08-24-2016, 01:22 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-24-2016, 01:23 AM by Kuzuru.
Edit Reason: Didn't copy and paste the full thing on accident
)
It was later that evening that the festivities truly began. Tonight marked the night of some vague spiritual ceremony that the Coyotles celebrated with a drunken fervor. In the center of the camp a massive pyre roared, sending embers into the night. Around the fire most of the tribesman sat in small clusters, sharing spiced pemmican and chatting amongst themselves. Overall it would have been a rather reserved celebration had it not been for six or seven dancers, one of which was a young human girl, whirling around the fire at a frightening pace. Three drummers egged the dancers on with a beat so rhythmic that one would be hard pressed not to tap their foot along to the rhythm. Red-striped warriors dotted the perimeter of the gathering, their ever watchful eyes scanning the horizon for potential threats. Ahanu would move from cluster to cluster, speaking to each member of the tribe and offering them each a blessing from the heavens above. Since their arrival the two hunters had gone their separate ways within the tribe. Mallory, ever the social butterfly, had successfully mingled his way into the largest of the groups. It wasn't because he was interested in making friends that he was acting so amicable, no it was pure unadulterated lust that drew him in. A caramel-skinned human woman was the target of his desire. Her goth-black hair and lithe, but firm, body immediately grabbed his attention and he made it his mission to worm his way into her heart.
Charlie, however, had no interest in fraternizing with the locals. He wasn't sure when Mallory would pull the trigger on their plan, but given that Mal had a propensity for lecherous activities Charles figured he had time to kick back and relax. Reaching into his coat pocket the burly bounty hunter produced a half-burnt stogie and a silver zippo style lighter. After gripping the cigar with his lips and making sure the end was burning well he pocketed his lighter and shed his trenchcoat. Charles easily stood six feet tall and looked as though he was carved from granite. A sweat-stained white wife beater clung tight against his bulging muscles, and a mosaic of tattoos clung even tighter against his flesh. The hunter purposely chose to wear a shirt one size too small, as it made him seem bulkier and therefore more intimidating. That wasn't to say that Charlie wasn't actually built, quite the contrary, where Mallory was the brains of their outfit Charles was most definitely the brawns. Strapped to his hip sat a holster holding his handcannon and a half-empty canteen. Dark blue jeans and black combat boots completed the ensemble. On missions he preferred to travel lightly, carrying only several cigars, his lighter, his gun, and a canteen. He figured the less knick-knacks he had to worry about, well, the better. In between puffs of his cigar he gazed around the campsite, making eye contact with every warrior that watched him and his friend. Even though Ahanu had welcomed the duo with open arms, the warriors had not. Ever since they had arrived the red-striped warriors had been careful to keep at least two sets of eyes on each of the bounty hunters, ready to pounce should their guests prove hostile.
“So, do you two work for the Empire?” the doe-eyed vixen asked Mallory. He had learned that her name was Esther, and that she used to be a soldier for the empire. In fact, most of the humans present within Coyotle society had been part of an expeditionary force sent to establish an outpost in the craggy mountains of the Ashen Steppes. They had stumbled upon the Coyotles and, contrary to what the empire believed, had been persuaded by Ahanu to shed their ties to the empire and join the free-spirited society. Mallory’s thought drifted back to the mission files, apparently a few soldiers chose not to stay in the Steppes and reported back to the Empire.
Those that returned to the Empire had lied for the ones that stayed behind, they said that the expedition had been slaughtered by the Coyotles. A foolish gamble Mallory figured, they were banking on the fact that the Empire was stretched too far thin to care about retaliating against a tribe of savages. What they hadn’t taken into consideration was how much the Empire was willing to pay in order to send a message, and although Mallory was the messenger he was only half lying when he said “No.” The two did not work for the Empire, they worked for whoever had the most money and the Empire was willing to pay them handsomely for some wetwork.
“That’s relieving to hear, Ahanu says not to worry, but I...” Esther said, before allowing her voice to trail off.
“You’re not so sure?” Mallory finished the sentence for her.
“I was a soldier for them,” she said pausing briefly, ”I know what they do to people that betray them. I know how ruthless the Empire can be.”
Mallory knew as well, or at least he thought he knew how underhanded they could be. While he wasn’t loyal to the Empire, he was a soldier for a similar regime in his home universe. The Darien-Tucker Combine was a political and economic powerhouse that held an iron grip over several planets rich in resources, and in another world a younger Mallory served them. He operated as a bio-shell operations officer, known colloquially as a BSOO. A bio-shell was more or less a human-like robot controlled through a neural interface. Mallory would act as a field advisor for teams of bio-shell operators in combat operations. Without having to worry for the lives of their own soldiers the Darien-Tucker Combine demanded nothing but ruthless efficiency from the BSOOs. Having been ordered to commit his fair share of war crimes Mallory knew all too well the cruelty that mankind was capable of.
“So why haven’t you guys packed up and moved to a safer place like Camelot?” Mal asked, snugging slightly closer to Esther.
“This place is sacred to us, the coyotle were brought into existence here and they view this region as their land,” she responded.
“Well,” Mallory responded, taking a moment to lock eyes with Esther, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned while living here in the Omniverse, it’s that sometimes you have to take a chance and try something new.”
“Is that so?” Esther smiled.
Not even a half mile away Kuzuru sat, still restrained to a large wooden pole staked into the ground. Even though his muscles ached from sitting in the awkward position for so long, he felt good. Fizzy thoughts danced through his head and endorphins pulsed through his body in tingling waves. He had spent the better part of the last few hours drifting in and out of a euphoric high. It was night by the time he finally became lucid enough to grasp the gravity of the situation. In the distance a large fire was roaring and shadowy figures could be seen dancing around it. This would have been a good time to escaped, had it not been for the fact that he had an armed guard watching his every movement. Cinder Salt sat on a rock nearby, silently chewing on a strip of dried meat and eyeing him carefully. With an airy tone Kuzuru asked her, “don’t suppose you’d be willing to just let me go would you?”
Salt raised an eyebrow and responded as if it was a very stupid question, “no.”
“Good, you’re a smart girl,” Kuzuru said and then laughed drunkenly, “but, just between us, the second I break free - you’re dead."
Charlie, however, had no interest in fraternizing with the locals. He wasn't sure when Mallory would pull the trigger on their plan, but given that Mal had a propensity for lecherous activities Charles figured he had time to kick back and relax. Reaching into his coat pocket the burly bounty hunter produced a half-burnt stogie and a silver zippo style lighter. After gripping the cigar with his lips and making sure the end was burning well he pocketed his lighter and shed his trenchcoat. Charles easily stood six feet tall and looked as though he was carved from granite. A sweat-stained white wife beater clung tight against his bulging muscles, and a mosaic of tattoos clung even tighter against his flesh. The hunter purposely chose to wear a shirt one size too small, as it made him seem bulkier and therefore more intimidating. That wasn't to say that Charlie wasn't actually built, quite the contrary, where Mallory was the brains of their outfit Charles was most definitely the brawns. Strapped to his hip sat a holster holding his handcannon and a half-empty canteen. Dark blue jeans and black combat boots completed the ensemble. On missions he preferred to travel lightly, carrying only several cigars, his lighter, his gun, and a canteen. He figured the less knick-knacks he had to worry about, well, the better. In between puffs of his cigar he gazed around the campsite, making eye contact with every warrior that watched him and his friend. Even though Ahanu had welcomed the duo with open arms, the warriors had not. Ever since they had arrived the red-striped warriors had been careful to keep at least two sets of eyes on each of the bounty hunters, ready to pounce should their guests prove hostile.
“So, do you two work for the Empire?” the doe-eyed vixen asked Mallory. He had learned that her name was Esther, and that she used to be a soldier for the empire. In fact, most of the humans present within Coyotle society had been part of an expeditionary force sent to establish an outpost in the craggy mountains of the Ashen Steppes. They had stumbled upon the Coyotles and, contrary to what the empire believed, had been persuaded by Ahanu to shed their ties to the empire and join the free-spirited society. Mallory’s thought drifted back to the mission files, apparently a few soldiers chose not to stay in the Steppes and reported back to the Empire.
Those that returned to the Empire had lied for the ones that stayed behind, they said that the expedition had been slaughtered by the Coyotles. A foolish gamble Mallory figured, they were banking on the fact that the Empire was stretched too far thin to care about retaliating against a tribe of savages. What they hadn’t taken into consideration was how much the Empire was willing to pay in order to send a message, and although Mallory was the messenger he was only half lying when he said “No.” The two did not work for the Empire, they worked for whoever had the most money and the Empire was willing to pay them handsomely for some wetwork.
“That’s relieving to hear, Ahanu says not to worry, but I...” Esther said, before allowing her voice to trail off.
“You’re not so sure?” Mallory finished the sentence for her.
“I was a soldier for them,” she said pausing briefly, ”I know what they do to people that betray them. I know how ruthless the Empire can be.”
Mallory knew as well, or at least he thought he knew how underhanded they could be. While he wasn’t loyal to the Empire, he was a soldier for a similar regime in his home universe. The Darien-Tucker Combine was a political and economic powerhouse that held an iron grip over several planets rich in resources, and in another world a younger Mallory served them. He operated as a bio-shell operations officer, known colloquially as a BSOO. A bio-shell was more or less a human-like robot controlled through a neural interface. Mallory would act as a field advisor for teams of bio-shell operators in combat operations. Without having to worry for the lives of their own soldiers the Darien-Tucker Combine demanded nothing but ruthless efficiency from the BSOOs. Having been ordered to commit his fair share of war crimes Mallory knew all too well the cruelty that mankind was capable of.
“So why haven’t you guys packed up and moved to a safer place like Camelot?” Mal asked, snugging slightly closer to Esther.
“This place is sacred to us, the coyotle were brought into existence here and they view this region as their land,” she responded.
“Well,” Mallory responded, taking a moment to lock eyes with Esther, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned while living here in the Omniverse, it’s that sometimes you have to take a chance and try something new.”
“Is that so?” Esther smiled.
Not even a half mile away Kuzuru sat, still restrained to a large wooden pole staked into the ground. Even though his muscles ached from sitting in the awkward position for so long, he felt good. Fizzy thoughts danced through his head and endorphins pulsed through his body in tingling waves. He had spent the better part of the last few hours drifting in and out of a euphoric high. It was night by the time he finally became lucid enough to grasp the gravity of the situation. In the distance a large fire was roaring and shadowy figures could be seen dancing around it. This would have been a good time to escaped, had it not been for the fact that he had an armed guard watching his every movement. Cinder Salt sat on a rock nearby, silently chewing on a strip of dried meat and eyeing him carefully. With an airy tone Kuzuru asked her, “don’t suppose you’d be willing to just let me go would you?”
Salt raised an eyebrow and responded as if it was a very stupid question, “no.”
“Good, you’re a smart girl,” Kuzuru said and then laughed drunkenly, “but, just between us, the second I break free - you’re dead."