Difference between revisions of "Tiger Tales - RPLOG"
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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. | 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." | + | 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."<br> <br>Phos shoots a momentary glance at those who came unarmed -- it's not that the panda expected trouble... well, that's a lie. She expects trouble (as always), but perhaps not trouble caused by the tigers. Regarding the stories she has to tell... well, she tries not to think of them too strongly. Best to relay them once, then let them die. She glances back and forth at the population of this tiger village, taking silent notes over the average structure of this seemingly isolated infection. She also tries to take note of the structures they've built, taking shots in the dark for what their use may be. Architecture can say a lot about a civilization, no matter how early or primitive. Having been shepherded over to the fire, Phos takes a second to peer at the giant tigress, her ear quirking and eyebrow raising at their massive stature. She calmly takes a seat by the side of the fire, turning her gaze to the flame, waiting for the others.<br> <br>Rokarion made an effort during the journey to eyeball his companions; however, the only piece of information he got there was that he was with four strangers and Mickey, and Roka was certain that strangers will be more reliable that the rat-thing in a scuffle. Focusing on the task ahead, the poodle boy took note, or rather notes, of the village population, and their apparent architectural 'feats'. He made an effort to take a seat near the only other person he knew in the circle, while giving the village elder a respectful nod. <br> <br>Mickey's tail twitches from side to side. At least the ratphon isn't outright flaunting things off, but there are times for sure where they can be caught staring and need the extra nudge from Sharanda or threat of stepping-on to remember to continue on. Then the even /larger/ tigress comes into view and the bird-half's beak slightly drops. Seems like they're just finding out now for the first time why the place was called Kaiju island. "Think we could have issues," Mick mutters to Roka during the seating as they pass and, in retaliation for the paw-clapping that makes Mick jump slightly, bothers Sharanda with consistant Ratphon presence and sits beside her. Not worried, nope! Only a rat slash bird literally surrounded by cats. Was it hot out here? One talon fingers under their collar as they look up and gulp.<br> <br>Khaybat is trying her best not to stare at all the tiger toms though with how huge they're hung it's really difficult. Especially with her being in-heat, too! The avian had been hoping leaving Zephyr's building would make it go away as it had before but it appears she's in a real one now and not a forced Lustful kind. Either way the macaw manages to keep from making any overt gestures though she fails to notice her tailfeathers are fanning her 'condition' towards them. When she goes to sit down at the fire the bawk wiggles, trying not to let herself sweat any worse than she already had from the trek. Then she looks aaaall the way up at the big leader. Gulp?<br> <br>Sharanda simply continued to stride forward with a roll of her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height with all of the gazes. Steps growing longer in full stride as she continued to hammer those foot paws down with purpose like a march straight for the center. Head focused straight ahead, never once straying even an inch in any direction, letting her radar like big round ears swivel and perk around like twin radar dishes to every little sound, snicker and rumble from the crowd. Icy blue eyes sparking to life when she noticed all the built huntresses.... a wrinkle of her nose when gaze settled on the effeminate males. Though a rather longing look did in fact latch onto the particularly endowed one with a rather boring gaze, her foot paws freezing in mid stride with the sight. Sucking in a breath to utter a stone grating, chest bursting purr for a single moment just for it to faid off into the air as she resumed her ever forward movement for the camp fire they were lead to. Stomping around the fire she'd pause with Mickey's form following her own, giving just a head tilt while reaching down to Pat his head once he sat down with just a feral fanged, ear to ear attempted smile in her usual fashion. The smile fading with a serious look once more she'd turn to the massive Tigeress with a straight on stare before walking right up to her side. Still standing as tall as she could she silently offered her mostly white furred, black striped hand forward rather suddenly in an offered hand shake with the same unblinking stare, claws sheathed.<br> <br>Sitting down, Emacs looks over the fire. Their effeminate men are something to look at, if nothing else. Having not noticed the larger tiger, she nearly jumps up when she realizes something she took to be a structure of a piece of furniture is not only alive, but smiling in a more or less friendly manner. |
| + | |||
| + | You can't befriend a table. Nor a house. Well, not usually. | ||
| + | |||
| + | Maybe this time it was the exception to that rule. Not, of course, that a large tiger is either of those things. So maybe it isn't an exception to those two useful rules. | ||
| + | |||
| + | She inhales, amazingly aware of the span of time as it passes, exhaling slowly. What is intended to come out as a reverential nod at the elder tiger instead manifests as an uneasy grin and rapid nod. This particular combination of characteristics does not, she feels, carry either intended effect of reverence, nor the intimation that the person performing it is in firm control of themselves.<br> <br>All eyes are momentarily on Sharanda and there is a very uncomfortable stillness that grows the closer she gets to the Big Lady. It seems for a moment as though she's breached some taboo. The Lady herself, however, seems totally unthreatened, her smile broadening for a moment as she presses one gigantic index finger down to 'shake' Sharanda's hand. Sort of. A wave of relief washes over the tense crowds, and they get back to their observations. The Lady very gently nudges Sharanda back towards her seat, evidently quite experienced in being delicate with smaller creatures. From the firepit, even a quick glance around reveals quite a lot to the inquisitive eye. A path branches off that leads through a tightly-knit cluster of basic wooden huts, each one decorated lovingly with vibrant murals and clattering trinkets and chimes. Most of the tigers themselves don't tend to wear clothes beyond the odd loincloth or robe, but there are decorative rings and some kind of socks on their tails, their embroidery following some kind of common pattern, save the slightest differences between each. Once everyone's in place, the Lady lifts a hand, and the crowd hushes once more. Her voice is tremendous, and yet it carries with it such a soft, soothing tone. "Tell us your names, and what inspired you to come before us to share your stories. I am... Curious."<br> <br>Phosphorus watches the exchange between Sharanda and the Lady quietly. 'Touch nothing' doesn't extend to people, apparently. The panda makes a few quick glances about, before taking a short breath, and starting off. "Call me Phos. My stories tide from outside the bubble -- during the current age, but still... a very different sort of world, I feel. It's important to remember how things used to be, yeah? Or even how things -are-, outside of our little sphere. There sometimes seems to be a cultural divide between those who were born before and born after P-Day. Hopefully my stories can mend that somewhat." | ||
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."
Phos shoots a momentary glance at those who came unarmed -- it's not that the panda expected trouble... well, that's a lie. She expects trouble (as always), but perhaps not trouble caused by the tigers. Regarding the stories she has to tell... well, she tries not to think of them too strongly. Best to relay them once, then let them die. She glances back and forth at the population of this tiger village, taking silent notes over the average structure of this seemingly isolated infection. She also tries to take note of the structures they've built, taking shots in the dark for what their use may be. Architecture can say a lot about a civilization, no matter how early or primitive. Having been shepherded over to the fire, Phos takes a second to peer at the giant tigress, her ear quirking and eyebrow raising at their massive stature. She calmly takes a seat by the side of the fire, turning her gaze to the flame, waiting for the others.
Rokarion made an effort during the journey to eyeball his companions; however, the only piece of information he got there was that he was with four strangers and Mickey, and Roka was certain that strangers will be more reliable that the rat-thing in a scuffle. Focusing on the task ahead, the poodle boy took note, or rather notes, of the village population, and their apparent architectural 'feats'. He made an effort to take a seat near the only other person he knew in the circle, while giving the village elder a respectful nod.
Mickey's tail twitches from side to side. At least the ratphon isn't outright flaunting things off, but there are times for sure where they can be caught staring and need the extra nudge from Sharanda or threat of stepping-on to remember to continue on. Then the even /larger/ tigress comes into view and the bird-half's beak slightly drops. Seems like they're just finding out now for the first time why the place was called Kaiju island. "Think we could have issues," Mick mutters to Roka during the seating as they pass and, in retaliation for the paw-clapping that makes Mick jump slightly, bothers Sharanda with consistant Ratphon presence and sits beside her. Not worried, nope! Only a rat slash bird literally surrounded by cats. Was it hot out here? One talon fingers under their collar as they look up and gulp.
Khaybat is trying her best not to stare at all the tiger toms though with how huge they're hung it's really difficult. Especially with her being in-heat, too! The avian had been hoping leaving Zephyr's building would make it go away as it had before but it appears she's in a real one now and not a forced Lustful kind. Either way the macaw manages to keep from making any overt gestures though she fails to notice her tailfeathers are fanning her 'condition' towards them. When she goes to sit down at the fire the bawk wiggles, trying not to let herself sweat any worse than she already had from the trek. Then she looks aaaall the way up at the big leader. Gulp?
Sharanda simply continued to stride forward with a roll of her shoulders, drawing herself up to her full height with all of the gazes. Steps growing longer in full stride as she continued to hammer those foot paws down with purpose like a march straight for the center. Head focused straight ahead, never once straying even an inch in any direction, letting her radar like big round ears swivel and perk around like twin radar dishes to every little sound, snicker and rumble from the crowd. Icy blue eyes sparking to life when she noticed all the built huntresses.... a wrinkle of her nose when gaze settled on the effeminate males. Though a rather longing look did in fact latch onto the particularly endowed one with a rather boring gaze, her foot paws freezing in mid stride with the sight. Sucking in a breath to utter a stone grating, chest bursting purr for a single moment just for it to faid off into the air as she resumed her ever forward movement for the camp fire they were lead to. Stomping around the fire she'd pause with Mickey's form following her own, giving just a head tilt while reaching down to Pat his head once he sat down with just a feral fanged, ear to ear attempted smile in her usual fashion. The smile fading with a serious look once more she'd turn to the massive Tigeress with a straight on stare before walking right up to her side. Still standing as tall as she could she silently offered her mostly white furred, black striped hand forward rather suddenly in an offered hand shake with the same unblinking stare, claws sheathed.
Sitting down, Emacs looks over the fire. Their effeminate men are something to look at, if nothing else. Having not noticed the larger tiger, she nearly jumps up when she realizes something she took to be a structure of a piece of furniture is not only alive, but smiling in a more or less friendly manner.
You can't befriend a table. Nor a house. Well, not usually.
Maybe this time it was the exception to that rule. Not, of course, that a large tiger is either of those things. So maybe it isn't an exception to those two useful rules.
She inhales, amazingly aware of the span of time as it passes, exhaling slowly. What is intended to come out as a reverential nod at the elder tiger instead manifests as an uneasy grin and rapid nod. This particular combination of characteristics does not, she feels, carry either intended effect of reverence, nor the intimation that the person performing it is in firm control of themselves.
All eyes are momentarily on Sharanda and there is a very uncomfortable stillness that grows the closer she gets to the Big Lady. It seems for a moment as though she's breached some taboo. The Lady herself, however, seems totally unthreatened, her smile broadening for a moment as she presses one gigantic index finger down to 'shake' Sharanda's hand. Sort of. A wave of relief washes over the tense crowds, and they get back to their observations. The Lady very gently nudges Sharanda back towards her seat, evidently quite experienced in being delicate with smaller creatures. From the firepit, even a quick glance around reveals quite a lot to the inquisitive eye. A path branches off that leads through a tightly-knit cluster of basic wooden huts, each one decorated lovingly with vibrant murals and clattering trinkets and chimes. Most of the tigers themselves don't tend to wear clothes beyond the odd loincloth or robe, but there are decorative rings and some kind of socks on their tails, their embroidery following some kind of common pattern, save the slightest differences between each. Once everyone's in place, the Lady lifts a hand, and the crowd hushes once more. Her voice is tremendous, and yet it carries with it such a soft, soothing tone. "Tell us your names, and what inspired you to come before us to share your stories. I am... Curious."
Phosphorus watches the exchange between Sharanda and the Lady quietly. 'Touch nothing' doesn't extend to people, apparently. The panda makes a few quick glances about, before taking a short breath, and starting off. "Call me Phos. My stories tide from outside the bubble -- during the current age, but still... a very different sort of world, I feel. It's important to remember how things used to be, yeah? Or even how things -are-, outside of our little sphere. There sometimes seems to be a cultural divide between those who were born before and born after P-Day. Hopefully my stories can mend that somewhat."
