PM to join A Monkey's Uncle (Pulren)

[Keene Ward]

Keene raised a brow at Pulren's response, pausing in his calmly paced gait to stare back at him. He had not expected Palaren to have been from the same city as he, his mannerisms and nature seemingly native to Sunberth over the wealthy port city of Zeltiva. While not familiar with the religious specificities of Laviku and his worshipers, there was not a single Zeltivan who had not heard the deity's name nor did not know the domain over which he ruled. Religion had never been something that interested him. It was messy and unpredictable, an unwanted variable. The gods were distant, though people spoke of them as if they were entities no more uncommon than another face among the throng of life that beat though the city's heart. From what Keene understood, that was hardly the case. The gods were what they were, but they were certainly no more than that. Powerful? Certainly. Invested in the affairs of those who claimed to be their followers? It was difficult to say, but Keene doubted that each and every person who so devoutly followed their respective deity's whims and desires as they were perceived was of any more importance than a blade of grass or wisp of cloud. He didn't doubt there were some who caught their attention: a peculiar insect, an especially intricate design upon a flower. These people, however, were few and far between. Keene had never seen the point to investing his time into something that would yield him no returns, and thus had spent little time considering anything other than his lack of interest in religion.

Palaren seemed to have been even more offended by his words, something that Keene had difficulty understanding. He had no emotional investment in what they were speaking of, only a slight curiosity as to what sort of reasoning drove Palaren to such extremes. It was strangely familiar in the way that Palaren would first look at him with an intent that would have curdled milk, but that famiarity was lost when he spoke. Though his agitation was evident, Palaren did not shout. He did not throw his arms about and curse in excess. His tone was not without disgust, nor did he strive especially hard to veil the dislike in his stare. Still, Palaren was different than Mella. He was filtered, to an extent. Something, again, that Keene saw little use for. While he did not agree with Palaren's view points and beliefs, nor did he fully comprehend why the man seemed to find the discussion so offensive, Keene saw no reason for the man to stay from speaking his mind, as it was said in everything else he did.

He continued to name off various gods and goddess, all of whom - save the unfamiliar "Zulrav" - Keene knew only from his brief interactions with those who called upon them. Though his knowledge was limited on the gods and their various roles, Keene had heard little to suggest that the bodies of the dead were returned to the gods. It didn't make logical sense. That which was flesh and blood when void of the soul was nothing more than rotting meat. What use would a god of the moon or a champion of the ethereal storm have for such garbage? The nuits, an entire race, could make use of what was otherwise useless trash. The body was not what made the person, but rather the person made the body. He had learned this in the days he had spent staring into the dead eyes of what had once been his mentor, his master. She had disappeared and left behind only a failed likeness of who she had once been.

Keene shook his head. "I am not 'getting at' anything." At that point, they had stopped atop a small rise that led down into a shallow valley of gently swaying grasses. The sticky heat of the island's summery winter air tousled Keene's hair as he stared at his companion with a steady, green-grey gaze. His frown had faded some, allowing his visage to take on a slightly blank neutrality as he continued. "We were both raised within Zeltiva, but we are entirely different people." He blinked, his head tilting just slightly in question as his brows gently knit in thought. "I know of Laviku, and I know of his power." He paused, his eyes staring into Palaren's, little sparking in his own but a curious interest in what had sparked him to speak of the gods as if the city of Zeltiva was their domain and not the respective forces they embodied. "I believe he exists." Glancing upwards towards the cloudcovered sky and back to the irate face of the man before him, he continued, his voice steady and calm, soft even as it usually was. "I believe they all exist. I also believe you exist. I believe that rocks and trees and grass exist."

Again he shook his head, a small sigh passing between his lips. "But whether I believe in them or not does not change whether they exist." For a moment, his gaze became a piercing examination, gazing deep into Palaren's own, searching. When he spoke again, Keene's voice had fallen, quiet and almost wistful. "A body is nothing more than a body." He turned from Palaren to stare off into the distance, the rustle of the grasses a small concern, but far enough away that Keene was not too worried. Not returning his gaze to who he now knew to be a fellow Zeltivan, Keene finished his thought. "Without a soul it is merely an empty vessel."

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[Pulren Marsh]

More of this staring. It really chewed at Pulren's ear. It was like a louse, digging away at his scalp, a little insect farmer plowing for the rich red elixir to feed himself and his parasitic kin. That stare. It just said to Pulren, 'You are a little worm. You have no concept of the great things I know.' The humidity pressed down on his back and neck, sweat forming in droplets on his face. Then Keene said that he wasn't getting at anything. If he was a Zeltivan he would be on the ....


....


'...I know of Laviku and I know of his power..'


'..I believe he exists...'



The rest was so disrespectful that Pulren looked around the Prairie, curious if there were any witnesses. Keene was a Wizard. Probably a very potent one. So was the fire bitch.The fisherman's face slowed down and became motionless like Keene's, though Pulren's eyes had a slight tick in them that couldn't be helped.

The Wizard had made his case and he turned away. Turned his back on Pulren, an angry and slightly unstable man who held a weapon in his hand. In Pulren's mind, a scene played out where the tines buried themselves into his neck, the sharpened point piercing the front of his throat, the telltale gurgling coming, the expression on his face turning from a frown to something more satisfying. Maybe clutch at the air? Maybe a mewling and crying sound?All Pulren did was grip the shaft of the trident. He wouldn't kill another Zeltivan, even a mouthy Nuit worshiper like this one.

Calm came to his voice now, his fantasies sated with the blood of Keene running across the grasses. "Keene. Believe what you wish to believe. I know you hold power over the elements. I have killed Reimancers stronger than you when they turned their attention away. I also have your power as well. It is raw and not as fashioned and finessed as yours. So we are more similar than you think. Also, since most people let Nuits run things without rebellion, admiration is just as suitable as apathy. Do me a favor, though. Ease up on the idea that you are better than me. I can really do without it."

[Keene Ward]

When Palaren spoke, it was with a calmness that drew Keene's attention from the shifting grasses and back onto the Zeltivan against his better judgment. The Testing Grounds were hardly a place to allow oneself the leisure of obliviousness, but the swift turn of Palaren's tone and perceived level-headedness was too unwarranted for him not to raise a curious brow at in examination. He stood in an easy stance, his fingers tightly wrapped around the shaft of the trident as his eyes bore into Keene's with a coldness that he had not expected from him.

Again, the man made a leap from one subject to the next, as unfathomable as any before. Keene's frown was one of confusion, though the expression was hardly clearly displayed in the coolness of his gaze or the controlled manner of his posture. It seemed Palaren had decided that attempting to change Keene's mind on matters of beliefs was as unlikely as the sky raining down fish. What he said, however, was something Keene found to be either a threat or a warning, though he couldn't make the distinction between the two. He had never been very able in social settings; people were too unpredictable, too variable, for him to be able to handle them in a suitable manner. Thus, things like indignation, insult, honor, the true purpose of decorum, were all lost on him. Humor and sarcasm were two of the most difficult things for him, but he had rarely ever been threatened. He couldn't decided what the proper reaction was to what Palaren was telling him, so instead of doing anything he just stared blankly back, his attention focused on what the man had to say.

There had never been a point during which Keene had imagined the man behind him to be an enemy of any kind. His lips dipped down into a small frown at Palaren's insinuation that Keene had been careless. They had fought together, and Keene had found the man competent enough that there was little reason to worry over his well-being. The idea that lowering his guard around someone could get him killed was hardly a novel one. Still, he had made the mistake, thinking that the rustling of grass was more dangerous than the armed man who had considered a benign presence in spite of his emotional debate. While he didn't retreat, Keene did ready his djed, consciously feeling it shift within him, the rolling, steady clouds of his soul stirring beneath the clear skies of his exterior. If Palaren was prefacing an attack, Keene had no intention of returning such an action with lethal force, however he hardly was going to allow the trident wielding man to kill him.

His admission to being a reimancer was enough to elicit an unblanketed moment of genuine surprise that flashed across Keene's face in a blink before he reigned it in. The man before him hardly looked the part of a mage, but Keene supposed a mage was simply anyone could use magic, be they erudite or plebeian. He wasn't sure what had sparked the reveal of what Keene considered to be one of the more powerful sorts of secrets, but he found Palaren's understanding of how he thought of him highly misinformed. He believed himself no better than the next; there was no point in it. Every individual was useful in some way, to remove the perception that another had something to offer was to remove the chance at gaining knowledge that, potentially, exists in only a singular fashion. He hardly imagined himself better than Palaren - more magically capable, certainly - but Keene could not weird a trident with any amount of proficiency. He was entirely unaware of anything that had to do with Sunberth, and had he been interested in the gods at all, it seemed Palaren was well versed enough in them as well. There were discrepancies, differences in knowledge and respective strength, but nowhere had Keene ever considered himself better than the man before him. There were plenty who he considered beneath the natural role of society, however Palaren was hardly one of them.

As Keene began to reply in an attempt to assuage Palaren's misplaced frustrations, there was a low, growling howl that sounded a half-tick before a large, dark shadow of a creature exploded from the grasses behind Palaren. Without wasting any time, Keene's res slide from his fingers as he jerked his arm forward, flicking the wrist upwards to send two sizable shards of res whizzing past Palaren's face - on his right - before snapping his fingers to shift the off-blue liquid into wickedly sharp blades that bit into the creature with enough force to knock it from the air. Even as he moved to take a more defensive stance with knees bent slightly and hands at the ready as res bubbled up from the skin on his knuckles, Keene's eyes flicked towards several more instances of shivering grass. The creature he had knocked out of the sky had disappeared, the nature of the projectiles keeping it from leaving a trail of blood. However many more there were, Keene figured it was as good a time as any for the strange, shaded felines to present themselves. He much preferred Palaren take out his frustrations on the creatures than himself.

oocThink panthers with hyper camouflage. You'll see them when they're on top of you and when their in the air. They only really attack by pouncing = ergo why they're a failure

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[Pulren Marsh]

That face.

Did it speak? Did the head behind it think? Of course it did, bit damn, was it seeming that it didn't. It almost seemed like Keene was upset by Pulren's words or his intent. Intent was really irrelevant, wasn't it? Sure, the Wizard had buddied up with the Scars while they were on his charming island getaway, but he and Pulren had hardly bonded. Was this little hike to be the moment that they became friends? Probably not. His head cocked to the side as it seemed that the other was squaring up. Was that Res bubbling up from his hands? Was this motherpetcher actually going for it? A slack jaw became a grin and a scrunch of brow. Weapon and shield rose as the Wizard made his move.

Was that a growl behind? Sounded like one. Looked like flying Res turning to ice as it flew by Pulren's head. His head. Turning on his heel, he just heard the thing behind him, watching it disappear as quickly. That was it. Pulren had been an idiot, lost in his own slights to see the true danger around them. He was more pissed at himself than he ever could have been at Keene. His own stance dropped low, the shield rising to avoid the next leap attack, the trident out, ready to probe the innards of the next assailant. "Sorry, Keene. This petching island. You just make shyke and then let it run loose? You're all overgiven."

Petching Wizards. He didn't count himself among their number yet. His eyes followed the grasses. The wind was not high, the heat was stagnant and pressing. This knowledge led him to watch the grasses for deviation and movement. "There's no wind. Watch the grass. Invisibility doesn't hide the grass." He was saying it to himself as much as to Keene. Maybe they could bond during survival. That's how it usually worked for Pulren.

[Keene Ward]

Keene raised a brow at Palaren's comment, though his eyes were fixed upon the grasses. "I don't make anything." His voice was, as always, void of emotion, even more so with the emphasis of his focus on the creatures that lurked unseen around them. Palaren's issues with him and the island paled in comparison to the potential to join the countless number of corpses that lay beneath the grassy plains of the prairie. The apology was a step in Palaren coming to terms with Keene's natural mannerisms, he supposed, but for the time being it was best to set his attentions on not dying. There wasn't much more for him to do, short of launching icy spikes in every direction, something he imagined Palaren would have preferred he abstain from.

The command to keep an eye on the grass was redundant to Keene's own processes, but it was proper good advice. Instead of saying anything to the contrary, Keene simply nodded, slowly positioning himself so that his back was to Palaran's. While the man had made very questionable threats only ticks before, Keene figured the man would be slightly more preoccupied with the animal attacks than with attempting to slay the young mage. Grey-green eyes scanned the grasses, hints of motion from the soft whisper of the winds, but nothing substantial enough for there to be a creature lurking within them. Still, he remained vigilant, his fighter's stance that which he'd been training in. Of course, he had little intention of actually brawling with the felines, as if they were close enough for him to punch them, it was highly likely he was already dead. Regardless of whether his training would help him physically beat down the beasts, the stance itself was a useful preparation for motion.

When the animals leaped into the air, they did so in unison, furious growls filling the air right before them, grasses shivering for a tick before they were airborne. Focusing on one and leaving the other to the competent man behind him, Keene let the res flow from his fist, punching forward with a short hiss of breath. The translucent blue liquid shot forward, shaping into a reflection of his fist before he snapped his fingers, transmuting it into a solid projectile that slammed into the creature with more than enough force for bones to be broken. Readying himself for another attack, Keene blinked in frustration as the animal fully disappeared into the grasses, not even a trace of it displacing the blades to give him a clue as to where it went. He had a good idea of where it might be, but before acting, he calmly called back to his trident wielding companion, voice hardly concerned. "Mine disappeared."

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[Pulren Marsh]

The Wizard kept his mouth shut and moved to put his back to Pulren's. A solid tactic and an appreciated action. His eyes were affixed to the movements of the grass. The absence of the breezes were helpful, but it was almost as if the creatures both heard and comprehended Common, the movement all but ceasing. The way that he was facing looked back the way that they had come. How many of these invisible things were there? Two? Ten? Either way, being exposed out in the open was suicide.

Before he could recommend moving toward sheltered and higher ground, the eruption of dual roars broke the silence, one creature leaping behind near Keene, one leaping to Pulren. It leaped from his left, his shield bearing the weight of the creature, which was substantial for its size. He managed to stab out with the trident, gaining purchase and biting flesh. The sensation of the weight as well as hearing the cry of the creature verified that strike, though once it fell away it vanished again. Hearing the Wizard's confirmation, Pulren turned the trident over so that the tines were in the Wizard's field of vision, blood dripping from the jagged points. "Same here."

Silence returned to the pair, the prairie resuming a sense of tranquility while they waited and anticipated another attack. Turning the trident back over, Pulren kept his eyes open and aware for traces of blood. "One is bleeding now, so there should be blood to track. Use your ice to cut them, their blood shouldn't be invisible." If it was, they were kinda petched. "We need to start moving back toward the way we came. Being out in the open is going to guarantee two things. One, we remain at a disadvantage. Two, the smell of blood will attract bigger predators." Maybe they would at least be able to see those. Would they want to, in this island of obscene terrors?

[Keene Ward]

Blood was good. Keene's eyes flicked to the tines for a tick as Palaren swung the trident his direction. If one of the creatures was bleeding it would be easier to track - or perhaps more accurately keep track of. Keene wasn't sure what the creatures were, but they seemed distinctly feline and dark enough that their features were blurred. It appeared, however, that the creature's claws were as akin to razors as the actual blades themselves. Thin lines of blood from were they had connected with his extended arm ran the length from the middle of his arm to end around the lower half of his forearm. Letting his eyes fall back to the grasses, ignoring the growing sting of the shallow slices into his skin, Keene nodded at Palaren's suggestion - or command, as it were.

His observations and command of the situation was admirable. Keene took note to cut the beasts the next time he saw them, res slowly drifting out of his mouth in a thin mist as he fell into guarded step, sidestepping to keep Palaren in his blind spot. As they moved, Keene kept his ears alert for any sound that was not the quiet, controlled movement of his own breath, and eyes sliding over the terrain in search of any trail of dark-hued crimson that matched what had been on Palaren's trident. From the perspective of his field of vision, there wasn't anything for his eyes to fix on. The grasses only swayed in whisper of the wind, no indication that their quarries were still there. It was disconcerting to know that the creatures were most likely lurking, only there was no way to tell where.

"Where does the blood lead?" If Palaren had a better idea of where at least one of the next attacks would come from, they would have a slight advantage over the previous onslaught. For the time being, Keene chose not to dwell on what the scent of blood might attract. It was better to deal with things as they came when in the midst of a life threatening situation. Palaren seemed capable enough to worry about what might be coming and maintain his focus, but Keene preferred to dispatch the creatures first before worrying about more.

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[Pulren Marsh]

A plan was now set into motion. The pair moved in tandem, back to back, sidestepping along the road back in the way that they came. Since they were no longer arguing over ethics and life and death, the distance and the time it took to traverse it seemed to drag on much farther. Now they were the subject of life and death, the camouflaged creatures attempting to be their destruction.

Now, he would have to back up his theories with actions. His eyes remained keen on the prairie grounds, hoping for any blood drops to appear. He felt like he would never catch sight unless there was a good deal of blood. All the damned things had to do was remain in the grasses and he might literally never see their blood trails. What he could do, though, considering that he seemed to have some semblance of Keene's trust, was pretend to see them and keep the pair moving. " I--wait, there--no...Keep a sharp eye out, Keene. And let's pick up the pace." He began stepping a pace faster, though he had no intention of turning tail and becoming prey.

This intention crystallized as the low, rumbling growl became a scream, another creature appearing before him. Its claws dug into Pulren's forearm, its back legs coming up to kick at his lower extremities. "You petcher!" He fell on it, its form vanishing while he surely still held it. Unable to wield the trident properly, he let the shaft slide through his hand until he gripped just below the base of the tines. His own blood was starting to run down his arm, coating the invisible shape of the angry and feral creature, giving it some kind of vague shape with his own lifeblood the paint. Once the trident tines were handy, he started viciously stabbing near where the growling came from. This caused the screams to increase in pitch and frequency, the kicking and scratching pushing so that the beast did finally break free, limping off and creating a clear and noticeable blood trail.

"Let's get moving. We're going to find out where we go when we die if we don't."

[Keene Ward]

Palaren did not inspire confidence through his mumbling. Keene's eyes flicked towards the first indication, but it was too far out of his range of vision to see anything useful. Instead, he contented himself with mutely following Palaren's pace. His feet fell in similar harmony to his companion's, and while they moved in sync, Keene's mind was only loosely dedicated to where he was placing his feet. He watched the grasses carefully, eyes flicking over every small movement, but it was to no avail. When the creature did attack, it came from behind - which was Palaren's front. Keene held his ground, the djed of his hands tingling as he waited for any of the others to show themselves. From the sound of the struggle, Palaren was having a difficult time managing the creature, but Keene refrained from assisting. Taking his eyes off of the grasses and allowing them both to be flanked was far worse than his charge gaining a few new scars.

Once the frantic struggle had ended, Keene silently nodded as the continued. They passed over the trail, and as the approximate location fell into Keene's jurisdiction, he kept a close eye on it. From the few cursory glances he'd made in Palaren's direction, it was clear he'd been injured. How badly and to what extent, however, was something Keene chose not to dwell on. If it was more life threatening than the event at hand, Keene would address it then. For the time being, they moved at a brisk pace away from where the creatures had been, both vigilant and ready for any further attacks.

When it did come, it came in force. Three black figures shot into the air, their screaming howls the only indication they were inbound. Two had chosen Keene as their target, one of which left a trail of blood behind it. The third made a weaker leap, not rising into the air nearly as high from the bones Keene had broken previously.

Quickly extending both hands forward, pale blue res erupted from the x's on his palms, twisting its way towards the creatures into sharp, jagged spikes. With a snap, they became instruments of icy death, ripping into the bodies that impaled themselves upon them. The bottoms of the icy blades had remained res and fanned out as the protrusions had solidified. In the next tick, Keenes hands pushed away from himself in a breast stroke, the res responding by becoming a burst of air that knocked the creatures to either side of him where their bodies landed with heavy thuds and a cracking of ice. Feeling the telltale chill creeping through his body, Keene remained ready. Without knowing how many more were left, he wasn't able to help Palaren, though he had the feeling the final attack had, indeed, been the finale.

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[Pulren Marsh]

The burning in his arm was no match for the burning in his brain. How had they managed to be so stupid? Okay, scratch that. How had Pulren managed to be so stupid? Boredom in his little broom closet would have been a welcome diversion to nursing the rivulets of blood that dripped down his forearm. It would have been easier to watch for the stray cockroach than the invisible predators stalking them. Perhaps he was being too hard on himself. It just wasn't like a normal place, Sahova. One couldn't just get bored and wander with so many dangerous creatures loose. His previous sojourn with the Wizard should have been enough proof for a lifetime.

Dripping and moving, he heard the sound of the trio of creatures as they burst from nothingness into fury. He also soon heard the crystalline cracking of ice and the sad cries of the dying felines. One leaped at Pulren but it seemed so haphazard or lackluster about it that the Guard simply slammed it with his shield, sending it bouncing back into obscurity. "Petch this prairie and this island. Let's get back to safety, now.!" He sincerely hoped the WIzard was on board but if not, no problem. He was obviously very capable in his own right. Reimancy seemed very useful and Pulren decided when he got back home ot Zeltiva he might give it a whirl.