Fantasy Scavenger's Discovery

[Proletariat]

INTRODUCTION

It has been three days since Jioka (AY-OH-KA) left the grand northern fortress city of Gewnterhold. He is not fond of the lands his current mission has taken him to. He prefers to think of his journeys as missions instead of adventures. Missions have established goals, a typical progression, and considerably less danger than adventures. Or at least that is what he tells himself. His life is filled with a number of self imposed illusions that he is fully aware of, yet continues to believe in. Jioka believes that these illusions exist in every man's mind, on long and lonely nights he thinks about them, he considers them to be necessary for the fragile human brain to survive. But perhaps this is internal justification for his own illusions, he thinks that too.

Back to the story at hand... Jioka and his ass are traveling down an increasingly narrow and beaten road. The air grows colder and more still the further north he treks, but he knows that the stillness will not last forever. To his right stretches a large, rolling plain of short grass and brush. He looks out at it and knows it will be the last one he sees for some time. To his left, on the other side of the road, is a landscape clearly carved by glacier. Massive erratic hill structures dominate the landscape, he can almost trace with his eyes where a continent sized chunk of ice must have shaped the very earth like a sculptor with heaps of clay. On the fringes of his vision there are snow covered pine trees. The tall, hardly type that grow like the sweet tall grass of his homeland. The densely packed evergreen forest are known here for their danger and mystique. They are scarcely traveled and difficult to navigate. Jioka has come to understand that those two qualities alone give a land its own ominous spirit, folk from the 'civilized' world do not trust places unknown, untouched by the disease of modernity.

The sun begins to sag into the westward sky and Jioka feels uneasy. He knows there are goblins tribes in this land. Some of the most savage remaining feral goblins. Jioka is wary of his surroundings, constantly checking behind his back, his falcon's eyes scanning the surrounding area or anything slightly amiss. If he thinks he hears something he stops, and his ass must then stop too. It had been three months since Jioka purchased the ass, he had never given it a name since then. The ass was now used to this paranoid hesitation of its owner. Every hundred meters of so they would suddenly halt for no reason whatsoever, but he would feel his master getting uneasy. Initially this idiosyncrasy annoyed the ass, but now he was used to it, adapted like all animals do.

As it becomes darker and more difficult to see, Jioka decides that it would be a good idea to climb the hill on the left side of the road. There is a tall tree there, of what type he has no idea. He spots the tree and thinks this would be a good place to survey the territory. From there he might see goblins, or bandits, or any other devious party that might have been traveling the road.

He looks at the donkey, who looks back at him in turn. The donkey seems to understand what Jioka wants to do, and there is much resistance to the climb. The donkey is pulling a wooden cart with scavenging gear and supplies, it would be very difficult to climb the steep hill with this behind it. The man knows this, but is too paranoid that the supplies will get stolen, or that the ass might abandon him, to let it stay down on the road. So Jioka struggles with the donkey the entire way up the hill, straining and swearing at it, tugging and struggling and sweating, until finally they reach the top of the hill, right behind the massive tree.

Jioka breaths a massive sigh of relief, sucking in the cold tundra air to regenerate his depleted stamina. "I haven't worked that hard in a long time, you little prick." He says to the ass, who does not understand his words, but instead snorts angrily at having to carry all the supplies up by himself. Jioka then remembers that his goal was to survey the area, and the view is quite breathtaking. The hill it taller than it seemed, apparently, as he has an amazing view of the path he just traveled, as well as the surrounding terrain. Jioka hastily rounds the tree to look at the other side of the hill and he sees something very unexpected. There is a woman, a young woman, lying on the cold ground next to the tree. She is lying face down.

The Scavenger decides to check on her- to see if she is alive of course. Though his reasoning for this isn't quite so generous. He wishes to check her person for anything valuable. "After all, if she's dead, she won't be needing it." He rationalizes, like he always does to permit himself to do something questionable. The tanned scavenger approaches the female slowly and kneels beside her, she is rolled onto her side, lying on one arm with her face against the short dry grass of these lands. Upon closer inspection he sees that her eye is swollen and that she must have been through quite a beating before she keeled over. The Scavenger first touches her padded fur doublet to feel for anything metal beneath it. This prompts an immediate response.

InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

RISES LIKE THE STARS

Quick and shallow breaths are the only sound that fills her ears as she stumbles towards the only source of cover she can make out in her blurred vision. She is weak, and bloody; her legs aching from running for spirits know how long. Her heart still clenching in her chest; urging her on even as the frosty wind bites at her bare skin. Her once proud pelt is now slashed to pieces by the claws of goblins. Only tatters remain; doing little to shield her already stinging skin. Though overexertion threatens to topple the sturdy woman, she presses on; even as the moon rises higher over a slowly paling sky. Her breath is heavy and though she is still unsure of her safety, the trunk of the tree she had managed to drag herself up to, was too inviting to turn away. Slumping against it, she collapses to her knees, and then teeters over to her side when the adrenaline finally leaves her. Shivering in the cold, still bound by her wrists, her eye nearly swollen shut and the taste of blood still in her mouth; how did she get here? Lying there and losing consciousness she recounts how she had come to be beaten, and bound and reeling at the top of a hill.

She had been too confident in herself in the months before this when she was still surrounded by her tribesmen. While all other women were happily settling down with partners they had deemed worthy of them; she had not. There was no one she had ever found worthy to be her partner. All of the suitors she had challenged were all found wanting, and this left her no choice but to wonder if there really was some one in the world who was right for her. By no means did she intend to bare and rear children for an unworthy partner. There had been stories and tales of strange foreigners from unfrozen lands, and that had piqued her interest. She couldn't help but let curiosity stoke the flame of quest within her. Besides, anything worth having was never easily gotten, and she believed this also applied to when choosing someone to settle down with. Regardless, if the suitor was too willing or below her merit; they were easily turned away. When there was none left to turn away, she left the tribe; claiming questhood and heading south towards warmer lands, and possibly adventure.

The night before she ran a foul of goblins, she had hunted a healthy bounty and had been setting up camp. Unfortunately, unused to terrain this far out; she had made the mistake of miscalculating her camp grounds distance to goblins' hunting grounds. They easily followed the smoke of her camp fire, and took her by surprise. They caved in the temporary shelter she had dug out and built up with packed snow, and drug her out by her ankles. Though it took several of them to heave the strong woman from her ice hut, and several more to stop her thick arms from choking the life out of their cohort. Finally when one of the bigger ones took a fist full of her ash blonde hair and pressed a primitive bone blade to her throat did she stop thrashing... for the moment.

After the clear threat was issued, an even more violent struggle broke out as the woman heaved one of them into the fire, and put several sharp bends into two more of the goblins' long and gangling noses. Having quite enough of the fierce woman's struggle, the largest one took a rock and a cheap shot; knocking her out cleanly, but reducing the side of her face to a red pulp in the process. The Goliath of a woman toppled to the ground and was then bound and dragged off further south, and deeper into the heart of goblin territory. From there, her memory fuzzes; she can't recall how she got free, or managed to slip off, but there are glimpses that flash through her mind as her consciousness slowly wanes like the face of the moon fading from the early morning sky. From the glimpses, she recalls having been laid at some macabre altar, at which a goblin shaman approached with a dagger. He had meant to use it to sacrifice her, but some how the deft huntress had over powered him and sliced the bindings at her feet. All that remained of her memory was running through stretches of evergreens, and struggling up snowy paths; and now, here she was. Cold--- probably frost bitten, but she is not dead yet. '--not dead yet...' she thinks to herself as blackness fills her vision. '--not dead yet...' the sentiment echoes into her unconsciousness, as waves of soreness and ache wash over her, and exhaustion takes her.

Then, suddenly, consciousness floods back as something prods her. She can feel something pressing and sliding against the remains of her tattered furred doublet. Instantly, her mind sends her into alarm; conjuring the figure of a goblin stooping over her. In reflex, her strong yet bound hands launch up and latch onto the collar of the figure crouching near her. She hears fabric creak in protest beneath her immense grip and her good eye snaps open only a moment later, and pins the older man with a murderous look. "...not dead yet!" She shouts and shoves him roughly back onto his bottom. Pausing immediately after, she realizes she has just tossed back a human. Her demeanor changes instantly, and instead of a threatening look in her clear blue eyes; she is visibly surprised. It is midday-- she has been out for a while.

"My apologies--- I thought you were a goblin. I am Rises like the Stars from the Northern Glaciers. Who are you?" She greets the man as if she would any person. In fact it has been quite a while since she has seen another human being since beginning her quest and seeing him brings her some relief.

 

[Proletariat]

Fateful Decisions

Jioka scrambles to his feet, desperately reaching for the knife at his belt. He leaves his hand on the hilt, initially afraid that the hulking woman might come after him. In the back of his mind he thought that she might still be barely clinging to life, but he never imagined that she would grab his collar and knock him over. He carefully observes every aspect of the woman in a matter of seconds, it is as if time slows for him. She is young, foreign, bound at the wrists and badly beaten. Only one eye is fully operable, her words are from a language he does not recognize. He thinks that she is running on adrenaline, potentially near the end of her life. He can't be too sure though, he certainly never expected such an immediate response from her. He is positive she could destroy him in a fair fight, so he considers his options carefully.

Her attitude towards him softens, this sets him at ease but only slightly. He releases his grip on the dagger, his donkey snorts in the background. He can see her sudden burst of energy and motion are waning, she is not steady on her feet. He realizes she probably has nothing of value to him. He lifts his hands slowly, his right hand is gloved in padded leather, his left hand has a curious looking mechanical gauntlet with glowing runic insignias. It is made of mostly a metallic bronze looking material, the gauntlet is skeletal in nature and seems to only support the structure of his hand without covering it, though the cuff is a complete covering and looks decorative. In the center of his left palm there is a metal ring 1.5 inches in diameter that is clearly attached to the spines of the gauntlet. Jioka shows the woman his palms- a universal gesture of harmlessness.

"Do you speak Veratti?" he asks. His voice is has the gentle and smooth tones of a Southerner, there is a subtle bass to it that makes him sound reassuring, soothing.

"I was only checking to see if you were alive, I didn't mean anything harmful." Jioka attempts to reassure her, though he is unsure of whether or not she can even understand him.

Now Jioka considers what he is going to do about the girl. He doesn't think she will be able to stay conscious much longer in the cold without warm clothing. He knows that if she falls unconscious out here at night, she will surely freeze to death. The explorer is not sure it is his problem whether she lives or dies, he wishes that he never climbed the hill. If he wants to he can leave, it is not his job to take care of random road strangers, but he hesitates when thinking about leaving her.

'I didn't bring enough supplies to take care of a giant nomad woman. A wounded one at that... why should I help her? Then again... it feels wrong to just leave her here alone. Her hands are bound and she's beat up pretty badly, what the fuck happened to her, is she a prisoner, some sort of slave? Maybe I'll stay a little bit, figure out what I can. I was going to make camp here anyway.' He thinks. The scavenger is at an impasse, he does not know what to do about her and he doesn't have enough information to make a decision yet, so he abstains from making one altogether. His rich brown hues give all of their attention to the nomad. He does not trust anyone, let alone bound foreigners. He does not allow himself to feel sympathy for her condition, not yet anyway. Instead he waits for her to make a move, perhaps she does speak Veratti, or Heghite, or Faneesh, or any of the other languages that he can speak with the fluency of a child.

InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

FOR WARMTH...

The woman watches him calmly as he scrambles up and his hand hovers over a dagger at his side. She understands she has startled him; its an honest response and taking no offense, she simply does her best to struggle her heavy body into an upright position to get a better view of him. As he regards her and relaxes, she inspects him. Though her singular eye flashes at the edges of her vision with spots; she can see he is in fact someone elder than she-- his face, although not unpleasant to look at, has been wisen with years and a few deep lines cross his forehead as his strong brows knit together in, what she can determine as, worry or confusion. His skin is a tone darker then hers though and his eyes dusky yet warm like the color of bears fur. He is odd looking to her the more she sees him. Even his clothing is quite different. He does not wear pelts like she does, in fact, a good amount of his covering do not seem to be made of fur. A part of her mind trails off to conjure the images of the beasts he had skinned for such garbs --but it is the contraption on his hand that draws her eye the most. As he lifts and bares his palms, she can not help but stare at the covering of his left hand. It shines as the remaining sunlight hits it, and its form she recognizes as bone. Though confused, she is left with a pit of dread that sinks into her stomach. Bones of the deceased are treated with great respect in her tribe, but item is too strange for her to really pinpoint what it is --so she just stares. In fact, by the time she's done trying to mentally reason out what could be cinched onto his hand; he has spoken to her.

She glances back at him as the words race by her ear but remain unabsorbed. Maybe he spoke too fast? Rises like the Stars thinks to herself, and falls into attentive silence as he opens his mouth to speak again. She leans in this time, even though her sore ribs protest, and still, nothing. His words were strange, and the way he spoke was completely different from what she was used to. His words flowed like fluid and rolled off his tongue with a smooth and assuring tone; and yet she could not pick out a single word she understood. The language of the Sikugiitka was an ancient one that had not changed in the time of its life span. Their words were heavy, and held hard, sharp sounds which could be spoken in a fast pace, as well as many singular words encompassing many different meanings depending on tone and context. Unsure of what he meant, she looked him up and down; trying to infer what his meaning was from his body language. Out stretch hands-- palms facing up. In her tribe this was actually a position one took when they wanted to talk. If the person being offered the hands agreed to talk, then they would accept their hands and sit with them.

Having grow up in a small close-knit tribe with hardly any untrust-worthy people, Rises Like the Stars finds no reason to distrust him. After all, he does have a weapon, and he hasn't elected to use it. Inferring that he meant no harm, and taking the bearing of his palms as a sign for wanting to communicate. she struggles to her feet, though shakily; and somewhat limps over as the snow stings her bare feet. She has just now realized that at some point her boots have disappeared. Nevertheless, traditions are traditions, and he is her elder-- she would not insult him. She held out her bound hands, and her somewhat bloody finger tips fold into his. After taking his hands in her own, she sits down once more, though her strength leaves her as she bends her knees to sit cross legged, nearly taking him completely down with her. Luckily she catches her weight in time and settles into a cross legged sitting position, tugging at his hands as if inviting him to do that same.

This form of communication was born within the Sikugiitka through the harshness of the environment in which the tribe thrived in. It was always cold, and the howling winds stole the sounds of words. So people would come close, hold hands and rest knees against each others for the warmth. Among them, every human being was seen as family, and in this way sharing body warmth was also a way of showing trust. Once he settles near her, she begins again-- "I am Rises Like the Stars-- I have traveled for many moons towards the lands of green---" Traditionally younger members would tell stories of their journeys to their elders, and then elders would impart advice to them as a way of passing on knowledge. --and thus, she chattered for quite a while; explaining how she had trekked through barren tundra, and thick evergreens, and how she had been taken and beaten by goblins; which was accompanied by a very animated retelling --complete with impressions of goblin growling and chittering, and mock punching. Which is the only time during her story where she releases his hands. The feeling has started to come back into her fingers now, and she is grateful. If only she had somewhere warm to put her feet, which are red from chill and the soles of them cut and encrusted in sharp looking pebbles.

Proletariat

 

[Proletariat]

Jioka sees the curiosity spark in her eyes as he raises his hands. He momentarily forgot about his little magic tool, even people in the cities hardly know of it. What shows in her face is different though, it isn't the sort of brief amusement that the unimpressed city folk might hold about things. She was experiencing genuine shock and bewilderment at the device, her brain was attempting to process information totally foreign to it.

'Have I discovered a true tribal wild woman?' He thinks. The folks in the Northern outpost cities told him about those occasional encounters with the barbarian tribes. He did less research than he should have into their kind. What he did gather was so inconsistent and controversial that he never imagined it would be worth his time to investigate, now he was regretting that negligence.

The scavenger watches her face carefully as the sun dips halfway below the horizon. It will be dark soon and he knows that the top of the hill isn't actually a good place for a camp to be made. Jioka sees his own confusion from before mimicked on her face, she does not understand his language either. Before he has time to think about how to communicate with the nameless tribal woman, she begins to lumber toward him painfully. Jioka is confused and initially hesitates on a course of action. His fear of everything sinks in and he freezes in place, ready to grab the dagger if he needs to, though he has never actually used it on anyone before. To his surprise, she interlocks her fingers with his and sits down immediately. Her weight brings him down ungracefully as well right in front of her. Jioka's eyes grow wide and he is afraid to make a move. Instead he sits there across from the woman and stares at her, half gripped with fear, half provoked by curiosity. The woman follows her strange gesture by talking. Nonstop talking. She drones on in a language he fails to grasp even a basic concept of, by the time she finishes he has no more clue about her than before.

The intimacy and intensity of the moment catches him off guard. Their knees touch and she looks him in the eyes with her good eye. He is continually impressed by her vitality. She seemingly just recently encountered significant trauma and she handles it like nothing has happened. Jioka wonders if she realizes he doesn't understand a thing she says, her language is strange and unintelligible. She even growls and shakes her fists about, for what reason Jioka has absolutely no idea. From her actions the scavenger assumes she was in some sort of fight, maybe with some other savages, or maybe with something not human. This spawns a new idea in his brain: What if the person or thing(s) that did this to her are still on the trail? Suddenly Jioka is ripped from the strange encounter he finds himself in and considers the thought. His innate fear creeps in on the edges of his consciousness, soon he will be taken hold of by it.

Spoiler: Personality

For as long as Jioka can remember, he has been plagued by extreme fear, paranoia, and anxiety. Passively, it manifests itself as an almost useful survival tool. He is extremely cautious and prepared. He checks his gear and equipment several times before any adventure, he has an unhealthy lack of trust for everything. It is fear that has kept Jioka alive for the most part, or that's how he thinks about it anyway. Actively, the fear and paranoia seize his brain and reduce him to a quivering heap of flesh. At his worst, Jioka cannot move save to shake and to weep, he is dominated by anxiety and paranoia to the point where he is utterly useless to himself. Fortunately this is something that doesn't happen very often and there are warning signs for when it is about to, so he tries to book an inn room for several days just before a panic attack, this way he can stay safe and contained. Lesser degrees of active paranoia can drive him to be delusional, he thinks everyone has some sort of special motive to kill him or set him back on his journey, he becomes sweaty, defensive, and accusatory. The lesser attacks are triggered by things that are generally unpredictable and random in their timing. During these moments he has a general level of control over himself, but his anxiety and paranoia are amplified to such a degree that he loses his ability to critically think. This is the only time Jioka can be truly categorized as dangerous, as his delusions could drive him to harm someone if he thought they were trying to kill him. It is because of this three pronged mental illness (fear, anxiety, paranoia) that Jioka is a control freak, extremely cautious, prepared, diligent, and careful at all times. He even shows a hint of OCD at times, triple checking his gear and cleaning everything once he returns from a mission. Certain things have to be done in a specific way for him to feel good about them

'How could I be so lazy? What am I doing right now, this doesn't feel right.' He internally chastises himself. The scavenger shakes his hands free of the woman's and rolls backward away from her. He gives her a suspicious look before running to the edge of the hill next to his donkey. He gives the area a quick scan for approaching parties. Jioka follows this with a check on each side of the hill, glancing over at the girl periodically to make sure she isn't trying anything fishy. 'What if this is all a trap? A beaten up girl on the side of the road... well I fell for it alright. Even if it isn't, the people or things she was fighting with before, they could be onto her.. she is a liability.It's time to get out of here, make camp across the field in the tree line. She's too wounded to follow me for long, and if she does I'll just cross the road and move across the hills.' Of course, Jioka does not consider that there is no way the donkey could possibly move across the hills with a cart carrying a moderate load strapped to it.

The scavenger returns to his donkey and grabs the lead. He again glances at the girl, looking her over one last time. Her feet are cut up and bloodied, probably almost frozen. He glances down at his hands and notices there are blood on them from her as well. Jioka grits his teeth, was he really going to leave the girl there? He began to question whether or not she was really a trap or not; if she was, she certainly wasn't a willing participant. Jioka let out a sigh upon viewing the sorry state of the barbarian. 'Can I really let this girl die in the cold? Is it worth the risk to take her with me? What do I do with her in the first place, go back to Gwenterhold?' He found himself troubled and hesitant with indecision once more, standing at the edge of the hill with the donkey's lead in his hand.[/fieldset]

InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

FRIENDLY MISCONCEPTION

Though he says nothing, the man seemingly understands her goblin impressions, and becomes visibly on edge. He rips his hands away and rolls away from the woman in an awkward and panicked motion, earning a small chuckle from the woman as she watches his lanky form go feet over head. She's not entirely sure what he means to do, but he retreats to something that looks like a finely made sled, but with wheels, and a hoofed beast that didn't look like any of the clove-hoofed elk or deer she has grown up with. Curiosity catches her, and she examines the cart, even as pain is still humming through her body.

Passing out in the snow, although unwise, did give her back some of her strength, and being one of the more hardy women of her tribe, she was known for being quite tough, and rebounded quickly from injuries she had sustained in the past. As the man went running from one edge of the hill to the other, seemingly keeping an eye out for anything encroaching, she sat there staring at the 'sled on wheels' and wondering exactly how it had been made. In fact his alarm went completely ignored by her in the face of the new discovery, and she simply dismissed his suspicious franticness as selfless worry on her behalf. --He was just making sure no one else was coming to hurt her-- how kind.

The man ran back to his pack beast and took the leads, then stopped to stare over at her for a few moments; which she understands as him waiting for her. Happy to accept the 'unspoken invitation,' Rises like the Stars struggles to her feet, and manages to stumble over to the man's 'sled' as he's busy pondering to himself. Looking in, she discovers a menagerie of tools, and 'treasures' she's never seen before, and most are made of a hard substance that lightly rings when tapped. Losing her footing, she falls in to the wooden frame, piling on top of tools and supplies, and nearly tipping the cart over with her weight heavily thudding in. Even happier to be off her feet, and away from the chilled ground, she settles in, and begins looking through these odd objects for something sharp enough to cut her bindings.

Proletariat

 

[Proletariat]

Begrudging Acceptance

Jioka is uncertain how to respond when the nomad woman approaches his cart. Her persistence and ability to stay conscious continues to bewilder him. His fear of confrontation prevents him from deterring her advance, but as she gets closer his face becomes increasingly more worried. He raises his hand and opens his mouth as if to protest, but he is silenced by her sudden fall into the cart. Immediately the donkey panics, hee-haws, and starts thrashing about. Jioka runs over to it and grabs its lead in order to get it under control. After that miniature crisis is averted, he looks to the cart to make sure the heavy woman didn't break anything. It was certainly bending at the center, the axle creaked painfully as she unceremoniously flopped onto it. Almost immediately after her fall, she began examining his tools and materials in the cart.

Jioka sighs out loud, this woman is more like a child than an abused nomad. She is perhaps even younger than he initially thought, or just maybe more naive. Jioka hurries to the back of the cart and chastises the girl, "What is the matter with you? Do you just help yourself to whatever you want in your backwards culture? Get out of the cart, it will never make it down the hill with you in it, you chunk of meat!"

By this time Jioka is properly irritated at the girl. He temporarily forgets her condition and instead laments about her coming along to ruin his mission. The southerner gestures at her to leave the cart and continues to angrily swear at her, the donkey, the gods (whatever ones their may be), and several other things in half a dozen languages. He is no longer by the cart, but instead kicking at the short grass and waving his arms around. The sun is now set, and the gentle darkness of dusk has just begun. Within ten minutes the sun will cease to provide light for the pair, and they will be stranded in the darkness.

InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

WEARY GRATITUDE

Rises like the Stars is immediately fascinated by the menagerie of instruments lining the inside of the strange sled. --But her main focus is to find something to cut herself lose with. The man comes over in a flurry, and peers in at her. She can hear him yelling but his tone doesn't shake her. In fact she is too absorbed in examining tools, and finding something sharp to take notice of his angry tone.

She smiled up at him briefly before fixing her eyes on to a set that looked like tools for digging. They were encrusted with dirt but one end of a small shovel looked sharp enough to slice through the goblin's ropes. She picked it up and fixed it between her thick thighs as she began to saw the ropes away. In her tribe, people always offered helping hands, but you were expected to pay a person back for their help by helping them in return. She'd owe this man the same kind of debt for his kindness.

Relieved to be safe, warmer and about to be free-- her head fills with thoughts of what she can do for him, which leaves her completely oblivious to his tirading only feet away. By the time she's done sawing the ropes and warming the soles of her worn feet; the man is at the crown of the hill, --performing some kind of dance?

She peers out of the cart at him with curious eyes, watching his ceremony and wondering what exactly she should do. Not much choice is left to her, though, as the weariness reclaims her when her excitement over meeting this strange man somewhat drains. Her consciousness goes along with it, and before long she begins to fall asleep under the canopy of the cart.

Proletariat

 

[Proletariat]

Hysteria

Jioka notices that the barbarian has freed herself from the rope bindings that held her hands. He sees the shovel between her thighs- he could have easily cut her loose if she had waited only a couple seconds more. With disbelief, Jioka watches as the barbarian woman passes out in his cart. With another sudden jolt, the donkey snorts in protest to the entire situation and sits on its rear end. Jioka's mental state was engaged in a downward spiral at this point, as nearly everything that could have gone wrong did so. The scavenger stormed over to the cart, about to shake the woman awake and boot her down the hill. As he stood over her, he hesitated. Her chest gently rose and fell in her slower unconscious breathing. She was still barely clothed, even Jioka was starting to feel the night time tundra air biting at his skin through his jacket.

"Gods dammit all." He curses into the air. The only light was provided by the rising moon, he knew it was too late to try to prod the donkey back down the hill, especially with the heavy barbarian riding in the back. "I suppose this is the night I die, whatever, life hasn't been so great anyway." He finally gave into the situation in a sort of bleak hysteria, he truly felt tonight would be his doom. After years of following a strict code for survival, it would all come to an end because of an abused northern savage woman.

Jioka twists the center metal ring of his gauntlet in the palm of his hand. A soft blue light suddenly emits from in in a narrow cone. He uses this light to find a wolf pelt in the front of the wagon. Jioka unrolls the wolf pelt and lies it on top of the woman so she doesn't die in the night. He then takes a canvas tent and a bedroll out and sets up the tent, though he is unsure that it will survive the night time wind. After a couple of minutes, the tent is set up- although it shivers worryingly. The scavenger pulls a few pieces of jerky out of his bag and consumes them to quiet his hunger. He crawls into the tent and onto the bedroll. He uses his jacket for a blanket, under normal circumstances he would have used the wolf pelt. He spends a significant amount of time lying under the tent and worrying about what sort of bandit or goblin will be his demise once he shuts his eyes, though eventually he succumbs to the nagging of his own exhaustion and falls into an uneasy sleep.

InkedFox

 

[InkedFox]

THE GUARDIAN

As the night grew long, and the wind howled lightly as it raced passed the peak, Rises Like the Stars sleeps soundly in the back of the wagon. No dreams come to plague her in the night. Perhaps due to her exhaustion. Her strength slowly recovers as shes rests, though, and soon enough she awakens in the middle of twilight. Shifting slightly from her hard makeshift bunk, she notices the pelt draped over her. She snuggles into gratefully, and inhales the musky scent of the hide. That man must have put this here. She could only assume it was him, but where was he? The native woman peers outside the cart, catching the silhouette of a tiny shelter fighting against the shifting winds. The shelter was feeble at best, not like the snow dens she had been raised to build at times like this. Perhaps she could help him out by building a lean-to of snow to block the wind. Her body feels rested now, and her limbs have recovered most of their feeling. Though she is somewhat bruised and still scrapped up, her condition has improved since her weary nap.

The northern woman begins to shuffle from the cart, but her movements stop the moment she spots another silhouette creeping up towards the shelter. It is a squat form, too small to be human yet too big to be an animal, and from here, she can make out sharp features; from a pointed nose to knife-like ears. It seemed to be alone, luckily, and Stars lowers herself into the bed of the cart as she watches it investigate the meager camp site. It stares about; casting its beady eyes around for any signs of movement. Causing Stars to hold her breath as she stayed stone still. Rage was welling up inside her as she remembered exactly what those things did to her.

Waiting for the right opportunity, she slinks out of the wagon as best she can without drawing attention. Thankfully the steadily howling wind covers the creaking. The creature doesn't seem to notice her stalking after it, as the goblin begins to sniff around the fluttering teepee of fabric. Its attention is locked onto the being currently sleeping inside. As the gobline circles the shelter, Stars does her best to lay low and round the goblin itself. Readying herself to pounce upon it should she get the chance. If this was a scout, it would be best to slay it now before it ran back to collect its cohorts.

Just as the goblin retrieves a dagger from its belt and begins to open the tent's entrance with the tip of blade; as if planning to stealthily attack and kill whatever is asleep on the inside. Stars already has her broad hand wrapped about its narrow throat, and yanked it away from the tent with out so much as a whimper or yelp; as all sounds of distress were caught in its throat by her Goliath grip.

Unamused by the creatures in this region, Stars drags the would-be assassin away, maintaining a steely grip on its throat as it weakly struggles. It tries to get a proper footing to wretch itself away, but cannot, as it finds itself quickly losing consciousness as its legs are limply dragged through the snow. Rises Like the Stars claims a seat near the cart, and a moment later a sharp snap is heard. --No other goblins came to bother them in the night.

Proletariat