New Ape In Town(Closed)

[Zygaud]

Reaching up to run his short claws across the top of his broad skull, Zygaud released a hesitant sigh. It was said that the Jamoura would live until around 850 years of age, but even that wasn't really certain. Closing his emerald optics for a moment, he contemplated the questions asked of him.

Opening his eyes, he turned his gaze down to Oluse and gave him an amused snort. Could it be that the little human was worried about insulting him? Zygaud didn't really understand why that would be. It was understandable for Oluse to think of him as something less than human, it was part of their nature... or so Zygaud's father had said.

"You shouldn't worry so much about offending me, I'm really quite understanding. As for your questions... well, what we are is pretty easy to answer. My people are known as the Jamoura. As for how long we live... well, that's not so simple. You see, none of us have died of old age yet. The oldest of us are over 500 years and still going pretty strong. It's been estimated that we'll die on average around the age of 850... I myself am 192, which is very young for one of my kind. If I were human, I wouldn't be that much older than yourself." Zygaud explained casually. It amused him to think of how the things he grew up knowing to be common among the Jamoura were mind-boggling to those like the young human he conversed with.

Shifting his gaze to survey their surroundings, he noted that they were in a relatively private area now, so he stopped. "This seems like an acceptable place to continue our conversation, wouldn't you say?" He rumbled in a pleasant tone. "Oh," He added, "I wouldn't mind seeing these stables if you'd lead me to them when you have the chance."

[Oluse]

Oluses gaze of wonder persisted, hanging on every drawn out word the beast spoke. The most intriguing part to him was the comparison of age. He found it amusing that this gigantic tempered beast before him, obviously wizened by years was suggesting he was of comparable age to Oluse himself. Oluse actually quite fancied the idea, for he had never much gotten along with human children his own age, and the Vantha children especially escaped his grasp of understanding.

"Oh yes, this seems like a fine spot." He peered around at the statues. They weren't the best in the gardens, but even as such they were stunningly carved sculptures of frozen stags and ferocious yet noble looking bears. No doubt the polar Kelvics that protect the city. Knowing their station did not keep his stomach from doing flips upon seeing them, however. His past experiences still worked boldly in his mind.

"I'd be happy to guide you to the stables. I'm sure they will have a spot for you. Just let me know when you wana go." Not feeling in any rush he tugged on his gloved, and wiggled his toes, trying to loosen them slightly. For some time then his clothes had been getting a big tight, it was almost time for replacements, he hoped to wait till Spring, however. As he fidgeted within his clothing his eyes drifted from the giant ape, onto the artwork around him. The stag caught his attention first, so he moved closer to it, his eyes rolling across its smooth and seemingly unweathered exterior. He admired the minute detail, the expert and almost godly play it worked upon the otherwise simple ambient light around it. He couldn't imagine the garden on a night that the aurora borialis was clear from the ground. He made a casual oath to come see it before the season was out, as much as he loathed to go outside after dark in the winter season.

"So in Avanthal art is shaped by ice, and in The Spires by living plants. It seems people use what they have around them naturally to craft what pleases them. Their art." His brows furrowed, deep in thought over his own home as he reach out, unsure of weather he could touch the statue without repercussion or not. He decided to feel it with just his cold glove would do no harm. He pressed his hand lightly against the ebbing sloping surface of the glass creature and began running his appendage across it, feeling its shape, instead of just seeing it.

"I don't think there is anything in Denval that we shape, that we change..." His tone portrayed more than a little that he was put out by the idea that he had been so left out of such beautiful works of art till now. He couldn't even fathom how his people survived without such beauties surrounding them. This volley of conversation brought on a complete abandonment of the 'rules' in Oluse, forgetting that he must pose a question, and leaving somewhat of a riddle in the air around him as his eyes carefully took in the very essence of the ice before him. That ice that seemed to almost inhale and exhale under his touch it seemed to real. His mind split into two parts, one contemplating his home and his people, the other trying to understand what tool could be used to being into existence such an animates sculpture.

[Zygaud]

Zygaud studied the sculptures that surrounded them with mild interest, he had to admit that works such as these were composed with much more minute detail than the majority of artworks were around The Spires. Of course, making many different living things grow together was a difficult process and one couldn't expect a living sculpture to have small details such as the curvature of the muscles or the exact shape of the eyes and ears. Nevertheless, he was confident that the Jamourian way of art was superior.

Reaching out with one of his long, hairy arms he runs a massive finger gently across the surface of a nearby statue just before turning his attentions back to Oluse. "I find it amusing to study the art of other cultures... though art is not my true love. I'm saddened to hear that your own people aren't as creative as some... perhaps they are, and you've not yet realized the beauty? The things we see each day can seem mundane to us and wondrous to others. I've been told by travelers who found The Spires that it was the most amazing place they'd ever seen... but I feel this place is more amazing." He went on, curling his big lips once more into an attempt at a friendly smile. The first one hadn't scared away the human, so he assumed that the essence of the act was properly conveyed despite his terrifying set of teeth.

Contemplating for a moment, he realized just how cold he was and decided that it wouldn't hurt if they were to begin their journey towards the place Oluse had called 'the stables'. "Why don't we head to our destination and chat along the way? I was distracted by meeting you, but I remember now just how cold I am... my fur and cloak can't do everything, you see. I don't have shoes or anything of the sort... my feet are quite vulnerable in this weather."

[Oluse]

He nodded attentively to the request, completely understanding sensitivity to the cold. "The Vantha people are blessed by Morwen, so they can stand the cold, and are actually quite comfortable in it. The rest of us, however, really do need to find good shelter." He explained along with another smile as he lead Zygaud toward the treeline, on a direct course toward the Frostfawn hold.

As he trotted along through the snow he allowed their conversation to lull into silence, leaving only the crisp crunching of snow under their tread to accompany the quiet whispers of the Vantha nearby. He had taken Zygaud's words to heart, and was trying to see his own land as he did others. As a stranger. Was there anything beautiful in Denval? He asked himself silently. He wished there was something he could think of that was profoundly artistic originating in Denval, but his mind failed him.

With a sigh, he relinquished the thought, dubbing it hopeless. Oluse focused for the rest of the walk on the comparison between his and Zygaud's strides. He was faster, but Zygaud had longer steps. He wondered if Zygaud was holding back or if he was actually slower due to his cumbersome size. Caught, focused on the strides he almost ran into the hold itself, but saved himself from the embarrassment at the last moment by bracing with his gloved hand.

"Ahem, right. This is it, the stables. I've seen a lot of big animals come through here, so I'm sure they have room. Let's see." He cast a look around, making it increasingly evident that he had never actually been to the hold before. "There those must be the stables." He pointed to a large enclosed building, looking much like the others around, excluding the existence of a foundation at it's base. With a hesitant smile he lead his new companion toward the barn.

Opening the gigantic doors for Zygaud he stepped inside himself. Sure enough the smell of multiple species inhabitence struck him immediately. Scrunching his nose slightly he walked in, raising an eyebrow at the lack of an immediate attendant. "Hello?" He called loudly, "Excuse me, we are in some need of assistance."

[Alea Davenport]

Aea was already in a bad mood from having to muck out the stalls. The smell aside, manure was heavy, and there was a lot of it. Alea had rarely had to do any heavy lifting before this job, and she'd only been doing this a short while, so her muscles still ached every day. The rush of cold air that came with the opening of the door turned her mood from bad to worse; she was getting sick and tired of coping with Avanthal's winter.

Then she heard a familiar voice, and everything changed. She instantly became alert, taking only a moment to place a voice she'd not heard in almost a year. Deciding she didn't want to kill him just yet, she propped the shovel against the wall, and crept behind the stalls toward the door, where she could get a better look at the visitors. The first one she noticed was the Jamoura, but a little ways in from of him, sure enough, there was a face she knew well.

Tiptoe-running silently, she covered the distance between them in a few short seconds, and with all the force she could muster, she tackled him from behind, trying to knock him to the ground. Unfortunately, he was taller than she remembered, so she did not have as much of an advantage as she used to. Determined to damage his balance, she kicked the back of his knee, trying to force his leg to fold so he would topple over.

[Zygaud]

The walk to the Hold had been rather uneventful, though the large Jamoura kept himself occupied by contemplating all that had happened in the short time since he had met Oluse. He'd had the opportunity to exchange information with the other races on various occasions, but fearing for his life he'd kept it short and departed soon after. Now, however, he had met a human that he actually liked. One that was more than 100 years younger than himself, yet that he seemed to have more in common with than the majority of his own kind. How interesting the vast world was, now more than ever he was glad that he left home.

Upon arriving at their destination, Zygaud was impressed by the size and architectural beauty of the Hold. He had a bit of experience in construction himself, but Jamourian construction was vastly different to the type he now saw before him. This couldn't compare to the Avanthal he'd seen thus far. Understandable, really... he'd kept himself stuck up on a roof and scrounging for survival until he could leave what he had thought was some sort of punishment for not being more wary of the weather. A blessing in disguise, it now seemed. He allowed himself to recite a short prayer of apology to Morwen in his mind.

"Excuse me, we are in some need of assistance.", Zygaud heard Oluse say as they entered the building. Too busy exploring the area with his eyes, he hardly noticed the tiny human female that launched herself at his new companion.

Letting out a startled grunt, Zygaud jumped back and readied his long staff to defend himself from oncoming assault. What he saw wasn't what was expected, it seemed less like an actual assault and more like a playful sneak-attack. This brought him to ease, and he lowered his staff so that the bottom end touched the floor with a soft 'tack'.

"Is this... some sort of greeting?", Zygaud asked cautiously, his impossibly deep voice seeming to reverberate through the walls of the room. He'd been told that the rituals of humans could be strange... but this was certainly not what he'd imagined.

[Oluse]

Oluse gave a harsh exhale at the impact, struggling to stay standing against the force, when suddenly his knees fell out from under him. His mind reeled for only a short moment before he placed the sensations in accordance with very vivid childhood memories. Just as it only took Alea a moment to recognize Oluse's voice it only took him a moment to recognize the unrestrained aggression of her assaults!

He couldn't believe it! Alea, his friend, well of sorts, from Denval was in Avanthal, or some equally feral child. He decided to go with his first assumption. For it seemed to always serve him best to follow his instincts when around the young women, better to preserve his consciousness. His mind wanted to greet her, and ask her how she got there, and how she had been, but his instincts instructed otherwise. And so, he listened.

His heavy leather pants soaked some of the impact as his tender knees collided with the dirty ground. As soon as he had what little stability he could hope for from the fall he balled his fists awkwardly, and arched his back. Along with the arch he thrust his arms up and back, like some awkward trebuchet firing blindly into the fray. He, of course, had a target in mind. He couldn't see them, but he knew they were located approximately a little higher than her center of mass, right upon her chest. With any luck they had become larger targets since last they had scene each other. He knew from experience she had no qualms about taking advantage of his natural gender related weaknesses and he had developed a similar outlook on the issue after a few painful experiences.

So blindly, and awkwardly, leaving himself open to any further assaults by the girl, he swung his fists back hoping for a firm hit upon her bosom.

[Alea Davenport]

Oluse's targets were not as large as he'd hoped, but due to some ill luck, he still managed to hit them. Ill luck, because this only served to enrage Alea further. She grabbed his hair and yanked his head backwards, trying to figure out what to do about the flailing arms. After a moment or two of indecision in which her torso was hit a few more times, she planted a foot on the boy's stomach and forced him to the ground, letting go of his head in the process. She then knelt, getting ahold of his arms and straddling his chest, pinning him completely. "Do you yield?!" She demanded in their native language of Denvali.

OOCLet me know if you wanted a chance to escape some of this. I just figured we should hurry along the fighting so Zy can do something too

[Zygaud]

The two humans seemed too absorbed in some sort of odd mating ritual to pay him much heed, so Zygaud leaned casually against the nearest wall and began to examine his staff. Ornate carvings adorned the surface of his father's old stick. Carved over many years of travel, depicting some of the more interesting adventures that the older Jamoura had been through. His favorite was one of which he had heard the tale many times. The tale of when Zygaud's father was saved from near-death caused by the assault of a 'monster' by a tribe of humans. This story had kept him from becoming completely isolated, or consumed by the hatred of his warrior mother.

Breaking away from his current train of thought, he turned his attentions back to the two human children and what he saw was amusing indeed. Without really meaning to, he released a roar of laughter caused by the scene before him. His massive laugh almost shook the sturdy wall he leaned against. What an absurd scene. Perhaps Oluse was younger than he had guessed.


OOC: Thanks for the consideration, Alea. But it doesn't bother me much. :3

[Oluse]

oocOh np, I don't want to keep him waiting ^-^
Huffing and puffing he struggles against the foot, not truly trying to get out at this point. A shrilled and certainly annoyed tone in his voice cried true as he complained, "What kind of question is that?! I always yield! You're the one that keeps fighting every time you see me, you witch!"

He then reached up and pushed her foot aside. The laughed startled him at first, but he was glad somebody was having fun. Rubbing his soar scalp tenderly he looked to Zygaud. "Zygaud this is Alea Davenport." He fought the urge to introduce her as a monster and a downright evil person. "She is a um... um.... She is from Denval too.

And, Aly, this is Zygaud. He is a Jamoura, they come from the Spires, and they live forever." Excitement interlaced with a proud connotation as the young boy spoke, as if claiming his worth by his new found friends impressive features.