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Arestevana · 05-01-2004, 07:00 AM

“What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?" Nephil’s question remained unanswered. Bestialán seemed to be pondering the question, but thoughts did not disrupt the silence. Now even Maulká was becoming edgy. Hours had passed in the threatening stillness, and it seemed that more would follow.

In fact, it was only several moments before the brooding quiet was disrupted. A sharp noise sounded from farther up the hallway, the steady, even sound of someone walking. As the figure approached, Maulká could see that it was a man. He glanced curiously at the three observers, but turned to Kínadhen.

The replacement guard. Maulká realized. She watched him duck his head to whisper to Kínadhen. Now the silence was much appreciated, as the words carried clearly across the hall, quiet as they were. "The Council of Elders has spoken,” The man murmured. Maulká leaned forward to hear the rest.

The man continued, his voice softer yet. “They will hold a night of feasting, to honor the Spirits of the Sea.” Kínadhen nodded, then handed his spear to the other man before leaving. Maulká watched for a moment as the guard took up a wary defensive stance. She smiled inwardly. A night of feasting!

There would surely be a hunt; meat would be needed if the entire colony was to be fed. I will attend that hunt. Maulká decided. Her eyes glowed as she thought about the last feast. It had been long ago, but she well remembered it. The cruel glare of the flames, dimmed as they were by the depth of the fire pits, the long tables set in a rough circle on the jungle floor, the deep shadow of the trees that hid the starlight. The firelight had danced on the surface of the lake, mirrored by the Lights within it.

Maulká quivered with anticipation. It would be many days yet, but the waiting would be worth it. There was the hunt to look forward to as well. She clenched her fist compulsively, imagining a javelin in her grasp, blood and poison dripping from the point. Memories merged with her thoughts: the fear in the eyes of the last catch, a weak, pallid creature, as it was hauled, alive, to the fire pit. This feast would doubtlessly be different, as circumstances changed, but it would be unequaled in the memories of the younger persons; entirely worthy of the Spirits in whose honor it was held.

05-01-2004, 07:00 AM	#44
Arestevana Shade of Carn Dûm Join Date: May 2003 Location: West over water Posts: 486	Maulká “What do you think of them? Do they serve the purpose that they were made for?" Nephil’s question remained unanswered. Bestialán seemed to be pondering the question, but thoughts did not disrupt the silence. Now even Maulká was becoming edgy. Hours had passed in the threatening stillness, and it seemed that more would follow. In fact, it was only several moments before the brooding quiet was disrupted. A sharp noise sounded from farther up the hallway, the steady, even sound of someone walking. As the figure approached, Maulká could see that it was a man. He glanced curiously at the three observers, but turned to Kínadhen. The replacement guard. Maulká realized. She watched him duck his head to whisper to Kínadhen. Now the silence was much appreciated, as the words carried clearly across the hall, quiet as they were. "The Council of Elders has spoken,” The man murmured. Maulká leaned forward to hear the rest. The man continued, his voice softer yet. “They will hold a night of feasting, to honor the Spirits of the Sea.” Kínadhen nodded, then handed his spear to the other man before leaving. Maulká watched for a moment as the guard took up a wary defensive stance. She smiled inwardly. A night of feasting! There would surely be a hunt; meat would be needed if the entire colony was to be fed. I will attend that hunt. Maulká decided. Her eyes glowed as she thought about the last feast. It had been long ago, but she well remembered it. The cruel glare of the flames, dimmed as they were by the depth of the fire pits, the long tables set in a rough circle on the jungle floor, the deep shadow of the trees that hid the starlight. The firelight had danced on the surface of the lake, mirrored by the Lights within it. Maulká quivered with anticipation. It would be many days yet, but the waiting would be worth it. There was the hunt to look forward to as well. She clenched her fist compulsively, imagining a javelin in her grasp, blood and poison dripping from the point. Memories merged with her thoughts: the fear in the eyes of the last catch, a weak, pallid creature, as it was hauled, alive, to the fire pit. This feast would doubtlessly be different, as circumstances changed, but it would be unequaled in the memories of the younger persons; entirely worthy of the Spirits in whose honor it was held.