Monday, August 30, 2010

Lark: Combat Training... Of A Sort

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Still writing this thing! Since I don't really have anything better to post, here's a little stand-alone part from Lark's story. She and Lath have become good friends, and he offers to teach her some weapon skills. Enjoy! (Filler post mutter mutter....)

______________

Lath walked beside Lark as she headed to her camp. "We have a month off this time," he told her cheerfully. "Did so well on the last trip that Boss wants to plan out how he can repeat it. Of course, that means we'll be heading out next time right at the start of the fall rains." He made a face, and she laughed at him. "So," he added as they reached her camp. "Did you want to learn how to swing that club around? Or are you too tired?"

She looked at him, then down at the club. "I suppose it couldn't hurt," she said slowly. "You never know, it might come in handy."

Lath set her to doing some warm-up exercises, then disappeared into the woods. He returned in short order with a club of his own and waved her over. "Come show me your guard," he told her, and Lark obligingly settled into a defensive stance. Lath immediately lowered his club and stared at her incredulously, one eyebrow going up.

Lark offered a sheepish grin. "I take it I'm doing it wrong?"

"Ahh," he replied. "You might say that." He dropped his stick and went over to her. "Let me show you a, ahh, better position." He spent several minutes giving her pointers on her stance, then stepped over to his club and picked it up again. "Now," he announced. "Try to hit me."

An hour and a half later, Lark was sweaty, tired, and aching, both from taking blows from Lath's club and from laughing. Contrary to her disheveled appearance, Lath still looked irritatingly fresh. The druid proved to be quite acrobatic, and the few times she had managed to land a lucky blow on him, his "deaths" were rather... dramatic.

Lark finally grew tired of the "game." The next time Lath baited her teasingly, she bull-rushed him, chasing after when he tried to dodge, and they both fell to the ground in a tangle of arms, legs, and sticks. For the next several minutes the only sound heard was the two elves catching their breath.

Finally Lath raised his head to look at her. "I take it you've had enough?"

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Random chatlog is FUNNEH

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Monday night saw a lot of activity in the IC chat channel. For lack of anything better to post, I thought this was too funny to pass up. And yea, Pitch and Alanon tend to wrestle a lot when they get together; it's a brother thing. >.>

Also, NSFW warning for language, and for Sey just being Sey.

_______________


[exileic] Pitchblàck: .... scuse me, I see someone that needs pounced
[exileic] Seylon: AWW. Pitch!
[exileic] Seylon: Get on back here.
[exileic] Alanón: Too late, little brother. I see you
[exileic] Pitchblàck: ...drat
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Get back where?
[exileic] Feliche: What other meanin' could y'be gettin' at? She said th'point'a her dress is t'have't torn off an fucked. An' y'offered t'help wit'r dress. What other meanin' could there be?
[exileic] Seylon: Fel, you're real hung up on hatin' Jeb m'thinkin'.
[exileic] Feliche: Fuckin' SI:7.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: See? That was why I was hav-mph- ing doubts
[exileic] Seylon: Yeah, yeah. But you're nice t'that little fuckin' psycho with th'tentacle monster. He ain't no worse.
[exileic] Jebediaeh: Ya'll ever helped a lady take off a dress right proper? And I ain't no Sevens no more.
[exileic] Seylon: Oh! Oh I have!
[exileic] Seylon: Helped th'gal with her dress.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Tentacle monster?
[exileic] Jebediaeh: Ain't right easy sometimes, is it, ma'am?
[exileic] Feliche: ...y'still know more'n y'oughtta. An' yer implyin', 'en, 'at y'wanta take't off an' fuck'r, still.
[exileic] Feliche: Jes' cause y'ain't tearin' don' change a thing.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Do I even -want- to know about the -oof- tentacle monster?
[exileic] Alanón: Please, tell him about the monster. It's distracting him nicely
[exileic] Feliche: ...Sky's never introduced y't'her friend?
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Hah!
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Oh, that one -oof-
[exileic] Feliche: Was th'implication, indeed.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Yes, I met him...OUCH
[exileic] Seylon: Ya know garters, yeah? Like th'garter belts?
[exileic] Alanón: Sorry Pitch
[exileic] Pitchblàck: No you're not
[exileic] Seylon: Ya know it near took me fifty years t'learn how t'unlatch one'a them stocking garter thingers with one hand?
[exileic] Alanón: *snicker*
[exileic] Seylon: S'a life skill.
[exileic] Seylon: Trick is findin' a gal who'd wear them things.
[exileic] Seylon: Takes a lady type. I ain't met one'a them in a while.
[exileic] Seylon: Fel, I wanna lady-type.
[exileic] Feliche: Eh?
[exileic] Feliche: Y'got one in yer class.
[exileic] Jebediaeh: Ya reckon Ms. Loreli does?
[exileic] Seylon: With th'laces an' unders all satiny an' th'pretty flouncey shit.
[exileic] Alanón: Pitch, watch out for the- *cat wail*
[exileic] Alanón: ..... edge
[exileic] Kost: Not worth half the effort somedays.
[exileic] Seylon: Lore?
[exileic] Seylon: . . . she ain't a pretty unders type.
[exileic] Jebediaeh: Yeah.
[exileic] Feliche: Y'checked?
[exileic] Pitchblàck: I'm okay!
[exileic] Pitchblàck: ... you know, if anyone was wondering
[exileic] Feliche: S'good Pitch, m'glad.
[exileic] Seylon: Was! Pitch, was.
[exileic] Seylon: She's more practical.
[exileic] Seylon: Huh. Bettin' Lore's unders are prolly flat satin, black.
[exileic] Seylon: If'n she's dressin' up.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: *Rawr*
[exileic] Alanón: Oof
[exileic] Seylon: Other folk're different.
[exileic] Feliche: Well, Sey...y'got options.
[exileic] Seylon: Threnny an' Aely? Simple an' white. Maybe pink for Aely cause that'd be cute as hell.
[exileic] Feliche: Either y'go out an' get one, or y'wait 'til yer done wit' yer current class.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Aha! -mnph- Got y-
[exileic] Seylon: I don't fuck 'em while they're students!
[exileic] Feliche: What'd I jes' say?
[exileic] Seylon: S'wrong.
[exileic] Seylon: I know I know.
[exileic] Seylon: So I gotta go get one s'th'problem.
[exileic] Feliche: Right.
[exileic] Seylon: What do ya think Annalea wears?
[exileic] Seylon: Bet she don't wear no unders.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: *growling, scuffling noises*
[exileic] Jebediaeh: Reckon ya can rent one fer the night. A lady, I mean.
[exileic] Feliche: *sighs*
[exileic] Seylon: S'a topic m'interested in!
[exileic] Seylon: Y'outta be too.
[exileic] Feliche: ...I don' care what folks wear.
[exileic] Alanón: Would anyone care to explain to my brother why he keeps losing to cat smaller than he is? *snicker*
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Oh shut it
[exileic] Seylon: Prolly cause he's impatient.
[exileic] Feliche: Cause he ain't wearin' th'proper underpants?
[exileic] Seylon: Most younger folk -CACKLES-.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Am -mrrph- not
[exileic] Feliche: Y'ain't wearin' underpants, 'en?
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Wait
[exileic] Feliche: S'yer problem right there.
[exileic] Kal: *snickering*
[exileic] Alanón: *laughter*
[exileic] Seylon: *snorts*
[exileic] Pitchblàck: DIDN'T SAY THAT
[exileic] Feliche: Go get yerself a nice loose pair'a boxer briefs, feel free's a bird wit'out th'junk bouncin' 'round everywhere.
[exileic] Seylon: Explains why Sky likes ya so much.
[exileic] Feliche: S'convinient an' comfortable.
[exileic] Alanón: Pitch, edge
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Whoops
[exileic] Feliche: An' only one button in th'front, fer easy access too.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: I might *grunt* try that sometime -oof- Fel
[exileic] Feliche: M'tellin' yeh, s'th'bee's knee's.
[exileic] Seylon: Oh, Fel. Crazy Cora left a present for ya
[exileic] Feliche: ...throw't out. I don' wan't.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Cheating!
[exileic] Seylon: She made it her own self!
[exileic] Feliche: S'probably a dead rat.
[exileic] Seylon: Ain't. S'a necklace.
[exileic] Alanón: That is not cheating, Pitch
[exileic] Feliche: A necklace made'a dead rats?
[exileic] Seylon: Acorns.
[exileic] Feliche: ...acorns.
[exileic] Seylon: Yeah.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Wait, a dead rat necklace?
[exileic] Seylon: Nope. Acorns.
[exileic] Alanón: No, Pitch, you can't have one
[exileic] Pitchblàck: .....
[exileic] Seylon: It'd fuckin' smell.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Acorns are cool, too
[exileic] Feliche: ...acorns leak tree sap, th'woman's tryin' t'torture me.
[exileic] Feliche: Y'ever try gettin' tree sap outta chest hair?
[exileic] Alanón: It wouldn't, because he's eat it before it began smelling
[exileic] Feliche: S'pretty much th'worst torture ever.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: ... what's wrong with eating dead squirrels? Easier than eating them alive
[exileic] Alanón: Pitch!
[exileic] Pitchblàck: *another cat wail*
[exileic] Alanón: .... I think we should find another spot
[exileic] Riàtha: (Kal)*snerks*
[exileic] Pitchblàck: I'm fine! ow
[exileic] Pitchblàck: So um, is anyone at the Pig?
[exileic] Seylon: Ain't, an' we gotta get back soon 'fore Crazy Cora burns th'fuckin' house down.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: .....
[exileic] Feliche: *grunts* ...we? When th'fuck'd at happen?
[exileic] Seylon: Well she was sniffin' round th'house earlier!
[exileic] Kost: Was planning on passing by, but considering that last conversation, I felt it best to look elsewhere.
[exileic] Feliche: ...I told yeh s'a bad idea.
[exileic] Seylon: Went wanderin' back into th'woods.
[exileic] Seylon: Which? Th'underwear one? M'sorry, darlin'. Didn't mean t'offend.
[exileic] Seylon: Was just funnin'.
[exileic] Feliche: ...yer mockin' me.
[exileic] Seylon: How'm I mockin' ya?
[exileic] Feliche: Y'are.
[exileic] Seylon: I ain't!
[exileic] Kost: Pft, hardly offended, was more of a moment of bloody hell, why did I leave the volume up and why is this lot staring at me now.
[exileic] Seylon: Ah shit.
[exileic] Seylon: Should warn ya t'turn your box down when I get goin'.
[exileic] Seylon: Seems I misbehave, but i make up for it in charm.
[exileic] Seylon: A'right.
[exileic] Seylon: Fel, s'a nice necklace for somethin' made outta acorns.
[exileic] Feliche: ...s'er treesap leakin' outta it?
[exileic] Seylon: No!
[exileic] Feliche: ..no, s'too obvious.
[exileic] Feliche: More likely sh'rigged it t'explode in m'eyeballs.
[exileic] Feliche: Or scream at me 'til m'ears bleed.
[exileic] Seylon: It don't. You're bein' ridiculous.
[exileic] Seylon: Anyrate, we're off folk.
[exileic] Seylon: Behave yourselves. Sorry 'bout th'offense, Kost.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: So who is crazy Cora anyway?
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Oh, night you two
[exileic] Feliche: Th'nuttiest bitch y'ever met.
[exileic] Seylon: New gal in th'set'a sentinels we're trainin'.
[exileic] Feliche: ...an' y'don' wanna meet.
[exileic] Seylon: She's crazy.
[exileic] Kost: No harm, no foul.
[exileic] Seylon: She's funny as hell.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Mkay, I'll take your word for it
[exileic] Feliche: S'gonna get someone killed.
[exileic] Seylon: Fel's bein' all prejudiced 'gainst crazy people.
[exileic] Seylon: Ya know th'reports say she's hyper-intelligent.
[exileic] Feliche: She tried t'piss on me.
[exileic] Seylon: Like smarter than you an' me combined.
[exileic] Seylon: SHE FUCKIN' DID NOT.
[exileic] Feliche: Don' come across s'intelligent.
[exileic] Feliche: Well, whatever.
[exileic] Seylon: *grunts*
[exileic] Seylon: Right. Night folk.
[exileic] Pitchblàck: Night!
[exileic] Feliche: Ayeh, catch y'lot later.
[exileic] Alanón: Goodnight

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Art Catch-Up

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Yea, I've been busy the last couple days on this, instead of writing. I'm a baddie.

First, featuring characters besides Pitch, Shaurria or Lark! *gasp*
Have a Barraccus and Quae.


It's not perfect, but I'm still happy with it. The words in the corner are lyrics from this song. I thought it was fitting considering how much they try to protect each other.

Next up is Shaurria and Windstar. Sis gave me pointers on coloring Star, so that's really how she looks. And Shaur is a cutie, as always.


I got bored one day and started wondering what Lath's cat form would look like. This is the result. He's a rather handsome bugger.


So that's it for now. All my current writing projects still have a ways to go, but I may come up with something random to post. We'll see.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Lark: First Meeting

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This is turning out to be almost a book by itself, so since it's taking so long, I thought I'd throw up a teaser here. Here's Lark's first meeting with Lath. Enjoy!

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Lark glared at the cheery-looking inn from her seat across the road. Beside her, her nightsaber chuffed and nudged her arm. "I know," she muttered. "You want bed and supper. Problem is, we don't have either anymore." She sighed in frustration.

When the big gray cat came up next to her and sat down, she didn't seem to notice. After a few moments, however, she reached out and began scratching around its ears. The cat purred, then spoke up. "You don't look very happy," it noted in a definitely masculine voice. Lark gave a wry half-grin. "That's because I'm not," she replied. The cat flicked an ear. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Lark waved a hand at the inn across the street. "Got kicked out of there because I couldn't pay my tab anymore. I have no job because no one wants to hire an untried free-lancer, no money, and no food or stabling for my buddy here, either." Wynd rumbled faintly at her mention of him, and the druid-cat smirked a bit. "That is pretty rough," he said. "Is there anything I can do to help? I know I'm a stranger, but..." Lark shook her head. "We've camped out in the woods before, we can do it again. I appreciate the offer, though. I just don't want to be indebted to anyone else right now."

The druid digested that in silence for a bit. "My name is Lath," he said finally. "Lathenil Skywing of the Claw, to be exact. If I can't do anything else, could I buy you some dinner? Just as an offer of friendship, you don't need to pay me back." He looked at her from the corner of his eye, waiting for her response.

Lark's stomach chose that moment to growl loudly, and she chuckled as Lath smirked. "I suppose I ought to take you up on that. I'm Lark." She offered a hand as the druid simultaneously stood and unshifted, and he took it and shook it warmly. "I know a place nearby, and they'll even provide some scraps for your friend," he said cheerfully, then struck out down the road. Lark clucked to Wynd and fell in beside him.

"Scraps" turned out to be leftovers from the tables and raw cuts of meat that didn't pass the cook's inspection. Lark looked it all over first and found it satisfactory, so Wynd was soon fussing daintily over a good-sized supper. They sat at a table just inside the door, so Lark could keep an ear on him. She naturally also took the opportunity to look her unexpected benefactor over.

He was tall, a good deal taller than her, but thin as a post. Despite that, what muscles she could see were well-defined; he was obviously used to hard work. His light blue hair was possibly the most impressive thing about him. He had a veritable mane that reached partway down his back, with various trinkets braided into it. She couldn't see all of them, but she made out several feathers, a tiny bird skull, and what looked like a bear claw. His face was narrow, like the rest of him, but his expression was friendly and open.

Lath chatted all through their meal, somehow pulling out a good deal of information from her while telling her about himself as well. She found out he was a guard for a trade caravan, home for a week or two while they restocked before setting out again. He did have a home here, just close enough to be considered part of the village but far enough away for privacy. He appeared genuinely interested in her, and her occasional bouts of self-critical humor seemed to puzzle him. He joked with her often, to try and keep her spirits high. She thought he was good company, but didn't expect it to last longer than the night.

When they left, and Lark started toward her favorite campsite, he fell into step beside her. "Hope you don't mind an escort, but I've nothing better to do right now, and the least I could do is make sure you get there safely." She shrugged and said, "I don't mind. Ought to crash soon, though, so I can start looking for work tomorrow." She frowned. "Again." He cocked an eyebrow at her, but said nothing.

They arrived at the clearing in short order, and Lark began setting up her tiny tent. Lath, to her surprise, turned cat and prowled around the perimeter, returning just as she finished arranging her bedroll. "Everything around is clear. You should sleep well," he told her, and she grinned. "Thanks." He stood there for a few moments more, shifting his front feet as if he were nervous. Finally he said simply, "Goodnight Lark. I enjoyed your company, and hope to see you around more often." Lark blinked at him in surprise as he turned and trotted back toward the village.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Lark: Quiloe

1 comment:
Yes, I am a petaholic. This fills up Lark's stable, but that's fine with me because I can't think of any other pets I'd like her to get. And yea, this is an IC pet, hence the story. Enjoy!

P.S. For clarification, her name is pronounced "Quil-oh-ee".
________________

The wolf pup had never been this far from home before- home being the sprawl of Jintha'Alor, where the trolls raised her kind as allies in their never-ending raids. But she had been hit by a surge of wanderlust, and no one saw her trot off into the Hinterlands grassland.

She hadn't meant to go far, but one interesting sight or scent led to another, and soon she was completely lost. As evening began to fall, she started casting back along her trail, trying to find her way home. But she was young and inexperienced, and the trail by now was muddled by other creatures, the scent growing old and faint. Whining under her breath, she struck out in a random direction, trusting in fate now to get her home.

She stopped when she saw the stronghold, knowing through instinct that the dwarves were enemies and not likely to welcome her. With full dark coming down, and no other alternatives apparent, she found shelter in the lee of a boulder and settled for the night.

She never even scented the big male gryphon- out patrolling his territory one last time before he went to his own bed- until it was too late.


* * * * * *

Lark wasn't sure why she decided to take a walk once her business in Aerie Peak was done. When the faint whine reached her ears, she wasn't even certain she had heard it. But she found herself poking around the rocks near the entrance to the Plaguemist Ravine anyway.

She almost gave up when the whine came again, and she saw the black face peek at her from around a boulder further in. She crept up carefully-just in case it was something come down from the Plaguelands- and peered around the rock.

"Oh, you poor thing."

The smallish black wolf that stared back at her was only a year old at the absolute most, likely not even that. It- she, rather- had curled herself into as small a ball as her torn-up sides would let her. It seemed obvious to Lark that one of the Wildhammer's gryphons had found the young thing and attacked her.

The wolf snarled, and Lark was reminded that young and hurt she may be, but she was still a wild animal. She knelt, speaking quietly to her in Darnassian, and was rewarded by the soft thump of a wagging tail. Encouraged, Lark edged nearer, stopping when the wolf snarled again. This time it lacked the desperate edge that it had had before, so she added a coaxing note to her voice as she continued talking to her.

After several minutes of growling, whining, and tail-thumping, the wolf finally wriggled toward the elf. Lark hardly dared to breathe as the young canine crawled up to her, coming to a stop at her side with a last pained whine. Carefully, she placed a hand on the wolf's back, receiving another wag in response. Permission granted, she began examining the animal's injuries.

The first thing she noticed was that this was not one of the big Silvermane wolves that prowled the area and hunted the gryphons here. The little female looked more like the smaller, faster wolves bred by the native troll tribes- possibly a runaway that got too close to Wildhammer lands. The gryphons, naturally, saw any wolf as a predator, and Lark couldn't blame them for the attack. It was simple instinct.

The second realization was that the attack had apparently happened several hours ago. It appeared that the bleeding had stopped, but the exertion of crawling to Lark had made several of the cuts start oozing again. The hunter was also disturbed by the size of the gash that started on her left shoulder and went partway down her foreleg. The animal favored the leg heavily, unwilling or unable to bear any weight on it. Lark knew she would need a healer for this- the wounds were beyond her skills to treat. Carefully, trying to jar the wolf as little as possible, she lifted her up in her arms, then headed back to the Peak.

* * * * * *

The wolf had spent a miserable night after she had fought free of the gryphon. He hadn't chased her once she got in among the boulders, instead leaving to go find his nest. Torn and bleeding, the youngster had curled up as well as she could and spent the long night shivering and whining.

She had never seen an elf before, but this person spoke to her more kindly than any of her troll masters had, and she felt safe with her. When the elf lifted her up, she merely tried to stay as still as possible, trusting that the stranger would make everything better.


* * * * * *

Lark knew that the dwarves had a long-standing hatred of the wolves that preyed on their gryphons, but she had hoped that the wolf's young age and pitiful condition might soften their hearts enough that they would help. Dwarves being dwarves, she reflected now, she should have known better.

Arguing with them while the wolf whimpered and trembled in her arms quickly shredded her temper. "Fine," she snapped. "If you won't spare any of your medical supplies, at least let me rent a gryphon to get her home."

The dwarf she had been addressing gave a snort. "Lass," he told her. "Ye won't find any o' our gryphons'll be willin' ta carry a wolf. Yer crazy ta think 'o tryin' it."

Lark just gave him a level stare. "How about if I can find one that will carry her, I get the ride free of charge?" she challenged. The dwarf's eyebrow rose. "Done," he said.

Lark kept the smirk from her face as she looked over the gryphons present, finally choosing a female that had sat quietly through their entire argument. After a few minutes of sweet-talking, she swung herself up into the saddle, the wolf supported in her arms again. The dwarves present all just blinked in surprise as she gently kicked the gryphon up into the air.

The long flight to Stormwind gave Lark time to think. What am I going to do with her? she wondered. I've got Tuah and Komah already, I don't need a third pet. The wolf distracted her by turning to lick at her face. Nether, she swore to herself. I'll figure it out when she's well.

She was able to hold onto the wolf and manage her buzzbox while flying, so Pitch was at the flight master's waiting for her when they touched down. "I've looked all over for Alanon," he said apologetically as they headed toward the Mage District and her room at the University. "He's not in the city, and he's not answering his buzzbox either."

Lark cursed softly again. "All right then, it can't be helped. I have a job though, and I have to go. Can you watch her for me til I get back?"

I can watch her. Komah padded over, rumbling quietly in welcome. The wolf tried to shrink away when he came near, but the huge cat simply stared into her eyes for a few moments, and she calmed down. Komah lay down at her side, and she gave a thump of her tail. Go on, she'll be fine.

Lark nodded, then looked to Pitch. "Keep trying to find your brother? If you still can't reach him, I'll try to find another healer when I get back." At Pitch's nod, she turned and left.

* * * * * *

[exileic] Wildlark: So. I could use a healer if there are any about?

[exileic] Aelflaed: I'm in Stormwind, if ye need?

[exileic] Wildlark: That'd be perfect. Where at?

[exileic] Arrens: We're along the docks, Madam Lark. Is everything alright?

[exileic] Wildlark: And, ahh, do you have any objections to working on animals?

[exileic] Aelflaed: No, though I dinna ha' nearly th' experience wi' such.

[exileic] Wildlark: Arrens, everything's fine. I just made a new friend and she's a little beat up

* * * * * *

Wildlark is carrying a young wolf.

Arrens says: Good eve, Madam Lark.

Aelflaed says: 'lo Lark.

Aelflaed peers at the wolf.

Wildlark sets her down, steadying her as she stands on three legs.

Wildlark says: Evening boss

Aelflaed says: Wha' happened?

Aelflaed holds out her fingers to the wolf, but doesn't make any eye contact.

Likal ’s Tallstrider Kanoni peers at the wolf, taking interest.

Wildlark says: I found her up in the Hinterlands, after she tangled with a gryphon

The wolf sniffs cautiously, looking at the others with wide eyes.

Aelflaed winces. "Ouch, wee one."

Likal purses her lips.

Aelflaed kneels down slowly, letting her fingers fill with Light, to see how the wolf reacts.

Wildlark says: Pitch's brother picked a bad time to be out of town, otherwise he'd have taken care of it

The wolf watches, but doesn't move.

Wildlark says: She's not aggressive at all, just young, so she startles easily

Aelflaed says: Trust me jus' a moment, wee one, aye? Need a look ay yir leg.

Aelflaed murmurs softly under her breath, gently running her fingers through the wolf's fur.

Likal ’s Tallstrider Kanoni starts to pace and bob her head. Likal looks over at Kanoni, frowning slightly.

Likal says softly, "I better get going. Wouldn't want to interrupt the healing."

Aelflaed mrrphs. "Ye did a proper job, aye, wee one?"

Wildlark gently pats the wolf, who wags her tail at the contact.

Aelflaed fills her fingers with light, gently healing the various claw marks and then pushes a good deal of healing energy into her left foreleg.

The wolf flinches and whines, but that's all.

Aelflaed stands back up, gently scritching at the wolf's ears.

Aelflaed says: She'll be a'right.

Wildlark says: Yep

Aelflaed says: Keep her quietish, aye? Th' claw marks'll heal easy eno', but tha' gash is nasty

Wildlark smiles faintly. "I know. I've had a few animals before now.

Aelflaed says: She got a name yet?

Wildlark says: Quiloe

Aelflaed gently pats Quiloe.

Aelflaed says: Sweet thing, seems.

Wildlark says: She is

Arrens says: Can we expect to be seeing Quiloe around the University then, Madam Lark?

Wildlark looks a bit embarrassed.

Wildlark says: Ahh, probably yes

Arrens nods.

Arrens says: Very well. I'll have the proper arrangements made. Erm...what do domesticated wolves eat anyways?

Lorelli says: Cow? Sheep?

Aelflaed says: Bear burgers.

Arrens says: Whole?!

Wildlark says: She'll eat the same things that Tuah and Komah do, Proff

Aelflaed says: If she's anythin' like Rog, she'll eat pretty well anythin'.

Arrens nods.

Arrens says: Very well. Then I can cross wolf provisions off the list of things I'd need to worry about in the morning.

Wildlark scratches Quiloe's ears. The wolf turns to lick at her face.

Lorelli says: She gets really hungry I'm sure you could toss one of the worst of the trouble makers.

Lorelli grins wickedly.

Wildlark snerks.

Aelflaed grins.

Arrens shakes his head slightly.

Wildlark watches Quiloe walk critically.

Wildlark says: That's much better, thank you

You bow before Aelflaed.

Aelflaed smiles.

Aelflaed says: Muscle an' skin are easier than most everythin' else - an' na' that differen' on differen' critters. 'm glad I could help.

Wildlark says: If you'll excuse me, I'd like to go find Pitch

Arrens says: Of course. Be well, Madam Lark.

* * * * * *

Lark watched contentedly as the little wolf sniffed around a patch of grass. She moved a little stiffly, but she did put weight on her leg and her other wounds were little more than pink lines through the fur. "You know, she's going to have some pretty impressive scars. Aely did a good job, though."

Pitch, sitting next to her, nodded. "So," he said casually. "Do you know what you're going to do with her?"

Lark frowned. "I don't need another pet," she said a bit defensively. "She'd make three, and it'd be impossible to give them all the attention they need."

Pitch nodded agreeably. "She does like you alot, though. Have you asked the others what they think of her?"

She shrugged, watching as the wolf moved to another grass patch and sniffed again. "Tuah doesn't care. He's happy so long as he's with me and I'm happy. Komah says that it's up to me, and he's fine with whatever I decide." The big spirit-cat lying nearby opened his eyes and rumbled agreement.

"Well then," the druid replied. "Why not keep her?" Lark simply shrugged again, her expression showing her inner conflict. Pitch glanced over at her with a small, knowing grin. "Does she have a name?" he asked casually. Lark shot him a dirty look.

"Quiloe," she answered. Hearing the name, the wolf pricked her ears and trotted over to flop down at her side, tongue lolling happily. Lark began scratching her ears as her tail thumped on the ground. Pitch wisely held back his snicker.

* * * * * *

The wolf- Quiloe- was happy. The elf had made the pain stop, as she had known she would. She was well-fed, and the two cats she apparently shared this territory with were quiet and left her alone. And she felt good around the elf, like some of the hunter's feelings were being placed in her head. She even liked the name the elf had given her.

Quiloe knew nothing about hunters and their pets, but she could sense the bond growing between them, and was content. All was well in her world.


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(The chatlog of her healing was an afterthought. It was kinda long to begin with, but after adding that it just sort of exploded. I guess I just like MWoTs?)