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+--- Thread: Sheepeater Cliff eighty-seventh (/showthread.php?tid=61550)
eighty-seventh - Senmut - June 02, 2024
tags for ref or joining, no posting order, just setting timeline <3 backdated to may 29th
as to avoid greatwater lake where zharille made her claim, senmut did not call another stop until they had reached the edges of the sunspire mountains. a cliff loomed there, overlooking the golden plains of yellowstone.
the prince kicked a sheep's femur aside with an appraising look. "i do not know what might be over the mountains. i know the place mereo once stood, and nothing more."
honesty was fierce in him; he longed for akashingo, for muat-riya.
@Zaahira put a patrol around the cliffside. while she was away, he worked between @Legend and @Machiavelli once more to lay out the temporary camp and gather food from their stores, glancing toward the stone teeth of the mountains as the sun sank to darkness.
the prince kicked a sheep's femur aside with an appraising look. "i do not know what might be over the mountains. i know the place mereo once stood, and nothing more."
honesty was fierce in him; he longed for akashingo, for muat-riya.
@Zaahira put a patrol around the cliffside. while she was away, he worked between @Legend and @Machiavelli once more to lay out the temporary camp and gather food from their stores, glancing toward the stone teeth of the mountains as the sun sank to darkness.
RE: eighty-seventh - Legend - June 02, 2024
A mangled rabbit in her jaws, she had been dragging it around with her everywhere throughout the camp. Heat swelled over her body in a grave vertigo. Chilled, eventually, as Ra tucked himself away over the horizon.
Legend helped move their items to be within view as bedfurs were laid out. Crickets rumbled below their feet. Fireflies clung to the edges of her fur, and she was broken to break them off when they tickled.
Her erpa-ha planned to extend their reach. Akashingo was confined frequently to their own premises and politics, leaving their trading posts thin to none. There had been few to no words from the imps mouth in their travel.
Senmut behind her, her nose quickly flickered over one of Machiavelli's pouches as she sniffed about in deep breaths.
Legend helped move their items to be within view as bedfurs were laid out. Crickets rumbled below their feet. Fireflies clung to the edges of her fur, and she was broken to break them off when they tickled.
Her erpa-ha planned to extend their reach. Akashingo was confined frequently to their own premises and politics, leaving their trading posts thin to none. There had been few to no words from the imps mouth in their travel.
Senmut behind her, her nose quickly flickered over one of Machiavelli's pouches as she sniffed about in deep breaths.
RE: eighty-seventh - Machiavelli - June 02, 2024
The piebald man meticulously arranged his selection of pouches before turning his attention to making their camp as comfortable as possible. Each task was performed with a practiced efficiency that attested to his time as a fellahin. Grasses and twigs were cleared away, and the ground was smoothed with deft strokes, transforming the rough wilderness into a temporary haven.
As he worked, his gaze wandered, eventually catching sight of Legend.
The moment their eyes met, he abandoned his task, the foliage slipping from his grasp to join the earth below. He trotted over to her, pulling away the bag and batting at the jackdaw teasingly,
Begone demon,he chided lightly,
this isn't for you.
With the pouch safely out of reach from the mischievous jackdaw, he returned to his task. However, he paused, ears pricking up attentively as the prince began to speak.
Moreo?he echoed, the word unfamiliar on his tongue. He had heard the term tossed around but lacked specifics.
Was that one of Akashingo's palaces?
RE: eighty-seventh - Senmut - June 17, 2024
"mereo was a military outpost in a canyon of red sand. they sent soldiers to tour as guardians in the palace, and trained the last pharaoh in tactics. they fought also beside ramesses to drive out their enemies."
his paw smoothed through the inviting pile of one particularly rich pelt. "the Consort wants another outpost risen. a son of akashingo would be its captain."
his paw smoothed through the inviting pile of one particularly rich pelt. "the Consort wants another outpost risen. a son of akashingo would be its captain."
RE: eighty-seventh - Legend - June 28, 2024
Her nose ran wild. Sniffing harder at the bag, she tried to weasel around the fellahin with a cold, wet nose trying to jab into the pouch! It smelled spicy. Spicy! Her nose burned, and the imps tail moved in ferocious wiggles while her teeth tried to reach for it in sneaky nips, before her eyes caught across the gaze of Senmut.
One last final reach, and she pranced away with foxy leaps. Machi did not deserve her attention anymore! All gone, ran out, and bye-byed! Given to the prince instead, and all the while even her tail was swishing towards the direction of the bag. He spoke of outposts and military wolves. Sparkles formed behind those dead and damned eyes. A pitchy growl hummed out with a smile. "HMMM!"
"Wah-wah," her paw started to do spinnies as she laid on her belly, squinting curiously at her red man while staying near her opaline man. "Wahhhh.. Happen.." What on earth kind of sentence was she trying to say? The smile was all gone in her confusion. Even Legend wasn't sure for a moment, until it smacked her in the face. "Wha' happened to Mereo?"
One last final reach, and she pranced away with foxy leaps. Machi did not deserve her attention anymore! All gone, ran out, and bye-byed! Given to the prince instead, and all the while even her tail was swishing towards the direction of the bag. He spoke of outposts and military wolves. Sparkles formed behind those dead and damned eyes. A pitchy growl hummed out with a smile. "HMMM!"
"Wah-wah," her paw started to do spinnies as she laid on her belly, squinting curiously at her red man while staying near her opaline man. "Wahhhh.. Happen.." What on earth kind of sentence was she trying to say? The smile was all gone in her confusion. Even Legend wasn't sure for a moment, until it smacked her in the face. "Wha' happened to Mereo?"
RE: eighty-seventh - Machiavelli - July 02, 2024
Machi nodded consideringly, opal eyes fixed upon the prince as he shoved a heavy back-paw into the imp's face to keep her away from his bag, stretching his neck so the item would be held as far from her twitching, nosy nose as possible.
An outpost for guards and training was indeed a strategic asset for any kingdom. He imagined reinstating Moreo, perhaps even establishing another outpost here in the mountains where the terrain could be easily overseen. The crisp air, the vantage points—it all seemed ideal. Yet, a shadow of doubt crept into his calculations. Did Akashingo possess enough soldiers to support such an endeavor without compromising the safety of their home? He supposed that was why this outing was so important. But what had happened to the guards that manned the first outpost?
He opened his mouth to voice the question, settling into a more comfortable stance as the woman sashayed away, however, Legend had beaten him to it. His gaze flicked back to Senmut, his ears perking forward with interest.
RE: eighty-seventh - Senmut - July 09, 2024
senmut watched the others at their pretend squabble with a grin. "i am not certain what happened, and i know no one who is. word came a long time later that the imperator, germanicus, had died."
"if it was war, akashingo would have known of it. some internal destruction punished mereo. i will suggest that pharaoh and semer-wati look elsewhere for their foothold."
"if it was war, akashingo would have known of it. some internal destruction punished mereo. i will suggest that pharaoh and semer-wati look elsewhere for their foothold."
RE: eighty-seventh - Legend - July 27, 2024
Oooooooooo!~ DRAMA!
If Mereo had been burned at the stakes, or there had been a force so powerful as to rip them apart under the nose of Akashingo itself, then it could only have been a god. Maybe a tragic tale between lovers, or friends that could no longer be. Conflict that raged alive the rest of its livelihood, or maybe it had simply been dying time.
Regardless, the imp would see fit that she would begin to pry at the lips of others for a bigger picture, should any know. It was only the little yarets right.
"Is it more mazoi that Pharaoh may want? From... Outpost?"
If Mereo had been burned at the stakes, or there had been a force so powerful as to rip them apart under the nose of Akashingo itself, then it could only have been a god. Maybe a tragic tale between lovers, or friends that could no longer be. Conflict that raged alive the rest of its livelihood, or maybe it had simply been dying time.
Regardless, the imp would see fit that she would begin to pry at the lips of others for a bigger picture, should any know. It was only the little yarets right.
"Is it more mazoi that Pharaoh may want? From... Outpost?"
RE: eighty-seventh - Senmut - August 06, 2024
"i think so. or rather, it is what rashepses desires."
realizing he had been gossiping as if they were all servants of equality, senmut decided that the ambitious consort would not hide such an aim, but he moved aside then. "soldiers are the lifeblood of a kingdom at any rate."
they would eat, and senmut would be silent.
realizing he had been gossiping as if they were all servants of equality, senmut decided that the ambitious consort would not hide such an aim, but he moved aside then. "soldiers are the lifeblood of a kingdom at any rate."
they would eat, and senmut would be silent.
RE: eighty-seventh - Legend - August 29, 2024
And were they not all servants to the gods of their empire?
This meal time, Legend ate differently. Eyes locked to her meal, and presenting the outward manners of eating in timed bites and a mouth that did not open more than it needed to. But her bites had been harsh, and swallowed as if she'd not eaten in a life time. As if they would take it.
They would eat, and Legend, too, would be silent.
This meal time, Legend ate differently. Eyes locked to her meal, and presenting the outward manners of eating in timed bites and a mouth that did not open more than it needed to. But her bites had been harsh, and swallowed as if she'd not eaten in a life time. As if they would take it.
They would eat, and Legend, too, would be silent.
RE: eighty-seventh - Machiavelli - August 31, 2024
I made some assumptions, please let me know if anything needs to be edited <3
Thank you so much for the thread! Exit Machi
Thank you so much for the thread! Exit Machi
There was a subtle shift in the Red Priest—a drawing inward, a shutting down of his usual openness. The stream of information regarding the outpost, Moreo, had been cut off as abruptly as a tap turned tight. It was frustrating, to say the least. Helping to establish an outpost wasn’t merely a chance to curry favor within the kingdom; it would serve as increased surveillance should any untoward figures come seeking him out.
The rest of this trip would need to be managed wisely, that much was certain. Senmut might conduct official negotiations with the leaders, but Machiavelli understood the nuances of winning the hearts of the common folk. He would take it upon himself to stir favor among the lower classes, to whisper in their ears of the benefits an outpost, an alliance, could bring them—more trade, more protection, more prosperity. He needed to convince them that this was not just a scheme of the nobles but a boon for all who lived under the mountain's watchful gaze.
Deciding this within a moment, he shifted his focus to another matter that had been weighing heavily on his mind since his night with the prince. There was a conversation that needed to happen—a delicate matter to broach. His mind whirred as he prepared the evening's meal, each approach to the topic seeming as unsatisfying as the last.
When the meal was finally ready, he laid it before Senmut and the jackdaw, settling down with his own portion. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, realizing that both were seemingly lost in thought, their eyes distant. The moment was not right.
Excuse me, please,Machi murmured, almost apologetic, as he pushed away the food he had barely touched. Rising to his feet, he offered a polite smile.
I believe one of the furs has been picked up by the wind.
He slipped into the darkness, the stars above glittered like shards of ice against the watercolor sky. He wandered a little, letting the night air clear his mind, before retrieving the fur—a mundane task that gave him time to gather his thoughts.
It would not be until he was sure the pair had bedded down that the fellahin would return to camp. As he lay down, the thoughts that had swirled so incessantly in his mind began to settle, but not without leaving behind a lingering sense of unease. Tomorrow, he would try again. Tomorrow, he would find the words.
RE: eighty-seventh - Senmut - September 08, 2024
it was a foul thing, to have the word and then to lose it.
legend was silent. machiavelli was resplendent. the priest glanced between the both of them and relented, only for a moment; "they say germanicus once traveled with a young man. there were rumours. but that one was indeed a prince briefly in akashingo, and germanicus served many times. when crowfeather disappeared from akashingo, so followed mereo, it seemed."
he left them with that gem — he too barely touched the beautiful meal, sighing in regret at last.
bidding them a fine evening, senmut stalked to his blankets, wrapped himself in them, and spent a long while in silent, still contemplation with no possibility of sleep.
his thoughts were upon the romans, the story of their odd relationship which had somehow shaped the fate of the outpost, or perhaps it was not. but so it seemed.
legend was silent. machiavelli was resplendent. the priest glanced between the both of them and relented, only for a moment; "they say germanicus once traveled with a young man. there were rumours. but that one was indeed a prince briefly in akashingo, and germanicus served many times. when crowfeather disappeared from akashingo, so followed mereo, it seemed."
he left them with that gem — he too barely touched the beautiful meal, sighing in regret at last.
bidding them a fine evening, senmut stalked to his blankets, wrapped himself in them, and spent a long while in silent, still contemplation with no possibility of sleep.
his thoughts were upon the romans, the story of their odd relationship which had somehow shaped the fate of the outpost, or perhaps it was not. but so it seemed.