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#31 Added by Azazor 3 years ago Multilingual 

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Pelorus Mekor looks at the two newcomers with disdain. They send him again some incompetents who will have to be trained. It seems that they even come from the Halt. Weaklings, no doubt, who probably don't know how to use a knife.

P: "Okay, newbies, grab a knife, we're going to cut up about fifty bodoc steaks for tonight. I'll show you how it's done. We'll take a roast beef and…"
A: "No need for that "malos", we know how to do it. Do you want the steaks tender or not?"
P: "What do you mean?"
E: "Azazor wants to know if we cut them in the direction of the grain or not."
P: "The… a direction?"
A: "Yeah, look at your roast beef, there's a direction for the muscle fibers. If you cut following this direction, the meat is firmer."
E: "But it's less tender. Cutting perpendicularly is harder, but the meat will so melt in mouth."
A: "Wait, we'll show you how."
E: "The trick is to sharpen the knife well."

Within minutes, the steaks are all sliced. The two fyros look at the chef with a smile.

A: "Do you want them even more tender?"
P: "Gue…"
A: "In that case, marinate them."
P: "Mari what?"
E: "Marinate them, bathe them in oil for at least an hour."
A: "Not forgetting the aromatic herbs for more taste."
E: "Oh yes, we have some herbs we picked in the forest near the Halt."
P: "Put herbs with the meat?"
E: "Trust us, we used to be butchers where we come from."

Pelorus sits for a few moments while the two butchers busy themselves to marinate the bodoc steaks in an herbal marinade.

E: "This will be perfect for pan-frying."
P: "Pan-frying?"
E: "Yes. How do you cook your steaks?"
P: "We boil them with the vegetables."
E: "But you can't boil meat like that!"
P: "Sometimes we cook it on a spit, but not the bodoc, it's too tough."
A: "Not the way we cut it. And even less once it's marinated."
P: "Well, listen, you seem to know a lot about it. So I'll give you carte blanche for the meat tonight at the tavern."
A: "Consider it done. Do you got a pan?"
P: "What's a pan?"
A: "A ploderos' hip we placed on the coals. When it's hot, you put the steak on it, thirty seconds, you turn it over for another thirty seconds and that's it."
P: "Is that all?"
A: "Yes."
E: "Not forgetting to baste with the cooking juice."
P: "I don't have a 'pan'."
A: "Never mind. Eeri, pass me your breastplate."
E: "My Kostomyx? You're crazy. We have a pan in the mektoub."
A: "Yeah, but it's far away, and in the breastplate, with the sweat, it gives an inimitable taste."
E: "I understand where your smell comes from."
A: "So go get the pan. And bring the ladle too, to baste the steaks."

Once Eeri returns with the pan, Azazor places it directly on the fire in the hearth, wedged with some embers.

A: "Frying doesn't take long. The longest thing is to let it marinate. But it's not mandatory. Even a few minutes only of marinating, that's not bad."
E: "Especially if the bodoc has been beaten before."
A: "It softens the meat."
E: "You also have to be careful when you kill it."
A: "Yeah, you have to avoid it the stress of feeling like it's going to die. That releases bad things in the muscle."
E: "That's why it's important to kill it by surprise and quickly."
A: "Or better yet, get some bodoc bred by the kitins."
E: "Yeah, straight from a kitins' nest. Don't you have that nearby?"
P: "A kiti… No, not here. Are there bodocs in kitins' nests?"
A: "Of course. Our job was even to go and get them."
E: "Them and the aranas, the madakams…"
A: "Hmm… very good the madakam."
E: "Have you ever tried braised madakam?"
A: "ney! Do you also deglaze it with shookie?"
E: "Ah Ah definitely! Even once…"

Leaving the two Fyros to talk about the art of cooking meat, Pelorus left the kitchen backwards to go and see his chef. Either these two were bullshitters, or he had just come across the two greatest master butchers of Atys. Either way, he had to warn the chef.

Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#32 Added by Azazor 3 years ago Multilingual 

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From the top of his watchtower, Wozung observes the two Fyros walking slowly inside the camp. They have just passed through the large gate to the east carrying on their shoulders a medium-sized arma, tied to a stake. The Fyros seems to inveigh the Fyrossa following him. The latter shouts out something while making a sign towards the south-western corner of the camp, to which the Fyros answers by spitting on the ground.

It's been four days that Wozung has been observing the same little game. In the early morning, the two Fyros get out by the east door, the only door leading to the desert. They come back an hour before noon, loaded with an arma or a ploderos, which they take to the tavern for lunch. In the afternoon, they leave again to return before the nightfall, this time loaded with a big bag full in the going and empty in the return. The Zoraï guard doesn't wonder about what they are scheming. It's none of his business and anyway, these two have made a good reputation for themselves at the tavern. It is true that he has never eaten so well since they have been at ovens. So what they might be up to, he doesn't care as much as his first barter.

As he is about to lose interest in them, one of the officers calls out to them. It is Ostini Facili, the chief of the guards. Not a softy, this one, a real paranoid and expert in poison. He points out the bag the Fyros used in the afternoon. These put their weapons on the ground and shrug their shoulders. Ostini seems to rise a tone. The Fyros starts to push the officer who makes him fall on the ground with a punch to the plexus. The Fyrossa picks the Fyros up while bellowing something in her turn. Ostini makes a sign to the guards around who immediately encircle the two Fyros, then they take them towards the northeast of the camp. Wozung knows what is in the northeast. The prison of the Outpost. Too bad, these were good cooks.


A few moments later, in Ostini's office

The officer looks at them coldly as they sit in their chairs. They each have a heavily armed guard behind them.

O: "I'll overlook your aggressive gesture towards me earlier. We'll put it down to exhaustion from a desert hunt."

The chief of the guards then shows them the bag that he has presented to them outside.

O: I'll repeat the question I asked earlier. Why do you carry this bag that smells of meat into the desert every afternoon? It's full on the way out and empty on the way back."
A: "Well, do you really want to know? Okay, then we'll tell you."
E: "Aza, shut up!"
A: "No, I never approved this deal. I knew it would come back to us."
E: "orak!"
A: "What about talen?"
O: "orak, talen? What's that?"
A: "Something you can't understand, you orskos!"
O: "Ors what?"
A: "You dirty Mat…"

Eeri manages to put her hand on of Azazor's mouth in time.

A: "It's okay, take it off!"
E: "It's just fyrk, still spoken in the New Lands."
O: "Listen to me carefully, you two comics, here this is not the New Lands. Here we are at Passers'. And goods embezzlement is harshly punished by our clan."

Azazor ruminates something unintelligible and spits on the ground.

O: "So this deal?"
A: "It's okay, you'll get your truth, orskos!"
E: "You're staining your honor Aza by revealing our pact."
A: "Not at all. As for me I didn't sign. Only gave you a helpful hand out of friendship."
E: "Friendship?"

The Fyrossa bursts out laughing.

E: "You can stick your friendship up you know where, you traitor."
A: "I'm not the one who flirting with degenerates."

Eeri gets up and throws a blow in the head of Azazor who wavers and falls from his chair. Then gets up and retorts by pouncing on her to strangle her. The guards must then intervene to separate the two furious.

O: "Are we done with this? Put me this one in the dungeon while waiting. As for you, the Fyros, you're testing my patience. You spill the beans right away or we'll play another game."
A: "Are you making a pass at me, hotty?"

Not being able to stand it any more, Ostini grabs the Fyros and tackles him on the ground violently. He makes a sign to the guards who begin to kick him until the fyros faints under the blows.

O: "Drag him to the dungeon with the other one!"

Ostini has never lost his patience like that. He's known for his unfailing calm. And yet, there, he has just had a homin beaten up. He feels he's going to have a hard time getting these two to talk. He's been through some tough ones, but these two really don't seem to care about getting beaten up. They say that where they come from, dying is rare. If that's the case, that explains why they're so resistant to blows. It must be a habit with them. Whereas here, the best survival technique is to avoid them.
First of all, he has to regain his composure. His reputation is at stake. And then, visibly, the blows have no hold on these homins. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm down for a moment.


In the cell where our two Fyros are locked up.

Once Azazor is locked in the same cell as Eeri, she waits a moment for the guards to leave. Then she goes towards her severely bashed fellow traveler. This one does not get up. His breath is hoarse and panting, as if he was going to choke. Whereas she approaches her face have a better look at him, he opens an eye and watches her with a big smile.

E: "Moron!"
A: "Hahaha"

He then gets up and sits down next to her."

A: "So, our little act was nice, wasn't it?"
E: "A real masterpiece…"
A: "We saved a little time. Considering what I took, they'll think that what I'm going to tell them will be the truth. That gives us some time to figure out what to tell them."
E: "It will be hard to explain why the bag that we bring every afternoon in the desert is full and stinks of meat but is empty when we return."
A: "We can tell them that we have a deal with the Atakorum tribe."
E: "The Atakorums? The mystical nomads that the other loudmouth at the bar was talking about last time?"
A: "Yeah. Why not say that we bring them meat in exchange for information?"
E: "If you say that, it's gallows at once."
A: "It's always better than telling them the truth, that we hijack meat and bury it in the desert for the rest of our trip. Dealing is better than stealing."
E: "We don't even know how far away the Atakorums set up their camp. If we want to pretend to deal with them, we have to be credible at least."
A: "Well, they must not be very far according to what Krapoutos says."
E: "Krapoutos says a lot of things, but that doesn't make them facts."
A: "Anyway, I don't think they'll want to know the details. If we tell them we're bringing them some of the meat we hunted in exchange for information about the area, they are not going to get cross, are they? These Marauders don't seem to be as heavy dullards as those at home. Bargaining, even if it's not with Marauders, seems to be tolerated."
E: "Not with their own goods."
A: "We're the ones who cook these."
E: "But it's still their meat, not ours. And they're going to want the fruit of the bargain back. They don't care about the information that the Atakorums would have given us about the desert."
A: "What are you thinking then?"
E: "You could say that we are trading in poison."
A: "Poison? But we don't have any p…"

Eeri smiles at him with all his teeth and flutters his eyelids.

A: "Oh yes, the famous vial…"
E: "He he."
A: "And where is this vial?"
E: "In my toub, if they have not already searched it."
A: "It's worth a try. We trade meat with the tribe for poison. We've been caught and so we agree to return the poison…"

Suddenly, footsteps are heard in the corridor leading to the cell. Eeri and Azazor fall silent at once. The latter lies down and starts coughing. A key comes turning in the firewood lock and the heavy door opens with a creak, revealing a stern-looking guard in the doorway.

G: "You Fyros, enough sleep. The chief must talk to you."
E: "Azazor, don't tell him anything! We swore not to say anything!
A: "I didn't."
G: "Go ahead and shut up!"

While Azazor is escorted by two guards down the corridor to Ostini's office, Eeri can't help smiling. A real play. But with a death sentence at final act if the audience doesn't like it.

Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#33 Added by Azazor 3 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | [English] | Français
{translate}
OOC: This scene was played live on RC by Eeri, Azazor and Finaen (lorist playing NPCs). Only the layout and some micro changes have been made.


Ostini opens the door to his office. He curtly addresses the two guards accompanying him.

"Make him sit down."

The two guards obey, ready to strike the Fyros if he tries to resist. Azazor sits down with a mocking look on his face. 
Ostini closes the door, walks around his desk and sits down in turn. He taps the solid wood desktop for a few moments, staring into space, then finally pulls an object out of a drawer. A finely crafted dagger. Azazor looks at the Matis and the dagger in turn, without losing his slight mocking smile.

"Well you comic, I want you to explain me precisely this story about a 'deal'."

"Or what? Are you going to play the dagger?"

Ostini plunges his hand into his desk again. When it reappears, it holds a small vial filled with a greenish liquid. Azazor's smile immediately fades at the sight of the vial. The Matis uncorks the vial and lets fall a few drops on the dagger's curved blade. A few wisps of smoke are born from the reaction between the liquid and the hardened amber.

"What is it? Poison? If you kill me, you will not know anything!"

"Indeed, it is poison. In case you have forgotten, you should know that you have left the resurrection behind when you undertook this journey. In this desert, no Power will come to help you. So I urge you to cooperate, and not to try to trick me. Am I clear?"

As Azazor remain silent, Ostini goes on:

"I am in charge of the security of the Outpost. I have to understand what you are up to. And believe me, I'll get you to talk, if you try to resist."

The Matis seems particularly calm. The two guards remain flanked in front of the door. Azazor shrugs his shoulders.

"You know, Matis, I'm not the type to lie. And I'm willing to tell you everything. But you see, I don't like those of your race. Back home, the Matis are a bunch of smelly, vile pretentious people. I want to believe that here, it is different. But talk to me offensively again, threaten me again, and all you can get from me is a good spit on your pallid face."

Azazor can't help but look at the vial, the dagger, and the Matis, alternately.

"'Those of my race'? Have you not yet managed to get rid of the racism of our common ancestors? Your civilizations are definitely way behind…"

"You don't know the Matis of the New Lands…"

Ostini lets out a small chuckle, cut off by Azazor.

"I know a few rare Matis…. well, I know two, that are acceptable, out of a whole bunch of boot scrapings."

The Fyros pretends to remember another Matis.

"Ah no, three."

"You confirm what I thought: you are generalizing. But it's not your fault, that's what they want. Don't forget: you are playing into the hands of the Powers by waging war against each other for racial, political, religious, or whatever reasons… And meanwhile, you are divided. Facing them, and facing the kitins."

Ostini makes the dagger disappear under the desktop.

"Anyway. So you are willing to talk. That's fine. I am listening."

Azazor takes a breath.

"Didn't you guess? The bag that smells like meat, the poison you just pulled out… You have all the elements."

He watches Ostini's face, waiting to see the light.

"The poison?"

Ostini looks at the vial that was left on the desktop.

"What's the connection? That vial belongs to me."

[b]Suddenly, Azazor's face breaks down.[/i]

"Ah… ramèch! Well… What was said is said, he adds while tapping his foot on the ground."

Ostini starts tapping his fingers on the desk again.

"We had a deal with the Atakorums. In exchange for some of the meat we would go out in the morning to hunt for Pelorus, they would give us a vial of poison of their own creation."

The Fyros pauses and then continues:

"Given the danger of the road, Eeri and I thought it would be prudent to carry this kind of stuff with us for the rest of the trip. I know, it is a detour of matter which belong to you, but we had figured that, well, on the one hand, we were the ones who brought back this meat. Bodocs and armas are not easy to kill here."

"You're telling me that strangers who everyone distrusts, because of where they come from, are trafficking poison in the very resting place where they have been generously welcomed?"

Azazor has difficulty hiding his embarrassment.

"Not here, no, they didn't want to. They said you would not agree. So we were doing it in the desert, further east. We had agreed on a meeting point."

"If I was paranoid, I'd think that this poison was meant for use against us."

"Are you crazy? Why would we do that?"

"To avenge all the horrors that Akilia's goons did to you on your home lands, at random? There is no reason why Akilia is the only one to send agents to operate in foreign lands.

Ostini marks a pause, then goes on:

"Fortunately, I am not paranoid. I am simply the chief of the guard. An extremely cautious chief of guard, taking his job to heart. The Atakorums, you said?"

"You can't blame them. They have nothing to do with it. We give them meat that we hunt in exchange for poison. They could not know that the meat was prepared in the tavern. What? We used your knives? Big deal!"

Ostini taps faster and faster on the desktop. Maybe he's a little paranoid after all.

"I need to analyze this poison. Where is it? Luckily, I happen to have a little expertise in poison. A knowledge that comes from my former clan."

"You'll have to ask Eeri. She's the one who stashed it."

"I see."

"And don't worry, we don't look like killers. As for the horrors of Akilia, well, we gave it back to her."

Ostini makes a sign to the guards.

"One of you take him somewhere else, and the other one get the girl back to me. Make sure they don't cross paths."

The two guards nod and signal Azazor to get up. He stands up without any resistance and turns to the chief of the guards.

"Ostini? If you want to make Eeri talk, be polite to the lady. She too, vomits the Matis."

"Racist too? Surprising."

"You really don't know the Matis of the New Lands…

One guard accompanies Azazor and the other one goes to the cell where Eeri is locked up. As requested, the two Fyros will not cross paths.

***



"Follow me," says the guard to Eeri.

Eeri grumbles something, then stands up without a word. She obediently follows the guard to Ostini's office where her gaze searches the whole room for Azazor, without success. She puts on a determined and pugnacious face.

"Good. Sit down."

He pauses and adds:

"Please."

Eeri complies, giving a sidelong look at the Matis, trying not to face him.

"I'd like you to explain to me what you and your comrade were up to with those meat-smelling bags. And what is this 'pact' that he mentioned, and that caused your fight."

Eeri remains silent for a moment, and looks at the Matis again, with a smirk on her face.

"What, he didn't say it all already?"

"I want to confront your versions."

Ostini looks closely at the Fyrossa's face.

"A Fyros does not lie. talen, the truth.

The Matis starts tapping on the desk again.

"I am listening."

Eeri fixes his eyes on the Matis' fingers for a moment.

"About what? What we were doing with that meat?"

"I'll repeat my questions: I'd like you to explain to me what you were doing with those bags that smell like meat. And what is the nature of this 'pact' you made with whoever. I expect answers, not questions.

Eeri holds back a grunt.

"I can't say anything about this pact, I don't know what you are talking about. What I can say, is that we exchanged some pieces of meat with some Atakako… dey… Atakorums."

Eeri continues, not waiting for the Matis to ask against what.

"In exchange for a very powerful poison."

"May I see this poison?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No, says the matis with a sigh."

"We will have to go to the stable."

"Just tell me where it is hidden."

"You won't find it without me."

Ostini grits his teeth… Then he calms down. He stands up.

"Right."

[b]He straps a dagger to his belt and signals to the guard."

"Direction to the stable then."

As she stands up, Eeri remembers that the poison is in a matis-made vial. She stammers:

"It is on my mektoub. I changed the vial, the one of the Ata…takorum was too fragile."

Eeri gets up and follows the guard. The three homins head towards the stable, located next to the dormitory. Then she adds, in a not too confident voice.

"I don't know where they got that poison from. It probably didn't come from their place."

"If it didn't come from their place, then it came from our. But don't worry, that's a question I can answer."

The adrenalin going to her head, Eeri doesn't answer. The three homins finally arrive in front of the mektoub. After the terrible journey he went through a few weeks earlier, he seems to be living a better life.

She grabs the mektoub's harness, unties two straps, which frees the pack a bit. She reaches behind it and delicately pulls out a small black box, the size of a dagger. She adds:

"I put it in the vial I brought with me, with a Matis paralytzing poison. Nothing too harmful. This one seems much more powerful."

***



Meanwhile, in his cell, Azazor is having scruples and is walking around in circles. Eventually he calls for a guard.

"Yes?"

"I have something else to tell your boss."

"He is busy. But I don't think he's done with you. You can ask him later."

Azazor grunts a little, perfunctory.

***



"And what did you do with the previous poison?"

Eeri opens the box, and reveals a vial, and a living dagger.

"Spilled. But the vial was intact, luckily."

Eeri looks at Ostini with his most convincing look, thinking that the bigger it is, the better it goes.

"We wanted to test in on the kitins of the Old Lands. Paralytic poison. It works pretty well our place."

Ostini gently picks up the vial and looks at it.

"I'll keep this. I'll keep this. And you go back to your cell."

He waves to the guard again.

Eeri replaces the straps of her mektoub and follows the guard. She turns and says to the Matis, in a squeaky voice:

""Be careful, though. They told us that one drop would kill a homin in two minutes. Not that I'd cry about it…"

"I know poisons well, don't worry. But this one… It doesn't look familiar," he says, looking at the vial.

***



Eeri is led back to the cell. Azazor is still in a room adjacent to the cells with the other guard. Minutes pass and the two Fyros are finally led back to the Matis' office. The two guards seat them next to each other, but these don't exchange any glance.

Ostini, sitting behind his desk, seems colder than before. He rolls Eeri's vial between his hands. A guard whispers something in his ear and his gaze falls on the Fyros.

"Did you want to tell me something? The truth, perhaps? That might be useful, indeed."

Eeri remains silent, and gives a sidelong look at Azazor, who begins to speak:

"ney… But first, tell me the Truth. You told me about Akilia, about her goons. Tell me if I'm wrong but… you don't seem to be too fond of her, do you? I know well that she is your leader, but you have nothing to fear, we won't repeat."

"Indeed, I don't hold her in my heart. And no, she is not my 'leader'… But I am not in the mood to speak about Akilia."

"Yet she declares herself the leader of the Marauders," Azazor continues.

Ostini ignores Azazor's last remark and continues:

"You see, I showed your vial to three Atakorums present at this very moment in the tavern. Do you know the rest?

Azazor loses his smile and, looking grave, looks at Ostini. The Matis lets a few seconds pass, then repeats himself, emphasizing each word.

"Do. You. Know. The rest?"

"The Atakorums had nothing to do with that, says Azazor. We just hijacked some food that we stashed in the desert for the rest of our trip. And the vial is from the New Lands. I can't say anything about it, having discovered its existence by chance in the Sea of Wood."

Eeri lets out a loud, upset sigh.

"We arrived here with a full loaded mektoub. We gave you everything…"

Ostini shows a satisfied smile. He seems proud of himself.

"Or rather, you took everything from us," she adds.

Azazor turns to Eeri.

"They're merchants here, what did you expect?"

"You paid for your stay here. And you could have kept working to get food. But you chose to steal from us instead."

"We didn't steal anything," Azazor growls.

"To get food? We work like crazy, and that's just enough to pay for your dorm!" adds Eeri.

Ostini raises his hand and beckons the two Fyros to silence.

"This food, we hunted and prepared it," Azazor adds anyway.

"Save your plea for my boss. My real boss, not Akilia. I did my part of the work."

Ostini gets up and heads for the door.

"I'll be right back."

Azazor turns to Eeri.

"You and your stupid ideas…"

"The Atakorums was your idea," she whispers to Azazor.

"You had a better idea?"

"dey! But sometimes it's better to just keep silent…"

"You think that saying nothing would have made a difference? Pfff !"

***



A few minutes later, the door opens. Ostini is accompanied by a Trykeri. A Trykeri that the Fyros have already crossed very often.. O'Teelo, the tavern keeper. The two Fyros are astonished. Eeri widens his eyes and gives O'Teelo a tense smile, in doubt. Azazor imitates Eeri like a mirror.

"Thanks Ostini, I'm borrowing your office. Can you take care of the bar while I take care of them?"

"What? Uh, yes. Sure."

Ostini sends an angry smile to the two Fyros and then leaves the room. The two guards remain present. The Trykeri slumps down on the seat and puts her boots on the desk of the Matis, who would probably not appreciate the gesture if he were present. She seems far less friendly than usual.

"I hear you've been embezzling goods that belongs to us."

"Embezzling? No… We have produced more than enough," Eeri protests.

"Technically, it's not your belongings since we're the ones hunting and cooking," adds Azazor.

O'Teelo does not pick up Azazor's remark and continues:

"I've been watching and listening to you a lot over the past three weeks. To tell you the truth, I was beginning to like you. Especially since you're an extremely good cook! But this… This is serious."

Eeri, perplexed, looks at Azazor and, doubting that this is the right strategy, tries to get her neuron to work out a better one. O'Teelo continues:

"You want to talk 'technique' with a merchant, Azazor? If I understand correctly, your thing is politics, alcohol and fighting."

"And a sense of justice," says Azazor.

"And the cooking of the bodoc," adds Eeri, half-heartedly.

"You think it's fair to exploit people? We just wanted to pay ourselves properly by taking some extra meat," says Azazor.

"Otherwise, we won't last two days in the desert," added Eeri.

"So why cover it up? Why didn't you discuss it?"

"Because you are rascals," the Fyros almost shouted. "We too have been watching you. We had to give you all our stock of dried meat just to enter the camp and sleep for two nights in your dormitory."

[Eeri winces at Azazor's words and elbows him, hoping he will shut up.

"So you both survived two more nights thanks to us. Then three weeks more," says O'Teelo.

"Ostini, whom we thought was the leader, did not seem open to discussion," Azazor points.

"Or rather, he was happy to take all the stock we had, adds Eeri. After three days, we had nothing left. And nothing left to buy anything…"

"Ostini, the boss? O'Teelo sneers. He is only the chief of the guard. A good chief, by the way, paranoid as can be. It's often very useful."

Eeri raises an eyebrow at "good chief, by the way". O'Teelo continues:

"That's why we hired you. To help you."

"We have the experience with the Marauders of the New Lands. So don't be surprised if we didn't play it straight from the start. Especially after being racketed at the entrance."

Eeri nods in support of Azazor's words, who is ruminating alone in a low voice: "Merchants, thieves, like the Trykers, all of them are…."

O'Teelo grimaces.

"Don't compare us to those barbarians. And you two don't talk to me about racketeering, you don't know anything about this country. You come from a world where everything seems easy. Haven't you wondered how hard it was to create this outpost, and to keep it going for all these decades? Yes, life is hard here. That's a fact. But better that than death.

Eeri takes a deep breath:

"Well, we screwed up. What can we do now to make up for it?"

O'Teelo looks at the Fyrossa.

"That's a good question."

"You have Eeri's vial of poison, isn't that enough for a few pieces of meat? Or do we have to give you our armor and underwear too?

O'Teelo looks at the Fyros armor.

"No thanks, I'm fine."

Eeri turns to Azazor.

"Don't add to it. They have no use for a poison like that, either."

"If you say so…"

Eeri arouses O'Teelo's curiosity.

"And what is its use?"

Eeri points to the palm of his hand, which shows a black spot.

"I never tested it. But I can tell you that I suffered to get it."

"Who do you want to poison, asks O'Teelo?"

"Yes, who do you want to poison," squeaks Azazor, turning to Eeri.

"No one in particular," answers Eeri. "If I came across your Akilia, I might not mind. It was just a matter of not to leave unequipped, and at worst it could have been a bargaining chip. I intended to try this on kitins from the Old Lands, too."

"If you're looking for Akilia, head back west. She must be somewhere between the New Lands and her headquarters."

Eeri shakes her head.

"We're not looking for her."

"In any case, it is certain that I will not let you progress to the east with an unknown poison. Ostini thinks you are assassins sent on a mission to the Citadel," O'Teelo sneers.

[b[Azazor turns to Eeri.[/b]

"And another toubshit from Eeri, one!"

"Oh, hey, it's okay… We wouldn't be here if you hadn't thought of saying that."

"Okay, then. What do you have to offer, then? For this stolen meat supply."

"That's not even worth the armadai meat we brought in," Eeri grumbled.
"Sorry, I know, it doesn't matter," she adds, lowering her eyes.

O'Teelo seems to be thinking.

"You know what? Maybe you could do us a favor…"

"That's all we can do. We don't have anything else to offer."

"A delivery mission. You'll get to keep the meat, and even get a little extra for the… long detour you'll have to make."

"Will this detour go through the place where we stashed the meat?" Azazor asks.

Eeri nudges him again.

"Aza… that's a detail."

"If you don't make it to the indicated point, I will know. Either it will mean that you died on the way, or it will mean that you preferred to rip us off a second time by continuing on YOUR way. If this is the case, try not to pass by the Outpost again on your way back… Also try to avoid Sentinel and the Citadel…."

"Where is the delivery located?"

"In the south, on the coast. The network of Zinuakeens does not yet cover the southwestern part of the desert, which makes it difficult to communicate with our relic hunters."

"It can't be worse than going back to the Oflovak Halt. We'll do it. I guess you agree, Azazor?"

"What should we deliver?" he asks in a grumble.

"A trinket."

"On one condition," Azazor replies. "We need a map of this detour."

"It might help… At least for knowing where to go.

"Of course you'll have one. I don't intend to send you to your death," says O'Teelo, a satisfied smile on his face.

The two Fyros, still sitting side by side across from the Trykeri, find it hard to hide their relief.

"While we're there, is there anything in particular you need us to bring back?" Eeri asks.

"Perhaps someone will give you another delivery mission, yes. It's up to you whether you take it or not. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm only hiring you for this delivery."

"akep. Uh… thanks."

"What I'm curious about is how you'll know that we made this delivery," asks Azazor… "What's this trinket?"

"I'll know, because if you do, there will be a new Zinuakeen."

Azazor nods, trying to hide his extreme interest in the 'trinket'.

"The object, in itself, is not particularly valuable. I would hate to lose it, of course. But the main problem is its delivery in those hostile lands."

Eeri prefers not to know what it is about, and is almost smiling in front of O'Teelo.

"So we're free to go?"

"If you want us to make this delivery, we're going to need equipment," cuts in Azazor.

Eeri chuckles slightly, well recognizing Azazor in this words.

"We can't ask for too much, can we?"

"I say that in the interest of the mission," says Azazor, taking a serious look."

"You are free to go back to the kitchen and work. I still have a couple of things to take care of on my end before you leave. Again, I'm not sending you to your death. You will have what you need to travel to the coast, both in terms of information and equipment. But it is mostly your resourcefulness that you will have to rely on." While saying so, O'Teelo puts Eeri's vial in his pocket.

"Be careful with the vial. And I must give you something else. On the one hand, an antidote. And on the other hand, a piece of advice… Never touch this dagger without first putting on a glove…" Eeri adds, shaking his head "… because I like you after all."

"What dagger?"

"The one in the box on the table there."

O'Teelo cautiously opens the box and observes the dagger. Eeri shows the palm of his hand again.

"This is a Matis weapon. And, in our regions, Matis are foolish enough to make weapons more dangerous to those who carry them than to those who are hit with them. There is no antidote for the poison of the handle."

"Um, okay. Now that our 'friendship' is sealed with a contract, can you tell me why you're traveling? Simply science and a thirst for adventure, truly?

"How much are you paying for this information?" Azazor asks.

Eeri sighs.

"Azazor… you are despairing."

"Eeri, we talk to hagglers here. So we haggle."

O'Teelo smiles.

"How much do you estimate its value?"

"A Marauder's armor. But we can negociate."

"A suit of armor? Um, I'm fine with that."

"One for of each of us, that goes without saying, since we each have a different reason for being here," adds Azazor.

"I don't mind. That's not a big deal."

"It's worth a lot to us. Home, we even have Marauders waging war to other Marauders for them to get. But I don't want to tattle…"

O'Teelo scratches her head.

"If it helps you understand why we have a bad opinion of you…" Eeri adds.

O'Teelo sits back in the chair and looks at the two Fyros with a concerned look.

"The Throat Cutters' Clan, the Black Sawdust Clan, the Ashes Clan, and more generally all the goons of Akilia, represent only themselves. Well… This is my opinion. That's not shared by all. One thing is however certain: Akilia does not represent, in her behavior at least, the whole of the Marauders. If by miracle, you find a way to reach the Citadel, you will be able to see that with your eyes. We are not savages. And I hate to think that some people think that about us, while in the east many of us are fighting day and night against the kitins."

The leader then rests her elbows on the table and lifts her chin toward Azazor.

"If I have your word, then it's okay," he says. "The reason I am here is to go to the lost city of Coriolis, in the desert of my ancestors. I want to find out the mystery of the Fire reported in our chronicles. I also want to study the kitins there, and of course make a map of the place. A little more too, even if I don't have too much hope about that: I would like to establish a first contact with the Marauders to discuss with them about a possible exchange of knowledge with the Empire."

Eeri speaks in turn, after a moment of spinning her words in his head.

"My reason will not be easy for you to understand, I imagine. Back home, I am a Trytonist. We are also called Elias seekers."

"I see," replies O'Teelo.

"I guess I have no reason to hide my beliefs here. I'm looking to verify some old theories, some evidence. Just like Azazor the fire of Coriolis, among others. Also to meet scientists, in the east. And… An old dream. I wouldn't want to die without having seen the city of Fyre with my own eyes. Or what's left of it…"

O'Teelo takes a serious look.

"You know that you have a very high likelihood of dying? The Oflovak Road is but a pleasure garden compared to what lies beyond the Citadel."

"We are Fyros," says Azazor.

"We'll see in due time," says Eeri, shrugging his shoulders.

"No, you are, above all, homins from the New Lands, used to being brought back to life by the Powers. Whether you believe it or not, thatt affects the way you act and think. I mean no disrespect, but you have grown up in an 'under-bubble' world."

"After several years on the Road, I can assure you that's changed", says Eeri.

"That's possible, yes, but the day when we'll back off has not yet come," adds Azazor.

"I speak with all the facts. I've seen the new generation, both in Sentinel and in the Citadel, start to get used to resurrection… It changes the way one looks at life."

"You have resurrection at the Citadel?" Azazor choked.

O'Teelo raises her eyebrows.

"Akilia and her goons would have brought the Marauders' resurrection system to the New Lands without it existing at the Citadel? That doesn't make any sense. Well, anyway…"

O'Teelo stands up, and walks towards the door, waving the guards to leave.

"… To the kitchens, you two!"

Eeri whispers to Azazor:

"It's Ostini who's going to make a face…"

"Yep, so much the better."

Eeri smiles with all his teeth. Azazor returns her smile.

"By the way Eeri, you are a very poor trader. The information about the dagger, you should have sold it…"

Azazor leaves the room whistling, followed by an Eeri too relieved to protest.

Edited 6 times | Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#34 Added by Eeri 3 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | English | [Français]
{translate}
Journal de bord d'Eeri
2620, été du troisième cycle.

Nous y voilà, nous repartons demain. Il s’est passé tant de choses ici que j’en ai oublié ce journal.
Pour résumer très vite… Des fois que je perde la mémoire.
Arrivés à l’avant poste. Ils ont pris notre viande, on a créché quelques nuits là à se demander ce qu’on pourrait faire, puis on s’est fait embaucher à l’auberge comme cuisiniers. On a commencé à planquer de la viande pour préparer le reste de notre voyage. Ils ont remarqué, Ostini, le chef des gardes, nous est tombé dessus. Azazor a eu l’idée brillante de raconter qu’on échangeait ça avec les akako akatorums contre un poison, En racontant qu'on a perdu celui qu’on avait emmené. Puis il a fallu que je montre mon poison à ce salopard d’Ostini, leur chef des gardes. Un matis. Bien entendu, il a tout de suite vu que ce poison ne venait pas des akatakomachins… Ensuite, celle qu’on prenait pour la simple tenancière de la taverne s’est révélée être la cheffe de leur clan. Elle nous a fait cracher le morceau, mais s’est montrée relativement compréhensive. Comme quoi, les maraudeurs d’ici, c’est pas comme ceux de chez nous. Ici, on peut parler.

Résultat, on a accepté de faire une livraison pour elle, pour repayer nos erreurs. Enfin, nos actions, pas nos erreurs. Ils ont eu la cordialité de ne pas nous balancer par dessus la falaise, ou quoi que ce soit d’autre. Sur le moment, la situation était assez excitante, je n’ai réalisé qu’après que l’on jouait vraiment avec nos vies.
La bonne chose, c’est qu’O’Teelo est prête à nous fournir en matériel pour ce travail. Des armures de maraudeurs, locales. Juste ce qu’il nous faut, pour espérer arriver à la Citadelle un peu plus inaperçus qu'avec nos tronches de fyros hébétés. Elle nous a filé une carte, le chemin à suivre semble simple, comme ça. Premièrement, longer la falaise vers le sud, pour trouver le point de livraison. Ensuite, là-bas, nous sommes censé rencontrer d'autres maraudeurs. Ils pourront nous en dire plus sur les danger qui nous attendent si nous décidons de suivre la grande chaine de montagne qui mène à Sentinelle. C'est ça ou faire demi tour, retrouver l'avant-poste et reprendre le chemin des Rangers.
Finalement, là est la moins bonne chose : quoi qu'on choisisse, on est contraint de faire un détour de plusieurs semaines, voire plusieurs mois...

Ce qu’on doit livrer? Je n’ai jamais vu un truc pareil. O’Teelo nous a ammené un petit coffret, et l’a ouvert devant nous. Elle sait bien que notre curiosité nous aurait poussés à l’ouvrir, de toute façon. Elle a sorti avec précaution trois objets, aux bords un peu verdâtres, ornés d’un coté d’inscriptions étranges, brillantes. Des lignes, dans tous les sens, des points. De près, j’ai remarqué qu’il s’agissait de motifs gravés, pas seulement dessinés. Les points sont de tout petits picots, incrustés. De l’autre côté, comment décrire… une multitude d’ornements, de petits objets, agglutinés les uns aux autres. Comme des éclats de bijoux de différentes couleurs, reliés par de petits fils brillants. Des rectangles, des cercles. À première vue quelque chose de chaotique, et pourtant laissant apparaître une organisation incroyable, chaque élément semblant trouver sa place. Comme s’il s’agissait d’une ville miniature.

O’Teelo les a rapidement enveloppés dans des étoffes de fibres, pour les caler dans le coffret, nous recommandant de ne pas l’ouvrir. Pas trop souvent, en tout cas. Elle pense que le vent et la sciure du désert pourraient les abîmer. On a promis d’en prendre soin. J’ai alors demandé : c’est Karavan, non?
La Trykette m’a alors regardée d’un air affligé : "Non, ça a été pondu par un Lumper". Azazor n’a pas perdu une occasion de se moquer de moi, avant qu’elle nous fasse signe de la suivre vers l’étable en emmenant le coffret. J’aurais voulu lui poser plein d’autres questions, mais ma première ayant été d’une bêtise totale, je n’ai pas osé en rajouter. Quand même, des fois je ferais mieux de fermer ma gueule.

Elle nous a sorti des armures. Couleur de la sciure du désert, rutilantes. Une à Azazor, une à moi. Déjà utilisées, visiblement, mais d’incroyable facture. On a négocié ça. Enfin, Azazor a réussi à négocier... Il m'a bluffée, là dessus. Ah oui, j’oubliais, avant ça, on a du aller chercher le fameux stock de viande. On s’est quand même sentis comme deux crétins, même si on était soulagés de l’issue de tout ça. Au final, on a même cru comprendre qu’ils allaient nous regretter en cuisine.

Il me faut écrire ça, aussi : je dois admettre que je me suis trompée. Nous nous sommes tous trompés. Les maraudeurs ici n'ont rien à voir avec ce à quoi on s'attendait. Akilia n'est qu'une cheffe de clan parmi d'autres, et tous ne reconnaissent pas son autorité, ni son combat, ni ses idéaux. Loin de là. La guerre qu'elle mène n'est pas la guerre des maraudeurs des Anciennes Terres.
Barmie le savait, sans doute. Je ne peux plus me souvenir de s'il nous l'avait dit, mais nous étions sans doute trop sûrs ne nous, de notre savoir, nous ne l'aurions de toute façon pas cru. Quoi, des maraudeurs qui ne sortent pas leur masse pour régler le moindre problème, qui savent écouter, et plus inquiets de contenir la menace kitin que de s'occuper des pitreries de nos empires des nouvelles terres. Presque des rangers, en fait. À croire qu'il s'agit des mêmes. Nous n'avons croisé que peu de rangers, jusque là.

Nous allons de surprise en surprise. Barmie nous avait prévenu des frahars du désert. Il s'agit surtout de Fraiders ! Je garde la hache que je tiens de ceux des nouvelles terres à mon ceinturon, mais je n'ai hélas pas eu le temps de créer de lien de confiance avec aucun d'eux. On en croisera sans doute d'autres dans le désert. Je dois en savoir plus sur eux.

Ah, tiens, et Azazor a décidé d'envoyer toutes ses notes vers Pyr. Je pense que c'est idiot, il a plus de chance de se les faire voler ou que le porteur se fasse bouffer par n'importe quelle bestiole sur le chemin. Je lui ai dit de faire une copie. Pas le temps pour ça, qu'il me dit. Tiens, ça me fait penser que les lettres que j'avais confiées au phare sont peut-être arrivées. J'espère qu'ils vont tous bien.

Pour résumer... En fait, non, il n'y a pas grand chose à résumer. Juste à se remettre en route.
Si. Je dois ajouter... et avouer : j'aimerais tant passer plus de temps avec les homins d'ici, découvrir les richesses et leur savoir, les comprendre mieux. Revenir un jour vers les nouvelles terres avec leur message. Mais allez, ce n'est pas le moment de s'arrêter, nous sommes si près de notre but. Un nouveau désert nous attend.

Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago) | Reason: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#35 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | English | [Français]
{translate}
Journal de bord d'Azazor

Je me suis résolu à envoyer vers les nouvelles terres tous mes rapports depuis Fort-le-Phare jusqu’à notre départ de l’Avant-Poste Diplomatique. Sur les conseils d’O’Teelo, je les ai remis à un ranger de confiance qui devait aller à la Halte. Espérons que tout se passe bien. La route dans la Mer de Bois est bien plus risquée. Au pire tant pis si le paquet se perd. Toutes les informations qu’on a récupérées sont dans ma tête et je jure de revenir vivant pour les raconter un jour.

Bref, comme déjà expliqué dans mon précédent rapport, nous avons trois artefacts à livrer aux maraudeurs installés près de la Grande Flaque au sud. Ils sont censés servir à la construction d'un zinuaken dans la région. Les marauds sont en contrebas d'une falaise. Mais a priori, il n'y aura pas de monte charge ou d'escalier. Donc ce sera escalade, sueur et huile de coude. S'ils se sont installés en bas, sans moyen pratique pour descendre, ça ne veut dire qu'une chose: que la région est très dangereuse et que c'est pour eux un moyen de se défendre.

Je vais tenter de décrire au mieux ces artefacts qui me rendent vraiment mal à l’aise. Déjà, on voit tout de suite que ce ne sont pas des créations homins. On dirait des sortes d’écailles de dragon vertes et oranges, sur lesquelles sont peintes ou peut être gravées des lignes qui se croisent et s’entrecroisent. Incrustés sur les écailles il y a des trucs noirs carrés, ronds ou rectangulaires et des sorte de coulées brillantes, durs et froides qui les relient à l’écaille. Eeri parle de bijoux. Pour moi, on dirait des pustules noires d’une créature innommable suintant un liquide gris et brillant qui se serait solidifié. Il y a aussi quelques symboles dessus. Des lettres, des chiffres, mais sans aucun sens. Des symboles qui insufflent la vie comme pour les foreuses kamis ? Mais ça n’a rien de kami. Rien que de toucher ce machin ça me dégoûte. Au moins, je n’ai pas vu de traces de goo dessus. Je note tous les symboles sur une page à part et je tente un dessin du plus gros artefact, pour vous donner une idée. Mais vous savez mes talents pour le dessin…

Extrait du dessin d'un des artefacts.


On nous a pas dit le nom de ces trucs, O’Teelo se contentant d’appeler ça une babiole. En tout cas, c’est pour moi clairement karavan. Je ne vois pas les maraudeurs créer ce genre d’artefacts. Il va falloir que j’en sache plus sur le lien entre marauds et kara. Sur les NT, il y a parfois des alliances de circonstances pour les batailles d’Avant-Postes. On peut imaginer qu’ici ce soit là même chose. La karavan fournissant la technologie pour fabriquer les zinuaken en échange de ressources récoltées par les marauds. Une rumeur que j’avais entendue autrefois parlait de dissidents de la karavan. Eeri en sait peut-être plus sur le sujet. Bref, tout ça renforce l'hypothèse d'un fyrak mécanique de la karavan dont les écailles seraient ce genre d'artefact, même si ici il ne s'agit pas de dragon mais d'un zinuaken.


Pour changer de sujet, laissez-moi vous décrire brièvement le désert que nous parcourons. A première vue, il n’y a pas de différences avec le désert impérial. Même dunes, même sciures, même plantes, peut être un peu plus chaud. Des olash, des olansis, des savaniels, des botogas qui nous aident à ne pas trop puiser dans notre stock d'eau. On n'a pas encore vu de Bothaya. Je présume que la présence de la grande flaque pas trop loin permet une hydratation des sous-sols qui empêchent son apparition. Mais je sais plus, je dois confondre avec une autre plante. J'aurai dû mieux suivre les cours de botanique à l'Académie. Il n'y a pas de papalexi non plus sur la route pour l'instant. Et pas croisé de loojine également. Il parait qu'ils sont de la même famille. Ceci explique peut être cela... Concernant la faune, pour l'instant on a seulement croisé au loin des varinx. D'après les maraudeurs, nous ne devrions pas croiser de Fraiders, ne passant pas sur leur territoire. Cela semble déplaire à Eeri, mais qu'elle se rassure, ce sera pour le chemin du retour, dans quelques années.
Par ailleurs, j'ai stocké dans une bourse une petite partie de sciure pour analyse ultérieure, quand je rentrerai. Si le maitre xylologue Ulyton Meros accepte de se pencher dessus, on aura peut être une surprise.
Ah oui, un point intéressant à noter: l'astre du jour est bien plus haut que dans les Nouvelles Terres. C'est un fait. J'ai pu le mesurer avec le sextant. Je note toutes mes mesures sur une page à part. En estimant le nombre de kilomètres parcourus vers l'Est, je pense qu'on peut donner une estimation de la courbure d'Atys. Mais n'étant pas doué pour les calculs, je laisserai ça au soin des maitres de l'Académie à mon retour. Est-ce que le fait qu'il fasse un peu plus chaud viendrait de là, les rayons arrivant moins obliques que dans les Nouvelles Terres? Plus nous avonçons sur la route, plus je découvre de choses, mais plus je me pose de nouvelles questions. La quête de la Vérité est un chemin infini.

Nous devrions arriver au point de rencontre d'ici quelques jours. En espérant ne pas se faire bouffer par un varinx d'ici là...


Journal de bord d'Azazor

Ce qui devait arriver arriva. Ce matin, nous avons croisé un groupe de quatre homins accompagnés d'un varinx. Ramèch! Un varinx de compagnie! Une bête magnifique, aussi haute qu'un homin. Un peu comme Aen chez nous. Sauf que ce n'était visiblement pas des maraudeurs. Ils ne se sont même pas présentés. Ce ne sont pas des Atakorum en tout cas, mais sûrement une énième tribus de nomades du désert. Ils ont exigé qu'on leur laisse tout notre bardage et le mektoub en échange de la vie sauve. On a essayé de négocier un peu de viande pour eux et leur varinx, mais rien à faire, c'était la totalité de nos affaires si on voulait pas, je cite: "finir dans le ventre de Razor". J'ai présumé que c'était le nom du varinx. Toujours est-il qu'on pouvait pas se permettre de leur filer l'objet de notre quête. Il y allait de notre honneur. Alors pour la première fois depuis notre départ de Silan, on a du se battre contre des homins pour sauver nos vies.
Résultat: on en a tué deux et le varinx, les deux autres se sont enfuis. Enfin... Eeri a tué le varinx, un homin et en a blessé un autre grièvement. Moi je me suis contenté de l'achever, récoltant au passage une belle entaille à la cuisse droite quand la pique d'un homin a réussi à perforer l'armure maraudeur au niveau d'une jointure. Sans Eeri, c'était mon thorax qu'il transperçait. C'est une vrai furie quand elle se bat celle-là. Je l'avais déjà vu faire dans les Nouvelles Terres. Mais jamais avec autant de rage et de détermination. On aurait dit une déesse de la guerre. Lopyrèch m'avait prévenu, cette homine est dangereuse. Heureusement que je suis son ami. Enfin, je crois.

Bref, aujourd'hui, j'ai tué un homin. Je veux dire, définitivement. Ce n'est pas du tout la même chose. Je ne l'avais pas encore remarqué jusque là, mais quand on tue quelqu'un d'habitude, on sait toujours au fond de nous que ce n'est pas, ou rarement, une véritable mise à mort. Là, quand j'ai planté ma hache dans le crâne de mon ennemi, j'ai su qu'il ne s'en relèverait pas. C'est comme si j'avais aspiré son âme. Je me suis senti sale. Cela m'a rappelé la mort d'une crise cardiaque du celiakos Lyan Cexius après qu'il se soit énervé contre moi. Sur le coup, j'ai ressenti une certaine culpabilité. Sauf que cette fois, je ne peux pas me rassurer en me disant que l'homin était très âgé et que son heure était venue. Je suis responsable du coup de hache qui l'a terrassé. J'ai pensé alors à nos ancêtres qui, au combat, devait vivre ça de nombreuses fois.

Tout s'embrouille dans ma tête, j'ai plein de pensées contradictoires. C'est vraiment un autre rapport à la vie.
Comme nous sommes devenus faibles à cause de la protection des puissances! Comme nous avons perdu tout cet aspect, je dirais, philosophique! Tous les guerriers, et moi le premier, nous nous trompons depuis le début. Tuer n'est pas une chose anodine. C'est un véritable pouvoir qui peut rendre fou. Celui-ci nous a été ôté par la résurrection des puissances. C'est désormais elles qui ont ce pouvoir. Et je ne suis pas sûr que ce soit forcément un bien.


Journal de bord d'Azazor

Décidément, c'est la loi des séries. Aujourd'hui, alors qu'on avançait tranquillement vers le sud, je suis tombé dans une crevasse. Une belle chute d'une dizaine de mètres. C'était pourtant pas marqué qu'il y a des crevasses dans le coin. C'est censé être plus loin, vers l'est. Bref, on a bien passé une heure pour qu'Eeri parvienne à me remonter à l'aide d'une corde et du mektoub. Soit disant j'étais trop lourd. Ce doit être le sac, il est chargé de cuir de varinx, ça pèse son poids. On va devoir redoubler de prudence. Autant on a aucun mal à se soigner ici, contrairement à la Mer de Bois, mais on n'est pas immunisé à la blessure mortelle. S'il y a des crevasses de dix mètres de profondeurs, on peut imaginer qu'il y en a de bien plus profondes. J'ai beau être résistant, je ne suis pas incassable.

Edited 3 times | Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#36 Added by Eeri 2 years ago Multilingual 

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Eeri s’arrêta de tirer sur la corde et fit signe au mektoub de s’arrêter. Puis elle s’assit, ignorant les gémissements qui résonnaient sur les parois, pendant un moment.

— Arrête de gesticuler, cria-t-elle finalement !!
— Mais alors qu'est-ce que tu fais? Remonte moi !
— La corde est coincée, ne bouge pas. Je gère.

Eeri resta sur place, sans bouger, un oeil sur la hache qu’elle avait posée à terre plus tôt, alors qu’elle sortait une corde en catastrophe pour secourir le fyros.


Il suffirait d’un coup sec, murmura-t-elle. Comme pour les frippos.

Le laisser là? Azazor avait bien failli les faire tuer.

L’hésitation. En combat, on hésite jamais. On frappe, là où l’on sait que l’ennemi aura mal. Mais non. Lui, une hachette à la main, il se contente de parer les coups, sans contre attaquer.

Contre une pique, c’est quitte ou double. Armé d'une hachette, on peut profiter de la longueur de l’arme adverse et du moment d’inertie après l’attaque pour lancer un coup où ça fait mal. En l’occurrence, au niveau de la ceinture, ou au niveau du cou. Deux fois il a eu l’occasion de frapper. Il s’est contenté d’attendre, laissant à ses adversaires les secondes nécessaires pour comprendre ses mouvements. Enfer de fyrak de ramèch, je n’aime pas frapper les homins de dos. Mais là, c’était ça ou laisser Azazor se faire transpercer une fois de plus.

Les deux restants, sans doute plus jeunes, se sont contentés de partir en courant lorsqu’ils ont vu le second homin s’écrouler. Ce n’est pas bon signe, ça veut dire que s’ils ont pu aller alerter leur tribu, on va se retrouver avec d’autres homins sur le dos. Si Azazor avait pu s’en sortir seul contre son adversaire, j’aurais pu me faire les deux autres. Un coup de hache bien placé, et on poursuit l'autre et le termine à la dague. Mais non, j’ai du faire volte face pour sauver Azazor. Quel gâchis.

Et quand j’ai dit qu’on devait s'attendre à ce qu'ils rameutent leur tribu... Il n'a rien dit, mais il doit sans doute paniquer, et maintenant il ne regarde plus où il pose ses pieds. S’il me refait le coup, là où on va, je vais me faire tuer, c’est sûr. Alors pourquoi pas le laisser là? Mais non, quand même, je vais devenir folle, si je continue seule. On est arrivés ici à deux, on doit continuer à deux. Et puis si la corde doit péter… Remarque, un coup sec… Non, quand même. Mais…


— Qu’est-ce que tu fous ???

La beuglante du fyros sortit Eeri de ses pensées. Elle se leva en soupirant, donna une grande tape sur le cul de Run-dun, et se remit à tirer sur la corde.

— Ça vient, ça vient. Tu pèses ton poids, tu sais…

Edited 2 times | Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago) | Reason: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#37 Added by Eeri 2 years ago Multilingual 

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Quelques jours plus tard, les deux homins marchaient toujours à quelques mètres du précipice, afin de garder une bonne vue sur ce bout de désert, en contrebas. Le paysage changeait peu à peu, devenant plus vallonné, comme si des racines sous le sol poussaient et sculptaient la sciure. Au loin apparaissait dans la brume ce qu'O'teelo avait appelé "Umawaka" : une chaîne de montagnes infranchissable, un enchevêtrement de gigantesques racines qui délimitait ce désert au sud, et qui, si l'on en croyait la carte de la cheffe de Clan, s'étendait jusqu'à la Citadelle . À chaque pas qui les en rapprochaient, cette cordillère leur paraissait de plus en plus gigantesque, semblant sortir des entrailles d'Atys. Par endroits, des pics d'écorce nus et acérés se dressaient vers le ciel. En d'autres, ils étaient couverts de végétations, à tel point qu'il se demandèrent s'il ne s'agissait pas des départs d'une canopée en devenir.

Le point de rendez-vous ne devait plus être bien loin, comme elle l'avait décrit à proximité de cette montagne, en contrebas. Ils s’arrêtèrent un moment afin de scruter l’horizon et le désert, dans l'espoir de déceler un village ou n'importe quelle trace de vie homine. Eeri s'approcha dangereusement du bord, afin d'observer la paroi de la falaise qu'ils surplombaient.

— Azazor?
— Hmmm?
— Tu réfléchis trop. Si tout ça doit se reproduire, dis-toi qu’il s’agit d’eux ou de nous.
— Je n’étais pas préparé à me battre. Pas de cette façon.
— La prochaine fois, frappe. Pare, et frappe. Là où ça fait mal, là où tu n’aimerais pas recevoir un coup.
— Ça va, ça va, je sais.
— La surprise, la rapidité. Eux, s’ils se battent, ils savent que c’est définitif. Ils n’hésiteront pas.
— Mais la contre-attaque suppose une prise de risque. C'était pas dérangeant chez nous, mais ici... Comment as-tu fait pour rester aussi froide?
— Pendant des années, je me suis appliquée à apprendre à me battre de façon à ne plus faire appel aux puissances. Dans l’idée qu’un jour peut-être les trytonistes arriveraient à libérer l’hominité. Garder l’esprit froid et analytique est la première des choses.
— Tu y crois toujours? La liberté?

La fyrette se redressa et fit quelque pas pour s'éloigner du bord.

— Non. Je n'ai plus d'espoir pour les nations. Maintenant, je crois qu’il suffit de partir. Ou devenir ranger… Ou maraudeur. Ça revient peut-être au même. Mais la liberté, non. Ça n’existe pas, même ici.

Azazor hésita un moment :

— Mais alors, tu ne crois plus en rien…?
— Je crois en la survie. Je crois que si tu mets de nouveau ce voyage en péril, je te laisserai en plan et continuerai seule.
— Tu quoi???
— Mais je t’aime bien quand même. Je n’aurais pas pu aller aussi loin toute seule.
— Hrmf… Mouais. akep.
— Et le problème de la solitude, c’est qu’on a plus personne à blâmer pour les conneries qu’on fait.

Après ces mots, Eeri s’assit en souriant.

— Allez détends-toi. J’ai un truc à te proposer, concernant la livraison.

Azazor ne bougea pas, continuant à scruter l'horizon.

— Je t’écoute.
— Vu la falaise, s’il n’y a pas de chemin, on ne peut pas risquer nos mektoubs.
— Tu veux donc descendre seule. Je savais que tu allais proposer ça.
— C’est moins de risques.
— Et si tu reviens pas?
— Ou tu descends, et je garde les mektoubs. Ça me va aussi.

Azazor grogna quelque chose d'inintelligible, les yeux toujours rivés au loin. Eeri en rajouta une couche, grinçante :

— Mais j'ai vu ton talent pour escalader...
— On en reparlera quand on verra où il faut descendre, répondit Azazor en remettant son sac sur le dos.
— T'as raison. Ne traînons pas.

Les deux fyros reprirent la route vers le sud, sans même jeter un oeil derrière eux pour savoir s'ils étaient suivis ou non. Le vent du soir commençait à souffler, mais ils purent encore marcher pendant quelques heures.

Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago) | Reason: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#38 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

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Devant le désert qui s’offre à lui, Azazor ne peut s’empêcher d’avoir une bouffée de nostalgie pour son désert, celui qu’il a quitté voilà de ça des années. La sciure parait moins fine ici, où est-ce ses souvenirs qui s’embrouillent? Le vent, venu de l’est, semble s’engouffrer vers le bas de la falaise, faisant s’agiter les deux mektoubs attachés un peu plus loin. Leurs meuglements semblent répondre au sifflement du vent dans une sorte de complainte lugubre. Jamais il n’a ressenti la mélancolie dans son désert. Mais ici, tout est différent. À la fois si loin de ses proches, et si près de ses ancêtres.

Cela fait trois jours qu’Eeri est partie. Trois jours qu’il l’a vu descendre en rappel la falaise, accrochée à une corde dont elle a pris soin de vérifier l’attache à la racine sortant de la sciure avant de s’y harnacher. Comme si elle avait fait ça toute sa vie. Reviendra-t-elle ? Les maraudeurs de ce clan sont-ils aussi amicaux que ceux de l’Avant-Poste Diplomatique ? D’ailleurs, amicaux, c’est un bien grand mot. Disons plutôt civilisés. Avec un certain sens de l’honneur. Il n’y a a priori pas de raison qu’Eeri soit mal reçue. Elle leur apporte des « babioles » pour faire fonctionner leur zinuaken.

Leur campement s'est installé dans l'épave d'un gros vaisseau de la karavan. Celui-ci fait bien cinquante mètres de long vu d'ici. Comment a-t-il été détruit? Difficile à dire. Les kitins seraient-ils capables de cela? Ou les kamis? D'ailleurs, l'épave, à ce qu'il peut en voir, doit dater du premier essaim. Une partie semble enfoncée dans la sciure, ou disons plutôt recouverte par elle. De loin, la carcasse du vaisseau parait bien sombre. Il est incapable de reconnaitre un des vaisseaux visibles dans les Nouvelles Terres. Peut-être s'agit-il d'un ancien modèle, jadis utilisé dans les Anciennes Terres et aujourd'hui tous à l'état de ruines, pour il ne sait quelle obscure raison. Après l'épave au nord de Fort-le-Phare sur laquelle les rangers ont récupéré de quoi faire le système d'éclairage du phare, c'est la deuxième ruine de vaisseau de la karavan dont il prend connaissance, et la première qu'il voit de ses yeux. Ici, la karavan semble bien fragile, comme en décrépitude. Les kamis aussi d'ailleurs, il n'en a pas entendu parler. A croire que les puissances ont toutes déserté ces lieux. Seul survivent les homins, se réapropriant les ruines du passé, bâtissant de nouvelles cités, ne perdant pas espoir. Il avait décidément mal jugé les maraudeurs. Du moins ceux d'ici.

Eeri doit être là-bas avec eux, sûrement dans une des pièces du vaisseau réaménagée en lieu de vie, à siroter un baba ou à boulotter un morceau de varinx grillé au feu. Peut-être sont-ils en train de rire, de se dire qu’ils ont bien de la chance de l’avoir croisée, qu’elle leur apprendra à cuire la viande, qu’ils ont bien besoin d’une bouchère, qu’elle pourrait rester… Il ne lui en voudrait même pas. Il sait que ça viendra. Il a vu son regard quand elle a parlé de ces homins, de la rudesse de la vie ici. Ça lui plait. Ici, bien qu’elle le nie, elle se sentirait enfin libre. C’est la vie qu’elle a toujours rêvée. Alors pourquoi continuerait-elle de s’encombrer d’un gros balourd de fyros incapable de terrasser un simple bandit ? Il ne la mérite pas.

Azazor observe les dunes derrières lui. Des dunes déjà bien sombres, se détachant comme des silhouettes du ciel couleur pourpre. C’est de là qu’ils viennent. Si on les a suivis, c’est de là que viendra l’attaque. Trois jours qu’il redoute qu’ils lui tombent dessus. Si ça devait arriver, il ne combattrait pas et laisserait les mektoubs pour descendre par la corde. Autrefois, il serait resté pour combattre, en gueulant du cal i selak à plein poumon, cognant sa hachette contre son bouclier, sûr d’être un guerrier d’exception, certain de pouvoir tuer fyrak lui-même, car la peur de la mort ne faisant pas encore partie de ses concepts. Mais plus maintenant. Depuis l’épisode de Titus, et surtout, depuis son combat avec ces bandits, il sait ce que mourir veut dire. Et ça le hante. On pense être courageux, mais on ne sait pas ce que c’est tant qu’on n’est pas réellement passé près de la mort. Ce qu’il espère, c’est qu’un jour il sera lui aussi capable d’affronter la mort, de la défier en frappant sur son bouclier. Comme Eeri… Eeri qui ne reviendra pas. Car il n’a plus rien pour lui. Pas même le respect de la Vérité. Et elle le sait maintenant, depuis qu’il lui a dit son secret, son mensonge, qu’il traîne comme un fardeau depuis des dizaines d’années…

Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#39 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

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5 jours plus tôt, alors qu’Eeri et Azazor se sont arrêtés à l’ombre d’une dune pour manger leur ration du midi et faire une pause...

— Eeri, faut que je t’avoue un truc.

La fyrette lève ses yeux de sa patte de yubo grillée, l’air rieur.

— Quoi ? Tes parents étaient matis ?
— Je parle sérieusement.
— Oh… Allez je t’écoute.

Le fyros prend une grande respiration, comme s’il s’apprêtait à révéler quelque sombres secrets. 

— J’ai menti... une fois.
— Hahaha, juste une fois ? Ben ça va alors, s’exclame la fyrette, soulagée.
— Non, mais j’ai menti une grosse fois.
— C’est-à-dire ?
— J’ai fait croire à quelqu’un que j’étais son père.

Eeri reste muette, les yeux écarquillés.

— Y’a eu cette petite trykette, trouvée par des rangers à Silan. Galdor, un ami de mes parents et qui m’a élevé à la mort de mon père, l’a recueilli et élevé comme sa fille. Quand j’ai appris son existence, alors qu’elle avait une dizaine d’années, j’ai eu une idée.

La fyrette fait un moulinet de la main, comme pour dire au fyros de continuer.

— Je me suis dit qu’à cet âge, c’était aisément manipulable. Alors avec Galdor, on a commencé à raconter une toute autre histoire. Lui à son contact et moi par lettres. Comme quoi j’étais son vrai père, mais que je pouvais pas l’élever car j’avais trop de travail. Et que sa mère avait été tuée par des matis. Que l’Empire c’était ce qu’il y a de plus beau, de plus grand. 
— Un bel endoctrinement quoi…
— C’est ça. 
— Et elle est devenue quoi cette trykette ?
— Je lui ai confié une mission à ses seize ans. Celle de s’infiltrer dans le royaume et de me transmettre des renseignements.

Eeri lève les sourcils, surprise.

— Une espionne en quelque sorte ?
— Oui. Je pensais pas qu’elle y arriverait aussi bien. Avant qu’on parte, elle avait réussi à devenir sujet du royaume et envisageait de devenir servante auprès d’une maison noble.
— Tu veux dire qu’elle espionne encore ?
— Ouep, du moins quand je suis parti c’était le cas. Je lui avais dit de transmettre ses futurs rapports à Naveruss.
— Grosses cuisses est au courant ? Et ben...
— Le pire, c’est qu’elle pense toujours que je suis son père. J'ai trahi un pilier fondamental de l'Empire en lui mentant.
— Si la vérité était vraiment la valeur de l'empire fyros, il se serait déjà écroulé. L'important, parfois, c'est juste de croire en quelque chose. La vérité, j'ai abandonné depuis longtemps.

Sur ces mots, Eeri prend un air pensif et ne dit plus rien, se contentant de tourner entre ses doigts la cuisse de yubo à moitié rongée. Elle aussi aurait des choses à avouer. Le fyros le remarque et la regarde avec insistance.

— Tu as des choses à me dire? Je te sens soucieuse.
— dey, je pensais juste à notre ancien chez nous, ment la fyrette. 
— Ah...

Azazor touille la sciure au sol avec son pied. Lui aussi pense beaucoup à son ancien chez lui. 

— Du coup, t'as jamais eu envie de lui dire la vérité, à ton espionne? reprend Eeri. 
— Si, plusieurs fois je me suis dit que je devrais lui dire. Mais à chaque fois, elle me donnait de bons renseignements. Je me disais que si je révélais la mascarade, elle le prendrait mal et arrêterait son travail. C’est qu’elle est douée en plus.
— Oh tu penses qu’elle va mal le prendre si tu lui dis que le type qu’elle pense être son père depuis des années est en fait un imposteur qui la manipule ? Je vois pas pourquoi tu dis ça…
— C'est bon, arrête avec l’ironie. J’ai assez mauvaise conscience comme ça. Le pire, c’est si je lui dis et qu’elle se mette à parler...
— T’as peur de quoi ? Que les matis t’en veulent ? Je te rassure, c’est déjà le cas. T’as quand même insulté la mère du roi devant son fils le jour de ses funérailles. Alors qu’ils apprennent que t’as cherché à les espionner…
— Mouef… 

Azazor reste pensif quelques instants, gardant les yeux baissés vers la sciure. La honte le ronge, le mensonge étant pour lui comme une souillure. Finalement, après un temps silencieux, il relève la tête et regarde Eeri droit dans les yeux.

— Si je meurs, tu lui diras ?
— Que t’es pas son père ? 
— ney. Elle s’appelle Be’Lauren. 
— ney, compte sur moi. Mais tu lui diras toi-même, car tu vas pas mourir.
— Si tu le dis…

Oui, il lui dira tout. Quoi qu'en dise Eeri, la Vérité est sacrée. Sans ça, le peuple fyros n'a plus qu'à se laisser mourir.

Edited 3 times | Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#40 Added by Eeri 2 years ago Multilingual 

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Eeri stuck her pickaxe into a piece of bark that was sticking out of the sawdust and pulled herself up, once again. For several hours she had been climbing, losing hope of reaching the top of the cliff. It had been impossible for her to find the place where she had left hanging the rope she had used to descend part of the cliff. She had to climb up without any clue as to the path ahead. At each piece of bark or each crevice in the sawdust, she repeated the same process: plant the pickaxe, pull herself up, wedge one of her feet where she could, and try to locate the next support, higher. For hours. Until she hesitated, so different did the piece of bark seem from the others, at this place. It was a Fyros arm.

"Grab my hand!"
"Aza!! Grab my pickaxe rather!"

The Fyros hoisted Eeri, who breathed a sigh of relief before collapsing a few feet from the edge. She asked him for a moment of rest in order to catch her breath, before answering all his questions. Yes, she had things to tell about her few days down there. Starting with the place. An old Karavan ship. Relatively large, at least larger than the ones they could usually see on the New Lands. Quite different in appearance, too. Abandoned for years, maybe centuries. A relic of the first Swarming? It had crashed there at an angle, in the sawdust. This group of Marauders had settled there for an indeterminate period of time, and their plan was to head back north, leaving a few homins garrisoned on site. The delivery was a key element that they were waiting for in order to finish their work.
Their leader was Li-Yon, an imposing Zorai with a mask tattooed entirely in black, with a disturbing look, although he had been relatively friendly with Eeri. A researcher, as he introduced himself, just like most of the homins here. He explained that it was not really a clan. Rather, several homins from different clans, recruited according to their technical knowledge. In fact, many Trykers and Zorais, some Matis who seemed to be assigned to guard duties. Few fyros.

Eeri was allowed to stay for two nights, before resuming her journey. She was given a small, rundown looking room in the ship, furnished with a small bed propped up by pieces of wood. The whole structure being slanted, it was not so easy to move from one room to another, other than in the parts the Marauders had already refitted. Here and there, the walls were covered with colored protrusions, little red or green pushers, surfaces made of a strange smooth, greenish material. All this must have had a function, but seemed to have been out of order for a long time. The Zoraï gave her a tour of what was left of the ship, avoiding the central room, under the pretext that the homins who worked there needed a lot of concentration. He remained relatively vague on the nature of their works.

"So, did they give you something to eat? To drink?"
"Hmmm, nothing too fantastic. I offered to cook their meat our way, but they refused."
"It's better, they would have kept you."
"I'm thankfully dey! Friendly, but suspicious, and then almost only homins. They seemed really happy to get these trinkets, so their leader was courteous enough to leave me a room with a door that locks. Also to keep an eye on me, I think."
"It's true that you tend to get pregnant at the wrong times," Azazor said, shaking his head.
"And they're not bad... but they're not very talkative either," continued the Fyrossa without picking up on Azazor's remark.
"What did you expect?"
"Nothing special. Deliver the thing, and leave."
"But you surely asked them some questions, didn't you?"

Azazor looked at Eeri with a pout he had developed over the course of the trip, which he pouts every time he was not convinced by what the Fyrossa was telling him. He let her continue to speak, without commenting anything. Eeri answered with a smile:

"I have asked some, but you know me. I'm too direct, I never manage to get information discreetly..."
"Nothing at all?"
"I... think they have an almost working Zinuakeen. And then, what I already told you. Oh, and yes, they did give me some tips on how to continue the journey towaeds Sentinel. Nothing too difficult for the path. This way..."

Eeri pointed east, towards the mountain range.

"That we already knew."
"And another thing too: a few hours' walk away, there's a path, on a root, to the south. Marked by a beacon."
"What is it for?"
"An access to the Wide Puddle. Li-Yon thought we might be interested in seeing it. It's another day's walk. There is a root that crosses the mountain."

Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago)

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#41 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

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Azazor's logbook
                                   
Eeri barely described the interior of the Marauder camp to me. Let's just say she wasn't very talkative. The important thing to remember is that the Marauders hide their Zinuakeen under construction inside. Impossible to know how it works, since Eeri has not been given access to it. However, the Marauders told her that there was a path leading to the Wide Puddle by the south. A slight detour. So, we went there.

After several days of walking through the southern cordillera, made of giant roots emerging from the ground and twisting like braids, we finally reached the Wide Puddle. It was a particularly trying vision. Imagine an expanse of water as far as the eye can see. Wherever you look, nothing but water up to the horizon. I tried to see the end of the range to the east, in vain. This one comes to die on the horizon, suggesting that it does not end before the mouth of the Munshia river and the hypothetical Reef of Baldos. Passed the amazement, we approached the water and we even bathed there. Not for long though, this soup being relatively cold in winter. There were some fish that I did not especially recognize. But well, I don't know nothing about fish. No predator on the horizon apparently. Maybe some come to drink in the Wide Puddle but not this place in any case. There are no paw prints on the shore. Oh yes, an interesting phenomenon to note: the presence of waves! Bigger than the ones you can sometimes observe in Trykoth. Even if I don't see what the root cause of this could be, I suspect that the size of the Wide Puddle has something to do with it, . Anyway, we had a lot of fun with Eeri jumping among the waves, some of them reaching us at the level of the head.

For the following of our journey, although according to the Ranger map, no access is listed there, we could perhaps avoid the passage through Sentinel by following the Wide Puddle and then climbing the plateau south of the Citadel. I'm curious to know if there are any homins living there. But given the help the Marauders have given us so far, we would be depriving ourselves of essential information for the rest of our journey in the ancestral desert. So, after some discussion, we decided to cross the cordillera again and follow the small trail described to Eeri by the Marauders, which leads to Sentinel through the northern part of the mountain range. This path is not marked except for the area called the "Scattered Desert" where beacons have been placed to indicate the safe places to walk. The area is indeed filled with crevasses and moving sawdust that can swallow a homin in a few minutes without him being able to do anything to escape. However, we will have to avoid crossing the varinx packs haunting these aeras. According to Eeri, the Marauders spend usually a good month to reach Sentinel. So we'll depart tomorrow morning, leaving the Wide Puddle and its fascinating waves behind us. As for whether they will let us pass, we'll see how we can be useful once we get there.

The next morning, Azazor and Eeri finish repacking their makeshift camp on the back of the two mektoubs. The waves have calmed down a bit this morning. During the night, they rocked them, making them live their most beautiful night for a long time. While Eeri picks up a few seashells as a souvenir on the shore, Azazor finishes harnessing the last mektoub. In a joyful mood, he gives her a smile. The Fyrossa gives it back to him without forcing herself. Behind her, the stretch of water brings a breeze coming from the sea which raises her red hair. The Fyros, in front of this vision, cannot help smiling even more. He had not felt this feeling for her since this torrid night in the Baths of Pyr.

Suddenly, behind Eeri, the water starts to swell and a titanic creature emerges. It opens wide a mouth filled with sharp teeth. This one closes on Eeri, whose superior part of body is soon completely swallowed in the mouth of the monster. Azazor rushes towards the Fyrossa and grabs her legs before the monster was able to take her to the bottom. Resisting as he can, he does not manage to retain it and is himself dragged in water, pulled by the superhuman strength of the creature. While he screams at the top of his lungs all the rage of despair, he manages in a last effort to pull Eeri's body from the beast's grip. He then falls backwards, slumping his buttocks in the water. The prakker, because such is the name of the beast, plunges back in the water in a whirlwind of wave. Completely distraught and still clinging to Eeri's legs, he pulls her hastily out of the water.
Only when he finds himself dry on the shore, he finally notices that the girl has been literally cut in two at the level of the waist, the monster having carried away the other half in its stomach. A trail of viscera is visible on the beach, where the upper half of Eeri's body has been taken. Looking with horror at the bloody legs of his friend, Azazor lets out a howl of terror. Eyes rolling back, not able to stop staring at the legs that are bleeding on the beach, he falls to his knees, while the prakker fades away on the horizon.
Death here is irrevocable, he knows it. He lets out another howl to the sky as Eeri's lower body lies there, dripping his guts and spurts of blood onto the knees of the now hopelessly alone Fyros.

Edited 2 times | Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#42 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | English | [Français]
{translate}
Seul

Seul !

Seul !!!

Des pensées fusent dans sa tête. L'esprit embrouillé, il reste là, à genoux sur le rivage, les yeux exorbités.

Elle est morte. Eeri est morte. MORTE ! Elle ne reviendra plus. On ne rez pas ici. On est tout seul quand la mort frappe. Agrippant toujours les jambes d’Eeri, il ne peut se résoudre à les laisser là. Encore tièdes, sanguinolentes, tombant en poussières…

En poussières ? Oui, les jambes d’Eeri se désagrègent sous ses yeux. Redevenant poussières. S’évaporant dans la brise du matin... 

Disparaissant....

...

Mais alors ? 

...

MAIS OUI ! 

Elle est vivante ! Elle a pu rez ! Sûrement au niveau du zinuakeen ! ELLE A PU REZ !! HAHA...

???

Comment ça, elle a pu rez ? Il faut avoir un cristal maraudeur pour être rez au zinuakeen. Et Eeri ne lui a jamais dit qu’elle avait un….



RAMECH ! CATIN DE MATIS !!! Hurle-t-il d'un coup.



Voilà pourquoi elle n’avait pas peur de la mort! Oui, je me bats comme si c’était mon dernier combat. Oui, je me suis entrainée. Oui, je suis trop une badasse et toi mon gros t’es un yubo de deux semaines. 

Catin ! Toub de matis dégénérée ! Elle avait un foutu cristal maraud depuis tout ce temps ! Alors oui, elle peut bien faire la guerrière sans peur, mon derche ! Menteuse ! Traitre ! 

Il se lève d'un bond, balayant d'un coup de main le tas de poussières qui recouvrait ses jambes. Puis, parlant tout seul, il se dirige vers les mektoubs.

Oh ma chère Eeri, attend que je te retrouve ! Tu vas connaître la fureur fyros. Tu vas voir, là je vais taper comme si c’était mon dernier combat. T’inquiète pas la maraude, t’inquiète que le gros Azazor il va t’apprendre à lui cacher des trucs comme ça ! 

Tirant sans ménagement les deux mektoubs, le fyros reprend le chemin traversant la cordillère, direction le campement maraud. Un sourire carnassier aux lèvres, il a hâte, oh oui il a hâte de revoir la chère tête rousse de son « amie » Eeri. Pour discuter, échanger, cogner et plus si affinité.

Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins

#43 Added by Eeri 2 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | English | [Français]
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Elle fut réveillée en recevant un seau d’eau sur sa tête.

— Te revoilà? On t’avait manqué?

Eeri vomit, puis s’écroula sur le dos. La lumière lui crevait les yeux, et il lui fallut un moment pour discerner ce qui l’entourait et reprendre ses esprits.

— Tu as du faire une mauvaise chute, déclara Li-Yon. Une chance que tu avais ce cristal.


***


Depuis cette discussion avec Azazor, quelques jours plus tôt, la fyrette ne pensait qu’au secret qu’elle emporterait avec elle si elle tombait de cette falaise. La vérité? Non. Sa vie n’était plus qu’un immense tissu de mensonges, poussé par ses tentatives maladroites de réparer ses erreurs du passé. Elle marchait en triturant, au fond de sa poche, le cristal de Zin maraudeur qu’elle transportait depuis les nouvelles terres. Et si il fonctionnait? Depuis qu’O’Teelo, à l’Avant Poste de Falaise Nuageuse, leur avait parlé de la présence d’un réseau de téléporteurs dans les Anciennes Terres, la fyrette se sentait légèrement rassurée. C’était peut-être pour ça qu’elle s’était battue contre ces bandits en prenant tant de risques. Mais c’était encore là une chose dont elle ne pouvait parler à Azazor. Une imprudence stupide qu’elle déguisa sous une arrogance de facade. Et la chance d'être tombée sur des homins peu entraînés. Et si seulement ce cristal fonctionnait, il fallait qu’elle puisse d’abord le synchroniser avec un téléporteur. Ce détail auquel les homins des Nouvelles Terres, habitués à arpenter ces régions de long en large, ne pensaient plus.

Plus d’imprudence. Surtout pas maintenant.

Finalement, la descente fut moins laborieuse qu’Eeri ne s’imagina. Elle lança un oren fyraï à Azazor, la voix légèrement déformée par son appréhension, qu’elle tentait de cacher au mieux, puis se lança. L’idée de garder une pioche dans la main droite, qu’elle plantait dans la sciure pour se balancer de racine en racine, fonctionnait. Sans ça, il n’y avait clairement pas assez de prises. Les mektoubs ne s’en seraient pas sortis. Azazor se serait débrouillé, sans doute, mais il fallait bien quelqu’un pour garder les bêtes. Non, l'appréhension était bien là, la peur d’une descente en solitaire, sans aide aucune au cas ou il se passerait quelque chose.

Un flot de souvenir revenait à son esprit, alors qu'elle gisait, là, sur le sol. Ce moment où elle avait pu approcher le Zinuakeen, alors que les maraudeurs avaient le dos tourné. Puis la remontée, vers Azazor. Ils avaient repris leur route, et décidé de faire ce détour, pour aller voir cette légendaire immensité d'eau. Après ces jours passés dans le désert, prendre un bain valait bien un ou deux jours de marche de plus. L'eau mouvante et agitée de la grande flaque, pas comme les lacs de Fairhaven. Puis cette nuit au calme, comme si les prédateurs avaient décidé de leur donner un moment de répit. Le lendemain... Ne s'était-elle pas réveillée? Plus aucun souvenir, tout était brouillé, à part une image qui semblait s'incruster dans ses souvenirs, un coquillage. En était-ce bien un? Elle n'en avait jamais vu de semblable auparavant.


***


Eeri vomit une seconde fois, ce qui lui valut un second seau d’eau sur la tête.

— Où suis-je?
— De retour au Zinuakeen.

Eeri s’assit et se frotta les yeux, encore vaseuse. Oui, elle savait bien où elle était, il n'y avait plus le moindre doute, mais elle avait posé la question pour être confortée. Li-Yon, en face d'elle, la regardait de son masque noir en faisant tourner le cristal entre les doigts.

— Tu aurais pu nous dire que tu étais des nôtres, déclara le zoraï après un moment qui lui sembla une éternité.
— J’ai pensé que ça ne changerait pas grand chose, répondit Eeri.
— Vraiment?
— J’ai cru comprendre que beaucoup d’entre vous ici ne respectaient pas les maraudeurs des Nouvelles Terres. Et surtout leur adoration pour Akilia.
— Et si même c’était vrai, nous n'allions pas te tuer pour ça.
— Maintenant vous pourriez le faire parce que je vous ai menti?

Eeri devina un sourire derrière le masque du Zoraï. Il lui redonna son cristal :

— Non. Nous ne sommes que des scientifiques.
— C’est la première fois que je suis ramenée depuis mon départ. Ça va faire des années…
— Peut-être que nos Zinuakeen ne sont pas aussi confortables que ceux de là d’où tu viens.
— Ça vient sans doute du manque d’habitude…

Oui, c’était forcément le manque d’habitude, pensa Eeri, qui n’avait jamais utilisé ce cristal auparavant. Dire ça, ce n’était pas mentir.

— Tu peux passer une nuit de plus ici. J’imagine qu’il te tarde de retrouver ton compagnon s'il est toujours de ce monde. Mais après ce que tu viens de vivre, il vaut mieux te reposer. Je dois aussi te remercier. Grace à toi, nous savons que le Zinuakeen est fonctionnel. Autant dire que tu as de la chance. Aussi, avec tout ce que tu as ramené, nous pouvons dors et déjà nous mettre en marche pour trouver où nous installerons le prochain. Plus au nord d'ici.

Eeri ne répondit rien d’autre qu'un signe de tête en guise de remerciement, tant elle tentait de maitriser sa nervosité et ses tremblements. Elle devait se rendre à l’évidence, elle n’était pas passée loin de ne jamais revenir. Elle ne comprenait toujours pas comment tout ça avait pu se passer. Azazor... Espérons qu'il soit sain et sauf. S'il l'avait vue mourir et vu son corps se dématérialiser, il y avait des chances qu'il comprenne où la retrouver. Et elle pouvait toujours lui raconter qu'elle avait récupéré un cristal au campement, ici. Au point où on en est avec la vérité... Sinon, il s'était sans doute fait une raison et avait du continuer sa route. Il allait lui falloir des jours de marche pour qu'elle puisse le rattraper, sans mektoub.

Si seulement il était toujours de ce monde.

Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago) | Reason: Traduction en Anglais par Nilstilar / English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#44 Added by Eeri 2 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | [English] | Français
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Azazor was here, sitting. He was waiting, looking at a campfire he hadn't even bothered to light in front of him, a few meters from the two mektoubs. This time, he did not extend his arm to help her, as she came, panting, to the end of her escalation. At the top, she stretched, then went to sit down opposite him, silently. He didn't move, but Eeri knew that he was silently ranting.

"You will excuse me, I had a small hitch," she said.

The Fyros raised his blue eyes towards her. Icy eyes.

"I owe you some explanations. I know I screwed up again. And that I'm very lucky."

She expected him to explode at any moment. But she took advantage of the quiet to continue.

"I'm glad to see you. I didn't know if you were still alive. I didn't think I was coming back either…"

Azazor exploded. He abruptly grabbed his axe as he stood up and threw a blow toward Eeri. With vivacity, she got up to dodge it, and moved back a few steps.

"RAMÈCH MATIS! SCUM OF THE BARK! YOU SLUT!! WHEN DID YOU INTEND TO SAY ME ABOUT YOU HAD BECAME MARAUDER?"

Eeri dodged another blow from the axe. Hitting his chest with his fist, he continued:

"THEN, GO AHEAD, HIT ME ! ME, I DON'T HAVE ANY CRYSTAL. IF I FALL, I FALL. I DIE. AND YOU WILL BE ALONE HERE. TRAITOR!! LIAR!!"

Azazor, enraged, attacked the Fyrossa again, who jumped aside and grabbed his shield hanging on the back of one of the mektoubs.

"KILL ME, YOU WILL SEE THAT I DO NOT HAVE CRYSTAL, ME! I KNOW WHAT IT IS TO FEAR DEATH!"
"And then, what does it change? I have a Marauder crystal, ney, so what? You should be happy to see me.

"WHAT DOES IT CHANGE?" he belched. "WE HAD A DEAL!!! NO MORE LIES!!! I DON'T CARE IF YOU'RE A MARAUDER OR IF YOU FOUND THAT CRYSTAL IN A MEKTOUB'S ASS, BUT YOU LIED TO ME!"

Azazor attacked several times, Eeri tried to dodge his blows as she could. He finally planted his axe in the shield, and the Fyrossa took the opportunity to take a side step and grab the handle of Azazor's axe, in order to immobilize him. She added, a few centimeters from the Fyros' face:

"I am not a Marauder. I just did what was necessary to be able to use their technology. That's all."

Azazor yanked his axe out of the way, using all the strength he could muster, and sent Eeri flying a few feet away.

"I AM A DRAKANI," she shouted, crashing into the sawdust.

Azazor planted his axe in the campfire, exploding it on several meters around.

"Yeah that's for sure, you don't have anything of a Fyrossa anymore ! Lying so much, you became the shame of our race!"

"You want the truth, but you are not able to hear it," added Eeri. "Yes, I have a Marauder crystal. And I synchronized it down there, without even knowing it was functional. Do you think I'm proud? I was just lucky we were still in range of the Zinuakeen. I don't even remember what happened at the Wide Puddle…"

Azazor ranted, still clutching the handle of his axe, ruminating that she had lied. She added:

"And then, why did you come back here? Did you come back to whine because I lied to you? To prove to me once again that only your way is right? To blame me for the people I've been with? SO WHAT? IF YOU ARE NOT HAPPY TO SEE ME, GO ON ALONE!

The Fyros didn't answer anything, just looked coldly at the Fyrossa.

"But you have to be completely crazy… What did you think? That I was going to make such a trip without preparing anything? We were going to the Marauders! Do you really think there was any other option?"
"You just don't get it, do you? I don't care about your methods. You prefer manipulation, that's your choice. I'm even willing to admit that having a Maraud crystal was a good idea."

Eeri raised an eyebrow, taken aback.

"But you lied to me. Once again. One lies to enemies, not to friends."
"It's an obsession with you, right?" she said, sarcastically.

The Fyros did not raise and, after a deep breath, said in a surprisingly cold and calm voice:

"You can continue with me if you want. But know one thing, Eeri: I will never trust you again. You are no longer one of us and I no longer owe you the Truth."

Searching for words, he added:

"You are now… only a homina."
"Well… It doesn't change anything, you already didn't trust me. And I wasn't planning on coming back within the Empire, don't worry.

Azazor walked over to the mektoubs and began to pull them eastward. They didn't say another word until nightfall.

Last edited by Eeri (2 years ago) | Reason: English Translation by Nilstilar

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Eeri
"Quand on a le nez trop près de la bouteille, on ne voit plus le bar"

#45 Added by Azazor 2 years ago Multilingual 

Multilingual | [English] | Français
{translate}
                
On the way to Sentinel, a few days after their altercation, they came across a group of three varinxes intent on making them their next meal. Azazor stopped but did not even take out his axe. He just stood there, placid. Until now, he had said almost nothing, only grunting when he had to communicate with Eeri. But this time, to the astonishment of the Fyrossa, he opened his mouth and said:

"Take care of them, immortal."

Eeri grumbled something in protest, but had no choice but to take out her axe as the varinxes were coming towards her, and managed to get rid of them. Fortunately, they were young males, probably expelled from their pack by the dominant male. Without much hunting experience, they only managed to bite Eeri's armor without hurting her. Once two of them were killed, the last one didn't have to be persuaded to skedaddle.

"You could have helped me," said Eeri.

The Fyros didn't answer and went back on the path to Sentinel, shooting the mektoubs without care.

***

Two days later, one morning, a new dramatic event occurred. Eeri had to go in search of a mektoub that during the night had managed to untie its harness to to go grazing a hundred meters away. Nonchalantly chewing the liketim that was growing thickly that winter, it was looking with a torpid eye at the homina coming towards it. When Eeri started sinking into what was obviously some shifting sawdust, he gave a slight moo and took up his meal where he had left it.

"ramèch!" said the homina, trying as best she could to get out of the sawdust's grip. But the harder she tried, the deeper she sank. The shifting sawdust was up to her waist when she decided to call for help to the fat Fyros who was eating his dried meat as a morning meal in the distance.

"Azaaa! Bloody mek... I'm sinking in shifting sawdust! Come and help me!"

The Fyros got up and approached Eeri, without haste.

"Wait, take the other mektoub with you and give me its tether. He will pull me out."

But the Fyros continued to advance towards the Fyrossa, watching where he put his feet. When he got as close as he could to her without having to put his feet in the shifting sawdust, he ducked down to her level. Eeri was then sunken up to the chest. She had stopped moving not to sink more, having understood that the more she would move, the more she would sink.

"What the hell are you doing? You think you can pull me out without the mektoub?"

He looked at her gravely but did not stretch out his hands towards her. His gaze was fixed on the Fyrossa trapped in the sawdust.

"Oh, okay, we get here? Is it the time you let me snuff it? What do you want? For me to apologize?"

The Fyros didn't move, still staring gravely at the Fyrossa.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't have any apologies to offer you. So let me die here if it makes you happy, but don't count on me to beg."

Azazor then took out a Marauder crystal from his armor pocket and showed it to the Fyrossa.

"What... Is it mine? When did you take this from me?"

"Last night. I've always slept with one eye open. And today you'll understand something."

Eeri looked at him defiantly.

"What makes us different is that I know what it is to be afraid of dying. And in that, I know true courage."

"You are crazy! Definitely crazy!"

"oren fyraï, Eeri."

He got back up and turned his back to her. Then he picked up the first mektoub and went to the camp to pick up the second. He took his time to harness them and when he had finished, he took a quick look at the Fyrossa still stuck in the sawdust and went back on the path to Sentinel.

- You're completely crazy!! DETAL!!!

Realizing that she would have to fend for herself, Eeri tried to slowly move her chest closer to the more solid edge. But while her upper body could still move, her legs remained frozen, as if embedded in the wood. Even though her bust movements were as light as possible, they had the effect that she sank a little further. The sawdust now reached almost to the base of her neck and she kept her arms raised above her. She screamed, with difficulty, hoping that some homin would pass by. But this path was not very frequented. She might as well hope that a varinx would come to her aid.

An hour passed without her sinking any deeper, but without managing to get even an inch out of that sawdust. That's it, she was going to end up like that. A head and arms sticking out of the sawdust, waiting to die of thirst or to be eaten by who knows what beastie. Death. The inevitable death was waiting for her. And this time, no more crystal to resurrect her. Anyway, even with one, she wasn't sure being close enough to a Zinuakeen for that.
She didn't think Azazor would do such a thing to her. He was resentful, sure, but enough to want to kill her? Even when he had attacked her with an axe, she had felt it was more an explosion of rage than a real attempt to kill her. But here, using trickery to kill her? He must have been really angry with her. You're not one of us anymore, he'd said. You're just a homina. She should have known better. If she was now nothing more than a homina, he could get rid of her. He had the crystal, he could pretend to be a Marauder. He didn't need her anymore. ramèch, yes, she had screwed up. And she was going to snuff it there, alone, and she didn't even know when...

Suddenly, a rope fell before her eyes and she grabbed it. Looking up at her benefactor, she saw a fat Fyros in Marauder armor and a weathered face. Azazor. He had tied the rope to the two mektoubs and was busy moving them forward to pull her out of the shifting sawdust. Eeri felt as if they were breaking her legs when they pull her along, but finally she managed to get out and found herself gasping for air outside the sawdust. Azazor didn't help her up, didn't ask her how she was doing, or even check to see if she could stand up on her own.
He simply took the mektub's reins and told her docently:

"The moving sawdust obeys, like any fluid, a simple principle. The vertical force directed upwards is equal to the weight of the volume of fluid displaced. You couldn't sink down enturely." 

Then, after a short pause, he added:

"Now you know what it is to be afraid to die.

Before the Fyrossa could say a word, he continued:

"And yes, I am crazy. So beware of me. Because one day I will let you die."

He dropped the Marauder crystal to the ground and pulled the mektoubs towards the east.

Edited 3 times | Last edited by Azazor (2 years ago)

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Ranger éradicateur de kitins
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