HOME | DD

Description

This is an RP with Talvace . Featuring Thranduil and Cut Throat

Import: R-0196 Thranduil
Trackers: Rune Marks || Explorations
Bonuses: Fossegrim's Song
Rune Mark: Sociable, WC 1570, collab, Lore location-Merilian, uncolored headshot
Exploration: Companionable, Cat, Jormungungar, Dragon Adept Scavenger
Exploration Area: Tier 1 plains
Proof of Tier Unlock: n/a
Bank Name: Talvace

Import Link: R-1396 Cut Throat
Rune Mark Tracker: HERE
Rune Mark points and bonuses: WC 1570, collab, Lore location-Merilian, uncolored headshot
Exploration Bonuses: /
Exploration Area: Tier 1 Plains
Proof of Tier/Area Unlock: N/a
Activity Tracker Link: Activity Tracker
Bank Name: Scarlet-Harlequin-n

In Strange Company

The chilled breeze that heralded the changing of the seasons in the north had yet to reach the plains surrounding Merilian. Though Thranduil didn’t mind the fair weather of spring and Autumn, the summer was far too warm for his liking and he tried to avoid warmer areas before winter’s cold grasp had arrived. Today, however, Thranduil had purpose to leave his preferred stomping grounds. His elven friends had invited him to join them for a harvest celebration. Warmer weather or not, Thranduil would be hard pressed to deny them. Heaving a sigh, he picked his way along the stone pathways of the city toward the market. With any luck, he’d find a fitting treat to bring to the celebration.
Many people stared as he walked past. At one time, the attention had made him uncomfortable. As time had worn on and he’d learned to be more independent and defend himself from those who might force him into a lifestyle he didn’t want (that of a tame Rukaan), he’d learned to just ignore it. In the event that someone did try to capture him, it wouldn’t end well for them.
“Excuse me,” he spoke softly, approaching a stall filled with a lovely array of fruits. “Can you tell me if you have any berries?” The merchant blinked several times before refocusing their attention to their wares.
“I most certainly do,” she chirped. “What type were you looking for?”

It was hardly the end of the young buck’s second summer, unfamiliar with the new season smells and chill on the winds though he’d smelt and felt it before as a still young faun last year. A growing confidence in the world could easily be explained by his first tines poking from his head in asymmetrical lengths, solitary teenage defiance as he sought his most favorite of snacks days and days away from where he once called home. It was the end of the season for black berries and salmon berries and apples and cherries. That was all he was truly after. Finding wild growing brambles and moving slowly into what seemed to be farms. Lands belonging to creatures and people he was far unfamiliar with. The further he went into these regulated places the fewer ripe treats there were, picked thoroughly by the people that owned them much to his annoyance. More so to his annoyance was he chased away from the choice foliage they hoarded.
This need to satiate cravings and solve a newfound curiosity in these creatures lead Cut Throat to overlook a tradepost city nestled in the plains. With a clean stark white coat he could hardly be hidden. Yet few seemed to look in his direction as he meandered behind a cart pulled by a rather annoyed donkey. In the back vegetables were bursting out of sacks and boxes held clusters of all manner of things. Which, of course, he partook as though no one else in the world existed.
Cut Throat had certainly never learned to fear people, or be cautious of their possessions. This was a feast for the taking.
And as the cart crawled to the side roads near the market the young buck veered in behind the tents and stands of a more open part of the market, sticking his nose into what ever stacks of food were there and wandering on to the next before anyone grew too wise to his blaring presence. Then came the most indulgent smell, the sweet and somewhat musty smell of none other than blackberries. He wasted no time sticking his mouth into the container that held them and chomped down even on the thorns.

Thranduil was mid negotiation with the merchant when a young bull meandered up to the rear of the stall and stuffed his nose directly into a bushel of blackberries. He blinked several times in disbelief, letting his words trail off. Did this youngling have no decency? Even though Thranduil had no desire to be owned by two legged beings, he still tried to give them respect when they proved themselves to deserve it. Like the wild creatures preparing for winter, the two leggeds had to ensure they had enough resources to last the harsh winter, too.
The scaled rukaan didn’t bother with words, he moved around to the rear of the stall with surprising agility for such a large creature. He was careful not to damage anything, but wasted no time in shoving himself between the young rukaan bull and the berries he’d helped himself to.
“I didn’t see you paying for any of those,” Thranduil acknowledged. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake, though.” The merchant had backed herself away from the two rukaan. Several passersby followed suit. Wild rukaans weren’t known for watching their surroundings when they got into fights and no one had a desire to get caught up in a sparring match.
    “You should apologize and settle your balance.” Thranduil’s pleasant demeanor had all but vanished, the large bull pawing the ground in agitation as he spoke. “Go on, make your amends.”


    Cut Throat’s moment of berry bliss was very quickly interrupted by quite possibly the most massive Rukaan he had ever seen. If it was indeed a rukaan, covered in scales with the look of some sort of beast the young buck could hardly imagine. The sheer surprise of being pushed from the berries backed him up into the post that braced a roof over the stalls. Some semblance of composure took over as quickly as his next stamp of protest. Reprimanded? Him? For Berries?
    “Pay… I know no meaning of the word.” And that was the truth. Payment for anything was not something his mother herd had ever done in the wilds. They took what they could find and had never crossed paths with civilization. Though punishment was always dealt by the accuser unto the accused. Perhaps he knew no manners either, for apologizing for berries as punishment sored clear over his head and through those twiggy little antlers he held so high. “Amends to what? Eating?”
    With the question he tiptoed a little further from the big dragonish stag to attempt to dismiss himself further behind the stalls, not looking away from him once. The smaller space behind stalls could work well for him if he needed to bolt, even if the ground was littered with boxes and things and drapes. Parts of shops, it wouldn’t be too unlike thick underbrush, right? The conniving intention sure glinted in his red eye.

Battle hardened as he was, Thranduil saw the flight preparation almost before it happened. This wild youngling was either unknowledgable when it came to civilized society (as the tame rukaan referred to it), or had a hell of an opinion of himself to think he was entitled to other people’s food. Either way, it wasn’t acceptable for him to brazenly steal from someone who clearly owned the food surrounding them.

“That food belongs to the merchant of this booth,” Thranduil explained through gritted teeth. “You can’t help yourself like this is a freeforall.” The large bull shifted his position to give himself an easier angle to chase after the young bull should he make a break for it. “In this city you have to exchange money or work to get things from the market. Maybe it isn’t like that wherever you come from, or maybe you just didn’t know, but that’s how it works here.”

Thranduil forced himself to take a calming breath. Terrifying the youngling wouldn’t solve anything. “Apologize for stealing food from the merchant. She works hard to grow it.” He nodded toward the woman. “Go on. Apologize and maybe she’ll let you buy some to take with you. If not, I’ll show you where to find some wild ones. It requires a going up river, but I have to go that direction anyway.” Thranduil winced inwardly. He didn’t necessarily want to get sidetracked with a trip to the taiga, but he also wanted to keep the peace in the marketplace so that wild rukaan would continue to be accepted as customers.

    There was a good long moment where Cut Throat weighed what was put in front of him. In a way, he still didn’t understand why it was so important he apologized. How hard could they have worked to let a plant grow for them? Say sorry, and get berries, it wasn’t so bad a trade. But the rest made it seem complicated. On the other hoof the stag did just say where to find more berries. Or perhaps he was not to be trusted and such a beastly look was to be accompanied by a beastly disposition. Momma always did say to be aware of beasts.
    Cut Throat glanced to the woman who owned the stall, eying her uncertain posture as she glanced between the two rukaan praying for there to be no further altercation. He glanced to the box of berries he had chomped into, of which some still stained the white of his face. Then glanced back to Thranduil.
    There was no further warning. In a blur of white the yearling took off through the space between the wall structure and the market shops barreling almost blindly over merchandise and through fabric barriers. No way he was going to suck up to weird uprights. “Lick my hooves old stick!”

Description

This is an RP with Talvace . Featuring Thranduil and Cut Throat

Import: R-0196 Thranduil
Trackers: Rune Marks || Explorations
Bonuses: Fossegrim's Song
Rune Mark: Sociable, WC 1570, collab, Lore location-Merilian, uncolored headshot
Exploration: Companionable, Cat, Jormungungar, Dragon Adept Scavenger
Exploration Area: Tier 1 plains
Proof of Tier Unlock: n/a
Bank Name: Talvace

Import Link: R-1396 Cut Throat
Rune Mark Tracker: HERE
Rune Mark points and bonuses: WC 1570, collab, Lore location-Merilian, uncolored headshot
Exploration Bonuses: /
Exploration Area: Tier 1 Plains
Proof of Tier/Area Unlock: N/a
Activity Tracker Link: Activity Tracker
Bank Name: Scarlet-Harlequin-n

In Strange Company

The chilled breeze that heralded the changing of the seasons in the north had yet to reach the plains surrounding Merilian. Though Thranduil didn’t mind the fair weather of spring and Autumn, the summer was far too warm for his liking and he tried to avoid warmer areas before winter’s cold grasp had arrived. Today, however, Thranduil had purpose to leave his preferred stomping grounds. His elven friends had invited him to join them for a harvest celebration. Warmer weather or not, Thranduil would be hard pressed to deny them. Heaving a sigh, he picked his way along the stone pathways of the city toward the market. With any luck, he’d find a fitting treat to bring to the celebration.
Many people stared as he walked past. At one time, the attention had made him uncomfortable. As time had worn on and he’d learned to be more independent and defend himself from those who might force him into a lifestyle he didn’t want (that of a tame Rukaan), he’d learned to just ignore it. In the event that someone did try to capture him, it wouldn’t end well for them.
“Excuse me,” he spoke softly, approaching a stall filled with a lovely array of fruits. “Can you tell me if you have any berries?” The merchant blinked several times before refocusing their attention to their wares.
“I most certainly do,” she chirped. “What type were you looking for?”

It was hardly the end of the young buck’s second summer, unfamiliar with the new season smells and chill on the winds though he’d smelt and felt it before as a still young faun last year. A growing confidence in the world could easily be explained by his first tines poking from his head in asymmetrical lengths, solitary teenage defiance as he sought his most favorite of snacks days and days away from where he once called home. It was the end of the season for black berries and salmon berries and apples and cherries. That was all he was truly after. Finding wild growing brambles and moving slowly into what seemed to be farms. Lands belonging to creatures and people he was far unfamiliar with. The further he went into these regulated places the fewer ripe treats there were, picked thoroughly by the people that owned them much to his annoyance. More so to his annoyance was he chased away from the choice foliage they hoarded.
This need to satiate cravings and solve a newfound curiosity in these creatures lead Cut Throat to overlook a tradepost city nestled in the plains. With a clean stark white coat he could hardly be hidden. Yet few seemed to look in his direction as he meandered behind a cart pulled by a rather annoyed donkey. In the back vegetables were bursting out of sacks and boxes held clusters of all manner of things. Which, of course, he partook as though no one else in the world existed.
Cut Throat had certainly never learned to fear people, or be cautious of their possessions. This was a feast for the taking.
And as the cart crawled to the side roads near the market the young buck veered in behind the tents and stands of a more open part of the market, sticking his nose into what ever stacks of food were there and wandering on to the next before anyone grew too wise to his blaring presence. Then came the most indulgent smell, the sweet and somewhat musty smell of none other than blackberries. He wasted no time sticking his mouth into the container that held them and chomped down even on the thorns.

Thranduil was mid negotiation with the merchant when a young bull meandered up to the rear of the stall and stuffed his nose directly into a bushel of blackberries. He blinked several times in disbelief, letting his words trail off. Did this youngling have no decency? Even though Thranduil had no desire to be owned by two legged beings, he still tried to give them respect when they proved themselves to deserve it. Like the wild creatures preparing for winter, the two leggeds had to ensure they had enough resources to last the harsh winter, too.
The scaled rukaan didn’t bother with words, he moved around to the rear of the stall with surprising agility for such a large creature. He was careful not to damage anything, but wasted no time in shoving himself between the young rukaan bull and the berries he’d helped himself to.
“I didn’t see you paying for any of those,” Thranduil acknowledged. “I’m sure it was an honest mistake, though.” The merchant had backed herself away from the two rukaan. Several passersby followed suit. Wild rukaans weren’t known for watching their surroundings when they got into fights and no one had a desire to get caught up in a sparring match.
    “You should apologize and settle your balance.” Thranduil’s pleasant demeanor had all but vanished, the large bull pawing the ground in agitation as he spoke. “Go on, make your amends.”


    Cut Throat’s moment of berry bliss was very quickly interrupted by quite possibly the most massive Rukaan he had ever seen. If it was indeed a rukaan, covered in scales with the look of some sort of beast the young buck could hardly imagine. The sheer surprise of being pushed from the berries backed him up into the post that braced a roof over the stalls. Some semblance of composure took over as quickly as his next stamp of protest. Reprimanded? Him? For Berries?
    “Pay… I know no meaning of the word.” And that was the truth. Payment for anything was not something his mother herd had ever done in the wilds. They took what they could find and had never crossed paths with civilization. Though punishment was always dealt by the accuser unto the accused. Perhaps he knew no manners either, for apologizing for berries as punishment sored clear over his head and through those twiggy little antlers he held so high. “Amends to what? Eating?”
    With the question he tiptoed a little further from the big dragonish stag to attempt to dismiss himself further behind the stalls, not looking away from him once. The smaller space behind stalls could work well for him if he needed to bolt, even if the ground was littered with boxes and things and drapes. Parts of shops, it wouldn’t be too unlike thick underbrush, right? The conniving intention sure glinted in his red eye.

Battle hardened as he was, Thranduil saw the flight preparation almost before it happened. This wild youngling was either unknowledgable when it came to civilized society (as the tame rukaan referred to it), or had a hell of an opinion of himself to think he was entitled to other people’s food. Either way, it wasn’t acceptable for him to brazenly steal from someone who clearly owned the food surrounding them.

“That food belongs to the merchant of this booth,” Thranduil explained through gritted teeth. “You can’t help yourself like this is a freeforall.” The large bull shifted his position to give himself an easier angle to chase after the young bull should he make a break for it. “In this city you have to exchange money or work to get things from the market. Maybe it isn’t like that wherever you come from, or maybe you just didn’t know, but that’s how it works here.”

Thranduil forced himself to take a calming breath. Terrifying the youngling wouldn’t solve anything. “Apologize for stealing food from the merchant. She works hard to grow it.” He nodded toward the woman. “Go on. Apologize and maybe she’ll let you buy some to take with you. If not, I’ll show you where to find some wild ones. It requires a going up river, but I have to go that direction anyway.” Thranduil winced inwardly. He didn’t necessarily want to get sidetracked with a trip to the taiga, but he also wanted to keep the peace in the marketplace so that wild rukaan would continue to be accepted as customers.

    There was a good long moment where Cut Throat weighed what was put in front of him. In a way, he still didn’t understand why it was so important he apologized. How hard could they have worked to let a plant grow for them? Say sorry, and get berries, it wasn’t so bad a trade. But the rest made it seem complicated. On the other hoof the stag did just say where to find more berries. Or perhaps he was not to be trusted and such a beastly look was to be accompanied by a beastly disposition. Momma always did say to be aware of beasts.
    Cut Throat glanced to the woman who owned the stall, eying her uncertain posture as she glanced between the two rukaan praying for there to be no further altercation. He glanced to the box of berries he had chomped into, of which some still stained the white of his face. Then glanced back to Thranduil.
    There was no further warning. In a blur of white the yearling took off through the space between the wall structure and the market shops barreling almost blindly over merchandise and through fabric barriers. No way he was going to suck up to weird uprights. “Lick my hooves old stick!”