Difference between revisions of "Tiger Tales - RPLOG"
From Flexible Survival
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=Log= | =Log= | ||
| − | <div></div> | + | <div></div><br> <br>Flanked by four stripey huntresses, the agents who've shown up are escorted through the thick and humid jungle, taking strange, twisting passages past giant-sized traps, beaten down by the passing of many tigers over the years. Before terribly long, they manage to arrive at the gate in one piece. They pause here, gesturing up towards the guards in their towers and having a brief exchange in a strange language. Finally, one of the guards points at the group of agents, shouting down, "Pass through! Don't cause trouble, else we make you regret it. Touch nothing, and most important, respect the Big Lady. Always." With that, the creaking of strained wood and rope sounds out as the gate lifts and allows them passage onto the dirt road cutting through the village hidden within. "Hurry, hurry through!" Every one of them can feel the intense gaze of feline eyes on them. They're not just being watched: Every nuance of their beings, the way they move, the way they behave is being observed.<br> <br>Jungles. Always humid. Always far too much vegetation to be able to creep around effectively. Out of all the places to be, Phosphorus probably disliked jungles the most. She had tagged along to bring stories of her time out of bubble, but also just to kinda see what all the fuss was about. The panda came kitted with light arms and armor -- no sense in being armed for a siege if it's supposed to be a social call -- but even a light plate carrier quickly gets her a bit more heated than she'd like. She's quiet on the way to the compound, figuring it best if no kaiju were attracted to this little patch in the rainforest. It'd be such a shame for everything to be crushed. Once inside, she tries to take in the sights of the quaint little tiger village, waiting off to the side as the other agents filter in.<br> <br>Rokarion was among the group that arrived to the tiger village, never the poodle to miss a chance of studying a newly discovered tribe. The kemo-canine had sagely chosen not to bring any of his heavier gear, or drones, and to wear more airy armour, a wise choice in the humid jungle. He was following along with a sprightly step, taking the time to look around and noting down all the interesting sights. <br> <br>Mickey figures going the way of their jungle-tribal wear from the preserve would of been slightly insulting, and so the ratphon is donned instead in a trope-filled safari outfit of short shorts and a smart T-shirt complete with hard-pith hat. Completely unarmed too aside from a winning smirk. They do choose to walk near the only other large feline in their party Sharanda; mostly because Mick wasn't /stupid/. If shit happened, best to jump behind the largest guy. Wide-eyed and fluffed up with the humidity, Mick is looking eagerly around exchanging the looks with their own.<br> <br>Khaybat was sweating a good bit but didn't seem to mind too much! Then again it was the first time she'd been in a jungle and the bawkgirl was constantly trying to resist the urge to fly around. After spending her entire life as a gazelle it was definitely a difference having wings that actually let her flap around. For now though the macaw just looks up at the talking mutants on the top of the gate, then gives a chirp of approval when the gate slides open to let them pass through. If only Otto were here to let her backpack him!<br> <br>Sharanda sauntered along with the group as close to the front as she could, using her bulky frame to nudge or simply walk her way through while her own ears rotated slowly to every new sound as they walked along the paths through the jungle. Icy blue eyes flickering in directions her ears weren't, ensuring to gaze at every feline she could see. A bit of a smile creeping over her muzzle with so many kin, walking a bit taller and intentionally taking heavier steps of those big foot paws to ensure her figure tensed up from the impact. Tail whipping around in excitement she'd chirp out a few curious mewls in response to the one shouting at them before shrugging as they were ushered through. Adjusting her own ragged and torn armored vest without much thought before giving a disgruntled little huff with all the gazes, shifting her own straight ahead to continue forward. Ragged jeans looking closer to shorts then actual pants swaying the ripped strands with her steps as she'd pause with Mickey's closeness. Not giving it too much thought she'd just slap her hand paws together in a resounding clap while stomping her bulky frame in front of the gathering, a more demanding, baritone air hanging mewl echoing from her muzzle as her ears flattened with impatience. <br> <br>Beyond the hosts, Emacs feels relatively ill at ease here. The density of the world here is very high. To perceive it is to swim through mud and dust and dirt. To understand it is to become something else, a hybrid of the jungle and the self. |
| + | |||
| + | Briefly, Emacs was considering that line of thought seriously. Of course, there's nothing at all similar to swimming through mud and dirt to simply see it. To understand it, well, that's a more complex issue. Personal progression and projection of the story of one's own life aside, this is unusual for the kitsune. | ||
| + | |||
| + | It is not that she is unaccustomed to jungles, nor being surrounded by people who might choose to hurt her if she misbehaves. No. Those things are not strangers to the kitsune. | ||
| + | |||
| + | What is the stranger, is the request. Stories. Wurtzite knows about them. Shi thinks they're the essence of life. Emacs is not gifted in that way like her sister. Stories are a projection of events out of all possible sequences of events. To call a story the essence of life itself is like saying that atoms are the building blocks of matter in the universe(well, sometimes it's made of other stuff). It's so true that it is utterly meaningless. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Stories are intrinsic to causality. Causality is a narrative structure that might be deviated from in narrative due to the lack of information about the systems described. Under this sort of thoughts, she barely notices the progression of the group through the jungle<br> <br>As they pass through the gate and get nearer to the other tigers, it becomes abundantly clear that the muscular physique of the huntresses is not entirely unique here. In fact, every other tigress they pass by seems to be built like an amazonian killing machine, and the ones who aren't tend more towards being motherly in their proportions. Not all, but most. The sexual dimorphism is significant to say the least, as the males are significantly smaller and even more effeminate than their counterparts in most regards, except, err, one that sticks out. They are particularly well endowed. They smile and quietly exchange comments while they stare at the agents. Sharanda in particular gets a lot of very strange looks, though everyone seems utterly alien and unique in their own way to the tigers, as though they've never seen anything quite like them in their lives. Some of the older females seem less impressed, but the general impression from the growing crowd is that of bewilderment and interest. Once they get closer to the center of the village, it becomes impossible not to notice the literal giant tigress sitting in a clearing, a short ways off to the side of the central firepit. She looks over each and every one of the agents with a gentle smile. The huntresses gesture towards the ground around the firepit, a small fire glowing within, as though this place weren't hot enough to begin with. Tigers crowd at the edges. "Sit, circle." | ||
Revision as of 06:27, 13 December 2017
Participants
Date
13/12/2017
Log
Flanked by four stripey huntresses, the agents who've shown up are escorted through the thick and humid jungle, taking strange, twisting passages past giant-sized traps, beaten down by the passing of many tigers over the years. Before terribly long, they manage to arrive at the gate in one piece. They pause here, gesturing up towards the guards in their towers and having a brief exchange in a strange language. Finally, one of the guards points at the group of agents, shouting down, "Pass through! Don't cause trouble, else we make you regret it. Touch nothing, and most important, respect the Big Lady. Always." With that, the creaking of strained wood and rope sounds out as the gate lifts and allows them passage onto the dirt road cutting through the village hidden within. "Hurry, hurry through!" Every one of them can feel the intense gaze of feline eyes on them. They're not just being watched: Every nuance of their beings, the way they move, the way they behave is being observed.
Jungles. Always humid. Always far too much vegetation to be able to creep around effectively. Out of all the places to be, Phosphorus probably disliked jungles the most. She had tagged along to bring stories of her time out of bubble, but also just to kinda see what all the fuss was about. The panda came kitted with light arms and armor -- no sense in being armed for a siege if it's supposed to be a social call -- but even a light plate carrier quickly gets her a bit more heated than she'd like. She's quiet on the way to the compound, figuring it best if no kaiju were attracted to this little patch in the rainforest. It'd be such a shame for everything to be crushed. Once inside, she tries to take in the sights of the quaint little tiger village, waiting off to the side as the other agents filter in.
Rokarion was among the group that arrived to the tiger village, never the poodle to miss a chance of studying a newly discovered tribe. The kemo-canine had sagely chosen not to bring any of his heavier gear, or drones, and to wear more airy armour, a wise choice in the humid jungle. He was following along with a sprightly step, taking the time to look around and noting down all the interesting sights.
Mickey figures going the way of their jungle-tribal wear from the preserve would of been slightly insulting, and so the ratphon is donned instead in a trope-filled safari outfit of short shorts and a smart T-shirt complete with hard-pith hat. Completely unarmed too aside from a winning smirk. They do choose to walk near the only other large feline in their party Sharanda; mostly because Mick wasn't /stupid/. If shit happened, best to jump behind the largest guy. Wide-eyed and fluffed up with the humidity, Mick is looking eagerly around exchanging the looks with their own.
Khaybat was sweating a good bit but didn't seem to mind too much! Then again it was the first time she'd been in a jungle and the bawkgirl was constantly trying to resist the urge to fly around. After spending her entire life as a gazelle it was definitely a difference having wings that actually let her flap around. For now though the macaw just looks up at the talking mutants on the top of the gate, then gives a chirp of approval when the gate slides open to let them pass through. If only Otto were here to let her backpack him!
Sharanda sauntered along with the group as close to the front as she could, using her bulky frame to nudge or simply walk her way through while her own ears rotated slowly to every new sound as they walked along the paths through the jungle. Icy blue eyes flickering in directions her ears weren't, ensuring to gaze at every feline she could see. A bit of a smile creeping over her muzzle with so many kin, walking a bit taller and intentionally taking heavier steps of those big foot paws to ensure her figure tensed up from the impact. Tail whipping around in excitement she'd chirp out a few curious mewls in response to the one shouting at them before shrugging as they were ushered through. Adjusting her own ragged and torn armored vest without much thought before giving a disgruntled little huff with all the gazes, shifting her own straight ahead to continue forward. Ragged jeans looking closer to shorts then actual pants swaying the ripped strands with her steps as she'd pause with Mickey's closeness. Not giving it too much thought she'd just slap her hand paws together in a resounding clap while stomping her bulky frame in front of the gathering, a more demanding, baritone air hanging mewl echoing from her muzzle as her ears flattened with impatience.
Beyond the hosts, Emacs feels relatively ill at ease here. The density of the world here is very high. To perceive it is to swim through mud and dust and dirt. To understand it is to become something else, a hybrid of the jungle and the self.
Briefly, Emacs was considering that line of thought seriously. Of course, there's nothing at all similar to swimming through mud and dirt to simply see it. To understand it, well, that's a more complex issue. Personal progression and projection of the story of one's own life aside, this is unusual for the kitsune.
It is not that she is unaccustomed to jungles, nor being surrounded by people who might choose to hurt her if she misbehaves. No. Those things are not strangers to the kitsune.
What is the stranger, is the request. Stories. Wurtzite knows about them. Shi thinks they're the essence of life. Emacs is not gifted in that way like her sister. Stories are a projection of events out of all possible sequences of events. To call a story the essence of life itself is like saying that atoms are the building blocks of matter in the universe(well, sometimes it's made of other stuff). It's so true that it is utterly meaningless.
Stories are intrinsic to causality. Causality is a narrative structure that might be deviated from in narrative due to the lack of information about the systems described. Under this sort of thoughts, she barely notices the progression of the group through the jungle
As they pass through the gate and get nearer to the other tigers, it becomes abundantly clear that the muscular physique of the huntresses is not entirely unique here. In fact, every other tigress they pass by seems to be built like an amazonian killing machine, and the ones who aren't tend more towards being motherly in their proportions. Not all, but most. The sexual dimorphism is significant to say the least, as the males are significantly smaller and even more effeminate than their counterparts in most regards, except, err, one that sticks out. They are particularly well endowed. They smile and quietly exchange comments while they stare at the agents. Sharanda in particular gets a lot of very strange looks, though everyone seems utterly alien and unique in their own way to the tigers, as though they've never seen anything quite like them in their lives. Some of the older females seem less impressed, but the general impression from the growing crowd is that of bewilderment and interest. Once they get closer to the center of the village, it becomes impossible not to notice the literal giant tigress sitting in a clearing, a short ways off to the side of the central firepit. She looks over each and every one of the agents with a gentle smile. The huntresses gesture towards the ground around the firepit, a small fire glowing within, as though this place weren't hot enough to begin with. Tigers crowd at the edges. "Sit, circle."
