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Post by treemawl on Apr 8, 2010 14:16:59 GMT -5
He flew over the Lumera Valley, yellow eyes burning like fire, wings spread wide. He was a dark shadow, and at the same time, the blazing sun, his wings were the wings of the very devil, his golden fur, the fur coat worn by angels. Everything he saw, he ruled, for he was Treemawl Hurlkreez!
He let loose a harsh cry to let all those around him know their lord and master was coming. He could imagine them trembling in fear and awe as his muscle-bound form swooped above them. How they must wish they were him! How they must wonder why such a wonderful creature, nay, such a deity, would care to look upon their humble space of earth!
Treemawl spiraled to inspect the ground closer, his gray talons stirring the grass as he flew just above them. This was the life! The perfect life! The life of a king! The life of an emperor!
However, this land lacked subjects that he could see. He needed to inspect the people here, tell them that he had claimed their land for his vast kingdom! He just needed one wolf, that was all, just one, to make sure all was well...
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Post by Eschew Gewgaws on Apr 8, 2010 14:45:46 GMT -5
There was that odd roundabout way the world worked. The sky would rain down, force the earth into submission and then suck back all the wetness to shape the clouds. In fact, her feathers were now damp and the griffin who strolled down the way wore a scowl in her eyes, but her beak was frozen in its permanent expressionless mask. The humidity was disgusting. Eschew Gewgaws, as she called herself in the language of the wolves, walked through the valley with a sort of heaving tiredness. Despite the few whispering days of frosted mornings, today was unseasonably and unreasonably warm.
She walked rather than flew and her dark right eye was shut in agony. Too bright, too bright. She swept her head from side to side to try to locate a delicious place to lie down in the shade. A lone tree stood bravely and she half-flew, half-ran to it. Her lion tail tickled the breeze before she slammed her body down in the cool grass and started to rest. She shut both her eyes. And she relied on her ears and nose to rest her sharp eyes. The griffins were quite visual creatures, but the keen ears could detect at least something. Nothing like the wolves. She admired those creatures… If only… if only…
A brief flash of memory shot through her mind as she day-dreamed. She imagined her good friend Iudex, next to her, close to her and telling her sweet nothings as if they were lovers. It was so lovely. She could almost feel his kisses upon her razor-sharp beak, but then that was only the merciful breeze that blew. The weather seemed to change and with the wind, someone came.
She wore a bored look in her eyes; the spots above them only confirmed her expression of nonchalance. It crashed her dreams and with the sight of the other, male griffin, she quickly called herself disgusting for thinking of such a thing. She, a griffin, wishing so hard for a relationship with a neutered hybrid wolf? She was going insane. She was such an idiot, she knew this. But the way he held himself, it disgusted her more.
Something she liked about Iudex was how he could be meek and proud at the same time. He was humble and full of pride. There was nothing she thought that was more balanced and more right. But this griffin, this horrible popinjay of a griffin, almost made her laugh at how stupid it all seemed. Was this her race? There was something awe-inspiring in the way he held himself, with overly noble head and overly noble personality as well as a monstrous brutish force within the bowels of his spirit.
Iudex would have been able to take all the world with simply his words.
As much as she would like to believe it, she knew it wasn’t true. With a sigh, she knew that her reputation preceded her. She was a wolf lover. She knew it. As hard as she tried to disprove it, she knew it. And almost out of submission she neglected her shade and walked the many yards to the Griffin who had landed. Her sharp left eye could define every detail of him from far away and she was certain that she knew his personality already.
“Sroo Pip,” she said her name like a Griffin and looked at her bold brethren. “That’s who I am. Who are you?” She didn’t dare use a piece of the wolf language despite her love of its melodious mourning, it’s inspiring battlespeak, and of course, its poetic richness of song in every motion and tone. She spoke like a griffin, a sharp tongue, a sweet tongue, able to make songs like a babbling brook.
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Post by treemawl on Apr 8, 2010 15:12:39 GMT -5
Treemawl looked upon the other griffin who had approached him with a regal eye. She- for a she it was, he saw- was a tad bit small, and obviously not of any royal blood, such as himself. He held his head high as she introduced herself as Sroo Pip and then, in the most insolent of manners, asked him who he was. There was no bowing before his feet, no formality. He couldn't believe she didn't know who he was!
"Ah," he said, "Am Lord Treemawl Hurlkreez, Ruler of all ah survey." There was a note of pride in his voice, "Ah'm the one who'll be claimin' this land, an' any who live on et." he looked Sroo up and down, "Ahre you one of them?"
Treemawl's mind tended to work along two different lines when someone didn't give him the respect he thought he deserved. One way was that if they did say they were a part of his kingdom, and still didn't respect him properly as Lord and Ruler of everything was to rip them to shreds. The other was the way of the one who didn't know him or respect him, he'd rip them into much smaller shreds, and a whole lot slower, because he could do that to people who weren't his subjects.
However, this was another griffin, and he felt the rules changed there. Now, instead of ripping her into very small shreds very slowly, he might simply clip her wings. He was Treemawl Hurlkreez, after all, and that name itself gave him the authority to destroy anyone who didn't know him, so that everyone else would here and know him. After all, if one tears apart everyone in one's kingdom, there's no one left to rule.
And so Treemawl looked at this griffin and wondered how to deal with this sudden recognition problem and not have to deal with someone close to his size. So many troubles for a king...
OOC: Sorry the post is so short, my head hurts a little...
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Post by Eschew Gewgaws on Apr 8, 2010 16:16:43 GMT -5
She snorted a bit, rolled her eyes. She was asking if she was one of them. She didn’t know or care who they were, but if anything, he seemed like every griffin she knew. He loved his power, his talons. His form was that of a killer’s and he was perfectly built to kill. He was a brute who was as light on his wing as a sparrow. She tucked her short wings against her body. What was she?
Essy felt a certain sadness. She wished that she was like them. She hoped that she could stroll with the griffin—her own species without that branded name. Wolf-Lover. She was nothing like them. She was outcast. Perhaps the fact that he was asking her such a question, when all her life she was called the outsider, she felt a burning rage eat at the back of her mind. Instead of answering her question, she boldly said, “Lord... Treemawl Hurlkreez... F*ck that, you are just like the rest of them.” She played her beak, snapping it once before she settled to her permanent scowl. This was the predator’s expression. Nature herself carved this expression into her hooked beak. And she saw that the kingly Griffin wore the same face.
She narrowed her eyes but kept on her feet, she wasn’t daring to let herself be vulnerable. Despite her blazing words, she was a coward. She couldn’t rely on speed or endurance for escape, but agility. She raised her tail like a wolf would—by habit.
She really was the Wolf-Lover.
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OOC:
LOL, length is nothing, silly. Your post was interesting and easy to reply to.
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Post by treemawl on Apr 9, 2010 7:27:28 GMT -5
Treemawl sat down. Hard. The female's words had stunned him. No one had ever spoken to him like that. A burning feeling arose from the pits of his stomach, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. The two emotions struggled for a moment. Anger won.
Treemawl stood back up, slowly, menacingly, and loomed over Sroo. Whatever angelic properties he had when he was in the air, he lost now. Spreading his dark wings so as to cast his body in shadow, he glared down at Sroo, yellow eyes blazing with hell fire.
Any semblance of kindness towards his fellow griffin were erased. Sroo raised her tail, and Treemawl paused to wonder why. He'd seen a wolf do something akin to that before, just before he'd been ripped to shreds. Treemawl laughed, a rumbling sound from the depths of his throat. What a silly thing this Sroo was!
"Whahts this?" he asked, "You're tail... ahre you tryin' t'act like ah wolf?" This amused him. Oh, he would still murder her for her insolence, but he found something funny about her overall manner. It was decidedly... ungriffinesque. Even in his condition, even through eyes that saw everything as his and his only, and didn't make many observations about it, Sroo was defiantly not normal. What was so different..?
"Ah've eaten wolf before," Treemawl said, "Ah wonder, if you act like one... do ye taste like one too?"
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Post by Eschew Gewgaws on May 17, 2010 10:18:03 GMT -5
Eaten wolf. She looked at him innocently. There was not an ounce of pride in her for what she did best. She really was a griffin wonder. Her mastery of the Lupine tongue was probably unsurpassed, but even then, it was not as lovely and perfect as the way the wolves spoke. She had even begun to regard her own language as bestial. As nothing more than ugly squawks and hisses and chirps. Nothing redeemable. She still couldn’t hold her tongue and in a spitfire reply, retorted, “If that’s what y’think then, then you might as well been bonked more than a few times. Ha, you really are an idiot.” She wagged her tail once in a griffin-like take that sort of response. She had a habit of leaning back after she said something that she thought was particularly nasty.
Then she smirked with her eyes. “But why be a griffin when you can be more.” She surveyed the land that Treemawl wished to claim. “Did you know there is nothing more loyal and unbreakable than the allegiance of a wolf?” She shrugged her wings and opened them slightly, to ready for a quick escape. She didn’t know how well he’d take her smart-aleck responses and she was a bit hesitant to see the result.
But then again, she was curious.
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Post by treemawl on Jun 6, 2010 14:15:57 GMT -5
Treemawl chuckled. Sroo was most definitely brave, speaking to him like that. She seemed to have some sort of strange love for wolves, something he didn't understand.
However, his amusement ended when she called him an idiot. Again rage burned in his heart. He was about to lunge at her, about to rip her worthless tongue out, but she spoke again, and he halted once again.
"But why be a griffin when you can be more." What did that mean? And the allegiance of a wolf? Wolves were just prey, wolves were just another lower-class species. He didn't consider them something to make an allegiance with. The rage burned out. Now he wanted to know what was wrong with Sroo. She had such a strange view of the world. He wanted that view. He wanted the land and the sky and that strange way of seeing the world.
"Tell me more," he said, sitting back down, "tell me everything you seem to think about the world, because Ah don't understand." And he didn't understand. He could see Sroo priming to run away, but he had cooled off.
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Post by Eschew Gewgaws on Jun 6, 2010 20:47:37 GMT -5
Her feathers twitched as they went between ready and uncertain. She had turned her good eye toward him and felt the earth with her feet. She was intensely in tune with her environment, ready for that bad moment. His accent made the already harsh language of the griffins even harsher. But what he said next had surprised her. He didn’t want to kill her; he wanted to learn more.
Sroo’s feathers remained fluff, but she let her guard down slightly. Her wings where re-folded, but nothing casual. She could still feel her heart beating like the cry of a cicada. It felt like it was whirring rather than beating. The female griffin looked at the male and decided that perhaps she was wrong. He wasn’t like all the other griffins. Instead of mocking her, chasing her, beating her, he actually sat down to listen to her. Shyly, Sroo began, but after the first few words, she found her fire again.
“What is a griffin but the measure of his prowess in the skies? The sharpness of his talon? The keenness of his hunt? Why is it that what makes a griffin the best is nothing but what he’s born with?” She spoke carefully, not wanting to be a plaything for him to kill. Besides, the reason why she was able to think outside the griffin realm of thinking was because she had been so sorely unsuited for it. “When you… see the wolves… they take each wolf and each wolf has an equal chance for greatness. No matter if he was born able or born… with a bad hand dealt to him… or…” she thought quietly of her sweet Iudex. “Or… had unspeakable evils thrust upon him.” Her whistly and high pitched voice squeaked under the pressure of suddenly being put under the spotlight. She had an easier time with words when she was making burning remarks and antagonistic jabs, but that was because… she knew that her words weren’t listened to. Here, here was a change. She wasn’t ready. She felt like she wasn’t ready.
“I mean.” She sighed and turned her dark right eye toward him in a sort of resignation. Underfoot, she was tearing the grass with her dexterous fore-talons. She picked a long weed and stopped. “Have you ever talked with a wolf? They are a creature that is nothing but heart!” She said this and then quieted.
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Post by treemawl on Jun 8, 2010 15:39:19 GMT -5
Treemawl listened quietly, trying to work out all that Sroo was saying. He understood what she was getting at to some degree. It did indeed seem that griffins were only what they were given at birth, he himself being gifted with strength and cunning, even at a younger age.
And as for speaking with wolves? Treemawl snapped his beak in disapproval.
"Ah don't speak ta wolves!" he cried, "their.... their just..." he was going to say just prey, just toys for dropping from great heights, but he was afraid he'd never get to see that other side of the world if he said so, "No, ah haven't. Never thought to."
He scanned the surrounding area, thinking about all the wolves he'd met in his lifetime. He hadn't understood very much of their speech, nor could he say much to them in order to learn it. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't "rule" very well with only one tongue to speak in.
"Ah'm not the best at speakin' the wolves language," he admitted, coughing to hide his utter embarrassment. A king, unable to converse with his own people! Astounding! Unheard of! Completely unacceptable! "Never stopped t'learn it..." He curled and uncurled his tail from around his paws. To be shown up by this ungriffenesque griffen.... it was almost the worst thing to ever happen to him...
"You seem t'know a lot about wolves, ye speak their language too, I presume?" he asked, trying to be civil as well as regain his composure.
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Post by Eschew Gewgaws on Jun 9, 2010 20:40:48 GMT -5
Eschew settled more. He seemed to be in a state of curiosity rather than one of cold-blooded murdering. She could literally see the gears working in his head as he started to entertain that idea. That sole idea. The one where perhaps the intelligence of the prey animal was on par or maybe even greater than the one of the griffin. If that were the case, should griffins feel guilt over hunting a creature that had the same mental capabilities as they did?
“From prey to your followers?” She looked unimpressed with how he switched the importance of wolves. She realized that she was bettering him. That she was showing him a whole different world. She didn’t want to warm him up to it. She wanted to throw her world into her face and it brought her such great ecstasy. The sheer bladed determination she did this was like a raptor upon a hare. “You never had to really bear down and learn anything… did you? Your prowess in the sky and in the hunt was gifted to you by the Great Spirit. All that I have was gained through hard work.” She sighed and her meager form looked pathetic toward him. All she was was her own hard work. And he was lordly in every inch of his frame.
“And yes, I know how to speak the most common wolf language.” She wagged her tail again, like a wolf. She held it high too. Here she was, saying, “And wouldn’t you like to know it?” in the language of the wolves. She became the bully playing keepaway with the kid who didn’t have what she had. Only, what she kept away was something that Treemawl couldn’t steal from her. It was something he, too, had to study hard for. In other words, she held nothing from him.
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