Ihimirsyn
05-25-12, 10:37 AM
Dusk crept across Concordia, causing only the most subtle shifts in the gloom that had settled upon it since the day before. Low clouds laid like a solid gray ceiling not so far above, streaming across the sky like a horizontal waterfall from a sewage outlet. The late summer heat was just barely tolerable in this pregnant humidity from a continuous feed by anywhere from a falling mist to a moderate drizzle. The crickets, cicadas, grasshoppers, and other noisome things are unusually quiet, hiding somewhere to wait out the oppressive damp. Above the unceasing rustling of leaves in the gusting winds, only the sounds of distant birdcalls lingered.
A badger, confused by the dimness and driven by hunger, had emerged from its den before sunset. It sniffed at the earthy air and made for a pond not far away to quench its thirst. The path that it followed was convoluted, twisting and turning between the trees, as it followed up on every hint of a suspicious scent or look in the hopes of finding something to eat or, if necessary, to kill to eat. No such luck, the only carcass that it came across, a mouse's, had been picked clean days ago.
The badger had just finished drinking from the pond when it caught a scent: a snake, possibly one that had wrapped itself around a mouse days ago, left its burrow and was slithering by on the other side of the willow. The green creature was difficult to spot in the undergrowth but the moment that it was discovered, the badger sprang upon it with all speed. A confused flurry of fur, scales, and teeth ended in the serpent laying twitching and bleeding in its assailant's jaws.
Something in the air changed at that time. Every last badger hair stood up as best they could in the moist air. It wasn't a smell or a sound or a taste or a sight. It was a feeling that prickled up and down the back of its tiny mammalian brain and whispered to it that something was coming for it and that something had nothing but hatred and ill-will for its life. If all the feelings got together to a party, this one would be the psychopathic axe-murderer who went around whispering disturbing things into everbody's ears.
A soft footfall on suddenly-crushed leaves whispered through the pond clearing. The badger's lips curled back and it turned to face the sound, one mostly-dead snake still clutched in its jaws. Another footfall, and in the dim light the it could make out the shape of an enormous black figure approaching through the hazy mist. A snarl began in its throat and came out muffled through one snake; the feeling of death, despair, and fear grew from a prickling to a knuckle massage.
Doubt entered the creature's mind. Whatever doom now approached, it looked two badgers across and tall as three badgers. The snarling grew uncertain as it thought: I have this snake right now and something wants to kill me as badly as I killed this snake. It makes no sense to stand there when I could be having lunch. Its heart pounded.
Another step, it could see now that underneath all that billowing black there was flesh. That was disturbing, because this flesh was neither hairy nor scaly nor slimy nor feathery. It had never seen a creature like that before. This finalized the decision that the badger had been building up to make for this strange intruder that exuded the promise of death.
Another step. The badger turned and fled for relative safety of the trees, deciding that breakfast was the better part of valor. This opinion was shared by most everything as a mass exodus of every kind of animal was occuring in a wide circle around the approaching being. Several ducks ran off quacking, their ducklings strung along behind them. A hive of bees quieted into stone-like silence, huddling around their queen for protection. Mosquitos abandoned their meals. Lizards ran along beneath the grass and brush, leaving little ripples upon that dark green sea.
Amidst the circle of silence, the figure in black stepped between two white willows to the edge of the pond. The hooded head looked down at its two bare, dirt-smeared feet and noticed a brown paper envelope that was half buried in thin soil. A long-fingered hand reached down lifted that up, then its opposite tore the edge and dove in for the slips of paper inside.
There were words on some pages and pictures on others, even a map on one. Ihimirsyn brushed a strand of hair out of her face as she stared at the papers that she had just found. Then she brought out her Phrasebook of the World and started to consult it attentively, trying to match the squiggly bits to each other. It was always an interesting question of where exactly she kept that little book, which seemed to have a lot more pages in it than it should. The question is interesting because she didn't have any pockets or satchels or packs that seemed like they could be used to hold any such thing; a cloak didn't usually have those sewn into them.
A while ago and somewhere a little distance away, someone had just realized that they were missing one envelope. One envelope with everything needed to find a certain little building on the wooded outskirts of Jadet, get into it, and permanently take care of a certain someone in that building.
On the other hand, Ihimirsyn was starting to come to the conclusion that the first sentence had something to do with wagon wheels.
A badger, confused by the dimness and driven by hunger, had emerged from its den before sunset. It sniffed at the earthy air and made for a pond not far away to quench its thirst. The path that it followed was convoluted, twisting and turning between the trees, as it followed up on every hint of a suspicious scent or look in the hopes of finding something to eat or, if necessary, to kill to eat. No such luck, the only carcass that it came across, a mouse's, had been picked clean days ago.
The badger had just finished drinking from the pond when it caught a scent: a snake, possibly one that had wrapped itself around a mouse days ago, left its burrow and was slithering by on the other side of the willow. The green creature was difficult to spot in the undergrowth but the moment that it was discovered, the badger sprang upon it with all speed. A confused flurry of fur, scales, and teeth ended in the serpent laying twitching and bleeding in its assailant's jaws.
Something in the air changed at that time. Every last badger hair stood up as best they could in the moist air. It wasn't a smell or a sound or a taste or a sight. It was a feeling that prickled up and down the back of its tiny mammalian brain and whispered to it that something was coming for it and that something had nothing but hatred and ill-will for its life. If all the feelings got together to a party, this one would be the psychopathic axe-murderer who went around whispering disturbing things into everbody's ears.
A soft footfall on suddenly-crushed leaves whispered through the pond clearing. The badger's lips curled back and it turned to face the sound, one mostly-dead snake still clutched in its jaws. Another footfall, and in the dim light the it could make out the shape of an enormous black figure approaching through the hazy mist. A snarl began in its throat and came out muffled through one snake; the feeling of death, despair, and fear grew from a prickling to a knuckle massage.
Doubt entered the creature's mind. Whatever doom now approached, it looked two badgers across and tall as three badgers. The snarling grew uncertain as it thought: I have this snake right now and something wants to kill me as badly as I killed this snake. It makes no sense to stand there when I could be having lunch. Its heart pounded.
Another step, it could see now that underneath all that billowing black there was flesh. That was disturbing, because this flesh was neither hairy nor scaly nor slimy nor feathery. It had never seen a creature like that before. This finalized the decision that the badger had been building up to make for this strange intruder that exuded the promise of death.
Another step. The badger turned and fled for relative safety of the trees, deciding that breakfast was the better part of valor. This opinion was shared by most everything as a mass exodus of every kind of animal was occuring in a wide circle around the approaching being. Several ducks ran off quacking, their ducklings strung along behind them. A hive of bees quieted into stone-like silence, huddling around their queen for protection. Mosquitos abandoned their meals. Lizards ran along beneath the grass and brush, leaving little ripples upon that dark green sea.
Amidst the circle of silence, the figure in black stepped between two white willows to the edge of the pond. The hooded head looked down at its two bare, dirt-smeared feet and noticed a brown paper envelope that was half buried in thin soil. A long-fingered hand reached down lifted that up, then its opposite tore the edge and dove in for the slips of paper inside.
There were words on some pages and pictures on others, even a map on one. Ihimirsyn brushed a strand of hair out of her face as she stared at the papers that she had just found. Then she brought out her Phrasebook of the World and started to consult it attentively, trying to match the squiggly bits to each other. It was always an interesting question of where exactly she kept that little book, which seemed to have a lot more pages in it than it should. The question is interesting because she didn't have any pockets or satchels or packs that seemed like they could be used to hold any such thing; a cloak didn't usually have those sewn into them.
A while ago and somewhere a little distance away, someone had just realized that they were missing one envelope. One envelope with everything needed to find a certain little building on the wooded outskirts of Jadet, get into it, and permanently take care of a certain someone in that building.
On the other hand, Ihimirsyn was starting to come to the conclusion that the first sentence had something to do with wagon wheels.