Lizards playing Rugby
Log Info
- Title: Lizards playing Rugby
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Cryosanthia, Tenoc
- Place: W02: Mictlan
- Time: Monday, November 02, 2020, 3:22 PM
- Summary: Cryosanthia and Tenoc are watching Little Fang play a team sport with a ball, that involves stalking, sudden scrums, and a little bit of violence. The greenscale laments that his village was small, and there were few games, everything was practical. The whitescale recalls how her village was more prosperous, there were games, but also had practical features. They remark on the evolution to incorporate other cultural aspects. Little Fang, herself, is at a size disadvantage and trying to make up for it and getting knocked around as a result. The adults talk further about their childhoods, with Cryo explaining that hers was a long time ago, and her clutch-mate River Stone would remember the details better. They discuss kobold, and softskin kin. Cryo assures that despite appearances, there are good softskins in Alexandria. The game ends, Little Fang's team lost, and the two do their best to teach her that life's main lesson is to get over losing, because everyone does.
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Located within the Deep Woods, and hours past Wilderness Pointe, in the heart of its northern woods, bones frame this hollowed-out space. Massive and heavy, they reach towards the sky, meeting--almost--in the center like great and worn stalagmites. Or giant teeth. After a few seconds--it's quickly evident that this is a space carved from a dragon's bones. A very, very large...dragon's bones. The air smells of ash, brimstone, and earth. Underneath the apex of the bones lie the workings of a central Fire.
The grounds are run by shamans of the sith-makar, and the sacred space dedicated to the Death Singing Dragon, one of their names for the goddess, Vardama. There are always a number of them about, from a mixture of tribes. Formally, the sith use it to sing the souls of their dead back to the land of Wing and Flame, and celebrate the Memory of Blood. It was here that brave heroes stood, and vanquished the ashen warriors of old, thereby freeing the land from Thul's curse. Informally, it is a gathering place.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Appearing, in Order -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. Tenoc 7'0" 280 Lb Sith-Makar Male Tall, green-scaled Sith'Makar hunter -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Mictlan
Outside the sacred site a chill rain falls, the air is cold, everything is wet and the wind wicks away any warmth.
Inside the weather boundary, it is pleasant, warm. Not as hot as Am'shere, but comfortable for the sith'makar that make the place their home. The cookfires burn brightly, and the various sith'makar are involved in their tasks.
One of them is a white-scale woman, standing with other clutch-mothers and watching younglings play a game with a ball. It seems to be part chess and part chaos, combining basking and frenzied dashes. The two teams will slowly advance on a ball, positioning to block each other or charge, then waiting. When some collective agreement that their arrangement is strong enough, they suddenly surge and rush the objective and try to get it into the far goal.
There is of course, a lot of instructions from the 'stands'.
"Not there--! use the--! HSSSSK--!"
Tenoc lashes his tail in alternating moments, sometimes euphoric and sometimes agonized. "Ssssk. This one's tribe in Am'shere did not have such...sssk. Things." Grinning with relish, the Hunter-caste leans back with a happy rumble, pleased expression on his scaly features. "We did not have enough younglings to do so. Far too important to learn..." He pauses, waving his hand. "...other things. Hunting. Watching. Making. Learning stories of Before. It seems Now changes to something new."
"You didn't?" Cryo asks, sounding surprised. "We did. The ball was a carcass and the field was more mud-flats and swamp. The sneaking, then the striking and swimming away with it was the same."
Her focus is on the game, her head turning to watch each advance and lurk, "My village was prosperous, my clutch was golden. This one remembers..." She cuts off abruptly, "No Little Fang! Not yet!"
It's an energetic game. All the younglings are hyperactive compared to the older lizards, but the kobold foundling is both smaller and even more so. Her impatience often triggers the sudden scrums.
Which she does again. It's all scales and tails.
Tenoc shakes his head in negative-- hissing in alarm as the scrummage erupts once again, a flurry of tail and scale and occasionally biting! "The village was very small," he continues, leaning forward to the ongoing fury intently. "Our youngling games were more... ssk. Squabbles for food. For shiny things. Because we could." He grins in bemusement, tilting his head as one grabs the pigskin-- literally, from some unfortunate swine that wandered into Mictlan and stayed for lunch --a swarm of young reptiles swirling around the vaguely-globular object.
"They were small, brief, more.. vicious." He rumbles quietly, thoughtful. "Life matters, death matters, all such thngs were much closer to thought. One believes the Caste was determined in such ways, at such times."
The pile of lizard younglings is un-piled. Little Fang is at the bottom, smushed. Cryo takes an anxious step forward, hissing "Lily?" before the pink kobold pops up, grinning widely. The white-scale relaxes, commenting, "She is so small. This one worries she will be hurt. Or lash back hard."
Although there are lessons to be learned in those.
The groups re-set, and the referee calls for more active chasing so the kids will work off their energy. Cryo exhales, meets Tenoc's gaze, "Ours were practical too. Drown-wrestling, stalk and hide, Empress of the Hill, stick-licking.
Other Nest-mothers and clutch-mothers are watching intently, worried about their own. A larger circle of Egg-Watchers surrounds the field, dourly looking on.
Tenoc pauses in his intent gaze, rumbling as his eye turns to the Elder referee reorganizing the scrum into some semblance of order. He grins as he recognized the exasperated lash of the Elder Makar's tail; that close to the younglings, it seems the energy they exhibit is infectious!
"She is strong," he returns with no small astisfaction. "Smaller than the others, yus, but... Large inside. Mighty spirit." He grins in approval, turning briefly back to a small tusk held in his hands. Clawed fingers work, worrying at the layers of bone; a scrape here, a press there-- constantly testing the material as he cuts away the layers around, slowly molding it to spherical shape. "This one wonders-- what Caste she will be?" No question of whether or not part of the Tribe. She simply is; kobold or not is immaterial.
"This one is unsure." Cryo admits, attention returning to the game and the rush as the ball goes to one end of the field, then back, little yells, roars, and hissing from the participants. "She loves to fiddle with things. She is outgoing and curious. As Warrior or Hunter, she would be well suited with defenses, snares. Shaman-Caste is possible, should they accept artifice, or Lore-Keeper. She is clever, size would not matter there. Speaker-Caste also, should she acquire my love of stories and talking."
Her own tail is held high, and energetic, as she moves side to side to get better angles, "This one hopes something safer. The world is not safe but one hopes she chooses well."
"That she has choice..." Tenoc is quiet for a moment, marvelling at the wonder of it. "The world is not safe. This is truth. But that it is not deteremined, caste chosen by right of desire--" He chuckles, nodding as he holds the bead-like form to his eye, gazing at it critically-- ooh, game back on! "The World changes," he returns, nodding gravely as he returns the tusk to his pouch. "They will make it better for us. Safer for us all. This is good."
"This one thinks like a human too often," Cryosanthia admits, focusing on Tenoc. "This one means, she will do what she enjoys, enhance her natural talents and skills, then submit herself for consideration to the Caste-Elders. If she is not refused, if more than one asks, she will be making the final selection."
She points at herself, "There was no doubt this one was Speaker-Caste, but sometimes there is. The skills of Warrior-Caste and Hunter-Caste overlap. Preference can often tilt it one way or the other. Was there certainty with your Caste and Naming ceremony?"
Tenoc rumbles quietly, nodding. "Our village did not have so many it could afford pure Warriors only," he remarks, a quiet in his words. "We had many Hunters, but by necessity; it was not uncommon that Hunter-caste would do those thing that other, larger tribes would have Warrior-caste for. We guarded, protected; when we did not, we hunted the swamps around, providing. The lands near the village were grudging with what the provided; we did not even have those who rode the Swiftclaw."
He winces at a particular brutal brawl-fest erupting on the field, thumping his tail as a familiar pink form wriggles and writhes and (totally not-seeing this) bites a nearby foot for advantage. Tenoc's tailthump is totally random. Of course.
"Our Naming was simple," he adds, voice quiet as he remembers. "We were few, but proud. Hunters all." He pauses, bowing his head. "...an unsafe place. We had many Egg-Watchers."
Little Fang is rewarded with a tail-slap for her bite, which sends the kobold tumbling. She rolls over with a shrill noise. Cryo's attention is instantly grabbed. Is she hurt? Is something broken? Is her youngling in trouble? There's a snort and a flare of worried scents as she's about to charge onto the field, when Little Fang gets up and shakes her head.
False alarm.
The white sith'makar relaxes, "We had many, younglings and Egg-Watchers. This one got in trouble with them so many times. So stern. This one was surprised they asked me to train with them."
Her voice trails off, she resumes speaking, "Ours was dangerous, perhaps not as much as some. It was a long time ago, for this one. River Stone would recall better."
Tenoc quivers, tensing at the flash of scents. Tensing. Easing-- false alarm. Relaxing slowly.
"Perhaps they saw things in you that could not be seen without experience to interpret." He grins, adding with a sly sideward glance. "Or maybe they thought you were stubborn, and decided that all of your trouble-casuing should be rewarded by dealing with the same from other younglings." He hangs his jaw, hissing laughter as he affects every innocence. And grinning more fully. "This one approves. They taught you well; you bring their teachings much respect."
Cryo laughs, her mouth in a wide grin, "this one suspects they chased me too much, that these scales are too bright a target in Am'shere. This one was stronger than many of the others, and when not stronger, then faster, and if neither, then clever-er. This one suspects my peers let me win because I was friendly."
"Their training, that was recent, after..." She stops speaking abruptly, gripped in a quiet, her tail lowering to lie on the ground. Her breath is a sharp inhale, a slow exhale, before it's normal again. "After everything. My scents were distressing the new nest-mothers. That this one should learn how to protect so others would not feel what I had. It... it helped. They understood. They all knew. Their teachings, that they would, that was an honour for me."
Tenoc nods quietly, allowing the moment of recomposure to settle. He reaches over, setting a comforting grasp on one shoulder. "Wisdom comes with sharp claws," he says quietly. "Garnering it-- a good thing, but not easily. All wise bear scars. We share with others, and hope we do not see the same scars repeated in others. This is so." He squeezes, releasing gently after a quiet rumble.
"Though one sometimes wonders," he adds, tilting his head. "In the village, this one toughened scales with thorough use. Training. And many beating with sticks across entire body." He grins in wry humour, snorting briskly. "Ancient Hunter Sharptooth was quite certain it would help scales grow tough, strong. One thinks he enjoyed swatting at young with sticks!"
"Ha!" Cryo barks with laughter, smiling again. She rests her hand on top of Tenoc's, rubs a small circle with her fingertips, "Thanks."
Her eyes glitter, "There was one of those in our village too. Lore-Mistress Malachite. Said she needed to beat the negative energy out of us whenever we forgot our runes. This one swears, we could remember her teachings because they were imprinted on our scales. So much running."
Her expression, her scents, become quite solemn, "This one has a family sword, the one my lucht scale-sister trained with as a youngling. She gifted it, should Little Fang wish to learn. If so, her scales will become quite hard from it."
Nearby, other Nest-Mothers are watching the match, and much like Cryosanthia, having moments of panic that waft worried scents about before they're followed by calming ones. It's an emotional workout for the adults. Alert! Relax... Alert! Only the Egg-Watchers seem unaffected.
Tenoc scents it all-- rise and fall of scents, panic and calm. Tense, alert--! Poise, relax. He turns his gaze towards the scrummage, hissing a soft chuckle as a particularly excitable youngling sails through the air, squealing-- propelled by his kin! --wrapped around the ball as it and he bounces to a sprawling end near the goal.
"It is a good gift," he approves, thumping his tail as he nods. Another long gaze at the game as a whole, nodding in satisfaction. "One hopes she will choose to bear it with pride." He closes his hand atop hers, clasping with quiet reverence. "This one wonders if other Smallkin are there to be found," he remarks, rumbling in thought. "I know little of them. Many times they live in dark caverns, not swamplands. Forests. In open. Rather under earth, where can hide best." He squeezes thoughtfully, tail curving in slow motions. "Are they Blood? Memory? This one does not know."
"This one is searching." Cryosanthia says, determined and serious, "For Little Fangs parents, her kin, others. They are Blood. This one sees the dragon in her. She is as greedy and vindictive as a Red. This one carefully steers her away."
She looks over at Tenoc, her worry clear, "In Alexandria it is legal to kill kobolds. Her family was taken by mercenaries into the Felwood swamp. Into a place of necromantic taint. This one works with an oruch, a mul'niessa, to find them. There are other groups, well hidden, with little trust and good reason. This one would help them also."
Tenoc rumbles softly, snorting as he nods. "This one hunts often," he replies, "Less swamp in this place, more forest. Dark places. High mountains. Will speak with other Hunters, learn how to watch for kobold signs, kobold traces. Watch for them." He grimaces, a thrum deep in his chest. "Many eyes better than few, or alone. We will look, or this one will. Watch, find, earn trust. Hunter provides, protects." He sits upright, voice even as he nods. "Perhaps shall look at mountains, caverns. See if they would be useful if kobold-kin come. Safe place to hide, to feel better. Yus."
He glances towards the distant city, chuffing a hot breath. Steam wisps. "Softskins," he rumbles quietly, tail sliding in a swift lash. "To achieve so much, but be so blind. Hsssk."
"Thank you. Please. Search those places, earn trust, find safe havens. It will not be wasted effort." Cryosanthia stares at her foundling, watching the carnation scales flash between the multi-coloured hides of the other younglings, both vibrant and verdant.
She turns her gaze in the direction of the distant city, her tail matching the movements of Tenoc's. "They move swiftly in so many directions, some wrong. This one still struggles to understand which lessons of theirs should be brought to the people. This one knows, without doubt, some softskins are unparallelled. Treasures of thought, generousity, compassion and strength. This one counts them among her scales."
A part of herself, which she could not live without.
Tenoc is more reluctant, the scent of troubled doubt still there. Dark memories. Bright ones. Conflicted scents. The judgement still remains to be decided.
"It will be so," he says gravely, turning back with a long nod. "One hopes that being-- ssk. Scaled, kin to them, would count for more than the same words from softskins would. But mistrust, long wariness-- it is to be a difficult hunt." He sighs quietly-- a glance rising up to the happy squeals and hisses that rise from the direction of the field. "One knows what Silver would do. But how-- this is difficult question."
"The path is there. When the time is right, you will see it." Cryo assures, touching Tenoc's arm, sharing a wide and toothy grin. "Do not rush blindly on my words. Trust your instincts. This one is a brutal White, after all, with little idea of what a Silver would do either."
A loud throat-whistle from the field signals the end of the match. The two teams are lined up for a handshake and a tailslap, passing against each other, captains first. Little Fang is at the opposite end, looking dirtier than most, and they all are covered in dirt with bits of grass stuck under scales. The kobold looks glum.
"Little Fang!" Cryo calls out, "Ssassa is proud! You did well! Be friendly to the other team. Gracious in winning and losing!"
Aside to Tenoc she asks quietly, "Which side one? This one lost count."
The Greenscale blinks, glancing quickly towards the field. "...ssk. One truly does not know," he admits, rumbling to himself. "Much distraction. Too few eyes to see all." His heart wilts as he catches sight of the carnation kobold. Sadness! Tenoc chuffs, reaching into his pouch with a searching hand. "One hazards that unfortunate Little Fang did not do well however," he adds, rumbling quietly. A hiss of triumph-- he pulls a rough bead from the sack, nodding approval as he gives it a last, critical glance.
"For her Lesson," he remarks, offering it forward gravely. "As was told to me when I was younger, and more foolish-- if we learn from the losing, then it is no loss. Only a lesson, taught by experience." He chuckles, quiet humour in his words. "Life. It is not a pleasant teacher, but a thorough one. Perhaps carving lesson onto bead will take her thoughts from distress, yus?"
"Yes." Cryo takes the bead, holding it carefully, "This one will teach. That is a worthwhile lesson. This one will hear what went wrong for her, and the carving will help. Thank you so much for your kindness."
Out on the field, the younglings are passing each other, exchanging the post-game contact. It seems normal, no different response to Little Fang than for the others, and she returns the gesture. Last in line, they have both broken up by the time of her tailslap, and she turns and zips straight over to the pair of adult sith'makar. Holding her hands up, she leaps to be caught.
"Sssassa! Tenss!" She squeals in Cryo's arms. "Team losss."
"Ssssaw!" Tenoc responds, grinning still. He reaches to brush the tiny kobold's tinier-still horns, a gentle ruffling as he rumbles contentedly. "But, all had fun. Enjoyed-- and learned to work as group! May not always win, but-- ssk. Is practice. Be patient. Learn more, better to come in time." He chuffs, eyes glittering. "Even Mighty Hunter sometimes comes home without success from hunt. Must simply endure, hunt again. Will not always win; will not always lose either!"
He thumps his tail on the earth, rumbling in quiet contentment. Cheer, approval, validation-- tinges to the scent of forest and pine and spice fromthe green Hunter.
Little Fang hisses and rubs her horns against Tenoc's hands. She is fierce! Small, but fierce! Cryo meanwhile is carefully checking her for bruises, by brushing away the dirt and grass and examining her scales for darker sections. She seems fine, a few knocks, nothing serious. Lily meanwhile listens to Tenoc's wisdom, nodding, finally peeping, "Yesss."
"Here Little Fang," Cryo says, presenting the bead, "You will tell me how the game was for you, all your best attacks, all the worst hits. We will carve this, you can find the lessons. Remember."
She tailthumps as well. Around, other nest-mothers and clutch-mothers are congratulating or consoling their offspring, tail-thumping intermittently.
And the Egg-Watchers watch. No younglings died. Success.
Sith'makar Culture
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I'm interpreting 'Nest-Mother' as actually laid the eggs, 'Clutch-Mother' as essentially 'Aunts and helpers', and the Egg-Watchers are the guards, and very fierce fighters"
<OOC> Tenoc nods!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Egg-Watchers being mothers that lost younglings, so they turned that trauma into fearlessness"
<OOC> Tenoc says, "Hmm!"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "and they all have TD and perhaps TU and Stand Still"