1st of Fall. 511 AV
"Are you ready?"
"Of course I'm petching ready. Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Then shut the petch up! You're making me nervous when you're all jittery like that."
Kaie snapped her head in the direction of the two voices, her expression twisted in one of immense irritation. The two grubby mens' voices fell at the savage's stare, their own faces dissolving into deep grimaces of disdain. Their clothes were ragged and worn, the edges of their stolen weapons almost becoming dull from neglect. Strange patches of dark scruff grew around their jaw lines in a way that reminded the Myrian of flea-bitten dogs. They squirmed in their hiding place uncomfortably like scolded children. Yet Kaie's stare did not linger upon them. Amber eyes slowly returned to peer through thick brush at the scene of interest. A blazing campfire.
"Well we know she's not petching nervous."
"Damn savage."
"I bet she's shakin' in 'er lil' bladed boots," A new voice piped in, soft snickers following his accusation. "Prolly quiverin' in that tan lil' hide o' 'ers I bet."
"We'll see how fearless she is when they start screamin'."
"They always break when they scream...but what about the blood?"
"Petch the blood. They're all a bunch uh cannibals. I bet the screams will be like music to her ears..."
"Will you three shut the petch up before I cut your gods damned throats?" Trent growled quietly from somewhere in the dark, his voice carrying enough venom to poison a rattler Dhani. Almost immediately the small pack of hecklers fell silent. Kaie heard one grumble something to Trent, who hissed something murderous back.
"Well done, idiots. You just lost yourself an ally, and there's a handful of unfriendly swords down there. We have a lot of shyke to do so stop petching around," Their leader reminded them gravely, jutting his sword through the bush he hid behind to peer down at the camp below.
"Kaie's speech."
"Are you ready?"
"Of course I'm petching ready. Are you?"
"Yeah."
"Then shut the petch up! You're making me nervous when you're all jittery like that."
Kaie snapped her head in the direction of the two voices, her expression twisted in one of immense irritation. The two grubby mens' voices fell at the savage's stare, their own faces dissolving into deep grimaces of disdain. Their clothes were ragged and worn, the edges of their stolen weapons almost becoming dull from neglect. Strange patches of dark scruff grew around their jaw lines in a way that reminded the Myrian of flea-bitten dogs. They squirmed in their hiding place uncomfortably like scolded children. Yet Kaie's stare did not linger upon them. Amber eyes slowly returned to peer through thick brush at the scene of interest. A blazing campfire.
"Well we know she's not petching nervous."
"Damn savage."
"I bet she's shakin' in 'er lil' bladed boots," A new voice piped in, soft snickers following his accusation. "Prolly quiverin' in that tan lil' hide o' 'ers I bet."
"We'll see how fearless she is when they start screamin'."
"They always break when they scream...but what about the blood?"
"Petch the blood. They're all a bunch uh cannibals. I bet the screams will be like music to her ears..."
"Will you three shut the petch up before I cut your gods damned throats?" Trent growled quietly from somewhere in the dark, his voice carrying enough venom to poison a rattler Dhani. Almost immediately the small pack of hecklers fell silent. Kaie heard one grumble something to Trent, who hissed something murderous back.
"Well done, idiots. You just lost yourself an ally, and there's a handful of unfriendly swords down there. We have a lot of shyke to do so stop petching around," Their leader reminded them gravely, jutting his sword through the bush he hid behind to peer down at the camp below.
"Kaie's speech."
