Flashback [Closed] We Are All Animals (Ayatah)

Do not fear the beast inside. Whether it be curiosity or savagery, you must let it out.

(This is a thread from Mizahar's fantasy role play forums. Why don't you register today? This message is not shown when you are logged in. Come roleplay with us, it's fun!)

Taloba, home to the Myrians, is the thriving core of Falyndar. Inhabited by a fierce and savage tribe where blood sacrifices are normal and a way of life, they are untamed and proud of it. Warlike, and with their numbers growing, the Myrians are set on reclaiming what is rightfully theirs. [Lore]

[Closed] We Are All Animals (Ayatah)

Postby Vurk on September 12th, 2014, 3:32 am

16th of Spring, 505AV
The Blackened Claws Clan Lands

The air was almost still in and around the Blackened Claws longhouse. All of the adults had gone out to fulfill their duty to clan or city: the warriors, hunters, tattooists and traders all out working. Out in the jungle copse surrounding the longhouse, men who were responsible for keeping the clan's animals went about their chores, feeding and training the various beasts that made their home on the clan lands. The two Witch Mistresses remained inside the clan longhouse doing whatever it was that they did, and the Wild Druid left the previous day on what was looking to be a long task dedicated to Caiyha's domain. Although it was difficult to admit, the wild Blackened Claws clan was having a rather peaceful day.

Vurk hated everything about it.

Everyone was doing something. The adults were busy with their tasks, and the children had decided to - for some reason - all go out to market on the same day. The market that peddled petty trinkets, useless weapons, and pieces of fabric that the vendors insisted on calling fashionable. It was all so much extraneous waste, and Vurk wanted nothing to do with it.

Unfortunately, there was no one to teach him. It was at times like these that the White Tigress appeared seemingly out of nowhere to take care of her clan's son, but even she was gone today. While the clan lands were nowhere near empty, Vurk was left effectively alone with no one to teach him and no one to fight. It was aggravating to say the least, though that wasn't saying much. The short-tempered Myrian found most things aggravating these days, but few things more than being unable to study what he considered his defining talent. At least he knew what to do at times like these.

A few brief chimes of wandering the greenery around the Blackened Claws longhouse yielded what he was looking for: one particular tree out of the many that were nearby, with scratches carved out of its trunk to reveal the paler wood beneath.

Walking up to the tree, Vurk put his hand upon the scratches in its trunk and, for a tick, just ran his hand along its length so he could feel all the little grooves in the wood. The coarse texture of Caiyha's creation felt welcome beneath Vurk's palm, almost reassuring in its familiarity. He closed his eyes. Taking deep breaths, the Claw felt for a moment the tree, which had been his most faithful sparring partner since he was but a tiny boy, and all its gouges and cuts. There had been a time when he thought it strange to try attacking a tree, but this tree had helped him much the same way the clan's elders had, if not quite in the same capacity. It was hard to ignore that connection.

Vurk's contemplation ended. Opening his eyes, he took a step back and brought his arms to his sides, beginning the process of arming himself.

Slowly, the Myrian began wiggling his fingers, feeling the djed that coursed through them. It was faint whenever he wasn't in a Morphed state, especially since he'd stopped letting Mistress Yno paint her special runes on his skin. However, thanks to her lessons, he could undeniably feel what made him Vurk, and he latched onto that sensation with his mind. He flexed his hands, bringing them up before him and interlocking his fingers together as if cupping them to drink from a spring. Then he began pulling his hands apart while his fingers were still trapping each other. Rather than unfold, the digits began to stretch as he pulled on them, not rubbery-like but slowly and steadily. It might have been a relatively slow process, but he'd gotten better at it over the years and would continue to do so.

After a chime of gently pulling, Vurk was satisfied with their length. He unlocked his fingers and instead laced them together, pushing them all together against each other at the fingertips. This part was quicker, as they began to compress into tapered off points at the end of each finger, falling naturally into sharp points as his body began to recognize the shape. This part took an additional half chime, but by the end of it Vurk had four battle-ready claws on each hand, prompting him to grin. He could sense his djed surge through the digits, from the base to the point. It felt invigorating.

Another chime passed and he worked on his thumbs next, gripping each one between the opposite thumb and palm before pulling on them until they were about as proportionally long as the rest of his fingers. With his set of claws ready, Vurk's grin grew even wilder.

"I love this," he said to no one in particular, looking down at his morphed appendages. He wiggled his fingers again, watching as each long claw waved in response.

Then, without further ado, he pounced on the tree.
Vurk is currently suspended. Apologies!

"Do not fear the beast. Become the beast."
User avatar
Resident Savage
Posts: 23
Words: 15427
Joined roleplay: September 8th, 2014, 3:38 am
Location: Taloba, Falyndar
Race: Myrian
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

[Closed] We Are All Animals (Ayatah)

Postby Ayatah on October 12th, 2014, 8:06 pm


Ayatah enjoyed hunting, but for reasons quite different to most other Myrians. It gave her plenty of time - bells and bells - to be alone. And when alone, she could read. The Scattered Bones were, by Myrian standards, a relatively average-sized clan, but there was always someone requiring some sort of aid. It was impossible for a woman to read with some relative hollering for help, and so Aya rarely found a chime to spend with her books.

But hunting allowed her to enjoy the quiet and read her books as she trudged through the jungle, or waited for some sort of prey to cross her path. It was very un-Myrian, but Aya could not deny her literary love. Myri had designed her in this way, and who was she to ignore this strange, academic part of herself?

She glanced up sharply from her current book, open to reveal a picture of a Syliran Knight and a page of text opposite it. Some noise had broken the peacefulness of the jungle, and Ayatah slid the leather bound book silently into her satchel. With a shrug of her shoulders, she knocked down the longbow from her back and into her left hand. Her right hand withdrew an arrow from the quill at her side, and Ayatah united the two, pulled the arrow back to her eye-level, and waited.

The half-Eypharian stood poised for a chime, then two, then three... She waited for an entire five chimes, and then released her taut frame in a frustrated grunt. Hunting required patience, but Ayatah was feeling restless. She wanted to be efficient; to get the task over and done with so she could enjoy her reading without being wary of the pressing need to feed her clan. They were tolerant of her strange ways - loving, even - but failing to bring them food would be too much for the Scattered Bones. Even Quinneth, the clan matriarch and Ayatah's own great-grandmother, would fail to defend such a lack of care.

So she moved on, picking her way through dirt, sticks and endless piles of rotting leaves. She found herself only half-concentrating on the hunt, instead thinking of far away cities and knights covered head-to-toe in armour. A strange thought, fighting in heavy metal. How do they run?

Another sound, and Ayatah froze mid-step, left foot hanging in the air. She retracted it slowly, bringing it back and this time unsheathing her dagger. Her feet carried her quietly forward, emitting only the gentlest of rustling from the dried leaves brushing at her ankles. There was a clan home around here, she knew, so it was strange that prey would be so close to a settlement...

"Oh!" All the once, the jungle cleared and the sources of the noises came into view; a man.

A man with claws!

Ayatah stood still, gaping at the sight in front of her. Her mind, as ever, worked desperately to make sense of what she was in front of her, though this time her memory failed to gather any information about the nearest clan. "How have you done that?" Her question sounded a little demanding, so Ayatah quickly sheathed her dagger away and stepped towards the male, black eyes staring at his hands - paws? "Sorry I just--" she stumbled over her words, then smiled sheepishly.

Smooth, Aya. Smooth.

oocOnce again so sorry for the delay!

User avatar
The Scholarly Savage
Posts: 737
Words: 667148
Joined roleplay: December 27th, 2012, 11:30 am
Location: Riverfall
Race: Mixed blood
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets

[Closed] We Are All Animals (Ayatah)

Postby Dravite on December 3rd, 2015, 10:41 pm

Your awards, Dear.



  • Hunting: 1
  • Logic: 1
  • Rhetoric: 1


  • Ayatah: Prefers solitude
  • The look of a Syliran Knight
  • Vurk: A man with claws


Sorry to see this didn't get finished, it had the makings of a very interesting story.
Ra’athi of The Watch Troha to Tavehk
Posts: 722
Words: 775240
Joined roleplay: April 20th, 2015, 12:38 am
Race: Human, Drykas
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Medals: 3
Overlored (1) Advocate (1)
2015 Mizahar NaNo Winner (1)

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 0 guests