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+--- Thread: Emberflame Ridge You'll be a scab, not a martyr (/showthread.php?tid=19362)
You'll be a scab, not a martyr - Asbjørn - December 07, 2016
Due to his lankiness and overall wan body, Asbjørn had never been good at fighting. He'd been named by his mother in hopes of him one day living up to her image of him as a fearless diety of a bear, but lacked both the confidence and build to fufill that wish. Instead, he preferred to play a more academic role, and found the study of poisonous plants fascinating. Rather than using tooth and claw, Asbjørn thought it was smart to use the effects of various inedible plants for battling. He much preferred to use his brain over his (lack of) brawn.
Interested in learning more about the world around him and the deadly plants that inhabitated it, Asbjørn had trotted his way through the looming forest of the Sunspire Mountains. The skinny boy was now staring down at a three-leafed plant, its smell and appearance bringing back foggy memories of his puphood. Carefully he sniffed at it, shutting his navy blue eyes in an attempt to recall what his mother had called the foliage. He was mentally grasping at straws here for the name of it, but images of his days as a naughty pup flashed in his mind as he continued to examine the plant.
Poison...something or another.Asbjørn grumbled to himself under his breath, now narrowing his eyes in confusion. The name was at the tip of his tongue! The lobo circled the leafy green plant (very careful not to touch the thing) and thought about the times where he'd suffered from rashes and blisters after rolling around in bushes of the plant as an adventurous tyke.
Ivy? Poison ivy?Yes, that was it! Asbjørn yipped in excitement at him remembering the name of the mystery poison plant, beaming as he looked for a way to unearth it.
Poison ivy!
RE: You'll be a scab, not a martyr - Sage - December 07, 2016
The dark silhouette trekked silently along the bitter cold ground of winter. Sage enjoyed the dense forest (even when most of its dead) far better than the wide open beach. It gave her chance to hide, the spotlight something she never learned to enjoy. Off in the distance she spotted a young wolf, circling around a patch of Posion Ivy, a plant she learned when she was a yearling. Suddenly, he burst with a sense of joy and the repeated words Poison Ivy could be heard excitedly, against the usual run from the rash-causing plant.
Sage stepped closer, seeming to appear out of the shadows, staring directly at the teen. "Rather elementary of a discovery." She said simply, a somewhat judgmental glint in her eye as she observed the thin features of the boy. She then glanced down at the plant, almost disapprovingly.
It wasn't that Sage lacked muscle or size - though she was rather average on both, it was how she had been raised. Throughout her life, being abandoned by her biological family at an age nearly impossible to survive on her own, she was tossed around like a child in foster homes. Waiting for a family to truly accept her, but she usually screwed it up rather early by causing too much trouble. Until, being found by a mangy, rustic looking wolf by the name of Madam Julie. She taught her everything to know about plants and stars and anything remotely spiritual. Madam was her only willing parent - and to follow her footsteps felt only right.