Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

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Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Sat Feb 27, 2016 3:42 pm

Rule number one of surviving the wilds: Hunger. Yes, hunger was the enemy! ‘Thirst, too,’ Mogwart reminded himself as he dunked his entire head into a babbling stream. The tiny copper fish below scattered frantically around him as he clumsily gnashed his fangs at them, hoping to make a catch. That failing, he simply stayed where he was, drinking as deeply as a horse. This far south the icy waters that flowed fresh from the distant mountains tasted sweeter than candy from the capital, or so the goblin’s tongue told him. Not to mention the lush and misty surrounding woods were still a bit chillier than he expected. It reminded him a bit of home, for which he couldn’t have been more grateful.

How long had he been wandering this section of the forests now? Three days? Four? ‘Toad spit! I lost count.’ As he messily pulled his head up for air again he gave a suspiciously dog-like stretch and shake, splattering the rocky banks around him with the river’s blessing. Oh how he hated being wet. 'You know. I might as well count that as this week's bath. There was the muted sun, filtering emerald light through the canopy and ground hugging fog, but he knew it would do nothing to help him dry faster or track down the creature he came searching for.

Speaking of which? He was in the middle of disgustedly slicking his soggy bangs out of his eyes when he heard the ominous roar of the creature from somewhere out there, and he jumped a bit. 'The Crovantula.' By the gods, it’s bad enough that there are signs of the beast wreaking havoc everywhere. Mog thought back to the desolate ruins of a village he just passed, the old trees that were trampled, and the green hill-sides that were scarred. Not a single person he’d passed so far didn’t run screaming in terror the moment he tried to ask them for details about the creature they encountered.

‘But here I am, stuck between a rock and a hard place so to speak,’ he grumbled to himself as he picked up his weapon and decided to keep moving. The shaft of his mace thumped in a soft rhythm across the dark soil. ‘Either I bring the brigands a tooth of the monster that haunts these woods in exchange for that elder-woman’s life, or they kill the one person who may be able to tell me where to find my clan’s salvation.’ He was pretty sure the gents took him for a spineless vagabond; that they didn’t expect him to muster the courage to even try.

And to be honest, they were perfectly right about the frightened bit. In the back of his head, Mogwart was terrified out of his mind. But that was the beauty of it. Never underestimate the desperation of a coward! For, despite how dangerous those bandits were or how deadly the beast he searched for might be, there was indeed something Mogwart was even more afraid of. Today’s quest was all in an effort to escape from THAT horror. He refused to let it catch up with him.

And so! 'Here we go. Easy now, easy...' Carefully the wee man continued to scuttle along: waddling over giant mossy roots or crawling under brambles. He was using the gifts of the wind to try to track down something his dinner, even if most of the creatures in the area seems to have fled from the aura of the giant one. For such thriving nature, the surrounding area was eerily quiet. The beast had already mangled and gobbled up lot of the tastiest plants as well.

At last though, through persistence, Mogwart managed to find his hunting spot. It started with a a place to hide- within the hollow belly of a fat log stuck partially in the mud. From the smells of the surrounding area, this was a place were several fine animals would gather to dig up many edible roots. Naturally, Mogwart would have his fill in roots too. But he knew if he waited here quietly long enough, something else would come along for him to break out and pounce upon. Then he would have a hefty meal all to himself. In the meantime, he licked his lips greedily and watched through holes in the wooden walls. ‘Come come, my tasty friends. Be you a mouse, or a moose, or a juicy mosquito... I promise the second I lay eyes on you- you will be mine.’
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Sat Feb 27, 2016 5:31 pm

Nocme sighed as she wanders around the woods. It has been a while since she travelled to this part of Vidas and everything is as she remembered. The tree stand tall and proud, filtering the golden sunlight to the lush grass beneath their feet and the quiet trickle of river flowing all the way to the ocean. Only thing missing is the wildlife. It is quiet, far too quiet for her liking. There is only the sound of the wind and the bubbling creek. There is no tweeting of the bird, no scrabbling of claws or even distant howling of animals. The only animal noise is the annoying Xavar circling around her, cawing nonsense into her ears. Flying up and down and more than once crash into her face for absolutely no reason, other than he was bored. Absolutely bored of tracking a giant beast that wasn’t doing anything to cover their track.

At first they really didn’t want to take on a job. Hunting down a giant monster of a beast seems like a pain if they could easily just hunt some easier game. However the beast did eat all the easier game, leaving no carcass for them to scavenge on either. They could go vegetarian for a few days – Dace will be unhappy about it – but even then the thing ate all the edible plants as well. Sometime they could tell it literally swallow the whole thing, including the dirt and rocks. It also happily drive up all the prices in the nearby village and there is literally no food they can afford with the little coin and trinket they manage to take. So eventually they have to concede and agree to check up on the critter.

At least they weren’t told to kill it. Only to scare it off or drive it off to some other land so they could have their food source again. And by their description, it doesn’t sound like an easy kill anyway, not with that roar she could hear from time to time. She was also thankful that the beast doesn’t seem to want to hide. It left a clear trail of destruction on everything. Hard to miss a bush that look clearly like something big has taken a bite out of it. This unfortunately left a certain companion very very bored.

“Dace quit it!” she hissed at the bird. Dace only snorted and land on top of her. She hoped that he finally settle down and going to be quiet for a bit, but instead he happily messed with the scarves around her face, trying to uncover her. Some wild flailing and generally cursing later, it was clear that Dace was not going to be very cooperative on this hunt. Typical Xavar, all play and no work done...

Still they managed to get to an area that still has some food left. Most of them are roots though and would not taste anywhere near good unless taken back to town and cooked over actual roaring fire - which was fine she doesn’t want to eat any of it. She is more than happy to find a good spot to hide and wait for the creature to come over. With the way the thing was eating, it seems to be methodically clearing out all and ever food source. So eventually it got to come here right?

The most they should do was dig some more fragrant food up and see if it attracts the thing better. “Alright Dace be my look out while I set this up,” Dace instantly groaned and complained. “Oh come on if we want to eat some meat we have to get rid of their problem,” she said with a sigh and pull the scarves off her face a little. Just so she could smell better and identify the roots. Dace just tweeted and land on her shoulder, knowing already there is something hidden in the hollow log.

But it would be no fun for Nocme to immediately know about it. So the Xavar said nothing and just stare at the log, wondering just what sort of being is hidden in there while his friend is busy pulling up some shiny roots.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Sun Feb 28, 2016 11:18 am

‘And what do we have we here?’ the green scoundrel peeled into the wickedest little grin as at last he heard something approach. That flutter of large wings sounded especially delicious. 'Ah, nothing like a fire roasted flapper-beak to take the edge off your appetite,’ he mused. The problem with winged-things is they had the frustrating habit of trying to fly away the moment one came close to them. Fortunately for this goblin wasn’t too much of a problem. He knew he could try to chase after in through the air if he needed, but right now that was more work than he was willing to bother with. 'If only birds would walk right into people's mouths. It would save everyone everywhere a lot of trouble. Today? Hmm... Perhaps something else can be arranged.'

For as he pressed his eye to a log hole once more, he realized that catching the red-eyed bird would be more complicated than that. It hadn’t come alone, no. Mogwarts tsk'ed. There, crouching among the muck was a very mysterious fellow with his head wrapped in many scarves. Mogwart couldn’t get a full view at this angle, but from the lighter sound of the bird-keeper’s voice, he figured it had to a tallish young lad. ‘One with the dirty habit of digging up food that doesn’t belong to them, aye. Don’t touch those, you polliwog! That’s my dinner you’re tampering with,’ he complained silently, twitching his tail in annoyance.

He might have done something about it right away, but well. The lad wasn’t quite near enough for the goblin to simply jump out and hope to whack him over the head just to get him to stop. Besides, Mogwart didn’t know what his company was capable of. There had to be a better way to handle this, didn’t there? 'I'll lure this thief closer first...' Before too many of his precious roots were dug up, Mogwart took a breath and began to mimic what he hoped sounded like the a poor helpless villager from the region.
“Lo, who goes there? Can you hear me? Anybody, p-please, come closer. I need your help!” His tone was still too deep and scratchy in places, and sometimes he was a little too dramatic

Although, because he believed it was only a youth he was dealing with, he wasn't to worried. The place where he lurked inside the log was dark, shady, and filled with dangling moss and weeds. So if the lad ever became curious enough peer inside, Mog figured he would blend in with his surroundings well enough. Possibly. Anyhow, he wiggled to rattle the log a bit, hoping to    bait the root-stealer further or, if he was lucky, give the lad a bit of a scare.
“M-my name is Momo. I was walking this way through the woods when I encountered the great beast, and one look of its eyes turned me into this rotten log. Gods have mercy, I can’t move! A-and I haven’t eaten for days. The only cure is for some kind soul to feed me something. D-do you have anything by chance.”
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Sun Feb 28, 2016 5:07 pm

Nocme froze, she could hear the voice loud and clear. Meaning the source is close, way to close for Dace to not notice. She glared at the bird a little, but he just made a flippant remark that had her rolling her eyes. At least it seems to come from the log, a little too small for any grown man or elves. She stood up properly, leaving the roots on the ground. It should easily draw some critter close, even if it’s the usual small animals, they would attract the huge beast in turn.

A quick look around she could see there is no other beings and could hear nothing else other than little voice from the shaking log. Dace confirmed with her, but did mention he wanted to laugh at the lie. How would one speak if they turn into a log? Telepathic speaking then its fine, but they both could tell it was actual voice vibrating in the air. Which mean they are probably hiding in the log and could see them pretty clearly. So they can’t do their normal thing of “pretending they are not there” and just run away. They need to do something a tad more elaborate, and that got Dace eye sparkle with mischief.

The Xavar immediately flew off into the dark off the woods, only cawing for her to do her usual routine they do in Maquina. The old woman with a young baby routine. It’s silly and ridiculous but like the other person would know who they are just by looking at her. She wore too many layers to be recognised. It also serve to cover her face when she blushed in embarrassment on how stupid this trick is and how easy it seems to work on idiots in the other lands.

“Ehhhh? Whatz dat sonny? I cant quite hear ya?” she yelled out into open space, just a little bit too loud like all the old people with hearing problems. She looks around like looking for the source of voice, but from the corner she kept a careful eye on the log and keeping a fair distance from it. Although she hoped Dace would come back soon, she can’t really keep this up without his goading or encouragement. Particularly when this is not used to swindle money and food off people, it felt like this is something she should be doing when she was a kid, not a fully grown woman.

Thankfully Dace returned in time, not exactly into view but high up above, with a bunch of small worm he managed to dig out in his claw. Nocme have no idea where he found it but does not question it, after all the ball of wiggling worms are a perfect size to be dropped from a great height – into the muddy log. Nocme waited to hear the soft splat before hobbling away, into the dark of the trees. From there she dropped the act completely and quickly circle to the other side of the clearing. Quietly she also climbs up the tree so she would have higher vantage point.

Hope it make some more noise again... That would be a great attraction...
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Mon Feb 29, 2016 2:27 pm

‘Drat it all. There go my dreams for a roasted Xavar.’ he grumbled as he watched the white wings flutter off. Truly, Mogwart wasn’t quite sure what was going on here! The lad had spotted his ‘mystic talking log,’ that much the goblin could tell. But rather than coming closer to investigate like any healthily curious youth would, it seemed the fellow was reasonably clever. ‘Bravo.’ Mogwart could have applauded, but instead sat there blinking wide-eyed as the scarf-clad wanderer suddenly put on an elderly accent and shouted like he was more than a little deaf.

Correction: she. Well, possibly? ‘Sounds closer to feminine vocals now that I’ve gotten a good earful of it,’ Mog winced, and resisted the urge to covers his ears with both hands. The magic he was relying on to hunt currently made them a little more sensitive than usual. In any case, it also seemed the stranger was older than he initially imagined. How much more however? He wasn’t sure, but he scoffed at the woman's act just a little. Oh, he had no trouble believing she could be a hard of hearing. That part was very convincing. It was her motion that was the problem.

He had seen the way she moved when she first entered the clearing; how easily she had crouched to gather the roots. That isn’t to say that his elders couldn’t’ be vigorous, since he had his own kin to set the example. But, even his dear old mum had a creaky deliberateness to her movements, the kind that the person he was now looking at didn’t show off for him convincingly. ‘So covered up... What has she got to hide, I wonder? A horrible scar? Itchy red skin? Or perhaps an embarrassingly foul fungus and body odor?’ He was actually pretty excited about the frightful possibilities. Yet it wasn’t as if his clan had no manners whatsoever.

‘Can’t force a lady to show her horrifying beauty marks if she doesn’t want to. Patience-patience.’ He shook his head. Perhaps he would be able to persuade her. Later. After he’d stuffed his belly with roots and Xavar meat that is. For now, he didn’t see any harm in playing along with her odd games. It kept her busy enough to prevent her from digging an more of his meal anyway. ‘Now if only I could get her to call back her friend …’

Mog took a large breath, puffed out his chest, and was about to shout more pitiful cursed villager nonsense to make absolutely certain the old girl would hear him this time, except out of no where a ball of something-oozy tumbled down an open shaft in the log and splattered all over his back.
“GACK!?” Mogwart jumped and bumped his noggin in surprise. Whatever that ball was, it was slimy. Squirmy. Steadily, it split into pieces and crawled under his clothes. There were nasty squishy squelching noises as Mogwart turned round and round to try to keep the things from wriggling anywhere ticklish.

That minor worry aside though, the goblin’s mouth watered and his swampy yellow eye flickered in glee. Not only were worms a decent snack, but having them all over him was nostalgic. Most importantly, it felt absolutely AMAZING!
“Just like playing in the mud. Grrhahahahhh,” sounding more monstrous than anything natural, his laughter echoed through the trees. So much for his villager-in-distress routine. Not that it had helped him much anyhow, he realized, as he watched the woman hobble away for dear life. ‘..........Oops. There's a bother.’ Perhaps he could have been grumpier about the whole thing, but so long as there were worms, he was too busy being grateful for the food to worry. As soon as the woman was out of sight, he busied himself trying to catch the critters.

The log continued to tremble violently from Mogwarts struggle. He patiently caught every last worm then slurped and swallowed them one by one. Only when no snacks were left, and his poor tummy craved many more, did he think to go looking for whoever it was that had dropped such a generous donation. (No, it hadn't even occurred to him that the whole thing was a prank, or that the bird was even behind it.) The was no way he could have memorized the stranger’s specific scent so quickly unfortunately. Still, in a forest this quiet, he thought should at least be able to tell if any generally familiar lifeforms were relatively nearby. Like a human, nymph, goblin, or elf for example. Whatever the two-legger was, she couldn't have gotten too far so soon.

'Or could she? ...Let's find out.' Sniff sniff. A green nose poked through one of the holes in the log and wiggled. Gentled breezes suddenly wisped around the area, brushing over the surfaces of trees and earth. ‘There are no humans nearby.’ Sniff sniff. ‘Nor nymphs… nor fellow gobs… nor stompy horses… But elves? Oh?’ Sniff. '...ohhh, HAH!' He sneered. Whoever this elf was was, it was talented at hiding; Mogwart couldn't pin point where it was hiding just yet. That would require more careful searching and sniffing. But, if nothing else right now, he could definitely sense that someone was still close enough to be watching him.

‘So it goes! Let 'em watch then. Always did love a good audience.’ Given that this elf was the only large two-legger he sensed anyhow, Mog was willing to bet it was the same mysterious scarfed person who had just run off on him-- or at least a friend of theirs. Perhaps. Oh, alright. He had no way of proving anything. Not even proof that the woman, if he ever managed to find her, would have the power to summon worms from the sky. But these were his best guesses, and he intended to find out what she knew about that, one way or another!

With a few kicks, he broke a hole in the bottom of his hiding place for his legs to pop out. It was awkward to lift the log from the inside, especially with the tail end of it stuck in the muck, but Mog held his arms overhead and put his back into it. ‘Heave---- ho!’ The end of the log yanked from the ground, and so, seemingly supported on nothing but a patterned pair pants below, it tottered over to the small pile of roots the woman had left out as bait. A dirty green foot felt around the area until it could feel the roots rolling under its toes. Then, with a great thundering THUMP, the log dropped down over top of the bait.

A minute afterwards, the biggest opening end of the log trembled and out crawled the goblin on his knees. He held the roots in a bundle against his chest, using his muffler to keep them together, like a makeshift basket. One of said roots was already planted firmly between his teeth, and he tore it away to take his first bite as he stood, pretending to casually looked around the clearing. Every now and then his nose would twitch and his wide ears would flick, in his continued effort to read the winds.


“Are you still there, milady?” he called out between bites and took a few uncertain steps in the opposite direction of the way he thought he had seen the woman retreat. It was somewhat disorienting, and he briefly wondered if somehow his eyes had been playing tricks on him a while ago? It didn't help that he still couldn’t see his quarry. “I have no idea how venerable you really are, but my sincerest condolences if you’ve gone so deaf at such an early age. And- ah! Thank you for saving me the trouble of having to dig these up myself.”

While he was so focused on tracking and talking to try to coax the elf out of hiding, he didn’t quite notice a disturbance from the ground behind him. A scarlet serpent-like star-nosed mole-pig, too small to be the deadly beast Mog was hunting and too large to be entirely harmless, stealthily raised its neck to the surface and sniffed at the back of the goblin’s neck. Apparently he was filthy, but not to filthy for this creature to decide he was just the right size to eat. It stalked Mog for a few more paces as he added, “Eating alone is dreadfully lonesome though, don't you think? Hmm, aye. 'Haven't had company over a meal in ages... Why don’t you come out and join me? I’ve got a ripe recipe for root-and-worm stew.”
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Mon Feb 29, 2016 5:08 pm

Goblin? Well that was a small surprise...

She rarely encounter them, even back when she was living fully in Vida. Her clan made a point to make as little dealing with them as possible. They were always viewed as tricksters and making trades with them is both difficult and dangerous. Hiding their clan’s base was the top priority whenever they encountered any of these green folk out on the hunt. Oh she remembered how annoyed she was when her mother insist on taking roundabout way back, plus wading through a deep river to cover up a bit of the scent. Even contemplating going near the fields of Nightmare Orchid to make sure they weren’t followed. She has to thank dad for convincing her otherwise.

Even in Valias there were not many goblins. The few that are there also made a point that they are either exiles or could no longer follow the ways of their tribes. Much kinder and generous as well, they mostly just sit around on ice float and patiently fishing for their dinner. Thus they are not good examples on what goblins are actually like.

Nocme watched as the log shifted violently, there was no yelling of panic or disgust. In fact there are some slurping noise, is he eating the ball of worm Dace dropped? There is not much she knows about goblins and frankly she doesn’t want to know. After a while there were some loud crunching as the log uprooted itself and waddle to the pile of roots. Out pop the little green one, no doubt the one that tried to trick her with his words. Now she get to watch him eat the roots that she was planning to use as bait. Oh well a goblin that size could be a good bait as well. Especially with the other critter that is slowing drawing close to the clearing. He is not the only one in tuned with the wind. Albeit she did not realise it until she felt the wind shift and know that her scent was noticed. It take a little more energy to counter that and keep her position covered, thankfully the goblin seems to have no intention of tricking them again.

Dace returned to her shoulder after a brief sweep of the area. He told her that the little critters are shifting to the clearing, but many now avoid it because of the goblin in the presence. The large one still nowhere to be found but shouldn’t take long for it to notice nice tasty root smell and a muddy goblin eating them straight out of the ground.

He also asked how the act goes, but Nocme just put up her hand and pinched his beak shut. She doesn’t want to talk about it, and not to mention she probably forgot some other points or two. Hopefully she doesn’t have to talk aloud again, or that the goblin will leave her alone and just be happy with the food she dug up. That hope was instantly dashed as the little guy called for her, inviting her to a stew?

She could feel dace drooling at thought of worm stew and is going from one shoulder to the next wanting to go down there and join him. But Nocme made a concerned glare, and quietly mouthed, “I’m pretty sure goblins like eating Xavars...” That got the bird to calm down and settle on her shoulder. Best to observe for a little longer to make sure he isn’t going to do something he is going to regret. Her hand quietly shifted to grasp one of her disposable daggers. Disposable because it was stolen and she doesn’t care that she lost them.

Now she has a choice. Throw the dagger at the snake – because as Dace put it they haven’t had a molenake meat for ages and one shot to the head could kill it. Or alternative, throw it at the goblin, because the molenake look mighty hungry and its so brightly coloured the other one would surely come over. Then again the question become how much of an asshole could she possibly be right now, especially with a Xavar pecking at her to hurry up.

In the end the molenake it is. One good throw, with a small boost of wind to get it go faster, it lodged deep into the head and the little critter thump to the floor. Dace threw all caution to the wind, he did not even wait and swoop down immediately to dig his beak into the tasty meat. Very happy to consume all of it for himself until he is full, and then maybe take back the left over for salting and eating it later. Nocme on the other hand chose to be cautions, remaining quiet and even keeping her breathe soft and even. Ears flicker a little as she tries to catch all the sound she could, her hands already on another dagger. The Xavar could take care of themselves but it doesn’t mean she won’t feel happy that she maimed the one that dare to lay a finger on her friend.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Mon Feb 29, 2016 7:23 pm

“Still won’t answer? Come, that's not very polite,” Mogwart sighed through his nose and dramatically drooped his shoulders in pretended disappointment. Really? It was all the rascal could do to hold back another snicker. He knew that this elf’s caution was well warranted. Even setting aside all the satisfying rumors of how terrifying some of his clansmen were, he was certain he personally wasn’t the most charming and approachable looking fellow to begin with. 'Quite the opposite, in fact,' he prided himself. Heck, for all of his lack of warts and disfiguration, he worked harder at being scary than most of the folks back home.

It was only times like these where his effort paid off best. Why, the very sight of him must be enough to keep his current company cowering in their hiding place. ‘In this case, I’m too handsomely scary for my own good, aren't I? Ahhh, it’s a curse as well as a blessing,’ his told himself half-joking. But yes-yes. Whether the scarf-wearer showed herself or not, the longer she hid, the more it stroked this goblin’s ego.

He took more oblivious step forward, just narrowly missing the snapping jaws of the mole-snake behind him, and he wagged a finger in the air spouting his theory,
“The way I see it, either milady is painfully shy. Or you are so frightened of my great and pooooowerful form that you know you would have no chance of surviving against me if I chose to gobble you up. You are smart enough to hide away forever like the feeble shell hugger you are----!”

Suddenly, as if out of no where, Mog sensed something sharp and shiny shoot from high up in the trees. He bleached about twenty paler shade of green as ducked for dear life, only to realize seconds later that the flying object wasn’t meant for him at all. // THUNK // ‘A... a dagger?’ He glanced at where- or what- it hit behind him. Well. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. Er, but hey. At least they were making progress?

After giving its dying gasp, the treacherous mole-snake flopped forward, half smooshing the goblin under its bulk. Admittedly the jester did a lot of internal screaming before he realized that somehow he wasn’t dead. There was then much arm and leg flailing as he frantically shoved the fallen creature off of him and crab walked several tail-lengths away from the thing. “What in the blazing salamanders?!”
He barely had time to rub his neck and gulp over the pointy object buried deeply in the mole-snake’s skull when the clamor of white wings returned and the Xavar from before landed to help itself to a feast. “…Dagger throwing Xavars. Right. Now I’ve seen everything.”

Full of sarcasm after the encounter, Mogwart was too paranoid that the next blade would be aimed for him to even think about pouncing on the bird just then, or even to squeeze his comfortably beside it to try to share this fresh meal. The roots Mog gathered had tumbled free and were scattered all around as well. Vexed, he tossed his hands in the air once for emphasis. “Aye. Eat up while you can, you feathery dastard. More importantly…” He remembered the feel of the dagger passing through the air, and turned his eyes in the direction it came from. ‘Is that where she is hiding? Somewhere up high?’

No matter how he squinted intensely at her approximate location, he still could see her from way down here. Common sense told him he ought to be grateful that she didn’t try to plant her daggers straight between his eyes just now. He also supposed he now owed the lady one for possibly just sparing him from a nasty mole-snake bite on his bum. Meaning even if he wanted to, it’d be against his own rules to try to chow down on her partner without her permission. Again. The goblin remembered his manners. ‘But…’ he growled in the back of his throat, ‘That doesn’t mean I have to like it.’

Especially not when trying to prod and pry with the winds to find her was beginning to feel a lot like a game of cat and mouse. He was tempted to fly up there and pester her. Doubly tempted to shake his rear at her and call her various other names for the taunting. But no. For now, he lowered his head in a silent bow of respect for her assistance, then shuffled back over to his log. Swiftly, Mog crawled inside to pry out his mace, and when he returned to the outside, he simply sat atop his wooden shelter. It remained a reasonable distance from where the Xavar was dining.

The jester leaned his chin in his hand, and his elbow on his knee as he stared at the treetops. He stuck out his tongue grumpily with a lizard'ly flick.
“I don’t suppose you’re in the mood to tell me, but what's a deadly ole gal like you doing out in these parts?”
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Mon Feb 29, 2016 8:25 pm

Politeness and niceness hasn’t being Nocme’s friend for a long while. Not since she was separated from Ceberas. In fact her mother always chides her for being such a loner and refused to interact with others until she met Dace. Even then she rarely wanted to talk to others unless absolutely necessary. Beside she could tell the little green guy wasn’t exactly miffed at her actions. In fact he seems to be proud of it!

He seems so proud to have her hiding in the dark he just keep yapping away. Something about being handsomely scary or some other crap, she wasn’t really listening. It goes in one ear and out the other – just like how she treated her mother’s lecture. Really goblins are goblins, they just look the way they do and she couldn’t care less if he has more warts and looked like a raisin or look like green Samael. Okay maybe she would pause in her track if there is a goblin that is a good looking as that guy but that’s not really the point here.

The goblin is small and acted like a kid. Actually she wouldn’t be surprised if he is a kid based on the height, but remembering how short the goblin is back at Valias, she doesn’t want to jump to conclusion just yet. Besides he was kind of smart to try and mimic a local villager. If the traveller that encountered him is less cautious and selfish then Nocme, they would probably be caught in his trap now.

Nocme more or less rolled her eyes as the goblin got surprised by her dagger and just continue to focus on the distant thumping noise. It is steadily coming closer and – fingers crossed – hopefully it is the beast. The blood of the snake should have been even better attraction, meat is always more nutritious than any vegetation, even for an omnivore, and they will definitely come over. Probably bee-lining here now with all the talking the brat is doing.

Dace pulled his head out of the carcass to just crow out, “shut your trap I’m eating here!” Nocme tried to muffle a giggle. She wonders if the guy know Xavar’s special language. The birds are incredibly smart and easily learn any language. Dace practically can write letters by himself now! Unfortunately since their body is more or less a bird, they really can’t make a huge range of sound like a human vocal chord, so they made their own language. It’s either that or its their way to say screw you to the rest of sentient species, and a way for them to make crude joke at them. Which sounded more likely because ever since Dace taught her his language, he used it in every way to embarrass her or goad her - guess that’s what a good friend are for, poking fun at each other.

Thump... Thump...

She could feel the ground shake now and no doubt Dace felt it too. He pulled out, swallowed the last piece of meat and did his best to rub and shake off any blood from his white feather. There was still more than half of the meat left and there was no way he could carry it, so he left them all to the goblin. He can’t risk the beast drawn towards Nocme. Though he could still warn the kid, albeit in a serious of weirdly pitched crowing and tweeting, but that’s all he got and he know Nocme definitely will not open her mouth now. Not when their target sounded so close.

Although she glared at him because the way he flew pretty much confirmed her position to the goblin. If he hasn’t got a clue from her thrown dagger yet, he definitely has now. At least the kid is armed so he probably could hold up a fair fight before the beast burst out of the bush. She shifted as well as Dace land on her shoulder, kneeling and ready to land on top of the thing for first strike. Since no one suspect attacks from the top, why else is dive bomb so effective?

Soon she could see one of the hairy legs poked out from the bushes, it look like any old branch covered in vines.
It is her target... Just need it to come out a little more to make sure... and have a perfect landing spot straight at the head.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Mon Feb 29, 2016 10:14 pm

So let’s be honest. As a dweller of the clouds, and an usually serious student of the winds at that, Mogwart did happened to know the basic words from the language the Xavars spoke. They were, after all, the ones who had first advised his clan to take to the skies for safety during the warring era. Unfortunately however, for such beautiful and intelligent creatures, they had poorly placed their trust in the Deep clan who- less than a few decades -later decided the birds were too tasty to ignore. They began hunting them regularly for their meals, and were now treasured as a favorite ingredient during banquets of Deep clan goblin kings.

That said, it was hard for Mogwart to appreciate the white Xavar in front of him as anything worth having a full conversation. To him, that would be like playing with his food, which again- believe it or not? The jester had been taught was bad manners. Things were stranger still for Mogart when the Xavar squawked at him. Something along the likes of,
‘shut – I --- eating!’ What, was it calling him noisy?

“Feh. Your beak works just as well whether I run my mouth or not, doesn’t it?” He waved his mace in the air lazily and shrugged. “Look, birdy-milord. I was here first. So if it’s a quiet dinner you’re after, you'd best take your kill and eat it elsewhere.”

Hold on now. Why did the bird and its keeper choose to stick around this clearing? When Mog thought about it, they had plenty of room to run off somewhere if they didn’t want him his company. It wasn't as if he had the time to chase them all day. On the other hand, if they wanted to kill him? The pair had the advantage in that as well. They could have nailed him to the forest floor with daggers already. But they didn’t. ‘So what else could they be after? Hmm...’ He was in the middle of pondering this when, finally, he wasn’t too distract by snacks and a wild goose chase to feel the ground tremble beneath him.

All at once, he was reminded of the terrible reason he was out here risking his neck in these woods in the first place. The Xavar cawed it’s warning, which Mogwart hissed back at,
“Ey, you couldn’t have told me sooner?” Then he groaned and rose to his feet, gripping his mace with a new sense of urgency. “Milady, please tell me this whole set up, with the roots and the mole-snake killing... isn’t what I think it is?!” He wasn't BAIT was he? Gods help him. The breathing and the very heartbeat of the beast came closer. Closer. Closer still. As before, it wasn’t making any effort to conceal itself now that it detected something fresh to gorge itself on.

Mogwart turned in the direct he heart it come from and shouted feistily to the scarf-wearer, “Because if you expect me to serve at bat for this thing, so help me woman, I will steal your socks in winter and burn them at the bottom of a canyon!” Maybe that wasn’t the most intimidating threat in the world, but given how much his knees were shaking, it was the best he could do for a second. He backed away from the first hairy foot that broke through the bushes. One. Two. Four. Seven.

In total, the beast stepped into the light on eight long, twisted leg, mounted with natural bits of shell. At first, it’s body resembled that of a massive hermit crab. The shell was riddled with dents and warped spikes that twisted around it like the stairway to a dark castle. The head of a creature however, was a ghastly combination on a snarling panda, a rhinocerous, and a slug. To make matters the thing had a perfectly poisonous peacock tail-like tentacles spreading out behind it to wither the leaves it brushed against as it moved.

In his limited experience hunting giant animals, Mogwart had never seen anything quite like it, and perhaps- if he wasn’t so afraid for his life right now- he would have found it lovely. He stood frozen in place for a second as it lumbered to stand over him and breathed on his head.
“Er, ah … hello there. By any chance, would you happen to be the infamous Crovantula?”

[ KRREEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRR! ]

It shrieked. Annnnnd yep. Mogwart turned tail to run. “I’ll take your word for it. Yaghhhh, help help help help help help help!” While he ran, the creature opened its bottom jaw, which swung down and stretched wide in the same style of a pelican’s, to scoops up a huge chunk of the earth the goblin was standing on seconds ago. With a vicious and bizarre series of crunches, it grinded everything in it’s mouth into powder, spit it out and came charging after it’s tasty green prey.

Mogwart had tried to confused the beast by ducking behing a tree— the same one the scarf-wearer had climbed a while ago – but with very little effort, the powerful Crovantula chomped the trunk in half, snapping it like a tooth pic. ‘And I’m supposed to get a fang from THIS fellow? Hah. Haha. Hahahahaha, oh this just isn't fair.’ Mogwart whined. That last bite placed the creature’s face within arm’s length of the jester, so out of panic more than anything, he began waving his mace wildly and dished out as many bloody WHACKS as he could get in before the beast moved. It responded by sluggishly thrashing its head sideways, which knocked the puny gob several distances away. He crashed into some brittle bushes, upside down, and spit out a couple of thorns, miserable.


“If this thing eats me, milady, I promise I will come back from the grave and kill you.”


Last edited by Mogwart on Tue Mar 01, 2016 10:11 am; edited 1 time in total
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Tue Mar 01, 2016 8:19 am

Dace was a little surprised the little guy know their language. Then again their ancestors were a little too nice and got themselves killed. Which is why the majority of Xavar today are selfish and far too independent, they are not going to repeat the same mistake their forerunners did. Never.

Soon the creature came into view. There it is the giant Crovantula, she has seen plenty of it in the past. Although something is not quite right with that one, something differ it from the usual that was found near her tribal home. For starters they are generally not aggressive, at least not THIS aggressive. They would not take out their tentacle stingers that openly, they are fully aware of the effect it would have on their surroundings. Especially now with a trail of rotted vegetation behind. Which leads to the biggest question that pop up in her head.

Isn’t Crovantula a HERBIVORE???

In fact by memory they only eat roots and maybe rotted bark in colder months. They are the few species of creatures that are natural recyclers by clearing piles of rotted plants and preventing bushfires. With their huge mouth they easily dig up the whole earth, and passing them through their system to become a good fertiliser to other vegetation. Which begs the question on why it seems to be eating nice healthy trees? It’s not even using its poison to make it softer for it to crunch on.

“Dace distract it, I need to get closer,” Nocme whispered quietly. Dace wasn’t really happy with it and complained aloud on why they didn’t just let the walking kale be the distraction? She did thought about it, but at the same time she really don’t like listening to the little guy just yapping and crying like a little coward. And really he did his job as bait, this is about the least she could do to repay him for the work.

The Xavar rolled his eyes but complied. Crovantula relies on sound and scent more than every other senses. Thus the best way to distract it is to split its focus. With the goblin making ungodly noise and attracting it easily, all Dace has to do was to grab one of the more fragrant root off the ground and hover around its head. Thankfully it was not a fast mover, so for Dace it was a fun exercise in annoying the thing. Always shouting more taunts that are actually mostly rude remarks like, “hey you like this root or the running Brussel sprout there?” Even though he knows the beast probably don’t know what he was saying. It was mostly aim at the goblin, because why not?

Nocme take this time to settle down, holding the wind close to her body. This might tire her out later, since she was not always listening during the magic lessons, but for now it is necessary to hide all trace of her scent and sound. Just by holding the air around her so still it acts like a cushion. She has to hold her breathe for this to work but it is a good trade off on her stamina.

Still she doesn’t waste any time to jump off the branch and land on the creature’s back, just as Dace made the tentacle reach for it away from its back. She only have a few second before it realize the extra passenger on its head. “Oi do something useful and shove that mace in its mouth!” she shouted, while tapping lightly on the side of the head, where she know a hollow chamber for hearing is. Using the hilt of the dagger it made the loud banging sound that even they could hear it. No doubt this would made the critter very uncomfortable. In fact it made it pause in its track and whine in frustration. Dace already managed to tie all the tentacles into a knot behind it, turning it to one huge spiked tail that flop around uselessly behind the beast.

She really feels bad for it, but she needs it to stay still if it wants to be rid of the pain. There were some scattered clues, but with the way it seems to want to munch on hard food. There is a fair chance that it has a rotten tooth. And for the best of this forest food chain it better be taken care of as soon as possible.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Sat Mar 05, 2016 12:32 pm

See, this is why bath’s were important. It kept you from smelling like a rotten wild-grown vegetable for some hungry Crovantula to eventually come along and eat. If the green goblin hadn’t been enlightened to this yet? Well then. The Xavar and its scarfed friend were about to help him learn an important life lesson.

“Brussel sprout?” Mog muttered at the bird as he heard was sounded like taunting, probably. “Oh come on. Do I look like a vegetable to you?” Not that the jester was ungrateful for the help, but most days he was very proud of his filth! It was just another one of those nifty little tricks that helped him feel scarier than he actually was. Earthy fragrances were the best.

Anyhow, he didn’t have time to laugh or worry about that. He was currently in the middle of trying not to become a meal for a great beast, and even with the fantastic job the mysterious duo was doing keeping the creature busy, he wasn’t so sure he would stay safe if he just sat around quietly twiddling his thumbs. ‘Thumb twiddling. Hah. I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. Not in this position… Here we go then. Oof!’ Mogwart rolled out of the bushes, stood up on trembling knees, and picked a few barbs out of his pant-legs as he listened to the woman clang against the beast’s head like a thunder drum.

“Bossy-bossy.” He cringed, twice when she shouted at him shortly afterwards to make himself useful. It was all Mog could do not to press his hands to his ears shut. His mind was so unfocused during his fright that, with his currently magically enhanced senses, he was catching all sorts of amplified sounds and sensations. Thanks to the woman’s reminder however, he would work harder to concentrate. ‘Can’t have her shattering MY eardrums along with the beasts, can I?’

Mog may not have heard he when she darted from the trees and landed softly on the Crovantula’s back, but he did see her now- sort of- trying to ride the thing from the looks of it. It was hard to tell from way down where he was. Nonetheless, once again, he shouted back in the direction off the horrible sound she was making,
“Pardon, milady. But if you think I’ll go anywhere near this thing’s mouth while it is awake, you are out of your ever-loving mind! I’d sooner let it sit on and squash me to death.”

Even if he did owe the woman something, he wasn’t in the mood to sacrifice his beloved mace, his only physical treasure, over something like this. From the way the beast bit through that fine old tree just moments ago, he doubted the wooden shaft of his weapon would fair any better. A large shadow passed overhead, and Mog tumbled out of the way the Crovantula’s feet as it stomped around in the clearing distractedly. “O-on second thought, being squashed doesn’t sound pleasant either.” Yes. Changing his mind, he hopped onto one of the creature’s mighty legs to catch a hazardous ride. Mud splashed and debris scattered with the creature’s every step.

While he was busy holding on for dear life, the goblin also happened to look up at the Crovantula’s underside. That’s when he noticed it, an odd sort of strange metallic lump wedged unnaturally into the belly of the beast’s shell. Countless thin, faintly violet glowing cracks surrounded the object in a sinister spiral. There were various other scrapes and scratches around the area, as if the beast had tried many times to get whatever the object was out using its own great strength, but to no avail. An implant like that would require more than the clawing of an animal it seemed.

“That’s an unusual thorn,” Mog called out, mostly to alert the others to his discovery before bit down on the shaft of his mace to hold it with his mouth and tried to move higher up the leg to get a better look. Between the beasts angry motions, the climb was definitely a struggle. The closer he inched to the giant’s body, the more he realized how impossible it would be to touch the metal piece this way. He even spared an arm to take his mace out of his mouth again and hold it out experimentally, hoping to poke the spot.

Too far away. Too smooth to tie something around. Too deep to ply gently. If he knew any better, he could have identified it as some sort of beacon shaped like a giant screw. But no. Instead, Mog had to ask loudly,
“Or not a thorn. Rather… Milady, is it normal for Crovatulas to pierce themselves with giant jewelry?” Finally, to reward Mogwart and the rest of his company for making so much noise, the frustrated Crovantula strongly shook its entire body. The rattling quickly shook the green one loose from his perch.

He didn’t have a chance to land before the beast swept its leg forward and batted him high into the air like a hacky-sack. And then? Oh boy. THEN Mog felt dizzy.
“K-khh…” Too stunned on the way up to do much of anything, his vision went blurry for a few seconds. By the time his sight returned to him, he was already falling again and, unfortunately, the first thing he saw was the beast below, jumping at him with its jaws wide open like he was every bit of the tasty treat it thought he was.

“Guahhhhh! Sweet mercy, no!” Mog flailed, trying his hardest to refocus so that he might be able to escape on the wind. There was no helping it however; he couldn’t cast his spell quickly enough. The Crovatula caught him on its tongue and snapped is jaws shut. Mud splashed everywhere across the clearing and the forest rumbled viciously when it landed. Needless to say, Mog wouldn’t see any of that. The only sensations surrounding him was darkness, dampness, and the wreak of spoiled vegetables. And while normally he might not have minded the stench, this one reminded him of some of the foul stews his mum tried to force feed him when he was a lad.

He scrunched his nose nauseously, and did his best not to scream. If he did, that would only let the smell into his mouth. For an instant, the goblin was probably very lucky he was as small as me was. Otherwise he couldn’t have avoided being trapped between giant rows of teeth immediately. His muffler though? Not so lucky. Mog had to tear it off and scramble further towards the back of the beast’s throat to avoid being accidentally pounded into bloody mush it began to chew. Chew. CHEW. '...Why?'

Only by spreading his limbs wide and making use of his mace after all- to help him catch himself on the narrowing walls of the throat -did the gob manage not to get swallowed completely. He wasn’t sure what was louder. The grinding sound of his clothing being torn to shreds in front of him, or the pounding of his heart in his ears. Light flickered and flashed on Mog's face through the gaps as the Crovantula’s mouth worked, however it wasn’t until the jester stopped whimpering long enough to pay attention that he finally saw: none of the beasts teeth were sharp. Not a single one.

‘H-hold on now, you blighter,’ Mogwart went rigid in disbelief, ‘You mean to tell me, you’re only a plant eater?’ He recalled voice of the bird suddenly, and it echoed in his mind with a new sort of meaning. Normally Mog didn’t much care what names people called him. But this? This was where he drew the line! Brussel sprout.

Brussel sprout.

Brussel sprooooooout.

How dare this over-grown animal actually mistake him for a something as stupid as a stinky round plant? ‘Bah! I’ll show you brussel sprout,’ Mog grunted and opened the gate in his belly. His cheeks puffed out as he held the winds in, flooding himself with the magic instead. What followed next would be painful for him, he knew. But if the Crovatula wanted to eat him that badly, he wasn’t going to make it comfortable.

Outside, the Crovatula’s neck visibly began to bulge and it stopped trying to chew altogether. Instead, it resorted coughing. Gagging. Tossing his head to-and-fro until finally it forcefully spit Mogwart up to the front of its mouth. The mace flew out first and lodged itself in some rocks down below, but the goblin? Much larger now, he grappled with the beast’s teeth to keep those jaws wide open. It screeched at him again in discontent, spraying thick droplets of drool. Honestly, the creature’s saliva was starting to sting Mog a little. He'd do better if he just jumped out now and was done with the whole thing. But, feeling grosser than he thought he would about the whole business and in a fine mood to argue, Mogwart roared back,
“For the last time, I am not a vegetable!”

On the bright side! The creature was starting to get the message, and its mouth was stuck open just the way the scarfed woman had asked Mog to manage. If she wanted, she would be able to count every last one of its flat teeth, a couple of which really were rotten. One the other hand, if she didn’t make a move soon, the fussy jester was about to start kicking out the thing’s teeth indiscriminately.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Sat Mar 05, 2016 11:13 pm

By the sounds of it, her knocking annoyed more than one person. In truth it did hurt her own ear, but she has encountered many annoying things that she just learnt to grit her teeth and get on with the job. The critter sort of doing the same as well, doing as much as possible to shake the its head and stop her knocking. It also started to thump the ground with the tied up tail and slowly working out how to get it untied. Soon it will be back to its original rampage.

If only this pipsqueak actually listen for once. Which he only did after almost getting stomped on, the corvantula is getting rather agitated and afraid. Two emotions that are never a good combo for a wild animal. In fact it was getting more active in shaking them off, moving and stopping, twisting its shell on the back again and again to try to shake the elf off. She let go of her magic to concentrate on balancing and moving with the critter, avoiding been thrown off.

“That’s an unusual thorn.”

Hearing that Nocme froze in her movement and was subsequently thrown off to the ground with her slip of concentration. On the bright side she can see what he was talking about. Just as he say there is something impaled into the poor critter’s underbelly. It does look like a beacon but she wasn’t sure what sort it supposed to be. At least it shouldn’t be from any known creature, except for those that come from Maquina but why would they want to take this critter when there are thousands more other creatures that are far more useful and could sell more in black market.

Was it an accident? Or did it fought something with it? She doesn’t know what it is yet and didn’t really have time to think more deeply on this. Quickly she get up and out of the way of its legs and to put up a hand as it start to shake its whole body like a dog. Easily flinging everything off the shell, which includes all the moss, collected grass and a certain green goblin. Despite the sudden mud wave, the land shaking violently and a certain Xavar laughing his ass off at the muddy elf, Nocme was pretty impressed with that skillful shaking. It got something up in the air and into the mouth with a few movements. “Bet you couldn’t manage that,” she commented and Dace immediately retorted. He landed on her shoulder to have a first seat view on the critter pausing to try and crunch on the goblin.

Dace asked if she was worried, she really isn’t. That goblin should be small enough to just hide underneath the tongue and avoid all the molars. Besides this give her time to pull out a few more disposable dagger from her pack. Best to deal with the thorn at its side before it realize it only caught one of them.

But before she could do anything, Dace pecked at her urgently, crowing for her to look at the critter’s mouth. It was bulging? Was the goblin using magic to try and get out? Her questions were soon answered when out he comes straight out of the mouth holding it open. She actually stared for a moment and did not flinch when the mace flew down and landed behind her, compare to what she is seeing that is not as shocking. He is much bigger now and under different circumstances she probably would question how or why but for now its mouth is open and has flopped to the floor. Good enough for her to quickly go in and crawl in between the space to get a good look at those teeth.

Several are rotten for natural reason, those are not the ones she is looking for and they will fell out on its own with no pain. No she is looking for something that doesn’t disappear easily and probably struck a deep nerve. It didn’t take long to find it. A thin metallic is pinned deeply into a mostly rotted and blacken teeth, gleaming a quiet violet in the low light. “Sure hope you had the strength for this, cause its gonna hurt all of us if you let go,” she mumbled as she crawl a bit deeper inside to get a good grip on the metal spike. Using her dagger as well she quickly dig into the flesh around the teeth.

The critter wailed and shifted on the ground, but seems to realize what they are doing and valiantly tried to not chomp down on the two in its mouth. Even if its hurting so much its crying its acid tears. Nocme grimaced, she hoped she could do this faster but she hasn’t done this since she was a little kid and was small enough to sit comfortably in its mouth so it doesn’t have to worry about chomping on them. For now all she could do is cooing in a soft tune to try and get it to calm down. This part is going to hurt the most.

“Right both of you brace yourselves,” she said quickly and carefully tuck herself a little further in so she wouldn’t lose too much of her limbs should the teeth come down. “1...” she could see the muscles in the wall tense in anticipation, “2...” Dace sat down on the ground and has his talons crossed.

“3.” With a hard yank she pulled the metal piece out, along with the whole teeth. The corvantula practically screamed and blow out strong enough air that sent both figure flying out of its mouth. Though a few moment later it seems to be glad the pain in its mouth is gone and seems to be carefully prodding its mouth with its freed tendrils. When it freed its long tendrils from the knot she doesn’t know or care. At least the critter seem more docile now.

In fact the big critter just come up to them and nuzzle affectionately at both of them. This is the corvantula she remembered, a big idiotic vegetarian teddy bear. It doesn’t seems to be upset the ground is now completely muddy along with its teeth still skewered in a metal pole and on the ground.

This got her wondering. Was the critter she supposed to hunt Corvantula or something else? Something that fought this critter? It’s possible since the villagers should know that this is a harmless herbivore and its excrement a very valuable fertiliser for their crop. Not to mention those metal spikes. It doesn’t look too much like weapons, but it does seems to be somehow related to the destruction of the land and all the creatures within.

Then Dace reminded her of the next problem.

The probe thing. It has a large metal thing stuck on its tummy, it will hurt itself again in an attempt to rid it. With a sigh she patted the corvantula’s head. “Alright big boy I need you to lie on your side,” she said and patted its horn several time, trying to indicate it to flip to the side. Thankfully this one seems to be smart and gently laid on its side. It might have been regularly taken care of by a nearby tribe probably. It’s not uncommon for wild tribes to take care of larger critter despite not domesticate them, it helps them in their hunt and generally have parts that are useful when the beasts finally pass by old age or wild carnivores.

Carefully Nocme get to metal thing and tries to see how to best get it out without causing much pain. Dace lands on her shoulder and watch her work. Occasionally looking back at the goblin to make sure it isn’t going to try anything funny.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Sun Mar 13, 2016 2:03 pm

A figure that had slipped past him to enter the Crovantula’s mouth. ‘The scarfed-woman again? Odd, that one…’ he thought as he watched her poke around the creature’s jaws, looking for something. Apparently she had a fascination for festering teeth? That is how looked like to Mog anyway. ‘Not the easiest hobby to keep up with,’ he blinked slowly over the strangeness he witness, oh-so-slightly shook his head, and grunted under the sudden increase in pressure on his arms. ‘Stones!’ If it wasn’t for the woman’s presence, he wouldn’t have focused so much on his latest responsibility. That being: making sure the thing didn’t bite the both them in half.

He grumbled at the huntress, less out of impatience than practicality,
“Ahem. Milady, I don’t mean to rush you,” he held his breath briefly as a large drop of the Crovantula’s drool dripped all over his head. “But whatever it is you’re doing, HURRY IT UP. This isn’t as easy as it looks.” Now that the beast realized there weren’t any giant vegetables around for it to snack on of course, it seemed less likely to eat any of them. Still, it swayed its noggin and twisted its tongue lightly, experimentally, trying to figure out what the two beings in its mouth were doing. The groans echoing down the long tunnel that was its throat grated on his more sensitive hearing once more, so badly that he almost missed that the woman had mumbled at him.

“Hurt what now--?” he winced, and no sooner had he asked than her saw the woman take hold of some sort of metal spike it the beast’s tooth. She then pulled out one of her deadly dagger and carved away at the surrounding gums. “Are you mad???” Yes, he realized that he needed one of these teeth, and that he should probably politely ask the tooth-pirate carve out one for him too while she was at it. But as usual, the scardey-cat was too preoccupied panicking about his eminent death to bother. His nostrils flared and he braced himself the first time, just in case the Crovantula decided to crush them for her efforts.

However? Other than more of those crying noises, the deadliest force of those jaw never came. Only then did it begin to occur to Mogwart that perhaps--- the woman wasn’t quite a crazy pirate, or murderer, or any other number of crude names he could probably come up with for her if he wanted. She was, however, about as knowledgeable in this sort of thing as she was deadly with her pointy metal blades. Which is why, even after the she counted to three, yanked the tooth, and got both of them projectile spit back onto the forest floor? For a moment, Mogwart thought he ought to keep quiet.

Well. Relatively. Except for the odd bit of cuddly appreciation the Crovantula showed him afterwards for having a hand in easing its pain. Affection from strangers, no matter the form, was always something awkward for the jester, so as that giant head nuzzled against him, he squirmed and sluggishly nudged the beast away with both arms.
“Agh… alright alright. Off with you.” When it moved on to lavish the scarfed-woman with adoration, he gave a tremendous exhale of relief.

There he stayed for another minute, lying flat on his back in the mud as he processed everything that just happed to him and sort of sulked about having almost been eaten by a vegetarian. Still feeling perfectly grody from the whole experience, he knew he stank even worse than when he first arrived. Although, he supposed, that wasn’t an entirely bad thing? An intimidating stench would go a long ways towards making him more popular with the lasses in some distant town, he figured.

Less happily, once again, he had only survived by change into his freakish form. This body was too heavy. Too broad. Too awkward. He wasn’t accustomed to moving around with it, especially with his head so far away from the ground. Not too mention his pied ragged clothes were as good as ruined for the umpteenth time. He didn’t look forward to all the work he’d have to put into thredding the pieces back together. But hey. He was still alive, wasn’t he? That was something.

Also, he knew, somewhere nearby there was at least one fine fat tooth waiting for him to snatch up and run off with like it was nobody’s business. He would do that, no doubt. Just--- right after he found a way to repay this elf what he owed her already. Because, see. He couldn’t very well let himself remain annoyingly in debt to a person THIS dangerous. With a low groan, he rolled over to watch the back of the scarfed woman as she pawed at the large object wedge in the Crovantula’s belly. Sure, she seemed- er- kind? Was that the word he wanted to go with? Yes-yes. Kind enough, for now. But there was no telling when she might have a change of heart and decide to hunt him down like so many others out there.

There was no telling how many times she would use him as bait either.

‘Here’s the plan. I’ll sit. Be on my very best behavior. Wait to ask her how she wants me to repay her…’ he was going to say. But then, with the way the Xavar kept glancing back at him watchfully like it expected him to be up to something sneaky? Hah. The opportunity to live up to the expectation was hard to resist; especially when he knew nothing about the person he grudgingly owed his gratitude. Mog flashed a smirk at the bird, for just a second. 'Never was very good at keeping my mouth shut for long.'


“Oh, my head! My tail bone. My arrrrm! Think I really injured something on that one. But no no, I get it. Leave me here to dieeeeeee,” he announced suddenly, melodramatically, and made all sorts of over-played gargling noises of death, if only for the sake of making a nuisance of  himself. And yet, after acting out that purposefully cheery death scene- and knowing it wouldn’t earn him much sympathy anyhow, he went ahead and pried himself off the ground anyway. Globs of muck dripped off his cheeks as he stood. He wiped his hand ineffectually on what was left of his pants -as he cautiously lumber over to the elf’s side as if to get a better look at what as going on with the giant creature.

“But from the looks of it, you’ve had a harder time of it, ey my smelly friend?” He frowned at it somewhat, still not having forgiven the hard times it put him through, but he did not envy its pain. From this up close, the sore purple cracks across its shell looks even worse than he initially thought. The metal object was wider across than the sturdy elf’s shoulders too. Would likely require every ounce of her strength and careful twisting to unscrew it from the spot without causing too much more damage. Though, for as long she seemed dead set of taking on the task alone, Mogwart was all too content to sit back and let her. That’s not what he was after here anyway.

Pieces of the shell around the intricate cracks would crumble off the more the miss tampered with the object. The soft hum of a mechanical siren might be detected as well, if she allowed her self to listen closely enough. In the center of the screw, there was also a tiny camera lens which blinked and narrowed at the woman as it watched to see what she was up to. A small static-filled voice crackled incoherently,
“Who…khhh… dare… kh-khhhh… escape?”

'Curious and curiouser still.' With his arms folded behind his back, Mogwart waited until he thought the woman was distracted enough by her investigation. But then, as swiftly as he could managed, the scoundrel reached up behind her head to try to snatch the scarfs off of her head. Rude or not, after what the woman just put him through? He felt fiendishly entitled. More over, he decided it was important to get a clear look at the person he currently owed his life to. Regardless of whether he managed to get past the bird however, the goblin would playfully scramble backwards away from the duo. His long legs felt clumsy underneath him, so he stumbled quite a bit before he he held up a hand in surrender and grinned teasingly all the same. “There now. Only wanted know what milady was hiding."
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Sun Mar 13, 2016 6:00 pm

Dace was not exactly watching as he should, he end up laughing at the poor acting the goblin did. He can do a much better job when food is on the line. The bird even demonstrated a proper way to fake a death. With claws in the air and a tongue draped out of the open beak – for the added touch he also rolled his eye up to his skull so the red vapour trail comes in strange little puff. Nocme just rolled her eyes and keep on working. There is no doubt in her mind that some sort of machine attacked this poor critter.

She could hear the goblin approach and resolutely not to diverge her attention from the large screw. It is so large and the ground is not giving her the necessary traction to twist it out. Soon she grasp one of the curious tendril that was flopping around them and gently tug it around the screw. “Alright big guy you have to help out with this one.” Carefully she wrapped the tendril around the base and place the barb in one of the empty groove. With one experimental tug the corvantula sort of understood what must be done and begin to pull with all its might. Though it doesn’t stop it from actually crying aloud and wailing at any sort of little pain coming from the shifting metal. Dace hopped away when it got too loud to be bearable.

Despite that she didn’t fail to hear the mechanical whirl or the static voices coming out of the speaker. Quickly she took out another dagger – she probably going to completely run out but who cares – and sink it right into the glass lens before it could properly catch any images. Of course she has to bite her tongue as a convulsive shock rush through her arm and punched her in the chest. Might not be a good idea to shove a metal blade into active machinery while still holding on to it. At least the big critter didn’t seems to notice the shock and was making good progress at unscrewing the thing from itself.

“There, there you are doing good,” she cooed to it. Completely distracted and not noticing the goblin sneaking closer, until it was too late. She felt her scarves were pulled away and letting her hair and face show. Instinctively she whipped around and punched the space. Good thing the goblin is about as fast as Dace, or else that would have been right between the eyes. Dace on the other hand just rolling around laughing and teased Nocme about her reflex not fast enough.

“You thought not telling me is a good way to prank me?” Really now of all times? When there is a giant beast crying out in pain and potentially Maquina poachers loitering about the place. They all know why they would be here, and whatever reason they pick from the list none of them are good.

Dace just shrugged and laughed. Even the corvantula join in the chuckle until Nocme pull the last part of the barb out harshly for spite. It let out a huge scream and whimpered. The xavar still laughed and teased the big critter though. It was all in good fun he said. Nocme wanted to punch him, but seriously...


“Alright you see it now give me back my bloody scarves!” Before any more people sees her, especially her old tribe people. They shouldn’t wondered to this area since its way more north than their furthest hunting ground, but who knows some of them might decide to expand their territory. Even if it means that they might end up trampling into some other tribe’s hunting ground. Or they could be on their way to the capital to trade for stuff they couldn’t hunt in this part of Vida. There are many reasons but its still a reason for her to cover up her feature as much as possible.

Dace pick up the scarves and hover around Nocme. When she holds out to take her scarves back he flew away again. Seeing their job is done and they are not in an immediate danger it is absolutely a good time to tease the elf some more. He will return it when he thought danger is coming.

Slowly the corvantula pushed itself back to rights and shook off some mud. And begin to wail a little, nudging all of them with its snout. “What is it?” Nocme asked and tried to not smell the rotten vegetable breath. “You trying to show us something?”

Maybe the one who did this...

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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Mogwart on Mon Mar 21, 2016 12:35 pm

When the jolt of electricity ran up the scarfed-woman’s arm, she wasn’t the only one who bit her tongue. As the camera crackled, smoked, and died by her hand, Mogwart was doing everything in his power not to snicker over the no-nonsense presence of the elf now that he had a chance to watch her work out in the open again. She definitely wasn’t as old as she had pretended to be earlier. Her face when the scarves fell and she turned to swing at him confirmed it. ‘She’s but a young lass after all, isn't she?’

Mogwart squinted in amusement as he took note of what he saw: at the usual elegant long ears, fine furrowed brows, and an unfamiliar pair of angry as brown as acorns. Her hair stuck up in bristles here and there from having been shoved under her scarves most of the day, but more importantly? As far as he was concerned, the miss looked barely old enough to stomach a cup of bog’s mead, much less run around in woods as dangerous as this without a few more friends to watch her back. Though he would still give her credit. She was respectably skillful despite his notions. In the goblin's delusional world where he told himself he was obviously the more adult one between the two of them, he vaguely wondered what sort of hard life the lass would have had that she went around climbing into giant creatures mouths for a living.

Anyhow, as the Crovantula and the Xavar joined in the fun with their own bit of laughter, Mogwart couldn’t hold back his chuckles any more.
“Feisty-feisty,” he took another hop-step away from the huntress, just for good measure, “But why so serious? I had thought there’d be more to it than this, but hm… hmm…” He rubbed his chin as if thinking very hard then gave a big joking shrug of disappointment. “No scars or deformities? Alas! Milady is tragically afflicted with loveliness. Flawless really. But take heart. At least you’ll always have your winsome scowl.”

He looked laughingly to the bird who danced in the air around her, keeping her scarves just out of reach. Tasty though the winged-one may be, for the first time today, Mogwart thought it really might be a waste to eat the fellow. It wasn’t often he ran into a bird with a sense of humor.“Quick, my feathery lord! Give her back her scarves so that she doesn’t slay us with her blades or her eyes.” He was, despite his pretended cheerfulness, only partially joking at that. Because, being bigger on the outside wouldn’t change what he was inwardly. The huntress’ angry gaze had already unnerved the coward enough that he would have wrapped her head back up himself if he could. Maybe. To die laughing or to die being pummeled by an angry woman? That was the question.

Mog was in the middle of deciding on whether to tease the lass further when the Crovantula nudged him with its snout, earning another grunt from the jester. The huntress asked the same questions that came to his mind, but was kinder about it than Mogwart would have been as he was flustered about the beast's continued friendliness. ‘This isn’t more cuddling, is it? No?’ He shuffled a few steps away from the beast and cocked his head at its antics. At least the fact that he smelled about as bad as the Crovantula’s breath made it somewhat easier for him to breath around it at the moment.
“If it is trying to show you anything, you haven’t got much choice but to follow it, I'd wager. Probably means to lead us somewhere dangerous, or unpleasant… bah. If milady insists…”

He lumbered over to gather his mace and the skewered tooth from the mud. The mace rested against his shoulder, and the rotted tooth tucked neatly under his arm as he turned in the direction the beast had suggested. After several steps, Mog looked back to the others, gesturing ahead with his chin. “Let's get this show on the road, shall we? Can’t repay my debts to you any faster by standing around here.”

Seeming hopeful, the Crovantula plodded forward through the trees. It passed overhead in a few mere steps and began leading the way eastward. Though it went more slowly than usual for the aches its injury caused it, the pace was still too fast for the average person to keep up with by simply walking. Mogwart quickly found himself stumbling on his too-tall legs again and soon resorted to gliding on the breezes alongside to beast to avoid tripping in every single pit and puddle.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” he called out to his company and cleared his throat with bravado, “My name is Momo, the pooooor helpless villager turned into log! Now if you don’t believe that, trust me. I won’t be offended if you instead remember me as Mogwart. Mogwart Smol. And what should I call the lot of you?” Even if he half expected his chatter to be ignored, he figured he’d introduce himself properly this time; ask their names in return. If they didn’t feel like sharing? He could always have his usual fun of giving them stupid nicknames. A point he was already enthusiastically beginning to make as he rattled off a few examples in warning.

“Milord Feather-butt? Acorns-for-eyes? The Flying Snow Turkey? Madame Maple Grumple-stiltskin? Sir Squawksalot? How about Daggers? Simple. Deadly. To the point.”

In any case, wherever the Crovantula was taking them wasn’t anywhere immediately near by. Apparently, it had fled a long ways to escape whatever vile thing injured it initially. If their party continued to follow it, they would eventually break through the trees to stand on the ledge of a cliffside. One that dropped sharply down onto a slightly colder but less wooded tundra. The season was mild enough that the grasses were starting to flourish. Only parts of the land were dusted and speckled in snow. In the distance between a gaping pair of mountains, the horizon glimmered with the gray ocean.

The thing that seemed out of place here however, would be the far off and towering metal fence surrounding what looked like a herd of various sorts of large creatures not commonly found in the area. A grim looking dome building sat in the center, from which emanated the faint cries of creatures fighting for their lives. As to what they were struggling against? That was yet to be seen.
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Re: Hunt or Be Hunted [Nocme; Mogwart]

Post by Nocme on Mon Mar 21, 2016 6:19 pm

Been teased on both sides only increased the rage meter in her stomach. The only saving grace is for Dace who can fly far out of reach. The goblin on the other hand, has only his speed to dodge her angry knee-jerk reaction, including punch to the stomach and something lower. If she was really pissed off she can always augment her attack with air, making it even harder to dodge. But for now this is far too petty and they have a bigger worry on the side.

Dace finally relents and dropped the scarf on top of her head, letting her wrapped it back up to conceal everything again. There was always the inherent danger in her mind when she go somewhere that she could be seen with other people. The only time she ever feel comfortable in taking the whole scarves off will be the same time she felt safe enough to strip and take a bath. Which doesn’t happen very often in the best of days, for various reasons.

As the corvantula starts to move and lead on, Nocme didn’t hesitate to climb onto its back and let it carry her. It is much stronger and she would feel nothing like a leaf to it. Dace also landed on its shell and rest while the giant herbivore carries them to their destination. Hopefully it is their target, or some people she could happily sink her dagger in.

Though she expected the goblin to leave and be on his way, since he wasn’t exactly shown to be someone who is brave enough to face the unknown. Especially with all the screaming against a herbivore. So Nocme still have to resist the urge to punch the green dude when he started listing nicknames. “Remind me why we didn’t just slit your throat and-”

“eat you? Then again Brussel sprouts are disgusting.” Dace laughed and draw out a small chuckle from the elf. He personally didn’t mind the nickname, they are pretty good on the level of how insulting it is.

“I’m okay with Dagger, as long as you are okay with Sprout.” Because he is green, and really she doesn’t spend all that time being creative with nicknames, that is Dace’s job. Not using Brussel sprout though, far too long of a name so she just cut it in half.

The trip became rather uneventful and long, only sound come from the corvantula’s large lumbering steps and the softer ones from the goblin’s bare feet running to keep up, which disappeared a bit later when the goblin resort to gliding to keep up. She kind of wanted to ask how he does it, but at the same time she doesn't want to. The air did feel the usual chill, but not to the extent of Valias. That unforgiving cold that pierces through all the scarves, vest and jumpers that layered under the poncho. They are actually heading further north still and its getting to the mountain region. They suddenly they stopped, out of the woods and on a cliff overlooking a large compound. The corvantula made a whimpering noise and shuffle further back so it would not be seen.

Nocme stare out to the valley below. Even with her elf ear mostly covered she could hear it so clearly. There are creatures tormented in there. Not too dissimilar to the one she often heard in the laboratory on the other land and its making her angrier. She may have no real love for her homeland or the patron god, but needless pain and torture always make her want to punch something. Dace land on her shoulder, quietly nudging and reminding her to stay calm. Charging in gun blazing has not worked in the past. There are better way to sow chaos in there.

“I know... I know...” She turned to the covantula, gently patting its snout. “Thanks for getting us here, you go now. Keep far away.” And make sure not to be captured again, but she did not say that out loud. It should already know to be careful around large metal object. It made a small whining noise before turning and shuffling back into the forest. Now the next problem is the little goblin, she still have to mentally correct herself that he isn’t that little anymore. It’s not easy since she has never seen magic that change size like that before. If there is such easy magic it would make robbing rich houses so much easier.

“Alright Sprout, I much rather hold on to that favour for later date so you have a choice.” She points down to where there is a gap in the fence, evident where the corvantula probably burst through to escape. “Help me sow chaos and break everything, or just leave. I don’t mind either way since I don’t think you like to fight.”

Dace eye immediately lit up at the mention of chaos. It meant prank time. And that is the best thing he heard all day. He could just happily stole all their underwear and weave them into a flag. Steal all their food – you can never have too much food. Burst every pipe by unscrewing stuff. And so many different little petty thing that could get the man running around in mad panic to patch a constantly leaking boat. Oh! Also releasing all the critter, because wild critter when freed loved to rampage and that is something he knew Nocme will capitalize on.
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