Edge of Chasm
A large chasm has been torn into the ground to the south, making
further progress in that direction impossible. Thick forboding
jungle encroaches from the north, while the chasm itself runs
west to east. Looking directly upwards you will see no sky. Although
few trees grow very near the edge, those that do grow spread out
well beyond the space of their narrow trunks. If you look out
over the ravine, there you can see the sky, whether it's clouds
racing by or pure azure. This side of the ravine is higher than
the other and you can see out over the tops of the verdant trees
until the ground rises again. It's a beautiful sight, whether
rain drizzles across the green, whether the sun has just burst
out from the clouds, setting the wet leaves shimmering and steaming
or whether the sun has been out and you can see far into the distance.The
terrain appears to slope downward to the east.
Contents:
Syrra
Veesha
Obvious exits:
North(N) West(W) East(E)
Syrra stops and turns, making a faint line in the ground with her toe and gestures to the tree just a few paces off. ** Do you see, where the ferns cluster? That will be your target, and you will stand here. **
Veesha nods slowly and steps up to the line, placing his toe against the line and drawing an arrow from his quiver. In a smooth motion, he sets the arrow against the wood and draws the string back, sighting along the shaft. After a moment, he frowns and shakes his head. "It's farther than I've shot before. I don't think it will be accurate."
Syrra lifts her shoulders slightly. ** Try it anyways. **
Veesha lets fly with the arrow, having drawn the bow as hard as he could, and the arrow zings with enough force, but at this distance, his aim has suffered and it nicks the side of the tree, disappearing into the underbrush. A flare of his nostrils shows his dismay and he lowers the bow ruefully. Knowing the routine, he walks over to retrieve his arrow before he can forget where it landed.
Syrra's face shows no expression as she watches the arrow fly and miss, nor as she notices Veesha's rueful expression. She moves over to the line in the dirt to wait for the younger elf's return.
Veesha finds the arrow and takes a moment to free it from the brush, then walks back to Syrra. "I missed," he tells his teacher unnecessarily.
Syrra steps up beside Veesha and gestures for him to re-draw the bow and aim again, without responding to his complaint.
Veesha nods and steps up to within an inch of Syrra, guessing at her intention as he knocks the arrow and draws the bow. That done, he casts an expectant glance at her.
Lothar approaches from the east.
Lothar has arrived.
Maori approaches from the east.
Maori has arrived.
Dara approaches from the east.
Dara has arrived.
Syrra's mouth twitches in amusement and she steps close to Veesha, from behind, putting her hands on both of his wrists and her chin on his shoulder. Sighting down the bow at the distant clump of ferns, she exterts tiny pressure to adjust the position of Veesha's arms. ** I don't know why it is, but it seems that all my male students take it as a personal failure when they don't do exactly as they think they ought. ** The send is interlaced with affectionate amusement, as if she teases the young elf.
Maori slinks around a tree, tucking her hands behind her and lounging back against it as silently as possible, so as not to disturb the lesson. Silvery blue eyes level on Veesha, narrowing slightly as the corner of her lips twitches into a smile like a bondcat eyeing something especially tasty.
Lothar deliberately leads Dara away from the camp, not wishing the shy one to retreat inward again, not after seeing how calm she was out away from the tribe. Of course, Lothar's not exactly the most alert of elves and thus doesn't realize the way ahead has more elves than behind ** I should thank you for attempting to teach me how to hu... ** He blinks as he comes into the clearing where the others are.
Veesha is never immune to lovely female flesh so close to him, even if it's covered in leather, but he tries not to show it, yeilding to her adjustments amicably. "That's because we have to impress all the lovely females," he says with a low chuckle, barely muffling what would normally be blatant flattery. It's then that he notices he has an audience, and he hesitates rather than release his arrow, glancing around.
Dara's eyes gleam at Lothar's unfinished send, but she's perfectly well aware there are others ahead. ** Y-y-you're welcome, L-lothar. ** she manages to send, stopping before she smacks into Lothar's back. She steps back in fact, uncertain if she should even step into the clearing.
Syrra had noticed, but she hadn't looked. With a quick glance towards the sky, she takes a step away from Veesha, still not looking at the others. ** You should not be so easily distracted, Veesha, ** she reproves, and it's not exactly clear whether she's referring to his response to her proximity, or to the arrival of other elves. Then, she turns and inclines her head slightly. ** Maori, Lothar, ** she offers in greeting, looking from one to the other, then adding after just a moment, ** Dara. **
Maori purrs, "Looking good. Gonna let that arrow fly, sweet? Or just... dangle..." she gives the weapon an almost indencent glance before shifting to lounge more deliberately, since she's gotten Veesha's attention for the moment. Head cocked to one side, bonfire hair crackles over her shoulder, the flames licking her cheek as she regards him. Lothar and Dara are acknowledged only in the way she tilts her shoulders away from them, to bring center stage back to where SHE is standing.
Lothar glances at everyone, nodding in return to Syrra's greeting ** Weaponsmaker. ** He nods at Veesha, not wishing to further distract him. He seems to ignore Maori, content to let her steal the spotlight, as it were. He does shift aside, so Dara's not hiding behind him anymore.
Dara is much happier with someone else in the limelight. What a good idea. Having been greeted and with Lothar moving, she steps hesitently into the clearing, her own bow over a shoulder, arrows in their quiver. She nods once, giving Maori a long stare, and then she swallows once. ** Heyla, e-e-everyone. ** Not that she knows everyone, but at least Syrra's greetings give her this latest elfmaiden's name.
Veesha flushes at Syrra's comment, straightening and sliding the arrow back into its quiver. The ambiguity just makes him assume she meant both, and, despite Maori purring at him so pleasantly, he looks rather miserable. "Sorry," he murmers to the weaponsmaster. He doesn't quite deem it appropriate to ogle Maori while he's being chastised, so he tries not to look her way.
Syrra nods slightly at Veesha and turns to glance at Dara. ** Have you been hunting? ** she queries, making her sending as soothing as she can, while she proceeds to ignore her erstwhile student.
Maori waves a hand in blithe dismissal, "Go on, shoot something, Veesha," she encourages. "We'll be very quiet, and stay out of the way, won't we, Lothar?" She drags Lothar's name out delightfully, one hand slipping out from behind her back to rest on a cheerfully tilted hip.
Dara has no idea what to make of Maori. She's never met anyone like her. She keeps her attention on Syrra, who is scary enough in her own way. ** Y-y-yes. We were hunting. S-sort of. We ended up l-listening t-to the forevergreen. **
Lothar glances at Maori sidelong as she mentions his name ** I am always out of the way, unlike some others. ** He glances back at Veesha, shifting the position of his own bow on his shoulder. He glances at Dara as she responds to Syrra then returns his gaze to Syrra, anything to avoid making eye contact with the minx over there.
Syrra flicks a very brief glance over at Lothar as Dara's explanation includes him in the hunting. ** Good, ** she agrees. ** Did you try your spear? ** she asks Lothar, abruptly turning her attention to him, her head tilting slightly to one side. Without missing a beat, she adds as an aside for Veesha's benefit, ** We've had enough practice today. You need simply to work on your aim. On your own. **
Maori calmly disagrees with Lothar. "No, sweet, sometimes you're very much in the way," but doesn't dally on him while Veesha's been left by his instructor. "Yes, practice your aim. Aim at something."
Now that she's out of Syrra's focus, Dara steps back again, using Lothar as a shield of sorts. She doesn't say anything, just watching the elves as they interact.
Veesha shakes his head and turns to Maori, now that he's been 'dismissed' and he dips his chin at Maori. "I don't think so," he disagrees gently. "I might very well miss, and that would be simply devastating in the company of so many beauties," he says, waving his hand towards Syrra and Dara, to include them in his apparaisal.
Lothar averts his gaze from Syrra at her mention of a spear, trying not to show his embarassment. He shifts his attention to Veesha, rolling his eyes as he and Maori begin the ritualistic flirtations. He shakes his head and looks back at Syrra. At least she won't be acting like a cat in heat.
Syrra bestows an amused glance on Maori and Veesha. ** You would not miss if you were to focus mor on your work, ** she tells Veesha. Then, her eyes return to Lothar and she cocks her head at him for a moment before looking away.
Dara blushes and she glances down at the ground. She then sighs a bit, eyes glancing back along the trail as though following it in her mind's eye. It wouldn't take her long at all to return to where she was hunting earlier.
Maori flashes a grin at Syrra, "He might concentrate better if he didn't have you pressed against him," she proposes, not having missed one whit of the interpersonal byplay, despite paying little attention to the weapons or more serious matters. Veesha receives a little wink.
Veesha blushes again, cheeks turning quite pink. He distracts himself with unstringing his bow and carefully winding the string up around the wood so it won't get caught on anything.
Lothar turns, giving Dara a vaguely stern look. He locksends something to her, then turns back to Syrra, finally answering her question from earlier ** No weaponsmaker. I took my bow, as you can see. ** Hodd.ain shifts the position of his bow as it sits on his shoulder.
Syrra actually winks at Maori, though with an eye most of the others wouldn't be able to see. ** If he can't keep his mind off me pressed against him, then he won't be able to keep his mind on anything with you around, ** she points out, for all the world as though Veesha weren't around at all. She nods slightly at Lothar, keeping silent on the subject, though she looks thoughtful for a moment.
Dara kicks softly at the ground, and then she glances up, nodding at Lothar. She steps back into the clearing, not actually making a run for it. Her eyes flick from here to there, resting for a moment on the bow being unstrung. She runs a finger along her own bow, but remains silent.
Maori laughs aloud, tinkling golden laughter. as Syrra addresses her. "That's a good point, now, Syrra, though I think you're as good a test of Veesha's steadfastness as any, and better than most." Veesha is given an appraising look, mirth dancing in those pale eyes.
Veesha shifts his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, then steals a glance over at Dara, since she seems to be the only female here not bent on embarassing him horribly.
Lothar looks around, finding a rock to sit on. He removes his bow from his shoulder, deftly unstringing it and inpsecting the weapon, as a way to pass the time.
Syrra gives Maori's scantily-clad body a deliberately obvious once-over and she shakes her head, all the response she'll give the elf to her suggestion of equality. ** He'll learn, eventually. Perhaps in... oh... eight eights of turns, he might not miss the tree by a handspan when a female walks in. **
Dara wouldn't dream of embarassing someone else. She's too busy worrying about her own shyness, if nothing else. She takes a deep breath, while she tries to relax here with these other elves. She glances at Lothar, and then she moves a bit away from him, deliberately. So she can't be using him as a shield any more.
Maori chuckles lowly to herself, a warm, quiet sound eminating from somewhere deep in her chest. Syrra's given an appraising glance of her own, and a little one shouldered shrug by way of reply - apparently Maori maintains her position. Poor Veesha is spared a glance, and Lothar one as well as she leans more comfortably against her treetrunk.
Lothar ignores Maori's obvious flirtations. More intent on checking to be sure his bow is still in optimum condition. Once satisfied, he restrings the bow, tighter than most of the bows he makes for others. The draw on this bow is powerful indeed, and would be hard to pull back for most.
Syrra blinks as silence, at least to her 'ears', falls on the gathering. What little of her humor showed in her face fades as she glances around, trying to figure out what's caused this sudden silence, and if it was something she'd said. Eventually, she settles on Dara as someone to say something to, to break what seems to her, at least, an uncomfortable silence, ** Did you say if you caught anything on your hunt? **
Maori chuckles once more, a throaty rumble. "Why, Syrra, they simply couldn't think of anything to say to you. Poor Veesha's probably embarrassed into next season, since you revealed his weakness to the world. Can't keep his focus worth a red feather if you give your hips a little waggle."
Dara blinks as she's suddenly addressed, cheeks going a little red, and after they'd only just gone back to normal. ** Just a limbrunner. ** is her soft answer, hardly heard at all. ** Lothar has it still, I think. **
Lothar spares a glance at Maori, before standing and drawing an arrow. He peers at the target Veesha had been aiming at earlier ** Perhaps Veesha needs to learn to concentrate more. ** He glances at Dara ** Still has? I'm sorry... did you ask me something? ** Okay, so he wasn't really paying attention. His hands continue to absently nock the arrow in the bow, holding said weapon as if preparing to draw and fire.
Veesha clears his throat and walks over towards Dara, stiffly ignoring the other three elves. "A limbrunner?" he queries curiously. "That's pretty good. You shoot it? Or did Lothar?"
Syrra waves a hand vaguely. ** Veesha concentrates well enough to hunt fairly well. It's when we reach the more complicated things, like that distance, that he needs to work on it. ** She flicks a glance at Maori and shrugs. ** He was going to shoot that arrow until he noticed you - me notwithstanding. **
Maori shakes her head, fiery hair bobbing. Lupine eyes fix on Lothar as she inquires, "Syrra's terribly modest. Wouldn't you agree that she is every bit as distracting as I am?" An odd turn of events, perhaps, but Maori seems in earnest.
Dara forces herself not to step backwards when Veesha approaches. She bites her lower lip, and then glances up at thim. ** Oh. I did. But it was close t-to me. ** Then she frowns over at Lothar, but doesn't say anything since he's already in the middle of something else.
Lothar was just about to draw back the arrow but pauses, turning his gaze on Maori. He considers her for a moment before responding ** The Weaponsmaster can be distracting in her own fashion. She does not flaunt her body such as you do however. ** There, having responded to the question, he returns to what he was doing, which is drawing back the string and the arrow with it, taking aim at Veesha's target tree.
Veesha flashes a grin. "So?" he replies irrepressably, now that he doesn't seem to be the center of conversation anymore. "I'm sure you're an excellent huntress, since you've always had to do it for yourself, right?" He sneaks a little glance over at Syrra and Maori, though, not trusting them to leave him alone just yet.
Syrra stiffens a little at Maori's question, looking slant-wise over at Lothar until he answers. Nothing changes in her expression when he does, but she looks away quickly. ** There you are, ** she says to Maori, as though Lothar has answered the question definitively. ** Regardless, ** she continues, proving Veesha right by turning the subject back to him, ** he needs to learn to control his responses. **
Maori nods, undisturbed. After all, in the jungle, it's too hot to bundle up, and Maori's philosophy is quite clearly 'if you've got it, flaunt it.' The remark is clearly not an insult. "If you meant that as a reproach, Lothar, you'll have to do better than that," she chides mildly, before turning to Syrra. "No, there YOU are," she corrects the weaponsmaster. "Just as distracting, you're just buried under more leathers."
Dara stays out of the distracting conversation completely. If it means she gets attention, she's not sure whe wants any part of it. She does take a step back, but halts there, determination keeping her strong. ** I d-do what I have to. ** is all she sends. Not going into too much detail.
Lothar draws back on the bow, fully taking aim on the target tree. As he holds the pull, he adds to his previous answer ** If you must know Maori, if I had to make a choice for a fur-mate, I would likely choose Syrra, or Dara. Often, the fruit that is harder to see, winds up being the sweetest of all. ** He never waves from his aim, and finally releases the arrow, which flies unerringly at the tree, striking it with a solid *thud*
Dara can't help but hear Lothar, and her eyes widen. She glances from him to Syrra, and then over at Veesha. Riggghhhtttt... That tears it. Practice or not, Dara turns on her heel and heads for the forevergreen, without another word.
Veesha nods and spreads his hands. "Of course. We all do what we have to do. That's what makes life. It's doing the stuff we don't that makes life fun," he philosophizes with a grin.
Syrra had been trying to leave the subject behind and she eyes Maori for a moment when she returns to it. After just a moment, however, she turns her head to watch the arrow thunk home as though nothing had been said after her send at all.
Maori bursts out laughing after Lothar's remark. "What makes you think I'd even WANT to tumble with you, you sour beast? What a joke!" She leans heavily against the tree, letting it support her through the laughter that follows. She brings herself back under proper control, only to add with a glint in her eye, "Someone's a little full of himself, it would seem. Thinks he can have his pick. You're no Veesha, Lothar."
Veesha watches Dara bolt and he shakes his head, turning to look at first Maori, then Lothar. "I don't think that was wise," he says, then walks back towards Maori. "C'mon, Mao," he offers, without his usual smootheness.
Lothar glances at Maori, letting his bow hand by his side ** I would not wish to bed with you either Maori. I am content to share my furs with only myself, unlike others who must have a warm body in the furs. ** He shakes his head, turning to Syrra and nodding politely ** Weaponsmaster. ** He bows his head in farewell to Veesha, then turns to head back for the camp himself.
Maori dismisses Lothar summarily, not wasting her time with his reply. A nod is directed toward Syrra, before she turns to Veesha and pads to join him.
Lothar has disconnected.
Dara has disconnected.
Syrra gathers her dignity around herself and slips off into the jungle without aknowledging Lothar's farewell. It's unlikely she'll appear for a few days.
Veesha takes Maori's hand and walks off with her, casting a brief glance at the disappeared Syrra.
Maori has disconnected.
Veesha has disconnected.
Logged by Syrra, 7/6/01
This elf's black hair seems to have a mind of it's own, going
wherever it pleases despite the grey headband attempting to control
it. With an almost seeming jealosy of their matching darkness,
a shock of his hair falls over his face in an attempt to hide
his coal-black eyes. His body is lean and lanky, and has a weathered
look to it.
On his back he wears a light grey vest, left open in the front,
exposing his tanned chest, giving proof that he has spent much
time in the open sun. He wears baggy, black shorts, cut off just
above the knee, and black leather boots with grey tie-laces.
Dara
Light brown hair is braided and coiled atop Dara's head, a
scrap of leather holding it safely out of her way most of the
time. Bright green eyes and thick lashes contrast against tanned
skin. A pert nose and full red lips complete the set of delicate
features in a heart shaped face. She stands 3'8", on the
tall side for an elfmaiden, long-legged, slender and graceful.
Supple leather boots in a tan colour can be found on her feet,
and over her ankles, though they don't go much higher than that.
Her long legs are bare, as she wears a pair of green shorts that
fall to just above her knees, with a pouch always attached to
the tan leather belt at her waist. A matching green crop top is
laced up her middle, with tan laces. She wears a leather necklace,
with a polished piece of rock centred in the hollow of her throat.
A flint dagger is sheathed at her waist, and she often carries
a bow and arrows.
Maori
Ice-blue lupine eyes regard you from their setting in a Sunfolk-dark, angelic face. Fluffy red hair of a brilliant bonfire hue flutters unruly about her bare shoulders, puffing up to give the impression of a full-ruffed wolf. Pouty rosebud lips of berry red are equally ready to scowl, smile or kiss. She does nothing to conceal her delicious curves, wrapping those most generous proportions in as little as possible - tiny shorts and a scrap of leather that twists artfully beneath the nut-brown swells of her breasts, covering little and displaying much. Light tan sandals lace crisscrossing over her tiny feet and up her sleek calves. Two bangles of gold grace her left wrist. She is unmistakably CatElf in her feline movements, though a hint of Goback is apparent in her mannerisms. Maori is full of energy and excitement, and it's so easy to forget there is no expression this sexy kitten does not intend.
Veesha
Veesha's startlingly pale green eyes are rimmed by long, dark
lashes. He has somewhat delicate features, but the set of his
mouth seems to indicate stubbornness. His skin is the dark tan
of an elf who has spent most of his life in the sun. Rick, dark
chocolate hair waves down his back, ending just past his hips.
It is gathered once, loosely, at his shoulder-blades. He is not
tall, reminding some (those who knew him), in many ways, of his
father, Knara. He wears little on his muscled body. A gold-colored
metal band is around his right upper arm. A stiff collar lays
against his chest. Matching shorts adorn his legs. There is a
shine in his eyes of mischief and humor, but also a sense of depth.
His smiles seem flirtatious whether he intends them that way or
not (usually he does).
The shorts and collar have been beautifully dyed in alternating
triangles of black and brilliant jungle green. The ones facing
down are black while the upward pointing ones are green.
A black sheath encases a white-handled knife and a worn pair of
catclaws hang beside them.
Syrra
Syrra doesn't notice your glance at first and you get a chance
to study her closely. Long, almost black hair has been braided
tightly to keep it out of her way. The braid almost reaches the
small of her back. Her features are fine, her nose is small, her
lips average, her eyes wide and large, rimmed by dark lashes.
Long bangs fall forward and frequently obscure one eye or the
other. Her face is of moderate age; no youngling is this, but
no elder either.
She wears a very dark grey-green tunic with short sleeves. The
neckline is high, but the leathers are tight across her bosom.
Syrra's arms are very well muscled, as are her legs. The matching
dark grey-green leggings are tight enough to reveal the musculature
beneath. The only brighter colors she wears are a well-made rich
green belt with matching boots to cover her feet. Grey fur shows
at the edges of her leathers indicating a warm lining. Carried
in a sheath attached to her belt is a short bone-handled knife.
She usually also carries bow and arrows or catclaws with her.
Finally Syrra meets your glance, her eyes a beautiful swirling
dark color that is hard to put a name to, perhaps dark grey or
black. After a moment, she glances away to go on to other thoughts.
