground where he was and waited for Afua to come back and get him. Well, Afua wasn't here for once. Kafele looked over his shoulder just to see if maybe Afua was coming up behind him right then.
He looked ahead again and lifted his nose to the wind as he had seen Afua do so many times, there were a lot of unfamiliar scents, but he knew one. He knew she was the queen. So he crept forward carefully, flinching on cue every time he snapped a twig. Until he was close enough to see several lions. He froze in his place, he hadn't seen many big lions like Afua, and none of them up close. He found himself staring at Fortune with wide eyes, he'd never seen such a gruesome scar on anyone before.
Now he wanted to run away, but he was extremely aware of every one else by now and didn't dare move. He scarcely dared breath.
[Long boring post ish long and boring DX]
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #5 on: July 10, 2009, 02:41:19 PM » Quote
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Aryion had deteriorated over time. There were few signs of life, and of the little breaths present most were faint, inaudible and hardly enough to kick the pride into shape. Once a pride active and vigorous now boasted little of the vitality and strength it had done before.
It baffled, yet simultaneously disappointed the lioness to think that the pride she has fought to obtain would lie in ruins like the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, forever encased in an inescapable field of molten ash, hardened over time and ever-thickening until one might finally break the barrier to reveal the beauty that lie beneath. When would that time be? When would this “excavation” begin? Would it ever begin? More importantly what was there that she could do about it? For one, she decided, there would be enforced a stricter regime where activity would mean greater privileges for those who chose to adopt it. That, and a few promotions were also in order; a good deed couldn’t go unrewarded.
Lazing in the blistering sun, the black lioness thought to herself quietly, mauling over any potential schemes which might boost some vigour into the pride, something it seemed to have since lost. Forelegs extended she lay idly in the long grasses, not particularly expectant of anything other than the ordinary. Under the assumption that a passer by might wish to converse (as one had done not long beforehand and had only recently departed) she refrained from the temptation of dozing into a slumber, tempting as it was. The hunt those few nights ago had left her weary, and though she received her share it did not provide full compensation for her tiredness.
Breeze stirring the grasses, Formula detected a scent and undeniably a familiar one. Belle. Emerald eyes squinting, she spotted the form of her companion traversing the savannah a hundred yards or so ahead. A feeling of curiousness welled up in Formula’s stomach in seeing her comrade, as she didn’t know where her intentions lie as of yet though she supposed at first it was best not to interfere lest it be a private matter. Still she found something odd about it, a theory confirmed as a second gust of wind wafted another scent past her nostrils, this time an ominous one. Perchance it was an intruder? Belle; might she be in danger? Was she off to confront this interloper? She wasn’t going alone. Determined to support her friend, Formula rose from her languid pose and picked up pace swiftly, cantering after the Comare.
Passing endless plains dotted with the occasional withered acacia or rouge green plant, the black lioness was greeted by a congregation of lions gathered around a single, pale figure. Slowing to a lope, green rues defined each individual form as she passed them; the first Sakhmet, the loyal caracal herbalist of Aryion, the second her comrade Belle who seemed at first a little mystified. Though her expression never faltered she had come to read her body language quite well and on this occasion she appeared utterly shocked, lost for words. Next came Cinnabar, a newly appointed Consigliere followed by Kafele, one of Aryion's little guys.
"That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation."
“F-Fortune” Belle said, astounded. Desperate for a look at this anonymous form the lioness peered through the crowd, eyes widening at the sight of the one she had only heard of in tales, some of dubious recollection. Was this really THE Fortune? The founder of Aryion? Once its King? She could not help but breath an exasperated gasp as the reality took hold. Composing herself as she often did before meeting, Formula stood alongside Belle, dipping her head subtly, eyes focused in disbelief at the figure in front of her.
"Is it really ...?"
OOC:// lol Tolf I always read your posts wrong -facepalm- sorry :3//
The driving army of Alteron split the group, separating Fortune and Sekkai from the rest of the muscle. What became of the larger group, Fortune had never discovered, and it was miraculous enough that he and his childhood friend escaped with their lives. It was not without cost—once significantly beyond the borders of Alteron’s filthy jungles, Sekkai succumbed to a debilitating leg injury. He had loyally stayed by her side as she withered away, and despite his great sorrow there was nothing he could do. He was battered and bruised, his jaw torn and weakened. Sekkai passed, and he mourned her for several more days, chasing away carrion birds that meant to make a feast of her flesh. Such cold anger filled him in these days, mixing dangerously with his intense anguish, that a calculating eye was set on Alteron—he vowed that they would one day pay for their lies. It was blood for blood, even if it had all been about business.
Finally he had to turn from the body of his friend, walking stiffly away from the direction they’d come from. The damage to his jaw had temporarily hurt his sense of smell, and unknowingly he drifted further and further from Aryion, the territory unknown to him, no landmarks there to guide his path. For many days he traveled, making small meals out of woodland creatures he could catch, when he could. His health suffered, both from injuries and insufficient diet. It wasn’t until he hit savannah that he realized without a doubt that he had gone the wrong way—he recognized the land, but it was not his own. Quickly enough he was made to pay for his trespass, a male who rivaled his size took his presence as a threat. Fortune’s strength, dwindled as it was, was not enough to defeat the other male. It wasn’t until after the battle, which left fresh scars on his hide, that the older male demanded his name. Wheezing, Fortune had given his name, and the older male had fallen back into his own lands. Fortune slept.
That evening he was awoken by females hovering over him. His eyesight was dim and hazy at first, but as they came into focus, he recognized them—one was his mother, Grief. Another was Sekkai’s mother. He closed his eyes again as a third lioness crept forward, younger, no more than a couple of years. Her snout had wrinkled in disgust, and she’d turned to Sekkai’s mother, voice drawling, disrespectful.
“Who’s this fella’? Wait, why do we care? He’s disgustin’.”
Grief immediately boxed the younger lioness between her ears, causing her to shriek as if she’d been wounded, stumbling away from the living corpse that was the don. Stooping over him, she said lowly, dangerously.
“That’s my son. That’s Fortune, Charlotte. Your brother.”
She’d begun to clean his wounds, the rebuked adolescent sulking in the background. Sekkai’s mother assisted, and for the first time in months, a mighty purr stirred in the don’s chest. Unable to stop, he gave into the kittenish behavior in his depleted state, enjoying the company of his blood family at the edge of the Oakli territory.
He was permitted to stay after much pleading from the lionesses, his father begrudgingly keeping him at arm’s length. Despite being the son of the mighty Yeru, he was still a threat to the aging lion, and as he regained his strength he was to be increasingly distrusted. His mother doted after him as she had when he was a yearling, and under the care of the lionesses his health improved. As his jaw healed his sense of smell returned, never again at its original strength, but workable. The lioness, Charlotte, always skulked nearby. He watched her closely, grief welling in his heart with every furtive glance. She so resembled his fallen friend, Sekkai, and If she were alive, this creature was a tie between them. She was a sibling to them both, thanks to the mechanics of the pride. She was not as kind as Sekkai had been, not as worldly, much to his unhappiness, but her curious nature and the knowledge of what she was endeared her to him nonetheless. It was no surprise when it was time for him to leave Oakli that she tagged along behind him.
It hadn’t been difficult at first to stand her, but as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, Fortune found it harder to endear himself to his traveling companion. Charlotte was flighty, rude, and didn’t much care for anything that didn’t concern herself. However, he found himself unable to rebuke her or turn her away, despite all of her failings. All she had to do was lock eyes with him and flash her smile to melt his heart. How funny, that the hard ass could be so easily tamed.
The journey was a long one, but Fortune had taken the path once before and remembered it. With his senses working with him, he was able to navigate their way to the far side of Aryion. Luck was not on their side, however, and as they crossed the threshold, the telltale scent of smoke assaulted first Charlotte, and then soon after, the don. Brushfires had struck the heart of his territory, and left with no other option; they had been forced to retreat, driven away and separated from the pride, which fled in the opposite direction. The fire raged on for days, perhaps weeks, and in that time Fortune came across another refugee, a yearling lioness who called herself Julip. She and Charlotte had bonded, and despite not necessarily caring for the company of another being to care for, Fortune permitted it under the circumstances.
It wasn’t until the fires had died down and the ash had settled that they breached the borders of Aryion yet again. The land had begun to heal in some places as they crossed the expansive territory, skirting around the Badlands to avoid confrontation with Aryion’s outcasts. The closer they got to the heart, the tenser the party became. Fortune’s gait had stiffened, and when they passed a gnarled tree, he paused to give it a long sniff, searching for scents he knew. Some were familiar, though some were not. He’d lifted his leg and brazenly left his own scent by urinating on the brush. This could very well get him killed, depending on how often the pride had changed hands since he’d been gone. He didn’t seem to care, however, and in an unusual display of arrogance he continued deeper into the pridelands, not keen on stopping unless made to. The two lionesses trailed behind.
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #1 on: July 05, 2009, 01:02:53 PM » Quote
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The Savannah seemed to lie upon its death bed, scarcely moving; even when a breath of life could be detected, it was shallow and unimpressive, like the shadow of a great monster: forever connected to a source of power, but in its current state, completely harmless. Wouldn't even hurt your feet if you stepped on it, and this was apparently true of Fortune's experience as well, if he could so effortlessly cross into the remnants of Aryion's core without an interception from the pride.
Sakhmet didn't mind the solitude or diminished social interaction that accompanied this lull. She was emotionally independent, and though both allies and companions were always welcome, she certainly did not require them to be comfortable. What did bother her, at least somewhat, was the lack of progression. Ayrion could have a future, a great one, if only their numbers were not so few. Lions mastered physical strength by their birth alone; an army would be unstoppable, and the pride would have limitless opportunities for growth. She'd known this when she had joined the pride. There was honor to be had, and respect. Formula and Belle, the two lionesses in charge around here, weren't oblivious to reality or in any way unintelligent. They had to be aware of the potential before them, so why they hesitated to pursue it was beyond Sakhmet's understanding.
It was so frustrating to see the prize, but find no one willing to reach out and take it.
No matter. In due time, change would happen. It always did; if you idled for too long, something else would find you and force a shift on its own terms. Ideally, the queens would solve the weakness of the pride before something detrimental to their rule arrived and complicated circumstances for everyone. Until something changed, Sakhmet could find other means of occupying her time.
Today, it was experimentation. It had been far too long since she'd found the plant, this belladonna lookalike... When was it, the first day she'd first crossed over from the Badlands into the mainland of Aryion, when she'd located it? Yes, that was it. Her memory never deceived her. Yet despite its discovery, she still had yet to test it and verify that it was indeed the same herb as what she remembered so long ago, in the man village. Its visible features were identical, but she would not leave its effectiveness to fate in the event its use became necessary. In meaning to kill another, you had to be sure it would work the first time; you may not get a second chance.
Catching a small field mouse had exhausted little to no energy. These were stupid creatures, after all. Their knowledge of the world was confined to the last three seconds of memory, it seemed, because even if she managed to be seen in the hunt, waiting outside the mouse's den always resulted in a catch. They were also mute, or at least did not speak her language, and so it took some time to communicate that not only did she not plan to eat it, but the mouse was also welcome to the food Sakhmet had provided. Foolishly, it trusted her peace treaty, or simply could not override its instinctual desires, and consumed the leaf and root-infused berries. Within minutes, after a series of spasms, what appeared to be hallucinations, and an eventual paralysis, the mouse was dead. Success.
Oh, my devil's cherry, how the witch loves your trickery. What fun, you naughty little thing.
Fairly elated at the results, Sakhmet shoved the mouse into one compartment of the small pouch she carried with her. It would be disposed of properly, as were all her subjects. Not until the cleanup was complete did she pause, relax from the intense focus she always assumed during her work, and fill her lungs with a deep, calming gush of oxygen... and a scent. Strange, that it hadn't been obvious before she'd started the procedure. Unless, of course, it had appeared during her absence, when she'd first captured her unfortunate victim.
Further observation proved the theory; it was recent, this marking, and was just as foreign. Intrigued, the caracal followed what scents and footsteps she could locate in the area, in hopes that their origin would surface... And it did. It would have been hard to miss, this scarred giant and his party. Fortune was right to be confident; removing him from the pride lands would be quite the task. She was mildly impressed by his size and appearance, though as brains were far more valuable than brawn, until he spoke a full judgment of this trespasser could not be passed.
No sense prolonging the inevitable. With a soft voice riddled with sophistication and grace, she made herself known. "Greetings, stranger... I noticed your mark a while back. I don't suppose you mean to take Aryion for yourself? There... isn't much to claim, these days." The slight pause clearly indicated her disdain. "That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation."
She had no reason to fear him, and so her words and expressions did not suggest any level of discomfort. But Sakhmet was one to speak truth, and the truth was, Fortune was a force to be reckoned with. The females with him would be, for the time being, ignored. It was his mark, his message. The Number wasn't about to waste her time on irrelevant followers, when someone interesting was at the lead.
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Kayley HOME!!!
When I said PARTY, I actually meant sex.
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #2 on: July 05, 2009, 08:22:26 PM » Quote
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((spot save: belle))
Where had her Pride gone. What had become of the once booming and busy land she came to when Fortune took her under his wing. She had come from far to Aryion, young, frightened and alone. Why? Had she come here to feel involved and safe? Or had she been foolish and in love. The Queen set her mind on both answers, unable to pick between them. Aggravation fled over her on this day, perhaps not the best day to have things be meddled with. Though it was a rare occasion on when things went well on these low tolerance days. Although Belle was a patient lioness, sometimes the serious feline found herself growing frustrated with her lions. Especially the laziness! She felt her blood boiling under the hot sun just at the thought of them. Demotions were in order, and promotions for the others.
Feeling happy with this decision she stretched her long legs in front of her, followed by an arch of her back and finally a long tension-releasing pull at her hind legs. Ahh, that felt so much better. Casting her deep amber glance around the dry area she gracefully set off to find her partner in crime: Formula. Or perhaps even Serenity, both of them being around would be wonderful. Even if Ser was a night owl due to that allergy of her's to the sun. Moving quickly along the fallen tree's remains and ashes she averted her eyes, so she could forget those moments for now. Forget how she dug sand onto the flames and how they burnt her paws and eyes. As well as the terror she felt for her family, her pride and friends.
Things were fine now, all those who had been injured were recovering. That quick pace of her's became a steady and smooth trot towards where she knew Formula would be. Though as she neared the dark female she noticed she was speaking deeply with a few others, and Belle nodded to them as she passed by. She'd have to speak later on that night with her, which would mean Ser would be present. The Comare wouldn't complain for now, she knew it'd be better with their wise Albino friend nearby.
Belle didn't stop her trot as she moved towards the boarder without reason, she figured she might as well do a check to ensure they were secure. Suddenly though, a breeze brought a scent her way. Floored she froze in her tracks, nearly stumbling forward in her haste to stop. Without thinking she redirected her movements and headed off towards the scent at a graceful bound. She felt her heart beginning to pound with excitement and nerves. This could be a false alarm, a family member. Or an imposer ready to attack! Oh how could it be though? It was so familiar, she felt the lump in her throat growing and gridded her teeth to compose herself.
"That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation." First her eyes fell upon her Pride member she recalled meeting a few times, known for her petite size and beautiful markings. They then moved to The two females, one whose scents were familiar to a member she had met before. Though slightly off. A sibling? She swallowed and they moved again.
He was here. She felt her heart almost burst and her stomach fill with butterflies. Her expression stayed serious, though those deep amber eyes softened in both confusion and bliss. She felt as if all the air had left her lungs, and she was forgetting how to breathe. Belle had dreamed so many times of seeing this face again, though nothing could of prepared her for this moment.
"F-Fortune?"
« Last Edit: July 05, 2009, 09:00:53 PM by Belle » Logged
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The posse
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Cinnabar
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #3 on: July 07, 2009, 10:55:41 AM » Quote
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And another came.
In hues of fire, reds and oranges and whites, she was the phoenix above the savannah, burning the grass, the sun lighting from the glossy coat and setting the reflection alight. Paws in the grasses, dried corn-husk masking the tread and elevating the gait to a smoothness that seemed less of corporal lioness than of firebird, masked and moulded into feline flanks and parted jaw and muscle layering over a massive skeleton.
Eyes, too vibrant, too verdant to be natural; they shone like absinthe, light filtering and glittering in a gaze that could stun the feathers from the birds and the mane from a wolf, not paralyzing with awe at any beauty (no femme fatale, she played a much more vital role) but with the freezing, stilling breathlessness that a flash of lightning could evoke. A sudden presence, a sudden light, and even when the lioness aged into a grizzled old cat, those eyes would still burn with an unholy green iron.
But now, the Consigliere, advisor to the top members of the family, playing the role of the aloof, the uninvolved, trekked after the Don in her own return of sorts. How ironic, to be upstaged by the older lion, as she returned unmarked, sleek, in her prime. Padding through past the fringes of the territory and into it, not disrespecting her family but seeking them out, drawing on traces of scent and old, near-invisible pathways through the grasses.
Jaws parted, black lips baring, whuffing a breath, the heat of the midday burning into her spine and haunches. Close now, they were close, and here they were. Number, Don, Comare.
Which would know her? Which would recognize her?
Old memories, blurred and broken, and there were holes in the experiences of the Consigliere. But she would fix that now, would return to claim her rank and place and greet her old alphas. Only Formula, perhaps, would know why the phoenix had flown from her coop.
"Welcome back, and hello again..."
Unsure of what to say about the rest, liquid green eyes gleaming at each in turn, greeting them respectfully, disinterestedly. She would have greeted them by rank, each one, but there were lionesses here that Cinnabar did not know. She would be hard-pressed to blabber out the second names of the family members to any random passerby who might or might not have the right to hear them.
The leaders of Aryion would recognize this as loyalty, and not informality, if they retained their senses in this ghost town of a pride.
« Last Edit: July 08, 2009, 10:08:06 AM by Cinnabar » Logged
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NOT POSTING IN ANYTHING WHATSOEVER -- CLICK THIS
-played by Tsubasa-
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Afua & Kafele
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #4 on: July 07, 2009, 09:12:12 PM » Quote
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Kafele's creamish tan paws swatted relentlessly at bugs and blades of grass. What it was that fascinated him so much was beyond Afua. His childish energy was yet a mystery. Every moment brought another smile to his face, another flick of his tail, and he pounced again, whether it was rocks or grass, it didn't matter.
He kept growling playfully to himself which eventually got on Afua's nerves. The older lion lay silently on the ground, a quiet groan rumbled from his jaw and he pulled a paw over his muzzle. "Can't you hold still for five minutes kid." He complained with out opening his eyes.
Kafele grinned deviously and crouched, and growled once more, contemplating whether or not he dared pounce his possibly irritable brother. The light colored cub flicked his tail a few times and decided better, pouncing to the side instead.
Kafele slowly wandered further away and Afua was blissfully ignorant in his sleep. It wasn't long before he caught scent of something different and familiar at the same time, if Afua were there he would have said "Stay here Kafele." If Afua were here Kafele would have flopped to the ground where he was and waited for Afua to come back and get him. Well, Afua wasn't here for once. Kafele looked over his shoulder just to see if maybe Afua was coming up behind him right then.
He looked ahead again and lifted his nose to the wind as he had seen Afua do so many times, there were a lot of unfamiliar scents, but he knew one. He knew she was the queen. So he crept forward carefully, flinching on cue every time he snapped a twig. Until he was close enough to see several lions. He froze in his place, he hadn't seen many big lions like Afua, and none of them up close. He found himself staring at Fortune with wide eyes, he'd never seen such a gruesome scar on anyone before.
Now he wanted to run away, but he was extremely aware of every one else by now and didn't dare move. He scarcely dared breath.
[Long boring post ish long and boring DX]
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[Afua] --- [Kafele]
Formula
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Re: Long Live the Don [All Welcome]
« Reply #5 on: July 10, 2009, 02:41:19 PM » Quote
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Aryion had deteriorated over time. There were few signs of life, and of the little breaths present most were faint, inaudible and hardly enough to kick the pride into shape. Once a pride active and vigorous now boasted little of the vitality and strength it had done before.
It baffled, yet simultaneously disappointed the lioness to think that the pride she has fought to obtain would lie in ruins like the ancient cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum, forever encased in an inescapable field of molten ash, hardened over time and ever-thickening until one might finally break the barrier to reveal the beauty that lie beneath. When would that time be? When would this “excavation” begin? Would it ever begin? More importantly what was there that she could do about it? For one, she decided, there would be enforced a stricter regime where activity would mean greater privileges for those who chose to adopt it. That, and a few promotions were also in order; a good deed couldn’t go unrewarded.
Lazing in the blistering sun, the black lioness thought to herself quietly, mauling over any potential schemes which might boost some vigour into the pride, something it seemed to have since lost. Forelegs extended she lay idly in the long grasses, not particularly expectant of anything other than the ordinary. Under the assumption that a passer by might wish to converse (as one had done not long beforehand and had only recently departed) she refrained from the temptation of dozing into a slumber, tempting as it was. The hunt those few nights ago had left her weary, and though she received her share it did not provide full compensation for her tiredness.
Breeze stirring the grasses, Formula detected a scent and undeniably a familiar one. Belle. Emerald eyes squinting, she spotted the form of her companion traversing the savannah a hundred yards or so ahead. A feeling of curiousness welled up in Formula’s stomach in seeing her comrade, as she didn’t know where her intentions lie as of yet though she supposed at first it was best not to interfere lest it be a private matter. Still she found something odd about it, a theory confirmed as a second gust of wind wafted another scent past her nostrils, this time an ominous one. Perchance it was an intruder? Belle; might she be in danger? Was she off to confront this interloper? She wasn’t going alone. Determined to support her friend, Formula rose from her languid pose and picked up pace swiftly, cantering after the Comare.
Passing endless plains dotted with the occasional withered acacia or rouge green plant, the black lioness was greeted by a congregation of lions gathered around a single, pale figure. Slowing to a lope, green rues defined each individual form as she passed them; the first Sakhmet, the loyal caracal herbalist of Aryion, the second her comrade Belle who seemed at first a little mystified. Though her expression never faltered she had come to read her body language quite well and on this occasion she appeared utterly shocked, lost for words. Next came Cinnabar, a newly appointed Consigliere followed by Kafele, one of Aryion's little guys.
"That's not to say that some of us aren't still about, such as myself. My name is Sakhmet. Who might you be? And no worries, sir. I have no intention of asking you to leave; we both know who would win that confrontation."
“F-Fortune” Belle said, astounded. Desperate for a look at this anonymous form the lioness peered through the crowd, eyes widening at the sight of the one she had only heard of in tales, some of dubious recollection. Was this really THE Fortune? The founder of Aryion? Once its King? She could not help but breath an exasperated gasp as the reality took hold. Composing herself as she often did before meeting, Formula stood alongside Belle, dipping her head subtly, eyes focused in disbelief at the figure in front of her.
"Is it really ...?"
OOC:// lol Tolf I always read your posts wrong -facepalm- sorry :3//