32nd Fall, 516AV
With each passing day, Oona’s frustration with the barbarians of Sunberth grew. They were a messy, angry people with absolutely no structure or military training. People were too quick to draw swords, to draw blood even, with no apparent cause. It angered the Myrian, who had proudly served three gruelling years to the Myri’s own military. The training had been meticulous, sharpening not only Oona’s combat skills but her mind too. She had learned to strategize, to consider one’s aim (usually to kill as many the Dhani as possible) when swinging a weapon or killing a foe.
But the people of Sunberth seemed to lack all thinking or training. Their violent stupidity explained why their city was stinking and filthy, not the prize of the jungle like Taloba was. She longed to see her home again, but something anchored Oona to Sunberth. She felt that she couldn’t leave this city without achieving… something, though as yet the young woman had no clue what she yearned to do. It was a hopeless city, and one she didn’t understand both linguistically or morally.
With her Kris dagger hanging by her side, Oona ventured out of the Drunken Fish – another stinking, volatile place – and into the city streets. Though the night was early, Oona felt immediately more comfortable in the waning light of Syna. Leth would soon be out, hanging over the Myrian with the comforting gaze of an old friend. The clear skies – free of jungle canopy – still seemed too open to Oona, but she was slowly getting used to it.
The city itself, however, would take significantly more time.
She moved carefully, her steps placed gently and quietly out of habit rather than necessity. Even in the city proper, Oona’s military and hunting training was impossible for her to shake off. A woman did not just blunder through the jungle at night. She stalked, like a cat, her knees supple and ready to burst into a run if needed. It was this very natural steadiness in the dark that had earned Oona’s clan their name – the Patient Shadows. They lurked, they waited.
And then they pounced.
Oona’s fingertips twitched as she trailed through the city, her shoulders back and head held high. She was the epitome of a proud Myrian female – save for her stinking and barbarian surroundings.
It was only when she found herself on the messy border of the city that Oona finally relaxed, slipping her right hand off of the hilt of her Kris and allowing the tiniest of smiles.
Time to hunt.
With each passing day, Oona’s frustration with the barbarians of Sunberth grew. They were a messy, angry people with absolutely no structure or military training. People were too quick to draw swords, to draw blood even, with no apparent cause. It angered the Myrian, who had proudly served three gruelling years to the Myri’s own military. The training had been meticulous, sharpening not only Oona’s combat skills but her mind too. She had learned to strategize, to consider one’s aim (usually to kill as many the Dhani as possible) when swinging a weapon or killing a foe.
But the people of Sunberth seemed to lack all thinking or training. Their violent stupidity explained why their city was stinking and filthy, not the prize of the jungle like Taloba was. She longed to see her home again, but something anchored Oona to Sunberth. She felt that she couldn’t leave this city without achieving… something, though as yet the young woman had no clue what she yearned to do. It was a hopeless city, and one she didn’t understand both linguistically or morally.
With her Kris dagger hanging by her side, Oona ventured out of the Drunken Fish – another stinking, volatile place – and into the city streets. Though the night was early, Oona felt immediately more comfortable in the waning light of Syna. Leth would soon be out, hanging over the Myrian with the comforting gaze of an old friend. The clear skies – free of jungle canopy – still seemed too open to Oona, but she was slowly getting used to it.
The city itself, however, would take significantly more time.
She moved carefully, her steps placed gently and quietly out of habit rather than necessity. Even in the city proper, Oona’s military and hunting training was impossible for her to shake off. A woman did not just blunder through the jungle at night. She stalked, like a cat, her knees supple and ready to burst into a run if needed. It was this very natural steadiness in the dark that had earned Oona’s clan their name – the Patient Shadows. They lurked, they waited.
And then they pounced.
Oona’s fingertips twitched as she trailed through the city, her shoulders back and head held high. She was the epitome of a proud Myrian female – save for her stinking and barbarian surroundings.
It was only when she found herself on the messy border of the city that Oona finally relaxed, slipping her right hand off of the hilt of her Kris and allowing the tiniest of smiles.
Time to hunt.
