Post by sakao on Jun 21, 2008 17:05:39 GMT -5
(lol. Yeah. I’m sucha friggen lair. I’m also your average over exaggerating drama queen. XD ‘Nyways… Shukko kinda convinced me to come back for the summer. Yeaaayy. This is right in the middle of a big plot buuuuut, ‘nyways…)
The sun was just rising above the Earth, milky rays reaching out, touching everything it could as it rose higher and higher. The canyons seemed to sway as the wind blew through them, an echoing song of whispers filling the air. The blood red dust shone brightly under the warmth of the scarlet glow, now over head. The dried up plants withered to the ground, particles breaking off until it became dust in the wind, brown little grains riding an invisible force, taking it wherever the wind willed them to be. It was desolate area, to say the least, barren, no tree for shade, and no cloud floated in the sky.
A white hooded cloak blew in the wind, revealing the body of the owner, but not yet the face. Female, a black v-necked shirt with a white under shirt that poked from the sleeveless ends, a white piece of ragged cloth was wrapped about the waist, until the black shirt folded at the end. A pair of dog tags rattled, making its own clinking sounds as the figure pushed on, white cloth was wrapped around arms from the elbows down to the wrists, though the left arm was already covered with bandages. A silver buckled belt held up the loosely fitting cargo pants, which obviously had been through much abuse, gray patches covered the knees, straps holding up spare pockets were now placed right below the knee, little pieces of gray fabric here and there showed the tell tale signs. A pitiful excuse for a tail sailed the wind, it was less than a half tail, but half of its former glory, none the less.
The hood did its master well, the dust that spewed up and around never made its way into the mouth of the hood. A bandaged hand gripped the hilt of a sword, its iron clasp like a vice claw about the marble plated hilt, a solitary red jewel, the rest of the blade was hidden in a sheath clipped to her belt. A fool would let go of it in this weather. Sand bandits, rogues, name them off a list, any one could jump another with little regret. The sand storm was calming now, the last of the winds blowing by.
Black and red head fur was revealed followed by a sickly green hue and a charcoal gray orb. Pinkish scars formed over both eyes, but the right eye was long gone. Surely, it had to be dead; no pupil resided within the grayish depths of the dead pools, only darkness. Gray-black rings outlined the eyes, giving them a half closed look. However, she was more aware than one might think upon one glance. Shredded ears from long ago battles were unveiled, up and alert, silver and black earrings weighting them down slightly. A broad red marking was a trade mark that many had seen before, perhaps few remembered it, and perhaps more forgot. Who knew truly? The least I may tell you, dear reader, is that it shapes a “V” upon the feline’s head.
Breath exhaled through sharp teeth before the feline abandoned the white cloak and moved on her own, shielding a hand over her living eye. The otherwise black feline clenched the marble sword hilt harder, bandages unraveling in the wind.
“D*mmit… Shoulda tied them better…”
She said under her breath, slitted pupils wandering towards the unraveled fingers, a silver sheen glittering from the scarlet ball above. Her hand touched the simple collar about her neck, no decoration hung from the leather, only rips and bruises. The feline scowled as she paused, bare hind paws shifting the sand about its natural placement.
The black anthro cat had been walking for days on end, traveling to an area she had once called her ‘home’, she was nearing the edge of the desert, the mountains were behind her, but she still had to gain victor over many more areas of difficulty. She snorted as she stabbed her sword into the ground, tying the yellowish bandages about her robotic hand.
The black blade shifted, swaying as the sand gave way, the black metal seemingly duller than most. It didn’t glimmer with certain sheen as most swords did; rather, it seemed to suck all light that came near it, as if the sword itself was a mere shadow. The guard on the sword was trident-like, two points extruding from the hilt and away from the sword, and the final point traveling down the center of the weapon. It was pure black, no defining edge of the one-edged blade besides the center pint of the guard. From this sword, the owner received her name,” Sakao Kuro-Nihoto”. Her business name, meaning,”Sakao Black-Sword”, in other words, the name she went by as a bounty hunter.
Sakao sneered as she shoved a hand in her back pocket, gripping a crumpled piece of paper. It was yellowish, orange stains from the canyons she had traveled in later in the week, but the faded font and picture were still identifiable. It was a wanted paper. The black feline snorted, her living eye narrowed her slitted pupils, reading silently to herself,” Wanted: Rekun”.
Where have I heard that name before?
The black cat tapped her finger on her head, her ears twitching before she gripped the marble hilt, fingers tightening about the roundish edge. An uneasy feeling erupted in her stomach, like some claw slowly tightening around her neck.
The sun was just rising above the Earth, milky rays reaching out, touching everything it could as it rose higher and higher. The canyons seemed to sway as the wind blew through them, an echoing song of whispers filling the air. The blood red dust shone brightly under the warmth of the scarlet glow, now over head. The dried up plants withered to the ground, particles breaking off until it became dust in the wind, brown little grains riding an invisible force, taking it wherever the wind willed them to be. It was desolate area, to say the least, barren, no tree for shade, and no cloud floated in the sky.
A white hooded cloak blew in the wind, revealing the body of the owner, but not yet the face. Female, a black v-necked shirt with a white under shirt that poked from the sleeveless ends, a white piece of ragged cloth was wrapped about the waist, until the black shirt folded at the end. A pair of dog tags rattled, making its own clinking sounds as the figure pushed on, white cloth was wrapped around arms from the elbows down to the wrists, though the left arm was already covered with bandages. A silver buckled belt held up the loosely fitting cargo pants, which obviously had been through much abuse, gray patches covered the knees, straps holding up spare pockets were now placed right below the knee, little pieces of gray fabric here and there showed the tell tale signs. A pitiful excuse for a tail sailed the wind, it was less than a half tail, but half of its former glory, none the less.
The hood did its master well, the dust that spewed up and around never made its way into the mouth of the hood. A bandaged hand gripped the hilt of a sword, its iron clasp like a vice claw about the marble plated hilt, a solitary red jewel, the rest of the blade was hidden in a sheath clipped to her belt. A fool would let go of it in this weather. Sand bandits, rogues, name them off a list, any one could jump another with little regret. The sand storm was calming now, the last of the winds blowing by.
Black and red head fur was revealed followed by a sickly green hue and a charcoal gray orb. Pinkish scars formed over both eyes, but the right eye was long gone. Surely, it had to be dead; no pupil resided within the grayish depths of the dead pools, only darkness. Gray-black rings outlined the eyes, giving them a half closed look. However, she was more aware than one might think upon one glance. Shredded ears from long ago battles were unveiled, up and alert, silver and black earrings weighting them down slightly. A broad red marking was a trade mark that many had seen before, perhaps few remembered it, and perhaps more forgot. Who knew truly? The least I may tell you, dear reader, is that it shapes a “V” upon the feline’s head.
Breath exhaled through sharp teeth before the feline abandoned the white cloak and moved on her own, shielding a hand over her living eye. The otherwise black feline clenched the marble sword hilt harder, bandages unraveling in the wind.
“D*mmit… Shoulda tied them better…”
She said under her breath, slitted pupils wandering towards the unraveled fingers, a silver sheen glittering from the scarlet ball above. Her hand touched the simple collar about her neck, no decoration hung from the leather, only rips and bruises. The feline scowled as she paused, bare hind paws shifting the sand about its natural placement.
The black anthro cat had been walking for days on end, traveling to an area she had once called her ‘home’, she was nearing the edge of the desert, the mountains were behind her, but she still had to gain victor over many more areas of difficulty. She snorted as she stabbed her sword into the ground, tying the yellowish bandages about her robotic hand.
The black blade shifted, swaying as the sand gave way, the black metal seemingly duller than most. It didn’t glimmer with certain sheen as most swords did; rather, it seemed to suck all light that came near it, as if the sword itself was a mere shadow. The guard on the sword was trident-like, two points extruding from the hilt and away from the sword, and the final point traveling down the center of the weapon. It was pure black, no defining edge of the one-edged blade besides the center pint of the guard. From this sword, the owner received her name,” Sakao Kuro-Nihoto”. Her business name, meaning,”Sakao Black-Sword”, in other words, the name she went by as a bounty hunter.
Sakao sneered as she shoved a hand in her back pocket, gripping a crumpled piece of paper. It was yellowish, orange stains from the canyons she had traveled in later in the week, but the faded font and picture were still identifiable. It was a wanted paper. The black feline snorted, her living eye narrowed her slitted pupils, reading silently to herself,” Wanted: Rekun”.
Where have I heard that name before?
The black cat tapped her finger on her head, her ears twitching before she gripped the marble hilt, fingers tightening about the roundish edge. An uneasy feeling erupted in her stomach, like some claw slowly tightening around her neck.
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