Isn't it Bliss? (Open!)

[Peacemaker]

Open to anyone at any time, but if it's later on in the thread contact me to scheme up a good intro


The softly rolling knolls of the Redeye Hills rose and fell, its lush carpet of emerald finery waltzing in the wind. From the highest of the hills, Duke could see the Citadel's imperious spires, reminding him that Radasanth was not far away. The Peacemaker shifted upon the rock that made his humble seat, turning his back on the sigil of civilization and facing his three best friends.

A fire made the centrepiece for their triangular seating arrangement. Light grey smoke swooped and spun as it sailed away on the breeze, flying ever higher towards the clear blue sky. From so high up, the sky never seemed to end, the horizon line a world away. Midnight black was the line, but the vast ocean above felt calm, a friendly see, with puffy white islands throughout. They were not heavy with rainwater, these clouds, but white as milk and light as wind, arbitrary brushstrokes on Althanas' canvas.

"A bear!" Rosalie cried, pointing to the heavens, "That one looks like a bear!"

Rose and Foley made up one corner of the triangle, cushioned side by side on the springy grass. The girl's wide eyes lit with excitement that only grew when Foley flicked her hand.

"It looks like a monk," he said, long blond hair swishing as he shook his head. Rosalie flicked him back.

"You say they all look like monks!"
"Monks are shapeshifters!"

They went on and on sometimes, and Duke loved it. He was content to listen though; neither he nor Jack could quite keep up with those conversations. Jack sat by the fire smoking a long stemmed oaken pipe, his marble-black skin shining in the flickering orange warmth. Duke shifted again. The rock wasn't very comfortable, he had only sat upon it for the extra altitude. He liked being high, for his blood always ran a little warmer that much closer to the sun.

Duke hopped down, and air sang past his ears for a moment until his legs caught him on the spongy ground. He walked towards the fire, feeling the bloated grass moisten his bare feet. It was like a kiss from the world each step, and his habitual smile shone with new brilliance. He sat across the fire from Jack, immediately receiving the pipe from the larger, stoic man.

"Thanks," Duke said, and his friend nodded silently. Jack was a polar opposite to Rosalie and Foley, meditatively calm and seldom talkative. Duke settled himself into a comfortable position as his dextrous fingers fished in a purple silk bag that lay next to the fire. His hand emerged and sprinkled a light layer of dried cannabis sativa buds into the pipe's wide bowl. There was still a spark at the bottom of the ash, so he put the end of the stem to his lips and inhaled quickly. Glowing embers absorbed the wonderful plant, and he tasted the potent smoke. Holding the breath for a moment, he tilted his head back then exhaled in short, controlled spurts, blowing five large smoke rings. They clung together somehow as the wind whisked them away, like tiny clouds come and gone for a visit.

The Peacemaker took a few more hits from the long wooden pipe, gazing into the tantalizing flames. He listened to the whisper of the grass, all but drowned out by the other two Tribals.

"Stop flicking me!" Rosalie shouted as Foley flicked her nose. She flicked him back, her green dyed fingernail thwipping the boy's shoulder.

"Fine!" Foley retorted, and promptly flicked himself in the forehead. The wind and the grass got a chance to speak out while Foley flicked his noggin repeatedly, Rosalie watching in horror. Finally she could take it no more and jumped on top of him, pawing to hold his hands still.

"Stop flicking yourself," she urged in a worried tone. "You could get a cut."
"Are you saying I bite my fingernails?" He asked sternly. He did.

Duke laughed as he passed the pipe back to Jack, immersed in the rapid, ridiculous back and forth. Just as it was getting good, it dissolved into a tickle fight, Rosalie winning but Foley refusing to give up.

"Check it out," Duke commented and held one arm straight above his head. It cast a shadow not much longer than the arm itself, and Duke nodded at the hand of the umbrage. "I'd say six more hours 'till we find out if the stories are true." He lowered his arm to scratch at an itchy patch on his ear. Jack nodded in agreement then relit the pipe with a twig from the fire. Duke stretched his arms in both directions, rolling his head around to loosen his shoulders.

All four of them were excited. The friends frequently visited the Bazaar to sell the herbs and vegetables they farmed, and it seemed on every recent trip a new person told them the same legend.

The stories, while differing in detail, all outlined the same idea. For mysterious reasons, on the evening after each full moon the most beautiful sunset in all of Radasanth could be witnessed from those hills. There was a magic in the hills, many said, that made the whole sky turn red as the sun sank away. They were told that the color glowed so strong it could be seen reflected in the eyes of anyone fortunate enough to be present. And sothe Redeye hills had received their name, and so the Tribals had journeyed to witness the wonder.

It was actually Rosalie who ventured the idea of spending a day atop the hills to watch the legendary sunset. The girl had a strange notion in her head that demons had red eyes. She embraced an innocent fascination with demons, and read about them often. At her request, Duke had brought along some parchment and a small box of colored pencils, she he could draw her and show her "as a demon". Duke chuckled at the memory, and hoped sincerely that his friend would not be disapointed. In truth, he too was looking forward to the enchanted display of light.

Pulling his guitar from the pile of packs nearby, Duke strummed a bright, sunny chord then picked a friendly rhythm. He hummed along with the quickstepping tune, trying to remember the words.

[He'll Scream]

His eyes burnt. Tears pooled in the frames of his glasses, eventually dripping onto his face and rolling down his cheeks, onto his neck, and absorbing into his scarf. Huey had been crying a long time- all day it seemed. His nose did not run, nor did his breath tremble, but his eyes did burn.

The tears flowed with ease, like blood from a wound. He thought of his mother's face, which he did not know. He imagined her with blonde hair, like his. When he imagined his father, he saw eyes that were brown as his own. At first, he could see smiles. He could see tears of joy and excited eyes. But then he remembered. He remembered what he had done and no longer did he see smiles. He saw blood pouring from their ears. His mother's hair was stained with it. The eyes of his father were glassed over- lifeless. And then he saw himself. He was crying, much as he was now. How he wished he could have cried silently as a child. How he wished he had been born mute. How he wished he were not himself.

Huey's boots squeaked with each step as they glided through the damp grass, still drying from the morning dew. Had it been warmer outside, the water would have gone into the air again by now, but it was cool, and the sun did not shine with summer's furocity. Today the sun was merciful.

Huey kept his hands in the pockets of his jacket. The material inside the pockets was softer than the material on the outside. It was a pleasant feeling- the cotton on his skin. Huey kept his hands in his pockets quite often.

His body arched with the hill and his legs began to pump harder. The hill itself was not all that steap, but it was certainly a significant incline when compared to the beaten path he had walked before. Up ahead, Huey could see small billows of smoke. The rumbling of his stomach reminded him of his poor eating habits. He began to grow nervous as he drew nearer to the fire. He hoped that maybe whoever started the fire was friendly, and would share something to eat, but it was more likely that they would be unkindly, or not have anything to eat.

For a moment Huey stopped. He turned back to the bottom of the hill, his eyes tracing the path in which he previously walked. Maybe he should have stayed on the path. It was safer there, and usually people wouldn't bother him. Huey turned back to face the smoke. Then again, he was very hungry.

Huey began to step again, working his way up the hill faster than he did before. He was worried that he would change his mind half way there and was trying to outrun his anxiety.

As he grew closer, he could hear music, but it was new to him. The only music he had heard in all his years was from a tiny music box he had kept in his room as a child. This was much deeper, more full. He liked it.

Now that he had almost reached the top of the hill, he could see figures. There were four of them. They were all human and appeared to be young, perhaps around his age. The cotton in his pockets had become wet from his palms. He was more nervous than he realized.

Slowly Huey eased towards them, taking very slow, very small steps. His eyes shifted anxiously from one youth to another. He hastily wiped the tears from his face. He forgot that he had been crying. With the hand he had used to wipe his tears, Huey offered a wave that was pathetic at best, and a smile that said ' please don't hurt me '.

[thewriter]

Breathe...

Narida did, her eyes staying closed. she raised her face up higher as a light breeze caused the ocean of green to make waves, her long hair flapping as if it were the colors on a ship in said ocean. It was unusual for her hair to be down, even more so that she didn't wear her mask to hide her face, but such wonderful breezes were sparse to her usually rushed and tiring lifestyle. Neoku padded up beside his partner and carefully put her hand in his mouth, groaning in urgency. She opened her eyes and gave him a small smile.

"You worry to much little brother," She told him in what was left of her forested accent. "The Time of Blood is approaching, I know. I trust you to keep me safe in it, aye?"

She knew Neoku was trying to urge her to get to a town soon. But Narida felt safe out here. If they came, all they needed to see was her face and wolf to know she was one of them. What worried her was if there were others around that might be in their path...their path....

She sighed and kept walking. It's all you really could do in those situations. She reached into her pack and felt the ebony skin that was pulled across her drum. That was the first resort. If that didn't work...well, they can't banish her for killing one of her own kind, even if it is a different tribe. her hand tightened at the side of Black Ice when she made it to the top of the hill. So there were people here.

Gods be damned, She thought to herself. The village isn't far from here. They won't go to the village. That isn't where it happened.

Neoku saw the children at play and lurched forward, but Narida caught him by the scruff of his neck. while the beast had an affection for children, she didn't know if they would react well to a wolf the size of a cart pony. "Take me to them," She told him. "And don't go to the children, you'll frighten them."

A tacit agreement passed between them as Narida hopped on his back and he sped off towards them. She hoped they did not take this approach as a threat, but there was no time to seem friendly.

[Sahale]

It appears that He'll Scream and TheWriter are both inactive. I will ignore them in this and subsequent posts unless they return and continue posting.

"Watching the field grass gracefully dance in the wind never seems to get old." Sahale thought to himself. "And this feeling, of vibrant life all around me, is just as calming and beautiful as the sights and sounds that accompany it."

It was only a couple of weeks ago that Sahale first began to feel the flow of life and energy all around him. The Druid, who's tale inspired Sahale's long journey, did not mention how peaceful this feeling would be. As far as how to interpret this constantly changing feeling, Sahale is absolutely lost.

"It is very much like a sixth sense. It is likely just a matter of time before I will begin to understand what it is telling me."

Sahale's thoughts were interrupted by a long squawk. Looking up he spoted Onora gliding towards him. He raised his left arm, protected by a thick brown leather falconer's glove, out in front of him giving his female companion a place to land. Onora was upon him only moments later, beating her wings hard to halt her momentum. The resulting gusts of wind tossed Sahale's hair about wildly. Finally she perched on his arm and began bobbing her legs up and down to get comfortable. Sahale could suddenly feel her grip tighten and he knew she was secure.

"Tell me friend, what is it you have found?" He knows Onora does not understand his spoken language, though she responds anyway.

"Skaaaw, brrrip brip."

"A group of travelers?" The two of them have established their own simple way of communicating - a basic language. Sahale thinks for a moment, then grabs the whistle from around his neck and signals Onora to bring him to them. With a quick acknowledging screech, she takes off.


***


Onora had been circling high in the air for five minutes now. Sahale knew she was over head of the travelers and he was not far off. In fact, as he approached the top of the another of the countryside's rolling hills, he heard what sounded like music though it seemed faint and slightly distorted. Sahale tightened his grip around his large oak walking stick and picked up his pace.

Sure enough as he reached the top and his head broke the peak, the landscape began to reveal itself. Sahale paused a moment to take it all in. Everything from the horizon to him, the rocks, the lonely trees that dotted the fields, the bushes and of course, the travelers. There were four of them gathered around a campfire and were only a few hundred yards away. Two were wrestling with each other. Though based on the disposition of their companions, it was likely of a playful nature. One sat absolutely motionless and seemed to be staring off into the distance. The fourth and final individual was sitting on a rock, with a guitar in his hands and a pipe hanging from his mouth. Sahale continued to stand still to listen to the music. It was clearer now that he was over the hill but being upwind, it still struggled to reach his ears as fluidly as it left the guitar.

Sahale signaled thanks to Onora, summoned her back and began towards the group of strangers. As he walked he began thinking of what exactly he was going to say when he met them.

"I'm on my way to the bazaar to top up on supplies. So why exactly am I stopping to speak to these strangers?"

A loud rolling chirp came from Onora as she approached. Sahale paused a moment and raised his arm for her. She swooped in buffeting her wings. Her talons clamped down hard on his forearm. Sahale continued toward the campfire and it's attendants.

"It has been years since I have seen or spoken to anyone. Perhaps I am excited about my new path, and would like to share my excitement with others?" Sahale raised his arm to his left shoulder.

"Up." Onora hopped up onto his warn shoulder pad and made herself comfortable.

"This must be why I have suddenly taken an interest to meet with these random strangers. In the past I would have simply avoided them."

Sahale realized that he was now only a hundred yards or so from the traveler's. It seemed also that they had taken note of him.

"I guess I'll just wing it. Here we go."