A Different Kind of Spear.

Description: Bastian


  • Inactive Character
  • Warlord Healer
  • Healer
    Traveling Terreille
    5 Posts    32 marks
A Different Kind of Spear.
« on: February 10, 2019, 04:06:33 PM »
Dyel couldn't argue with beautiful scenery. He loved his homelands more than most males probably should, but it was the premise of enjoying it because of how much blood had been shed to defend it. So many deaths, so many losses of life all because one creature decided that freedom for all wasn't something they could support. He'd remembered those fights. The war that felt like it would never end, the number of souls that had passed on under his hands. The number of people who had been hard fighters, reliable spears, worthwhile users of the Craft, taken before their time by a War that by all nature, the Eyriens were not supposed to survive, let alone win.

They had broken all odds on that measure, and he was proud to be one of them.

Standing in the shallows of the sea, he was statue-still; the fish here were wary, fickle creatures who knew too well what movement in the water of legs probably meant, and they wouldn't come if he moved even an inch. Sharp gold eyes tracked the movements, the glimmers of shining scales and the darting to and fro of small and larger bodies. He was hoping for enough food to manage getting his stomach full without a trip into town - Marks were no problem for him, but it didn't mean he wanted to spend them needlessly when he could very well hunt for his own supper. He'd managed a few oysters already off the stones down the beach, and had chosen a different location to perch for his spearfishing, in order to capitalize on the schools that had probably avoided him splashing about looking for shelled mollusks.

He couldn't get that Warlord Prince out of his head, but who was he to mess around with a male who had that much station? Let alone who probably never entertained that kind of attention. It felt like it had been too long since he'd had himself a proper Rut, or even a good night between the sheets with someone who wasn't Mister or Missus Right, just Right Now. The hunger gnawed at him, but not quite as bad as the echoing growl in the depths of his stomach. He needed to eat, but one had to  hunt first before they ate.

Dyel refused to succumb to the forces of his own hunger, and cede defeat in favor of a meal in town. No, he had been a more than capable hunter for the last several centuries. He wasn't about to fly a white flag to a bunch of instinct-driven, sea-residing filets. At least, that was what he intended them to be, once he caught some. A little salt and pepper, some spices....mmmm...

He could have used craft to calm them, but it felt like cheating. No, he'd sort this out, or he'd be out here until he did. At worst, until nightfall. Then if he still hadn't eaten anything, the oysters would last him until Mellavi proper. Maybe he'd find a decent inn and a good bed to occupy there for a few hours, then it was off to Undavi again to see about the shipment of herbs he'd ordered a few weeks ago. Before he had to ship out South and attend the catastrophe there.

His eyes were incredible...like molten gold, in a face that looked far too grim to belong to someone so handsome...formidable even if Dyel had been larger-bodied than him, a stature that commanded control and attention far more than the Healer's own ever really had, even among so many of his own kind and even with the power of his jewel...

Dyelzrynar sighed through his nose, faintly enough as to not move his body. Don't think about him. Don't even remember him, he would likely punch you versus speak to you, you're mistaking duty for conversation. He probably had his share of women to bed and wouldn't so much as look at Dyel's spear, anyway. It was rare for him to find a male who would. Far more women who entertained that kind of thing. He wasn't discouraged, it would happen when it happened. He had bigger things to concern himself with, like making sure the shipment he'd ordered hadn't dried out on the way over.

A sizable silver body crept closer. Closer, still. Well-worked muscle tightened beneath his sun-touched skin, and eyes tracked the fish as it approached him; his fingers curled in a stronger grip on the shaft of his newly-honed weapon, and he waited. Closer. Closer, now, if he didn't wait long enough it might slip too far out of reach. If he waited too long, it would lose interest and venture elsewhere.

Steady, now....steady....


    Opal to Sapphire
  • Black Widow Healer
  • Played By: Jenn

    Court Healer
    Askavi Terreille
    1 Posts    0 marks
Re: A Different Kind of Spear.
« Reply #1 on: February 23, 2019, 05:14:24 PM »
She was getting very good at using craft to speed her running. She'd never been jealous of the wings the rest of her race possessed but there were times when she felt they would come in handy. From point a to point b, instance, would be much quicker, but using craft to push her feet along did her well. Releasing her craft, Bastian walked on silent feet towards the water she knew was here. She came here sometimes to meditate or contemplate, whatever it was people called it, and today was no different. It was usually quiet, serene and enough that Bastian could bury her memories and dreams beneath the sound of rushing water.

The closer she came the more she realized that she just might not get her wish. There was someone already here. Shields and craft to quiet her already quiet steps, Bastian moved to sit and watch. She liked to watch, like to see what other people had to offer before she made herself known to them. It wouldn't do to have some violet or crazed individual realize she was there before she was ready. She already had a decided disadvantage when it came to wings and the fact her venom was not as developed as it should be left her feeling weak and vulnerable sometimes.

This time was a bit different though. She called an apple from her cabinet. She didn't feel an ounce of danger from the man currently holding what appeared to be a spear. She did admire the curve of wing that lifted above his head. Taking the apple to sit on a small rise above the river, she crunched into it. Soft craft held the sound to her as she watched. What exactly was he doing? She'd spent the majority of her life in healers tents and running from the Dhemlan, it wasn't often that Bastian got to see other people doing normal things. There wasn't much normal about mending torn bodies.

She did have to take a guess and imagine the Eyrien male was trying to catch something. A fish perhaps. It was so much easier to just buy the food from the market or go to an inn than catch her own food. Not that Bastian would know how to do that anyway. Another crunch and another bite, juices from the apple running down her chin before she swiped them away.

Chewing thoughtfully Bastian swallowed her bit of apple and tossed the core to the side, let the birds have a treat. Standing in a manner that allowed for free movement, Bastian called out, "Have you caught anything yet?"


  • Inactive Character
  • Warlord Healer
  • Healer
    Traveling Terreille
    5 Posts    32 marks
Re: A Different Kind of Spear.
« Reply #2 on: February 26, 2019, 09:35:21 PM »
Dyel wasn't so distracted that something didn't feel off to him, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. Probably some curious sort, or his mind just getting ahead of him about something. He didn't twitch, he didn't move. He barely breathed, just barely enough to get air, eyes focused entirely on what he was hunting.  He didn't flinch when she finally revealed herself, eyes remaining on his prize; if she had been planning to attack him, she almost certainly would have by now, but Dyel was far more interested in food than females. It wasn't the Rut, and he was far more entertained by the idea of getting his stomach full than filling someone else's in kind. There were better times and places, and at that, she wasn't close enough for him to get the measure of without ruining the chances of his meal.

He flexed his shoulders, twitching a wingtip to scare the creature closer towards his reach, and all at once the spear's sharpened tip was thrust downwards with enough force it sent the spray up around his torso. When the silt and sand swirling about cleared, there was a thick-bodied silver form twitching at the bottom of the seabed. A smile split Dyel's features so sharply it might have been terrifying on anyone else, but all at once the some twenty-pound creature was hoisted upwards, shaken enough to slide it towards the broader base of the point, and he carried it towards where he had left his oysters. Triumphant, at least for the evening it seemed, he strolled past where she was, somewhat, and hoisted his bag of still-shelled seafood to draw it open. A knife was pulled from within, and he settled near a flat-enough stone to gut his catch.

"A bit," he answered back finally, scooping the insides out and tossing them into the water for the scavengers to get at, "Is it often you watch people hunt? I can't imagine it's terribly amusing. Unless that's your usual spot and I happened to invade it, at which point, well, should have spoken up sooner."

A wry, boyish smile before he wrapped the fish in a damp piece of rough-tanned leather to keep it from drying out, stuffing it in his bag before he washed off his hands and rubbed them with sand, then washing them off again.

"What's your name."

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