Lyrix jumps over the the scout car in one huge leap, and walks off.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ (New post)
An orange fire chi aura sprouts up above the tall grass, emanating from Lycor as he runs at Lyrix from the southeast.
Lyrix: "Oh great, looks like I can't enjoy my peace and quiet—"
Lycor: "LYRIX!!"
Lycor jumps out of the grass at Lyrix, pouncing in front of the ice lion. His Imperial Knight armor shines white and yellow in the sun, with an orange outline due to the fire chi.
Lyrix: "Fancy meeting you here, Imperial boy!"
Lycor: "Boy? I'm older than you. Well, never mind that. You, Lyrix, will be brought to justice for your crimes against the Lion Tribe! You should be honored that I'm the one to bring you down."
Lyrix: "Did you have to get the Leopards' permission to track me down? Hah! Well sorry, Lycor, but I'd rather not rot in a dungeon cell. I'm not a pirate anymore, if you let me go, I won't commit any crimes against the Lion Tribe."
Lycor: "First, how can I trust you on that? Second, you still need to be punished for your past crimes."
Lyrix: "Sheesh, all this because I wanted to help a friend win her war. Actually, I have helped her take over her tribe now, so it looks like I have pretty much succeeded in what I'd wanted to do."
Lycor: "You're missing the point, Lyrix. You have to be brought to justice."
Lyrix: "Is it justice, or vengeance, eh? By going against the orders of 'superiors', and occasionally fighting members of my species, I 'betrayed' my tribe, and you think I should be thrown in a cell for that, right? I, of course, have no such thoughts. I just want to live my life and do as I please, even if it's not to my tribe's liking. Otherwise, what's the point of living? You seem to live only to serve, Lycor. I pity you."
Lycor: "Pretty much the kind of spiel I'd expect from a criminal."
Lycor pounces at Lyrix, and they fight for a short time, countering each other's weapon with their opposing powers. Their fight is interrupted by the sudden arrival of Malgus, who flies in with his Fire-Ice wings.
Malgus: "So I've finally found you, Lyrix. Looks like that Imperial Knight who slayed Senix has, as well. I never did get a chance to thank you for that. Because of you, I achieved my goal."
Lyrix: "What are you doing here, Malgus?"
Malgus: "I had let you go, but after becoming the Elemental Wizard, I became... enlightened. I see the Elemental Balance in an even deeper way now, and I realized that you, a lion of the south, fundamentally should not have ice powers. Come with me, Lyrix, so I can revert you back to how you're supposed to be."
Lycor: "Wait, I understand what you're saying about the Elemental Balance, but Lyrix belongs in the custody of the Lions. My duty to my tribe ultimately does overrule my duty to the Balance.
Lyrix: "All my memories have returned by now, you know. I may have wanted them erased before, but I do not like being manipulated into serving someone else, Malgus! Hey, Lycor! What do you say we team up to take down this bag of bones, then discuss where I'll go."
Lycor: "I can't trust you Lyrix. Remember what happened the last time we teamed up, against the Praetorian Guard?"
Lyrix: "Heh, this situation is different, isn't it?"
Lycor: "I... suppose so."
Malgus: "So you two think you can stand a chance against I, the Elemental Wizard? Very well. One lion stands before me with fire chi, while the other has ice powers. This battle should be... perfectly balanced.
The two cousins manage to seemingly defeat Malgus after a tough battle. A Mammoth-copter then flies above from the north, piloted by Malgus II, its ice cannons poised at the lions.
Lyrix: "Uh... I was just trying to talk to Malgus, and then Lycor here mercilessly killed—!"
Lycor: "No, we're not doing this again."
In a couple swift motions, Lycor punches Lyrix in the jaw with his left hand, and throws his Fire Valious up at the aircraft with his right hand. The fire chi-powered throw sends the sword straight into one of the copter's two large propellers, sending explosions throughout half the aircraft, as it crashes to the ground nearby. Lycor catches his sword, which had fallen out of the propeller before the crash. Malgus II stumbles out of the burning vehicle, as Malgus pounces up behind the lions.
Lyrix: "Wha— this old hag is alive?!"
Malgus: "I'd faked my defeat to test your strength, but now that you've almost killed my son, this interaction is over!"
Malgus grabs Lyrix in his huge big-fig hand, then flies over Lycor and grabs Malgus II in his other hand, flying away north.
Lycor: "Well, this is just great. Now I've got to tell Uncle Lycan that I wasn't able to capture his son."
Post by TheFirstDecade on Oct 29, 2019 18:00:27 GMT
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
(OOC: I legit don't remember making this, it's literally TWO YEARS OLD!!! Have I been gone for that long? I don't even remember HALF my characters very well at this point! XD)
Having driven miles on end, the Beaver known as Byrum slows his pace and takes in the scenery. He sighs in relief, slumping back in his seat. Upon finding the Camp, he finds a tent covered with various Tribe Insignias and enters it—flopping face forward onto a mat.
Tufts of grass are thrown at his head—Rorik.
Giggling, the amnesiac Rhino stands up and heads for the entrance of the tent. His demeanor suddenly changes, and he begins to talk as if he we're a Raven before switching to Gorilla dialect. Byrum merely shakes his head.
"Caught a few words from the Gorillas, eh?"
Rorik resumes weaving a basket. "Dude."
(ooc: BRUH... Who are you? kinda strange to see a new RP'er in this entire thing.)
Giggling, the amnesiac Rhino stands up and heads for the entrance of the tent. His demeanor suddenly changes, and he begins to talk as if he we're a Raven before switching to Gorilla dialect. Byrum merely shakes his head.
"Caught a few words from the Gorillas, eh?"
Rorik resumes weaving a basket. "Dude."
(ooc: BRUH... Who are you? :P kinda strange to see a new RP'er in this entire thing.)
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
(OOC: I legit don't remember making this, it's literally TWO YEARS OLD!!! Have I been gone for that long? I don't even remember HALF my characters very well at this point! XD)
OOC: Don't worry, you were here earlier in 2021. I think we've all forgotten stuff from a couple years ago. Speaking of which, I wonder what Seris Rax is doing on Scordon Island, and why she didn't attend the Tribal Summit?
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
(Retcon to Previous Post)
Arriving at the break of dawn, an exhausted Beaver leans forward on the dashboard of his cycle. Setting his bike to cruise and slumping back in his seat, he quietly takes in the scenery and momentarily forgets his troubles.
Upon finding the Camp, the Beaver spots a large tent covered with various Tribe Insignias and steers his motorcycle in its direction. Parking in front of the tent opening, the Beaver dismounts and wearily enters—flopping face forward onto a mat.
Slowly drifting off into deep slumber, he closes his eyes...
"GAH!"
Showered with tufts of grass, the Beaver immediately gets up and wipes them off his head while sneezing.
"Ey, how-what!? What was that for?" He turns to face a scruffy looking Rhino murmuring in Raven speech before suddenly switching to Gorilla dialect. The Beaver merely shakes his head. "Caught a few words from the Gorillas, eh?"
The Rhino begins to play with a basket. "Dude."
Remembering his meeting at the Forever Rock, the Beaver throws his hands above his head and falls back onto his mat, crying out. "Can't you come faster? Babysitting! What did I get myself into to-"
A sharp breeze silences him. Standing at the entrance of the tent was his friend, the Eagle.
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
(Retcon to Previous Post)
Arriving at the break of dawn, an exhausted Beaver leans forward on the dashboard of his cycle. Setting his bike to cruise and slumping back in his seat, he quietly takes in the scenery and momentarily forgets his troubles.
Upon finding the Camp, the Beaver spots a large tent covered with various Tribe Insignias and steers his motorcycle in its direction. Parking in front of the tent opening, the Beaver dismounts and wearily enters—flopping face forward onto a mat.
Slowly drifting off into deep slumber, he closes his eyes...
"GAH!"
Showered with tufts of grass, the Beaver immediately gets up and wipes them off his head while sneezing.
"Ey, how-what!? What was that for?" He turns to face a scruffy looking Rhino murmuring in Raven speech before suddenly switching to Gorilla dialect. The Beaver merely shakes his head. "Caught a few words from the Gorillas, eh?"
The Rhino begins to play with a basket. "Dude."
Remembering his meeting at the Forever Rock, the Beaver throws his hands above his head and falls back onto his mat, crying out. "Can't you come faster? Babysitting! What did I get myself into to-"
A sharp breeze silences him. Standing at the entrance of the tent was his friend, the Eagle.
Bearing a weathered satchel, the Eagle kindly waves aside an inquisitive bee before setting aside her spear. "And here I thought you would be grateful for an chance to rest from the duties of advisor?"
Scrambling to attention, the Beaver shakes off the last of the grass tufts and scowls back at the Rhino. "Yes, yes, hmph. Did you find the needed supplies, or was this a mere test of my patience for neglecting to write back?" He massages his neck while inspecting a chip in the wood of his mallet.
The Eagle playfully juggles three hot coals. "Alright. I understand your point and apologize for having you babysit, however, this poor creature needed someone to help him." Hurling them into the air, she catches the coals one last time before becoming sullen. Her voice echoes a warning. "I fear we must hold him here for the time being. A squadron of Gorilla Mechs just passed through the Great Forest, and they were not alone. "
The Beaver's eyes narrow in concern. Taking an oaken bowl, he passes it to his friend. "Aye, I take it then you won't be visiting Sanctuary Forest anytime soon."
"Hmph, indeed." Rubbing her chin, the Eagle opens her newly acquired jar of tree sap and pours its contents into the bowl. Stirring it with a spoon, she sprinkles in a few herbs and continues. "How is your brother's 'super secret defense weapon' coming along? The last I saw, he was still in the planning phase."
The Beaver sputters his drink while holding back a chuckle. "You know Beale, once he's set on inventing, you can't stop him! I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later with the finished product."
Crawling on all fours, the Rhino emerges from behind the weapons rack wearing a basket on his head. The Eagle kneels down and removes the Beaver's goggles from his mouth, sighing as she returns them to her friend who squeaks in dismay. "Have you learned anything about the identity of our mystery guest?"
Grumbling to himself, the Beaver callously replies. "Other than being a bother, I'm at a loss. Hey- hEy!" He rushes to save his bike, where the Rhino was gnawing away at the wooden handles. "No! NO! I just stained that!"
The Rhino jumps back in fright, and quickly wanders off into another corner of the tent. Using the wooden chips taken from the cycle, he dips them in various dyes and begins to scratch out simple drawings onto the tent floor.
Peering over him, both the Beaver and Eagle look at each other in awe and shock. Scratching his head, the Beaver questions the meaning of the picture. "By Cavora, what is that?"
Pulling a watch from her pocket, the Eagle folds it into a pair of glasses. "Hmm, by Cavora indeed. These are not merely abstracts, but diagrams for various weapons of some kind...."
Arriving at the break of dawn, an exhausted Beaver leans forward on the dashboard of his cycle. Setting his bike to cruise and slumping back in his seat, he quietly takes in the scenery and momentarily forgets his troubles.
Upon finding the Camp, the Beaver spots a large tent covered with various Tribe Insignias and steers his motorcycle in its direction. Parking in front of the tent opening, the Beaver dismounts and wearily enters—flopping face forward onto a mat.
Slowly drifting off into deep slumber, he closes his eyes...
"GAH!"
Showered with tufts of grass, the Beaver immediately gets up and wipes them off his head while sneezing.
"Ey, how-what!? What was that for?" He turns to face a scruffy looking Rhino murmuring in Raven speech before suddenly switching to Gorilla dialect. The Beaver merely shakes his head. "Caught a few words from the Gorillas, eh?"
The Rhino begins to play with a basket. "Dude."
Remembering his meeting at the Forever Rock, the Beaver throws his hands above his head and falls back onto his mat, crying out. "Can't you come faster? Babysitting! What did I get myself into to-"
A sharp breeze silences him. Standing at the entrance of the tent was his friend, the Eagle.
Bearing a weathered satchel, the Eagle kindly waves aside an inquisitive bee before setting aside her spear. "And here I thought you would be grateful for an chance to rest from the duties of advisor?"
Scrambling to attention, the Beaver shakes off the last of the grass tufts and scowls back at the Rhino. "Yes, yes, hmph. Did you find the needed supplies, or was this a mere test of my patience for neglecting to write back?" He massages his neck while inspecting a chip in the wood of his mallet.
The Eagle playfully juggles three hot coals. "Alright. I understand your point and apologize for having you babysit, however, this poor creature needed someone to help him." Hurling them into the air, she catches the coals one last time before becoming sullen. Her voice echoes a warning. "I fear we must hold him here for the time being. A squadron of Gorilla Mechs just passed through the Great Forest, and they were not alone. "
The Beaver's eyes narrow in concern. Taking an oaken bowl, he passes it to his friend. "Aye, I take it then you won't be visiting Sanctuary Forest anytime soon."
"Hmph, indeed." Rubbing her chin, the Eagle opens her newly acquired jar of tree sap and pours its contents into the bowl. Stirring it with a spoon, she sprinkles in a few herbs and continues. "How is your brother's 'super secret defense weapon' coming along? The last I saw, he was still in the planning phase."
The Beaver sputters his drink while holding back a chuckle. "You know Beale, once he's set on inventing, you can't stop him! I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later with the finished product."
Crawling on all fours, the Rhino emerges from behind the weapons rack wearing a basket on his head. The Eagle kneels down and removes the Beaver's goggles from his mouth, sighing as she returns them to her friend who squeaks in dismay. "Have you learned anything about the identity of our mystery guest?"
Grumbling to himself, the Beaver callously replies. "Other than being a bother, I'm at a loss. Hey- hEy!" He rushes to save his bike, where the Rhino was gnawing away at the wooden handles. "No! NO! I just stained that!"
The Rhino jumps back in fright, and quickly wanders off into another corner of the tent. Using the wooden chips taken from the cycle, he dips them in various dyes and begins to scratch out simple drawings onto the tent floor.
Peering over him, both the Beaver and Eagle look at each other in awe and shock. Scratching his head, the Beaver questions the meaning of the picture. "By Cavora, what is that?"
Pulling a watch from her pocket, the Eagle folds it into a pair of glasses. "Hmm, by Cavora indeed. These are not merely abstracts, but diagrams for various weapons of some kind...."
The two friends anxiously step backwards.
"Uh, where did you say you found him?"
The Eagle readjusts her glasses, momentarily wiping away smudge from the lense. "Wait...look." Letting her hand run through the image, the Eagle frantically snaps her fingers. "Quickly, get me my journal!"
Diving head first into a pile of manuscripts, The Beaver staggers under the weight of a large volume. In the background, the Eagle continues to ramble.
"And what of this sword diagram? Where is that book!?"
The Beaver stumbles forward completely out of breath. "I-got it."
Standing upright, the Eagle immediately skims through its pages before dropping it on the floor. "Yes, of course! These secondary markings make up a profile of the Quarry. He is remembering...something!"
"You figured that out already?!"
"Oh no, you brought me a volume on preparing trout, however, this small stack of rocks were a dead giveaway. "
Turning back to face the Rhino, the Eagle offers him a small stale biscuit. "What is your name? Can you try to remember?"
Although appearing confused, the Rhino happily munches on the biscuit and continues to draw more pictures resembling other famous landmarks.
"Spiral Mountain, The Spires, Shreddar Basin..."
"Ha, it seems our friend here is a reknowned world traveler!"
Analyzing his every movement, the Eagle examines the Rhino's cape of hardened clay and dry sod. Around his waist was a kilt spun from green cloth embedded with iron studs. His hair was nothing more than an unkept tuft resting loosely on his head, and stubble dotted his wrinkled chin.
Leaning on the side of her parked cycle, the Eagle crosses her arms. "Byrum, we certainly have no ordinary Rhino on our hands." Extending a hand to the Rhino, her cold stare melts into a grin. "I'm Eliaphet by the way."
The Beaver quickly shoos her hand away. "No, no you can't share names, you'll become attached to him, and-and-"
Hugging him tightly, the Rhino cries out in joy. The Beaver awkwardly pats him on the back and in a muffled voice follows up with a greeting. "Byrum, nice to meet you."
Bearing a weathered satchel, the Eagle kindly waves aside an inquisitive bee before setting aside her spear. "And here I thought you would be grateful for an chance to rest from the duties of advisor?"
Scrambling to attention, the Beaver shakes off the last of the grass tufts and scowls back at the Rhino. "Yes, yes, hmph. Did you find the needed supplies, or was this a mere test of my patience for neglecting to write back?" He massages his neck while inspecting a chip in the wood of his mallet.
The Eagle playfully juggles three hot coals. "Alright. I understand your point and apologize for having you babysit, however, this poor creature needed someone to help him." Hurling them into the air, she catches the coals one last time before becoming sullen. Her voice echoes a warning. "I fear we must hold him here for the time being. A squadron of Gorilla Mechs just passed through the Great Forest, and they were not alone. "
The Beaver's eyes narrow in concern. Taking an oaken bowl, he passes it to his friend. "Aye, I take it then you won't be visiting Sanctuary Forest anytime soon."
"Hmph, indeed." Rubbing her chin, the Eagle opens her newly acquired jar of tree sap and pours its contents into the bowl. Stirring it with a spoon, she sprinkles in a few herbs and continues. "How is your brother's 'super secret defense weapon' coming along? The last I saw, he was still in the planning phase."
The Beaver sputters his drink while holding back a chuckle. "You know Beale, once he's set on inventing, you can't stop him! I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later with the finished product."
Crawling on all fours, the Rhino emerges from behind the weapons rack wearing a basket on his head. The Eagle kneels down and removes the Beaver's goggles from his mouth, sighing as she returns them to her friend who squeaks in dismay. "Have you learned anything about the identity of our mystery guest?"
Grumbling to himself, the Beaver callously replies. "Other than being a bother, I'm at a loss. Hey- hEy!" He rushes to save his bike, where the Rhino was gnawing away at the wooden handles. "No! NO! I just stained that!"
The Rhino jumps back in fright, and quickly wanders off into another corner of the tent. Using the wooden chips taken from the cycle, he dips them in various dyes and begins to scratch out simple drawings onto the tent floor.
Peering over him, both the Beaver and Eagle look at each other in awe and shock. Scratching his head, the Beaver questions the meaning of the picture. "By Cavora, what is that?"
Pulling a watch from her pocket, the Eagle folds it into a pair of glasses. "Hmm, by Cavora indeed. These are not merely abstracts, but diagrams for various weapons of some kind...."
The two friends anxiously step backwards.
"Uh, where did you say you found him?"
The Eagle readjusts her glasses, momentarily wiping away smudge from the lense. "Wait...look." Letting her hand run through the image, the Eagle frantically snaps her fingers. "Quickly, get me my journal!"
Diving head first into a pile of manuscripts, The Beaver staggers under the weight of a large volume. In the background, the Eagle continues to ramble.
"And what of this sword diagram? Where is that book!?"
The Beaver stumbles forward completely out of breath. "I-got it."
Standing upright, the Eagle immediately skims through its pages before dropping it on the floor. "Yes, of course! These secondary markings make up a profile of the Quarry. He is remembering...something!"
"You figured that out already?!"
"Oh no, you brought me a volume on preparing trout, however, this small stack of rocks were a dead giveaway. "
Turning back to face the Rhino, the Eagle offers him a small stale biscuit. "What is your name? Can you try to remember?"
Although appearing confused, the Rhino happily munches on the biscuit and continues to draw more pictures resembling other famous landmarks.
"Spiral Mountain, The Spires, Shreddar Basin..."
"Ha, it seems our friend here is a reknowned world traveler!"
Analyzing his every movement, the Eagle examines the Rhino's cape of hardened clay and dry sod. Around his waist was a kilt spun from green cloth embedded with iron studs. His hair was nothing more than an unkept tuft resting loosely on his head, and stubble dotted his wrinkled chin.
Leaning on the side of her parked cycle, the Eagle crosses her arms. "Byrum, we certainly have no ordinary Rhino on our hands." Extending a hand to the Rhino, her cold stare melts into a grin. "I'm Eliaphet by the way."
The Beaver quickly shoos her hand away. "No, no you can't share names, you'll become attached to him, and-and-"
Hugging him tightly, the Rhino cries out in joy. The Beaver awkwardly pats him on the back and in a muffled voice follows up with a greeting. "Byrum, nice to meet you."
~
Tumbling into a pile of stacked books, a breathless Bryum violently shakes himself steady. "No, keep it together, your talking crazy!" He leans forward, clutching the side of a table for support. "By my rudder, I can't keep up with this un. He'll be the death of me."
Folding her glasses back into a pocket watch, Eliaphet reads the current time. "It's barely half past noon, you should be fine for another hour." She recoils back into her sea of manuscripts, engrossed in a chapter on specialized herbs.
Dodging a rock, Byrum coughs as a cloud of dust envelopes him. "*cough* Easy for you to say. *cough* *cough* You aren't-GAH!" He is thrown forward by a charging Rhino.
Murmuring to herself, Eliaphet holds up her left hand and catches a flying Byrum before he is able land ontop of a steaming pot. Still focused on her volume, she continues."Hmm, three weeks and our friend remains unable to recount any memory beyond that of when we found him. A shame really. The skill needed to cure such amnesia lies outside of mine expertise."
Carelessly dropping him onto a pillow, she closes the book abruptly. "We cannot allow him to remain in this state any longer. There is of course one who could possibly have a chance---and he is hard to come by."
"gO tO wHiT?" The shock of such a statement causes Byrum to fall backward, his tail tipping over a cup of hot tea. Jumping up and down, he mutters a few words under his breath.
Ignoring his cries of pain, Eliaphet checks the disturbed pot. "Yes, go to Whit. Who else?"
"Yeowch! I-I take it back, I'll put up with the rascal a while longer, just don't even think-"
Thinking Byrum was on fire, the Rhino quickly throws a pail of cold water at him, leaving the Beaver a dripping wet mess. Squinting his eyes and shaking his head, Byrum throws an acusing finger at Eliaphet. "This is no time for folly. That wolf is a beast! A-uh- a trickster! A musical madman!"
Before he can let out another word, Eliaphet is gone...
The Eagle readjusts her glasses, momentarily wiping away smudge from the lense. "Wait...look." Letting her hand run through the image, the Eagle frantically snaps her fingers. "Quickly, get me my journal!"
Diving head first into a pile of manuscripts, The Beaver staggers under the weight of a large volume. In the background, the Eagle continues to ramble.
"And what of this sword diagram? Where is that book!?"
The Beaver stumbles forward completely out of breath. "I-got it."
Standing upright, the Eagle immediately skims through its pages before dropping it on the floor. "Yes, of course! These secondary markings make up a profile of the Quarry. He is remembering...something!"
"You figured that out already?!"
"Oh no, you brought me a volume on preparing trout, however, this small stack of rocks were a dead giveaway. "
Turning back to face the Rhino, the Eagle offers him a small stale biscuit. "What is your name? Can you try to remember?"
Although appearing confused, the Rhino happily munches on the biscuit and continues to draw more pictures resembling other famous landmarks.
"Spiral Mountain, The Spires, Shreddar Basin..."
"Ha, it seems our friend here is a reknowned world traveler!"
Analyzing his every movement, the Eagle examines the Rhino's cape of hardened clay and dry sod. Around his waist was a kilt spun from green cloth embedded with iron studs. His hair was nothing more than an unkept tuft resting loosely on his head, and stubble dotted his wrinkled chin.
Leaning on the side of her parked cycle, the Eagle crosses her arms. "Byrum, we certainly have no ordinary Rhino on our hands." Extending a hand to the Rhino, her cold stare melts into a grin. "I'm Eliaphet by the way."
The Beaver quickly shoos her hand away. "No, no you can't share names, you'll become attached to him, and-and-"
Hugging him tightly, the Rhino cries out in joy. The Beaver awkwardly pats him on the back and in a muffled voice follows up with a greeting. "Byrum, nice to meet you."
~
Tumbling into a pile of stacked books, a breathless Bryum violently shakes himself steady. "No, keep it together, your talking crazy!" He leans forward, clutching the side of a table for support. "By my rudder, I can't keep up with this un. He'll be the death of me."
Folding her glasses back into a pocket watch, Eliaphet reads the current time. "It's barely half past noon, you should be fine for another hour." She recoils back into her sea of manuscripts, engrossed in a chapter on specialized herbs.
Dodging a rock, Byrum coughs as a cloud of dust envelopes him. "*cough* Easy for you to say. *cough* *cough* You aren't-GAH!" He is thrown forward by a charging Rhino.
Murmuring to herself, Eliaphet holds up her left hand and catches a flying Byrum before he is able land ontop of a steaming pot. Still focused on her volume, she continues."Hmm, three weeks and our friend remains unable to recount any memory beyond that of when we found him. A shame really. The skill needed to cure such amnesia lies outside of mine expertise."
Carelessly dropping him onto a pillow, she closes the book abruptly. "We cannot allow him to remain in this state any longer. There is of course one who could possibly have a chance---and he is hard to come by."
"gO tO wHiT?" The shock of such a statement causes Byrum to fall backward, his tail tipping over a cup of hot tea. Jumping up and down, he mutters a few words under his breath.
Ignoring his cries of pain, Eliaphet checks the disturbed pot. "Yes, go to Whit. Who else?"
"Yeowch! I-I take it back, I'll put up with the rascal a while longer, just don't even think-"
Thinking Byrum was on fire, the Rhino quickly throws a pail of cold water at him, leaving the Beaver a dripping wet mess. Squinting his eyes and shaking his head, Byrum throws an acusing finger at Eliaphet. "This is no time for folly. That wolf is a beast! A-uh- a trickster! A musical madman!"
Before he can let out another word, Eliaphet is gone...
"Lovely..." :/
~
Many days had passed, and Byrum was feeling restless.
"What's keeping him? What, what if something happened? I-I told him not to sightseeing at the Swamp! Who knows-" he stumps his foot on a wooden block and lets out a small wail. Shaking it off, Byrum begins to scold himself. "What are you saying? Beale always shows up sooner or later..." He glares at the Rhino who was now eating a seventh bowl of soup. "I can't be leaving you alone, not for a second."
Sticking two twigs into his mouth, the Rhino innocently looks back at Byrum.
"I can't believe I'm even considering this." Walking over to his sleeping mat, Byrum dons his tool belt and slips his wooden mallet into one of the pockets. Retriving his goggles, he lowers them onto his face.
"Come on then, we're going to take a trip to the Beaver Fort."
Moving the twigs closer together, the Rhino mimicks the appearance of Beaver.
Post by TheFortuitousMysteryRider on Jan 17, 2022 18:07:44 GMT
~
Returning to the Grassy Plains outpost, silence remains between the two friends as Eliaphet silently moves her chess piece. Folding her hands beneath her chin and staring somberly at the board.
The Rhino quietly sleeps underneath a straw mat.
Byrum slams his fist onto the table, disrupting the board, and walks to the entrance of the tent. Eliaphet slowly rises from her seat, rolling up a long flowing cloak. Looking down in sadness, Eliaphet quietly responds to Byrum before walking away.
"We will meet him tomorrow, perhaps then...you might find answers."
At dawn the next day, the three set out for the Wastelands...
in de middag verscheen er een delegatie van de eagle triumvirate die achter eliaphet en byrum aantrok en daarmee samen met de zoektocht naar traxx hoopten de minor tribes te rekruteren
-A Forgotten Camp in the area is a bit astir due to a couple figures from Minor Tribes, they don’t know what to do with them since they just came back mysteriously outta nowhere, but at least they can at least provide a bit of entertainment.-
-A certain son of Dom de La Woosh was often an enthralling racer with Forgotten Speedor-riders, sending himself to first in numerous races with them, gently getting the popularity of Speedor-racing and competing back. At least Pégalat was making a good stride like this, his popularity was coming back with The Forgotten.-
-On a more black and white side of things, the smells of two certain skunks, one a Minor Tribes Founder and his daughter, were often collected and made into very effective grenade-like crowd-control. Studying their smells and chemical compounds to make it like so to create more of it for tactical purposes too. The Forgotten had also given the two Forgotten Citizenship, the Peacock too. They were free to visit Southernfell at any time and were given Forgotten Combat Uniforms and Weapons too.-
-The Three Minor Tribers felt happy that they all have the attention they deserve.-
(OOC: I gotta make something outta my Minor Triber guys...)
-The lovely handsome-boy Pégalat was enjoying his Father's old hand-me-down Speedor, just being happy staring at his beautiful colorful self in the shiny sheen of the well-maintained speedor-
Pegalat: "Aaahhhh~... nothing better than staring at the most beautiful speedor racer in all of Chima~..." -he'd murr our, casually kissing his speedor like his father did before him-
"I just wish races like back then would come back... but since this fire-ice shenangans... heck, the first confrontation between the Crocs and Lions... it's been half a decade since then... the fans, the crowds of the tribes of chima cheering, the roars of passing by Speedors... i just wish Peace can come back to Chima.." -he'd said, his happy hispanic romatic voice becoming grim and sad-
"theres nothing else on this dang continent other than to fight eachother for the trivial resource that gave us our bodies and intelligence... When will we all get along? If it's such a redundant and trite question to ask..." -he'd say, getting up and turning away, his feathered hand still on his speedor-
"But alas, we people do try to make the best of it and survive as long as we can..."
-He'd said, looking right back into the reflection of his speedor before he can he the klinking and rolling of glass in the room. He'd perked up a brow and looked behind him, he can see a small jar of glowing green gas.-
"Hey now... whats this...?" -he'd said getting close to it, the Jar's cork was beginning to twitch about and the bottle shaking, soon the cork suddenly popped off and the jar soon released the contents, Green gas began filling the room and as soon as Pegalat took a whiff of the scent...-
"AAUUGH~!! OH SWEET CHI!!! TH-THATS FROM A SKUNK!!"*cough cough HACk cough* "GUUYYAAHHH MY LUUUUNNGSSS~~!!" -he'd scream out, soon trying to escape the room, but as soon as he got to the door, it swung open and the Peacock fell over trying to grab the handle. Coughing and hacking still, he could see the silhouette of a Bear in Forgotten attire that looked like he had a gas mask on-
Said Gas-masked Bear: "WOO BOY!!! This Skunk-Grenade is a PERFECT breach-and-clear weapon, don't you think funny bird man?! Heh heh haaa--I love the smell of Skunk Musk in the morning!" -the Bear cheered on happily, the Peacock growlin, holding his nostrils and in a nalsally voice--
Pegalat: "You idiot!!! Why did you think you can just throw that weapon inside my garage?! Don't you know how HARD it could be to get the smell off my Speedor or MYSELF?!?!" -he'd wheezed before pushing past the Bear- "I NEED FRESH AIIIR~!!" -he'd squawk in pain and fear, running out of the small garage, the Forgotten-attired Bear shrugging before walking out back the way he came in-
-out in the small encampment, in a wooden watch tower, Skunkeltia saw the whole ordeal from the outside and giggled-
Skunkeltia: "Dad's got a strong smell, but i think mine's more potent! Prolly a thing with us, heh~!"