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  1. #1
    Senior Member

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    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

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    Entanglement

    OOC: Open to persons named Felicity Rhyolite only.

    Dheathain. Tha most intimidating name ta have caressed me ears. A drizzle of death, a pinch of pain and stir gently. Heat tha heathen at a tropical temperature for eighteen hours, rest for six hours and then heat again until meat be overdone.

    Adaptation to the humid and oppressive jungle climate would require plenty of time-investment on the grey dwarf's part. A bewildered foreigner in this deceptive, precarious land for a smattering of months, the journey had become more difficult over the time she had spent here. Difficulty here though was a strain she had never encountered in her decades of life. It was a balmy temperature one moment - an ambush predator the next. A sweat rash in an unwanted place and suddenly a plummet down a volcanic abyss.

    Only the mild discomforts did she have the time to contemplate, formulate thoughts of protest about. The hot conditions she could condemn, the skittering crickets she could curse. On the other side of the coin the dusky dwarf was too busy with panic - hanging by a thread, fighting for her survival - to grumble and mutter. In those dire moments time was here and now, all and nothing. Focus and decision-making was keeping her alive, little more than those. A peppering of luck.

    Yvonne was unquestionably living her life to the fullest, challenging her limits, pioneering relatively uncharted terrain. More precisely, she was re-exploring a time-lost isle, neglected by the pages of history. There was a noticeable lack of maps concerning the area - how does one even begin to make notations for this labyrinthian-tangleweed quagmire? The plants and weeds here slithered about to capture their prey. The earth itself quaked and rumbled from time to time, ever-changing.

    The next best idea to aid her in finding her way was a local guide, of course. A dheathain fae, an enchanting species inclined toward one of the five worldly elements, who could make clear the way from Talmhaidh to Donnalaich. She had paid him appropriately for the task, coins exchanging hands, so only the small matter of the trip remained. He had taken the grey dwarf across the water, to the island where the ancient city supposedly lay hidden. He had brought her to the beginning and disappeared, an elusive and capricious individual who took as much payment for as little effort as possible. She would not make the mistake of trust again - half payment in advance and half payment when the task was done from here on out.

    Why had a sel darthirii-dwarf come to this place? What purpose could she possibly have here in this untamed, unforgiving land? She was far, far from the hovel of her home and from the subterranean cavern-city of Kachuck. She didn't belong here, had nothing in common with the locals or the locale. Every time she turned around something new and primeval was attempting to slay her. These were perceptive questions to be sure, worthy of an answer.

    Yvonne had learned so much from her mentor, Abel, but if there was one concept she would never forget from his wisdom it was this: the most successful traders place themselves in reach of the most profitable opportunities. Great distances matter not to acquire lucrative wares and they will bring those wares from across the world to barter with the highest paying customers.

    Dheathain was a lucrative opportunity indeed. Traders which had an attachment to a healthy, continual existence sought their fortunes elsewhere, on safer, well-worn roads. Places where the population counts were higher and the demands were greater, certainly, yet here Yvonne could discuss sources for unique products the mainland had never seen at their markets. Her businesses would be the only providers of exclusive goods.

    If she could locate them the entrepreneur could arrange business cooperatives with sentient races, races which most common peoples thought were faery tales. Species such as the drakari, descendants of the legendary dragons, or the dheathain fae which she had already learned would be problematic to deal with. The dusk dwarf had also heard of a race of pygmies who lived much deeper in Dheathain, a people so out of the way even the drakari ignored them. Now they could be the pinnacle of trade opportunity if she could win their approval.

    Focus. Ye must focus. This daydreaming will be tha death of ye. Listen. What can ye hear?

    The trickling water flow of a quiet, sleepy creek. Buzzing wing beats of giant dragonflies hovering near to the mostly-stagnant water. Mating calls of a rainbow-feathered bird on high in the tree branches. Rustling shrubs and shimmering grasses in the distance, a potential predator skulking through the dense coverage seeking a warm-blooded bite to eat. She could also sense a change on the wind, a clue from far off. Perhaps another of the jungle's well-known monsoons soon to break and catch her out, alone in the wilderness.

    With a stretch and a twist of her long black hair Yvonne extracted the sweat from her strands, casting the filthy droplets off in disgust. It was early morning but this heat was already intensifying. Her black skin was sunburned everywhere she was exposed to the light, her silver eyes all she cared to protect. Her bronze goggles helped a little and she was using her fur scarf as a headwrap to keep the sun from blinding her. Fur was warm, thick material though and it was causing sweat-issues of its own.

    Walking through the swampy unsettling terrain was beginning to get to her. Yvonne decided to take a moment to gather her composure, setting her crossbow and backpack down to get the weight off her shoulders. Relief tremors rippled through her upper body and she sighed with a simple contentment of the little pleasures.

    Close-by she noticed one of the most beautiful, unusual flowers she had ever seen in her apothecary career. It had bloomed huge purple petals that gave away an astonishingly attractive scent. The grey dwarf had to investigate, taking up her sickle to see if she could collect the lovely flora without damaging it. She approached it right up close, settled next to it on her knees and looked to ply her little cutter at its stem.

    Careful, careful...

    The petals recoiled, flaring open in self-defensive aggression. The flower literally hissed with hatred, its tendrils and vines tearing out and grabbing her. Shocking, to be seized by a plant, Yvonne was stunned at first and scarcely knew how to react. The vines coiled around her like pythons, preparing to suffocate and squeeze the life out of their prey.

    Finally finding her voice the dusk dwarf screamed, "No! Get off me! Let me go, get away!"

    The colossal fly-trap bared its plant-jaws open even further, hissing low and irritable as its vine-grip gradually pulled her closer. She was going to be consumed.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 05-05-2018 at 06:45 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

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