3rd of Summer, 514AV.
Kwantu often ended up spending a lot of time with his fang-mates. They were his essential family, after all. There were few things he wouldn't do for them, and likewise, they for him. They were more than just a pack of killers in a military, they were a family group. Even if some had some strange ways of showing their affection for another, they were all together in everything. Except when it came to shopping. Then everyone suddenly decided that it was best if they moved off in their own ways and met up later for their usual training sessions. That day would be no exception. Kwantu had decided that he needed some more weapons.. after all, he could never have too many of the things. Armour was almost completely out of the question, however. He held his scars dearly, and there would be no metal or leather holding back his honour. The others would often wear something, but it was never anything heavy or significantly insulating. After all, the heat was unbearable on naked skin, let alone when baking them alive under layers of tough leather and other useless things.
However, for some reason, he didn't end up looking for weapons. As he stalked through the city markets with little else but the spear at his side for comfort, thumping along the ground with its hilt as he walked, there were few things that could jar his senses as much as the sudden, and rather pungent odour did. Many of the others that walked around him seemed barely affected.. so he could only guess that it was his imagination putting on a show, until he saw a horse. They were the last things he wanted to see - if he would ever, ever ride a mount, it would be the back of a Myrian Tiger, if anything. But still, inexplicably, he found himself drawn with curiosity towards the beasts. Large things, of different colours stacked through thick and thin fur. He knew where the smell was coming from now, at least. The sweat they must have drawn out.. it was worse than any other human that he could have known. Worse than a Dhani, he could imagine - and those things were foul, if there were any creatures that could be even remotely related to such things.
There were so many of the horses, as well. Of different sizes and shapes, and different colours. Wandering about freely through the tents as he begun wandering through them, occasionally letting the butt of his spear jab into the dirt before he continued. Tskanna were even rousing around the area. The Sunken Scar felt almost completely lost when he turned his head back the way he'd came, and found a small huddle of old Tskanna blocking his way. He'd just have to keep pushing through the tents until he found his way back out. He'd already decided that after this, he would return back to the barracks relatively quickly.
Kwantu often ended up spending a lot of time with his fang-mates. They were his essential family, after all. There were few things he wouldn't do for them, and likewise, they for him. They were more than just a pack of killers in a military, they were a family group. Even if some had some strange ways of showing their affection for another, they were all together in everything. Except when it came to shopping. Then everyone suddenly decided that it was best if they moved off in their own ways and met up later for their usual training sessions. That day would be no exception. Kwantu had decided that he needed some more weapons.. after all, he could never have too many of the things. Armour was almost completely out of the question, however. He held his scars dearly, and there would be no metal or leather holding back his honour. The others would often wear something, but it was never anything heavy or significantly insulating. After all, the heat was unbearable on naked skin, let alone when baking them alive under layers of tough leather and other useless things.
However, for some reason, he didn't end up looking for weapons. As he stalked through the city markets with little else but the spear at his side for comfort, thumping along the ground with its hilt as he walked, there were few things that could jar his senses as much as the sudden, and rather pungent odour did. Many of the others that walked around him seemed barely affected.. so he could only guess that it was his imagination putting on a show, until he saw a horse. They were the last things he wanted to see - if he would ever, ever ride a mount, it would be the back of a Myrian Tiger, if anything. But still, inexplicably, he found himself drawn with curiosity towards the beasts. Large things, of different colours stacked through thick and thin fur. He knew where the smell was coming from now, at least. The sweat they must have drawn out.. it was worse than any other human that he could have known. Worse than a Dhani, he could imagine - and those things were foul, if there were any creatures that could be even remotely related to such things.
There were so many of the horses, as well. Of different sizes and shapes, and different colours. Wandering about freely through the tents as he begun wandering through them, occasionally letting the butt of his spear jab into the dirt before he continued. Tskanna were even rousing around the area. The Sunken Scar felt almost completely lost when he turned his head back the way he'd came, and found a small huddle of old Tskanna blocking his way. He'd just have to keep pushing through the tents until he found his way back out. He'd already decided that after this, he would return back to the barracks relatively quickly.
Myrian Tongue | Common Tongue | Tukant Tongue