A wide open space in contrast to the dense Tengel jungle, the Sekudui Farmlands are open to all farmers and ranchers! There is much space available and plenty of resources to help raise some fine Tuskow or Roosken. (+3 Endurance, +2 Speed)

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[* Wanted: Ransom for Royal [P]

Postby Jaykobell » 06/14/2014 10:30 PM

There was little to say about the farmlands of Sekudui. The large farmlands spawned for miles and miles in the horizon. They were seemingly endless, and the same could be said about the flat path of stones and pebbles that crossed them. It was a place that could almost be called deserted as farm work became less and less appealing to the younger generations, who preferred the easier city lifestyle to the hardworking life of a farmer.

The green grass was sometimes adorned with fences or cattle, with tiny little houses and barns far away into the distance. Some trees lined the rocky path, together with golden crops of hay and wheat. They flowed in the wind, adding a soothing little melody to the quiet and seemingly empty farmlands. Apart from a Tuskow mooing or a handful of hens clucking, it was but nature all around.

But on that day, there was also something else that added to the background noise. Slowly and gently passing along the path was a small traveling wagon dragged on by two Cavallions. The wagon was made of the best materials: a beautiful beige top shaped over the dark wooden body made of thick mahogany. The wheels were much of the same, bumping along the path as the purebreed Cavallions dragged it along from their leather harnesses.

Sitting in front of the wagon was a man with seemingly no history, together with a peculiar-looking child who was, arguably, not fully human.
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It was quiet between the two men, but it was to be expected when the two were on a long, long journey. When you were tasked with traveling the world, there was no telling when the journey would end, nor where it would take you. It was a city for a while, and then it was off to the mountains; and then the road could go to unknown places from there. At a certain point, even the chattiest of folks ran out of ideas to talk about.

The man was the one handling the Cavallions, mostly because the child next to him was too small to handle beasts of that size, especially if the horses went out of control. Having the horses walk at such a gentle speed meant barely any work for him, regardless, as he didn't need to hold on to the leaches very tightly. Admittedly, it was a little min-numbing to be sitting there with absolutely nothing to do. Under normal circumstances, he would pay attention to the scenery, but it had barely changed in the last few hours, only ranging from one pasture to the next.

At some point, one hand let go of the leash so that he could rest his chin in the palm of his hand, arm propped on his leg. He breathed in deeply before letting out a sigh. "You used to live in this kind of place, didn't you, Merle?" he asked the little boy next to him, turning just slightly. Nothing was going on, so there was no need to even keep his eyes on the road.

While the man looked like any other young adult male out there — except maybe for his particularly golden-orange hair — his companion, Merle, was far from being a common sight. Although his anatomy was close to that of a human's, his features were animalistic, including his entire body being covered in fur. His hands were both that of a human and of an animal, having sharp claws and soft pads on the fingers and palm. The same could be said of his feet, which even had an extra toe on the side that was similar to a dewclaw. The ears were distinctively longer than that of a human's, having an animal shape to them that swivelled and moved depending on the boy's emotions. Even his face was animal-like, having a little black nose sitting on a snout that slightly protruded from his face. His front teeth was unnaturally long and sharp, but they were nothing compared to his long, bushy tail that curled behind him. Despite his animal-like body, the boy wasn't left naked: he wore a small white t-shirt that was covered by some blue overalls — although one of the overall straps was missing, letting one half of top to flop over. As far as garments were concerned, however, that was all the boy wore; it was a stark contrast to the man, who was wearing something akin to a hoodie. In both cases, very simple and light clothes were being worn.

Any way one looked at them, this pair was nothing short of unusual.

Merle was sitting quietly next to the man, the tip of his thick tail twitching occasionally. Typically, he didn't speak unless he was being spoken to, either. When his friend asked him that question, however, he did answer the question with a nod. "Yeth," he replied in his high-pitched voice, trying to speak as clearly as he could despite his lisp. It was sometimes a little difficult to understand him, but he did his very best to pronounce the words as clearly as he could. "I lived on a field thimilar to thith before I became a thlave for your family, Fall." While he'd always been taught to speak only when spoken to, his relationship with the man, Fall, typically ignored that rule. Being a slave bought to serve the family, Merle was the type to be obedient and quiet, as expected of him. Fall, though, considered the animal boy as a friend, and not as a slave; not even as a servant.

"I guess it's nice," Fall pointed out, but then he sighed again, this time feeling a little bit more bored than before. Everything looked the same, and although they'd been traveling on the same one-way road this whole time, it felt like they've traveled this way before. It was impossible for them to have taken a wrong turn, and yet Fall felt the urge to ask. "Is it always this boring?"

What Fall considered to be boring, Merle considered to be soothing. It was a special feeling to be connected to nature, and living in a pasture like this was one of the best ways to form a bond with the land. "Maybe, but it'th very thafe," Merle pointed out, and knowing that they were traveling through a safe part of the world put the mind of the little boy at ease. Although Fall knew how to handle a sword well, Merle himself wasn't much of a fighter. While he had claws and sharp teeth, sometimes they weren't enough or even useful against certain enemies.

Fall let out a chuckle when Merle pointed out that they were currently traveling across some lands that were safe and, arguably, devoid of any conflict or danger. "That's true," he answered with a smile before letting go of the leash and stretching his arms. "But after hours of this, I kinda miss danger," he added, grinning a little with teeth showing. He didn't really mean it, but really, it would be nice for something to happen — anything, really. A Tuskow walking right in front of their wagon, or maybe a sudden change in the weather. Anything, no matter how small, would be enough to break the stillness around them.
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Re: [* Wanted: Ransom for Royal [P]

Postby Flame » 06/16/2014 5:32 PM

Thwump…thwump…thwump…

It was a lazy summer’s day; the sun had just passed its zenith in the sky, and had begun meandering towards the western horizon although there were still many long, sweltering hours of sunlight left in the day. All was still, save for the light breeze which danced across the open expanse of almost entirely unbroken farmland, oceans of golden wheat and grain dipping in an endless, undulating ballet, as if it were the gilded belly of a peacefully slumbering beast. The midday heat would have been unbearable if not for the wind, but nevertheless, the fields were empty, even the farmers themselves knowing better than to labor in the middle of the day under the relentless gaze of the sun. Aside from the occasional, high-pitched drone of a stray grasshopper, even the insects seemed to have taken shelter for the time being, biding their time until the temperature turned a little more hospitable.

Only one creature was bold (or perhaps stupid) enough to be caught out in the sun at this time of day, and it was also the only one to be seen for miles around. The only noise which broke the peaceful hush of the windswept grasses came from one of the many identical large haystacks lining the cobblestone path; identical except for the fact that this haystack was noisier than its kin.

Thwump…thwump…thwump…

Upon closer observation, it appeared to be the case that this particular haystack had somehow found itself a companion. A bright splash of color atop the sun-warmed hump of the pile stood out starkly against the light, straw-colored hay and belay the presence of a living being at this unlikely time of day. It just so happened that this anomaly was also the source of the unusual sound echoing hollowly across the open expanse of fields, the combination making for an altogether rather noticeable (and strange) combination. It would certainly have caught the attention of any person or creature passing by, but at this time of day, there weren’t many that would be caught dead wandering aimlessly in this kind of sun. Thus, the lone figure had the whole wide world – or at least farmland far as far as the eye could see – to themselves without even a hint of a possible distraction in sight. The fact didn’t seem to bother the individual though, as they had yet to move since they had arrived, a good hour and a half ago now. The only visible sign of life was the steady, rhythmic bounce of one leg, crossed and propped up across the other, unwaveringly tapping out a meaningless beat against the top of the haystack. A universal, unmistakable sign of patient boredom.

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Thwump…thwump…thwump…

The figure belonged to a young woman, lounging lazily on her back across the top of the haystack. The only clues which gave away her gender in her current garb were her long, dark hair, currently pulled back into a loose ponytail behind her head, and the gentle swell of her chest under her shirt. She was dressed typically for the area, having donned a pair of loose, khaki capris and a red button-up linen shirt, patterned in the plaid so commonly associated with outdoor work. The loose-fitting clothing was cool and practical on a day like this, but even so, the heat was stifling when you spent any significant amount of time exposed to it. Nevertheless, it didn’t seem to faze the woman; the breeze was enough to keep her from overheating, and if nothing else, this was a great way for her to work on her tan. Albeit a farmer’s tan.

Judging by her clothing and her current situation, it was relatively easy for anyone happening to pass by and see her to figure out who she was and what she was doing out here in the full blast of the midday heat. A light dusting of dirt coated her skin; unlike in many of the larger towns and big cities, in this part of the country, it was a status symbol that showed that you were an honest worker, one who earned their own keep through labor. She was one of a countless number of semi-nomadic workers, hands for hire wherever there was work, wherever they were needed, and prepared to do any kind of manual labor required of them. It was common for the younger, unestablished folk in this area to hitch rides with farmers and their wagons traveling from town to town while looking for work, and most country folk didn’t mind a little company for their long and somewhat mind-numbing journeys to market and wherever else their produce was needed. People out in the farmlands tended to be generally friendly towards each other, and flourished on a symbiotic relationship based on mutual trust. After all, there was more to be lost than gained from deceit out here, especially when everyone came from the same social caste and your nearest neighbors were outside of gunfire hearing range.

It was clear that this young woman was waiting for the next opportunity for work to come riding within range, or at least someone kind enough to provide her with a lift and some company to alleviate the boredom of the still summer’s day until she could find some form of shelter for the night. It was too late for planting season and too early for the harvest, so work was scarcer than usual, and nights spent out under the stars were more abundant than usual, not to mention days spent baking under the sun. A light, wide-brimmed straw hat obscured the worst of the sun from her face, and for all intents and purposes, one might have thought that she had fallen asleep due to the sheer monotony of her surroundings. However, a distant sound pricked her ears, but instead of stirring to take a better look, she chose to lounge and wait instead. She was in no hurry, and there were no other roads in the vicinity onto which the approacher could detour.

It wasn’t long before the noise could be distinguished as the steady clop of hooved feet on stone and the gentle rattle of wood as the wheels bumped along the crannies and crevices offered by the uneven surface of the cobblestone path. Finally, a welcome sound, and exactly the one she had been waiting for. The woman stirred slightly from her lounging position on the haystack and her right arm rose at her side to hover just above chest level. One thumb extended up above her closed fist – the universal sign for a hitchhiker, and one widely understood across the country by most people. There was no need to pressure this person (or people) and make them feel obligated to take her along – after all, she didn’t want to look desperate, nor did awkward people make for good conversationalists. She had the feeling they’d stop though, and was rather interested to see how the rest of this scenario would play out. They were still far enough out to consider their options, so she let them take it at their own pace. In the meantime, there wasn’t anywhere she could go or needed to be, so she took the liberty of conserving as much effort as she could in this heat. Things would happen the way they were meant to and in their own time.

Thwump…thwump…thwump…
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Re: [* Wanted: Ransom for Royal [P]

Postby Jaykobell » 06/16/2014 10:00 PM

Another hour of boredom, silence, and heat passed. The sounds of grass and wind were soothing at first, but after hours of hearing the same melody, Fall was getting agitated. Although the wagon had a small wooden roof over their heads — an ingenious design to protect the drivers from the rain and sun, amongst other weather hazards — it barely made a difference as the day went by. When the Cavallions pulled the cart between the trees, the shades made it easier to bear, but the blazing heat would return as soon as the horses walked past the trees.

It got to a point where Fall took off his jacket, wearing only a small t-shirt, in an effort to avoid hallucinations or something worse. It was fascinating for him to be sweating and feeling generally uncomfortable when his furry friend Merle had his entire body covered in short grey fur. Even if the animal boy wore only a small t-shirt with some jeans overalls, that didn't change the fact his own body was covered with a natural furcoat that made Fall feel even hotter. Yet, despite that, the boy was just quietly watching the road ahead, seemingly unfazed by the heat. "How is it so hot?" Fall eventually complained, and the exasperated tone of his voice made it clear he was in no mood to deal with this weather. "How are you not hot?" he asked, and talking seemingly made him even more uncomfortable as his body spent energy to talk and think.

Merle blinked before turning to Fall. "I'm all right," he answered simply, and after seeing how uncomfortable Fall looked, he gave the human a sheepish smile as he scratched the back of his head. "I worked in thith kind of plathe with my parenth. I had to work in thith weather a lot when I wath little." When the crops had been collected, or when it was time to plough the earth or plant the seeds, weather was hardly a problem. If the sun got too scorching hot, they worked slower or they stopped early. The same logic applied when the weather got colder, and even hazards like hard rain never bothered Merle's parents. When your finances and your survival depended on every single crop you could manage to grow, nothing in the world could stop someone from working on their field. Little Merle had seen his parents work to exhaustion in order to have enough food to feed both their stomachs and their pockets; and the latter typically had priority.

"You worked here?" Fall knew that Merle had grown on this kind of field, but the working part had eluded him until that point. "How can you even work in this kind of temperature?" He was sweating bullets and feeling his insides twist and turn from how unbearably uncomfortable this weather was. He couldn't even imagine working in this state, and to hear that his friend — who was, again, completely covered in fur — had done it years before boggled his mind. "What kind of work did you even do?" His questions were a little sharp-tongued, but it was the heat talking. Fall had never actually been on a farm before, and so the kind of labor they practiced did intrigue him; just not when his own hair was on the verge of bursting into flames.

"I did whatever my dad needed me to do," Merle answered, letting Fall's irritated tone roll off his back. The man wasn't one of foul mood, and so the boy knew he wasn't causing the human's discomfort. One would expect it as such, being that Merle was a slave, and so he was typically seen as a nuisance. In Fall's case, however, the two of them were genuine friends, the two having been traveling together for months. "Often he had me pick up the cropth to make bread and other thingth." At the time, Merle had been too young to handle big farm tools like the plough. As a result, his father had gotten him to do farm labor that could be done by a child of any age, and picking up crops wasn't a hard thing to do.

Fall's interest was piqued when bread was mentioned, if only because they hadn't eaten in hours — ever since they'd landed on this path, really. He would've asked more questions when his unfocused attention got sight of something completely different. The discussion at hand was completely forgotten as Fall changed the subject o fast that he noticed Merle jumping right next to him. "Over there!" the human yelled, seemingly out of the blue, as he got up and pointed straight ahead. "I see someone!"

After the initial burst of excitement and once Merle had sat back down, Fall whipped the Cavallions to trot along faster. The beasts neighed a little happily, but they obeyed regardless, picking up the pace. The wagon wobbled along the cobblestone, sometimes tilting so badly that it felt like the whole cart was about ready to tip over to its side. Merle simply held on tightly, grateful for his claws, as Fall continued to order the Cavallions onward. Hopefully, what he'd seen wasn't just a trick of the mind; it was consolation enough that Merle hadn't questioned the situation. Had the animal boy asked what Fall was pointing at, that probably would've confirmed that the human was hallucinating.

Fall reigned the Cavallions in as they got closer to the stranger, and it was a strange feeling to meet another human being after being alone for hours. Even when the pair was forced to travel through forests or other regions, at least the scenery changed, or animals ambushed them, or something happened to break the monotony. A pad of paper and a paperclip were more riveting than these empty farmlands.

"Whoa!" Fall called out to the Cavallions as he held them back some more, getting them to slow down to a stop as they reached the stranger. Her casual clothes and overall looks were enough to inspire confidence and trust in Fall, even if the hard-working image was completely lost on him.

"Hey there!" he greeted the woman, waving a hand as he looked down from his seat on the wagon. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, pausing for just a few seconds before adding, "Are you going somewhere?"

Having been cooped up in his own house for the majority of his life, Fall was naive and gullible in the real world. Since he had only been exposed to valets and servants, the extent of drama and criminality in his life extended to a servant giving him mismatched socks or eating cold soup for dinner. The idea of crossing someone malicious or walking right into a trap also went right over the young man's head, where it was his belief that no one was truly evil or mean-spirited; not even strangers on the side of the road looking to hitch a ride.
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Re: [* Wanted: Ransom for Royal [P]

Postby Flame » 06/17/2014 5:09 PM

The slow, steady rhythm of hooves against the cobblestone road grew gradually louder, slowly drowning out what had so recently been the loudness of the hushing grasses in the wind. It was funny how these things changed with perspective – for a moment, the alien sound of the horse-drawn wagon was almost deafening in the arid stillness of the afternoon, but a moment later, an imperceptible switch automatically flicked on in the mind. The inexplicably complex mechanics muffled the suddenly-thunderous onslaught of noise, expertly cutting the perceived loudness down to a bearable level instantaneously. Almost. No matter how sharp, the brain was not a perfect tool by any stretch of even its own vast imagination, and it was a universal flaw which was listed as being amongst the main ingredients for being human. Especially after being baked in the open sun for hours on end.

However, Corvina was anything but ‘just human’. To her, it was but a distant dream from a lifetime ago, perhaps even longer. The line tended to blur as time passed, and to be honest, she couldn’t recall what it was like to be human. But that matter was the least of her concerns – leave the existential questions to the philosophers and those with the time and resources to waste away pondering over the things that couldn’t be changed. As for her, she had her own obligations to be concerned with and little time – or patience – for the “what if’s” and “if only’s” in life. The past was the past, and that would never change, no matter how hard she thought about it or wished for it otherwise.

A sudden crescendo in volume and beat caught her attention – apparently, she’d been spotted, and it seemed like the driver of the wagon was quite keen on reaching her. Good, good. Well, either that, or they were suddenly in a terrible hurry. For all she knew, they could be fleeing from an irate tuskow or taosig, or perhaps they just really didn’t want to have to stop and speak with her. It would just be her luck if they went barreling by without so much as a greeting. However, her qualms were soon set to rest as the driver pulled the wagon to a halt alongside her haystack, wooden wheels and frame rattling indignantly against the stone below. So far, things were going according to plan; at this rate, she might even be able to make it where she was headed by nightfall, but only time and chance would tell.

The wide brim of the straw hat lifted just slightly, revealing a pair of eyes the color of pale rust as the woman raised her head. There was a brief beat as the conversation lulled, her gaze taking in the new scenery before her, reading the situation with a brief yet thorough once-over of the wagon and both passengers. The pause was but a moment before one hand reached up to sweep the hat obscuring her features from her head. The sun beat down on a slightly dusty but undeniably feminine face, squinting slightly in the sudden exposure to the light. If it had been questionable before, the unusual red hue of her eyes could easily be made out now, set in a high cheekboned face and framed by her dark, ebon hair. A few loose strands floated free of the restraining hair tie, adding to her casual and somewhat lackadaisical appearance. A wide, toothy grin adorned her features as she examined the newcomers, the picture of affability garnished with a small, friendly wave of her hand in response to being hailed.

“Howdy there, travelers!” Her voice was cheery and colored with just the faintest twang of a southern accent. She sat up spryly so that she could converse without having to crane her head at an awkward angle to do so. “I’m takin’ advantage of this here weather to work on my tan,” she replied cheekily to his question, although it was clear from her tone of voice that she was merely jesting. After all, no one in their right mind would come out to the farmlands to lay about and work on a tan, especially not those folk who lived and worked here. “Who, lil’ humble ol’ me? Why, I’m lookin’ to go wherever the winds and fortunes take me, which, with a sprinklin’ of luck, will be somewhere where I might find a bite to eat an’ a roof over my head for the night.” She paused for a moment, as if just realizing that the man might not be from the area, and as such unaccustomed to the quirks that came with the turf. “Y’all aren’t from ‘round here, are ya?” The question wasn’t accusing, but more rhetorical. “Those are some lovely Cavallions you’ve got there.” That was indeed true – in places like this, people generally couldn’t afford purebred beasts from renowned lines (after all, hybrid vigor made mutts much more practical in this sort of environment), but the breeding clearly showed in not only the upkeep of the horses but how they carried themselves as well.

“Anyhow, if you’ve got work that needs doin’, I’m your gal. Pretty handy with directions too, since I’ve been around the barn more’n once or twice meself.” She flitted from one subject to another as quickly as a hummingbird, and all with the same warm and friendly smile on her face. She was the picture of sweet, country-bred eagerness, full of energy and life and more than happy to make new friends and travel wherever fate might take her.

One by one, the lambs they come so meekly to the slaughter…
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