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 Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 6:06 pm
She preened a chestfeather quietly for a moment, somewhat taken aback, then spoke. "I am quite happy to go with you, Jester..." She suddenly felt somewhat embarassed, despite her blunt words earlier. Her eartufts lowered and she grinned.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 6:30 pm
Jester fluffed himself back to his original perch, with a grin that seemed to stretch from ear tuft to ear tuft. He didn't really understand why or what had just happened, but it felt very good. It made him want to sing again, but strangely not out loud. He stretched up taller on his feet, and puffed his chest slightly.
"Thank you, Twilla." was all he could muster. He sat very still for the rest of the ceremony, with a strange vacant smile on his face.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 6:55 pm
"Excellent!" he crowed, perhaps a little more excitedly than he had first intended, "And a fine Scout you will make, lad, swiftly winging from one end of our great forest to the other! Oh, the things you will see.. they make my old wings itch with the desire to be coursing through the air aside you!" The old Warden was so excited to see another combatant in the group that he'd actually neglected to wait for the requisite nods before his enthusuiastic approval, but fortunately the Watchers approved of Timber's choice. Timber is now a Scout for the clan. Seems that the blustery old bird does have a bit of a tactical mind behind all that jovial nonsense.. but then one doesn't become a Warden without the experience.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 7:48 pm
Clover listened intently to Sly, though she seemed for all intents and purposes she was focused solely on the ceremonies. A smile cracked her beak when the male stepped up, declaring himself a scout. She had nearly become one herself, and she still held a fondness for those of the profession. "It is good to see another joining the fighting ranks. We need them, even in these peaceful times." She fluffed herself a bit, preening absently. "And no, we haven't met. I've heard of you though, Sly. You were a part of the group 'looking' for the parus at the Longest Night." She turned to regard him. Did she know he had really wanted only to eat the companion? "I know why you were helping. And if you ask me, you had the right idea. Wayward parus are not fit to remain. If they aren't bred to obey, you shouldn't use them." She huffed. What was she then, a keeper who agreed with, even championed eating of them? Huh...strange girl...
((*watches muse die as soon as she starts writing* crying ))
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 7:55 pm
Chase shivered at the light touch of Hazel’s wing, feeling suddenly embarrassed by his poor presentation. He immediately began preening his chest feathers for a few seconds but quickly lifted his gaze to the female with a grin.
“No, not attacked. Just a very long trip. I’ve been to the east borders and I found something Thorn might like. So please tell me he’s becoming a Crafter because I’ll die right here if he changed his mind. When I heard about the ceremony, you have no idea how hard I pushed myself to get here on time.” He paused looking at the wing that he didn’t fully fold and chuckled proudly “Actually, it might be obvious enough… Anyway, this is for the not-so-little one. Hope he likes it and finds it useful. Can you give it to him when the ceremony is over? I’d rather not interrupt his moment with Liam. And… I have to admit I’m exhausted. I really can’t stay any longer.”
Truth be told, he really felt like dropping on the spot and sleeping for at least three days.
Breeze lifted her head with a dignified clack of her beak. A scout. Staying for a little while longer had certainly proved to be the best choice. She would feel rather demoralized if she had left with the impression that only a minority of the young adults had chosen a combatant profession. And good-looking scout he would be, Breeze thought to herself admiring the proud young Sentinel’s features. Perhaps this generation was not a complete waste after all. She might as well stay until the end of the ceremony.
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Posted: Tue Feb 12, 2008 9:55 pm
Sly knew the importance of words and the slips of speech that gave away too much. He guessed this was due to growing up when things where encoded in words. He had grown up suspicious of others and in doing so, he often would strive to find meaning in what a person said. How often had he heard someone say one thing and mean another? It was something that had lead to a form of regret if not bitterness in him. Secrets. Lies. And like someone willing to catch a thief, one had to master thievery, as the same applied to Sly learning how to place his words in intended order to be heard and not notice the real truths. Just as he did this, he also was an active listener and picked up on what most people would quickly take for face value and then jump to a reply without listening, really listening, to what it meant. Still, that wasn’t to say that even Sly could be fooled.
His eyes had returned to the stage where more newly matured adults where declaring their professions, some even jumping to add on their declarations to others.
It is good to see another joining the fighting ranks. Sly was attentive. Another? So she was in the combative ranks. Now the list was shorten. So what now? Ranger, Hunter, Scout or Watcher? There was no way she was an elite. Sly had kept as up to date on those leaders as he could. Usually even before they where appointed or promoted, he knew. Still, he was even more inclined to mind his Serpe tongue in this regard. It was a funny thing, that a combatant tomorrow could be your superior the next day. Nay, the next hour! Not only was it best to remain in at least respectable manners for this risk of not burning down potential elite bridges later on, but a comrade in arms also was there to help out. No, Sly didn’t need help. Dear Noctus no! It was just that if a large mission where to take place, it was good to know who you where working with if you should ever be teams up and separated.
Assuming that Cloverfield was in the realm of some military profession, he spared a glance in her direction. She’s too brightly colored to be stealthy. Those colors are not for scouts and possibly not a Hunter. A Watcher then? Hmm. She must have to have some skill to be dyed so vividly. How could she blend in the trees with that color and not be noticed?
Stealing away that second to glance, he looked back with narrowing eyes at the stage. Conversation Sly, remember?
“Yes. The more we have the better prepared. If we become to comfortable being entertained with bards and fall too much in the luxury in making decorative crafts, if something arises, everything that had been fought for would crumble to the ground below.” This was all common sense and also a common belief, though it was usually often spoken through older Sentinels. Sly was still considered young to some degree. Not just out of graduation, but he still had youth in him, both physically and that blind will.
At the other remark, he did his best to not turn his attention to her, remaining focused on the graduates.
What was that? Was she trying to trick him? It was a sneaky thing to say out loud. Then again, she wasn’t fully saying that it was good to dispose of companions appropriately when they served no good other than the fools that used them for companionship. Was she trying to lure him in a trap to later report to someone who had suspicious against him of doing such a thing, or was she trying to appeal to a common agreement and just share her opinion. To make her own known and to agree that it was the best way. Sly had to be wary.
“It’s one thing for a Keeper who cannot train their charges, but another for a owner who cannot keep in mind that their companions are only tools. Lower-class help. Once they start spoiling their pets, they ruin what the keepers intend and what the companion was there to serve and at that point, what’s stopping them from sympathizing with their everyday meals. Just because they learn to form some semblance of talk, they are not Sentinels. Those types need to find themselves others to talk to and not be dependent on their own companions. It’s better if they change the name. Companions. It’s misleading.” He said, remaining smart as to make a point but not say that he would willingly eat one if it passed his way. Even though he did not say that he had not been looking for the parus during The Longest Night because he actually wanted to eat it, he did state a belief he held. A topic he held true to. Companions where tools. They where raised to be of use. To work. Not keep you company. They where incapable of that.
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 5:42 am
A growling sensation in Hazel's belly alerted him to his own hunger. "Hazel hungry toooo." His nose twitched, sorting through various scents...Mmm...Parus...and Skurri...but those were likely companions. Hazel did NOT want a repeat situation of the Roth-attack. Nodding his head gravely, the chocolate Martes seemed to impart some "sage-like" wisdom to his fellow, Bone. "Careful, yes-yes. Rae-Rae say no kill here. No eat Pa-rus. No eat Sku-ri." Hazel then scratched his head, wondering how Roth had put it. "Make Sential sad. Make Rae-Rae sad. Make your girl sad."
Taking a good long whiff of air, the Martes picked out a faint and muddled scent trail of berries. With a flick of his tail, he beckoned to Bone, before padding off, away from the watchful eyes of the chatting owners.
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 6:43 am
Hazel watched with some concern as Chase preened himself a moment. It did seem that sitting still alone was doing him some good. The poor thing looked like he'd flown to Helios and back. But then she had to remember that Chase wasn't a ranger, he wasn't used to flying to and from the borders every few days. And perhaps the east border was a rougher trip than her own one, which took her north and east, towards the mountains.
"You went all the way to the eastern borders to find something for Thorn?" She was surprised, though not ungrateful. Whatever it was, she was sure Thorn would love it. He was a humble lad, raised well after all. But what could it be that it required a trip to the borders "He is going to be a crafter, he just declared. I think the warden was a little worried that they would all be crafters, but we just had a scout declare, so there you go."
Hazel gratefully took whatever it was that Chase offered. "Of course I'll give it to him. And you, you should go eat, see a medic for that wing," no, the damaged limb hadn't escaped her keen eyes, "And then get you some sleep. I'll tell Thorn it's from you, and that you wish you could have given it yourself."
Clover nodded assent to Sly's words. She wasn't a combatant herself, but she understood well enough the need for those professions. She might breed for inclination to music, and a disciplined mind, but she remembered the days she had started, living and learning with her parents. They had been keepers too. Her mother had kept Parus, like her, but they had been bred for speed, and secrecy. They were messengers to hunters, rangers, elites. Her father had kept Alcyon, fierce hunters and companions to hunters. Her youth had been full of bustling combatants, seeking the strongest, the fastest, the meanest birds to work with. Her own path may have led down a different branch, but it was part of the same road.
She shuffled a little on her perch as the topic turned more towards companions, not from discomfort with the talk, but more a cramping toe. Indeed there was a difference between a keeper dealing with a finicky bird and an owner. For an owner it might be a risk, having 'faulty' merchandise, but fr a keeper the danger was far greater. For example, if a Mus was found to be utterly incorrigible and unwilling to learn, it should be culled immediately. For an owner that mus might ruin a bit of food, or cause a message to go undelivered. But for a keeper...that mus could breed, spread the defective gene, ruin a whole year's turn out, not to mention the livery of any Sentinel that would take on any of the tainted youth.
"If a companion is acting beyond it's intent, you eat it. If a mus shreds your bedding, or kicks your ink pot, you eat it. If your alcyon pecks a respected guest, you serve it back to that guest." She puffed and then settled her feathers. "Or in your case..." She looked him over again, and smiled, "If the companion strays from whomever owns it, you eat it." What might have been an accusation she turned benign with a wink. Just because she raised companions didn't mean she was any different than most Sentinels. She had no qualms about eating them, and she'd done her fair share of it. Many a bird had disappeared down her gullet for inability to carry a tune. And she of course had been known to eat the wayward mus or skurri without a second thought. They were plentiful, and no one really ever minded for longer than it took to get a new one.
It was at that moment that one of her own parus came bombing down to perch silently at her feet. It looked up at her, then over to Sly, and bobbed in a sort of greeting. Then it hopped to face Clover and said simply. "All back. All in place. All good, make ready."
Clover beamed down at the little orangy bird and waved it to her side with a wing. "Thank you Sharp. You had them all go back to drills then?" The parus nodded. "Very good then, you've been a help. Oh, this is Sharp, Sly. Sharp, you may go back to the post then. Make sure they know to keep drilling until I get back, alright?" Without another word the little bird took wing and darted off. Clover smiled after him and then turned back to Sly. "My apologies. Just making sure the group keeps rank while I'm gone. You understand I'm sure."
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 7:44 am
It wasn’t every day that Sly found anything another Sentinel said that he could agree upon. Most of the Sentinels where overly sympathetic to their companions, held useless jobs that did not inspire anything out of him instead of crafting him to make insults, and others where so low on the totem pole that he didn’t even bother to give them a passing glance. It was the case that whatever was being talked, it was most likely he held the minority view of that topic, what was deemed the ‘unfavorable’ side, which only made him disliked more. Where most Sentinels held their bonds with their pets in high respects and valued them enough to say they would risk their lives for them, Sly was on the side that if a companion was in danger, it was up to it to get itself out. That the bounds where nonexistent and should remain thus. That if you where in the woods, starving and unable to hunt do to scarcity of food, that was when a companion held value, enough to last you for another day by dining upon it.
It was a peculiar feeling to say the least. It wasn’t every day that anyone approached Sly, as he was the one that usually had to approach someone else for conversation, whether they wanted it or not. To have someone come of their own volition, a stranger he couldn’t remember talking much to, and then start up a conversation, was a rare occurrence. Sure, Sequoia (the annoying prat) would talk to him, but only because Sly felt the painted Artisan felt they had some sort of camaraderie from their youth. Other than that, it was the occasional Watcher or Hunter passing by with a quick word. He didn’t know whether he was opposed to this, or if it became a habit, if he would welcome it. It still had a peculiar taste in his mouth, then again, that could have been from the fact he hadn’t gave off a snipping remark to the stranger yet.
As she talked, he couldn’t help but slowly raise a brow at her remarks. She held no qualms with openly confessing she’d eat a pet of someone elses and as he turned, he caught the wink from her that made his brow rise a bit higher. She was a peculiar thing. For some reason, he felt that this was less and less a trap to get him to confess that he freely ate companions that passed his way and more just simple agreement. Still, he did not know her, which made him cautions. She was friendly, which made him a bit tense. Still, he thrived on information, on conversation, and if someone was freely offering it, he succumb to the temptation to continue. Every new sentience brought him closer to finding out more and Cloverfield seemed to show no hesitation with giving out information freely, at least as far as opinions went. He didn’t know if he should feel she was a sensible Sentinel for not being one of the many dunces who felt passionate about their pets or a bit foolish for openly saying she’d eat them without minding her own tongue. Then again, she probably felt safe in saying it in his company, knowing he would feel the same way.
And how did she know? That was another thing. Sure, he was sure that people knew he would devour a companion should it pass his path unattended, but none went as far as coming right up to him and saying it to him outright. Did she just have no etiquette to be so bold, or did she just feel unafraid of saying it?
Confusion and curiosity intermingled in him, only startled by the fact that a flutter of wings came to them. It was a parus, one that belonged to Cloverfield. He could tell by the fact that they matched, a dead giveaway. It stroke Sly as odd to have Clover say she would eat a parus and then owning them. Though as the parus spoke quickly and to the point, relaying a report and getting an order back, he did not think less of her. In fact, he felt a bit impressed. The companion was trained well and there was no sense of ‘love’ towards it. It was just there to work. Though Sly didn’t like the idea of any companion in his area, he just downright couldn’t stand them, it was one thing to know that the parus was not there for companionship. He hated those Sentinels who cuddled and preened their pets. It was sickening.
As Sly listened, alarms sent off inside of his mind. Drills? The word held so much meaning. For the female to command a messenger bird to tell others to drill….dare he think she was an officer?! Only those that had power to drill had to be high ranking. No. There could be the possibility that she had fledglings under her command that where being trained. It wasn’t unheard of that some Sentinels took in more than one apprentice. Still, they had to be of high respect to be allowed to take on more than one fledglings under their command.
The sudden realization that Clover could indeed be high ranking, at least higher ranking than he, palpitated his heart rate. He felt his body stiffen and he adjusted his form, taking that of a more proper stance but not enough to make her realize he had changed his demeanor any. He was now on eggshells in being in the company of someone who potentially held the ranks of which he wished to attain, with luck and good graces, in his lifetime. Still, he felt himself a moron for not knowing what rank she was, what field of expertise, and her own sort of fame that had to have lead to her title. His mind scrambled even more quickly to try and come up with some painted, female Sentinel of high rank but nothing came to mind.
“Of course I understand.” He did not. He never drilled anyone before. “You trained Sharp well. Well spoken and straight to the point. I don’t think anyone will be eating him anytime soon.” He said, smiling slightly, as if to confirm he would not nibble on her pet. Damn. His territory to know what was her profession! Who was she?!
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 8:23 am
Clover smiled. Sly was in accord, it seemed. For a few moments she seemed to not pay attention as she watched the new adults declare their professions. That was what she was there for in the end, right? To see if there were any budding new keepers she could deal with, help get started...who knew, forging alliances in the breeding market now could well pay off later. She watched as each new proclamation was assessed by the Warden first, and then with a tilt of her head she watched his eyes look over to the watchers near the edge. She seemed to nod in time with them (which was what it was, her keeping time) and then looked back in time to see the Warden accept or reject the new adults. She huffed a little, obviously amused by the whole ordeal.
Perhaps no normal Sentinel would notice the change in Sly, but Clover did. The timbre of his voice had changed, and his posture. He looked like a new bard put up for his first performance. And it was like she was every audience, critic, and possible fan ever that bard would see. Hmm. Well she personally didn't think she'd done anything worth making him nervous...well regardless. He made for poor chatter all stiff, and it aggravated her besides. Posture like that would ruin one's breathing rhythm.
"Now then, no need to stand so sharp. This is a party, isn't it?" She laughed, looking up and around. "Even The Brigadier and Sleet are relaxing, see?" She motioned with a wing to the small gathering of the head of their clan and other assorted high ranking folk. "See? Besides. Today is about those coming into our society. Not stuffy older fellows like us, hmm?" She poked slight jest at him, allowing herself a quick laugh, but then resettled, calmly watching as the current (NPC) fledge called out his want to be a hunter. "That's more like it then..."
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Jaeger Erdarastrix Vice Captain
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 8:23 am
Ah, a Scout. High above, two large Sentinels both relax slightly. Timber has a likely form, and a very acceptable speech-- well done, well done. The Brigadier turns to glance at Sleet, and the order is given... Sleet nods sharply, and gives the young graduate below a much more thorough examination. In the coming weeks, Timber-- though he will not know it-- will be casually monitored to discover his potential... and his ultimate worth to the Clan.
With the number of graduating fledges now dwindling (or so it seems), the Brigadier's attention turns from the Warden and the assembled youngsters to the audience itself. A rowdy bunch-- a little too rowdy. His red gaze flicks from Sentinel to Sentinel, touching them all.
There, the green-swirl Bard who had made an earlier disturbance, talking with a female. There, a brightly dyed orange-yellow-black female chatting with a sharp-looking Shadow male whom the Brigadier eyes closely for a moment before moving on. Sentinels everywhere, of all sizes, types, and professions.
"Are we almost done here, Sir?"
The Clan leader smiles wryly. "Patience, Sleet. We shall see."
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 8:57 am
“I didn’t really go there on purpose… but when I found this, I just had to bring it back. I assure you I regretted that decision many times along the way.” He chuckled again and forced his wing to fold next to his body, ignoring the sharp pain it caused him, trying to ease the deep wood’s worry as he listened to her words. “I’m glad. A scout? Good, good. Oh, don’t worry too much, I’ll take care of it. It’s an older lesion but I thought it had healed already. Obviously I was wrong. Anyway, it was really nice of you to come to Thorn’s graduation, I’m sure he’s happy to have so many people he knows around. Goodbye Hazel,” he bowed again, unfolding his wings “I hope to see you again soon.”
He started moving through the small crowd, hopped from the platform to a branch and flew up in the air with graceless movements when he felt it was too far to disturb the ceremony, looking for the nearest hollow tree where he could take his long earned rest.
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 12:34 pm
"Chasechasechase, here. Gone bai-bai." Feather watched as Chase spoke with Hazel, then flew off. Fjord diverted his gaze from the graduation to watch his friend. "Looks like he has had a bit of a rough time. I do hope he is alright. We'll have to pop by and visit him after a while."
"While? While? While? Why while? Why not now?" The pica hopped nearer to the abberant bard and tilted his head. "Wanna go now."
"Feth, he looked mighty tired. We'll go after the ceremony and after you get your berries, okay?" The bard sighed, hoping the hardheaded pica would agree. To his delight, Feather settled down and bobbed his dark little head. "Okies."
"No bards." Crow's soft voice called from beside the rambunctious pica. "No bards in this batch. No more songmakers."
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 1:15 pm
It was true. Most Sentinels would not have noticed his posture changing or his voice becoming clearer and sterner in its wording. He didn’t want to come off as a dimwitted, clueless thing that served no purpose to the clan. He knew people passed judgments in appearances and continued to feed their images of one another through actions and they way they held themselves. For this, he wanted to come off as a no-nonsense Sentinel with a level head and a great deal of patience. Admirable quality he had dissected, seen, admired, from those he looked up to, watched from afar, when he was younger. They collected in a database of all that he sought to acquire. His teacher had been his strongest influence, but that wasn’t to say that Sly had not looked at other officers to see what made the ‘stuff’ of elites. He’d often muse on the topic, watching with hidden interest as he would gaze from afar, wondering what was it that was needed. He was constantly adding and perfecting a formula he had started from his fledgling days. Power, strength, patience, intelligence, leadership, the list could go on and on and he could go into each segment of the list and make more specifics. As he grew up, he trained his body, his mind, his speech. He strived for that perfection so, when the opportunity came, he could impress.
Still, this was rarely seen with other Sentinels. He became lax around others, uncaring to their opinions, which in the long run didn’t matter. It was probably why he looked at them as lower. The fact was, they hardly worked hard enough. A crafter needed to be dexterous in some fashion, had ability of will, and some imagination. A Artisan had to have a knowledge of dyes, technique, and the same power of will to apply their dyes as crafters had to manipulate their materials. Bards had to have some sense of verse, charisma, showmanship, and skill in their speech. Yet, their list where shorter and their training less demanding than that which the high ranking, the ones that protected Noctua, worked on their list. They had to know it all. Be it all. Strive for that perfection. It was what set him to admiration. All other professions came up short. And then, there where the elites. Not only did they master some overall understanding in their skills, but they surpassed it to be able to reach their ranks. They where the models of their colony. Respected. Honored. Admired. No Sentinel could deny that.
And that was what he wanted. Always. It was also the one thing that made him nervous, as there was a possibility that in that perfection to reach said goal, no room for error was to be given. No failures. Even in the most minute areas, he could not bring himself to think that he could do any wrong else suffer the consequences of never attaining what he always aspired for. It what made him tense, rigid in form, when he was around said officers.
As Clover noticed his change in posture, he felt his feathers ruffle at not being more discrete and he cleared his throat as if effected by a small cough, a ‘ahem’ that was meant to regain composure and to smooth back his plumage. He could never stand to have his feathers ruffled. It looked gaudy. It seemed out of the ranks, Clover was not as strict or stern as most, which gave his heart some reason to relax and not feel like it would burst like a overly ripen berry at any moment. He did as told, easing back to his statue, but the tension was still in some parts of his anatomy, only to ruffle again. “Stuffy?” He said, almost whispering it to himself. Was he stuffy?! He didn’t think he came off as being aged. True. His graduation had long since past, but he still felt youthful. No, he was young. Admitting he was older meant that he had done little with his life as he had made little progression to any sort of rank, that when he was on his own graduation, already had planned he would be the head of elites at some point. (A dreamer’s dream, now that he thought about it.) Still, he wasn’t old!
A bit irked by that remark, he was shot away from calculating his age at the mention of The Brigadier and Sleet and turning automatically towards Cover’s open wing, followed it up to the higher branches to see the unmistakable image of The Brigadier himself and his second-in-command, Sleet. The red-eyed senior stood like an overpowering presence over all things, and Sleet, a startlingly larger Sentinel, looked like a bundle of pent up energy, looking about as if he was waiting for the seconds to tick by before he could leave. Sly’s heart leapt to lodge itself into his throat when he saw that the Brigadier, once Sly’s vision focused, had been looking at him before passing his eyes to look away. Why was he looking at him?!
The idea that even for a fleeting moment, he had been noticed by the highest authority in the entire forest, sent of a wave of fear and excitement that crashed down on his sanity. On one part, he wondered if he had done anything that might be seen unfavorable to make the Brigadier notice him, watch him. While on the other hand, and one he was feeling his lungs expand until he felt short of breath, was that he had done something that had finally earned enough time to at least be noticed. Ideas swept quickly in his mind and he had to swallow hard and pull himself to reality before being swept away with them.
His eyes barely focused on the graduating adults and he breathed, catching himself and feeling slightly winded. His mind was working on two levels. One to talk to Clover, the other was thinking of the ‘what ifs’. “A hunter is always good. I would have been worried if the entire lot would have been artists. It would cause a lot of unease in the colony. I know we’ve had our time of peace, but that should not be the reason for Minders and Parents alike to warn their children that things can go wrong and they should hold to some duty to their colony. It would be something to worry about if we only got a few hunters, scouts, watchers, and rangers this time around. With so many being crafters and bards, or anything like that, it would wind up ruining things. We’re becoming too comfortable in our time of peace. If the children keep thinking there is no threat, like I think they do now, they will all just pick what they feel would be 'fun', instead of what is best for everyone. They don’t see that if we don’t have a equal group and things are not kept even, everyone suffers. If we have too many crafters and artisans and not enough hunters and gathers, it puts strain on the hunters and gathers to collect for so many. Their time would be spent and exhausted on finding food. We’d struggle and that might mean some scouts and rangers would have to help out. Then we would have no police force. It also effects the crafters, bards, and artisans. If more of them show up, we only wind up with a surplus. You can only dye so many Sentinels and no artisan would want another coloring them. They would not be able to color the Hunters and Rangers, Scouts and Watchers, and with so many artists, they would wind up with no work. It would all come undone with such an unbalance and, if peace should be broken, we’d either struggle to survive, waste time training those bards, crafters, and artisans, or be defeated. They should not approve so many artists this time around. If we get too many, they need to deny them to keep us in order.” Sly said, letting his thoughts pour out. It was amazing how he could, even to him, as he was currently thinking if the Brigadier had noticed him when he had been all puffed up to being called old. That would have been humiliating!
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Posted: Wed Feb 13, 2008 1:16 pm
It was quite amazing to watch Tousled sometimes. Her feathers seemed to lead a life of their own. They were so expressive, as if she wore all her emotions on the outside sometimes. And after the initial surprise she actually seemed happy to see him.
"Oh, I'm great," Birch said cheerfully and settled next to Tousled. "I was thinking about all these crafters..."
So many possibilities for new noisemakers. He had toyed with the idea to find a big and nice sounding drumming branch and somehow move it to the theatre. With a group of crafters feats like that seemed plausible. Sure, he knew of a few sitting branches that were great for tapping a beat on, but it would be more fun to have one closer to his audience. There was a few decent ones here at the gathering place, but their locations were not that good. Bards and crafters working together... Yes, he had to tell Tousled about the possible new addition to the group.
"I talked to one of the minders," Birch said and paused for a moment to remember the name, "Liam, yes Liam... He told me one of his fledglings wanted to join us. She's one of the young adults down there, but I'm not sure which one."
He craned his neck, but the new crafters had already blended into the crowd, being replaced by others who were anxious to leave their fledgling days behind. Why they were in such a hurry was beyond him... He turned towards Tousled as a question crossed his mind.
"Is it hard to be a crafter," he asked, but then started to laugh at the way it sounded.
"Sorry. What a silly question!" he said and tried again, "I know I couldn't be one. But did you practice a lot to become good at it?"
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