Rolling Thunder(Noth)

[Lecia]

15th of Ymiden, 718-Midday

Thunder cracked and crashed around the countryside around Middlecleft as Lecia hurriedly ran around the Stowe farm in preparation for the storm that was about to hit. It had been lightly raining since the day prior but nothing had indicated that a huge storm was about to break out in earnest. Her mud covered boots made popping sounds as she trudged through the muck to deposit the last of her tools back into the small barn that resided on her property. The farmer was prepared to close the doors before quickly realizing that she had forgotten her ox in a nearby field, she had let it out to graze earlier in the morning. She cursed her foolishness as she made her way over to a small grassy square where her family's chicken coop had once stood. This place always cause a small pause in the young farmer, it was the place of her father's death after all. Lecia glanced over at the location that marked her father's resting place though the grave was the first and only one on the farm.

Another loud crash of thunder and Lecia broke from her momentary lapse of awareness, she could ponder her thoughts from the warmth and dryness that a hearth provided. Her ox was just ahead of her now, lazily standing in the grass looking at the girl who had cause all the noise trucking through the mud to it's location. "Come on now, let's get you somewhere dry, alright?" Lecia calmly talked to the ox as if it were just a small child as she grabbed onto the leather collar around it's neck and began to lead it back to the barn. Though the cleanup of the fields had gone rather smoothly with the light rain the weather was now picking up as wind and a proper stormy rain began to pour over Lecia and her ox. It was only a few more steps to the barn at least, the now soaked farmer thought to herself as she lead the animal ever close to the entrance. Water was now swelling up in the loose dirt and muck and anything that was not already mud quickly became so. The woman even had to pull her left boot from a sizable pool of gloop and goo that had threatened to consume her footwear before returning it to her now dirty foot.

Finally the beast was just about back to it's abode and soon she would be able to dry off and relax for the rest of the day. But fate is not always kind to those who work hard as lighting screamed down into the land nearby, barely a dozen steps away from where Lecia was standing, just inside the barn doors. The ox grew unnerved at the sight of the bolt and echoing sound of thunder that followed and began to move at a brisk pace in a direction, any direction that was not near the intrusive sound and blinding light. Lecia put forth her best efforts to heel, if you could even call it that, the ox as it made it's way in whatever direction it pleased.

Her boots slid across the top of the mud in the fields and the farmer desperately tugged on the lead of the ox in an attempt to return the beast to the barn but of course it would have none of that. More thunder rolled across the countryside and the ox burst into a full run towards the nearby woods as Lecia's grasp on the lead faltered and her fingers slipped away. If everything couldn't have been going as bad as it could already the unlucky farmer found herself falling face first in the mud and muck and she slipped forward after losing her grip on the ox's lead.

Lecia stared in amazement or perhaps in disappointment from her position in the mud as the ox made it's way into the nearby woods. The young redhead murmured to herself as she pulled herself up from the muck, her entire figure now either soaked or covered in mud. "Yes Lecia, let's be a farmer just like father, it will be great..." As the woman contemplated her life decisions she made chase after the loose beast but not before retrieving her hatchet from the nearby chopping block, yet another thing she had forgotten. She slid the small axe into her belt as she entered the wooded area just outside of her farm. At least it wouldn't be hard to find the thing as it crashed through the small woods and left a rather obvious trail. So off she went, hoping she would find it before something else in the storm did.

[Noth]

Avriel did not like to be wet.

It was a species-wide phenomenon, and one that stretched back to a time far before the modern iterations of Avriel society. Of course, even the vain and prideful Avriel in Athart with all of their customs and traditions would occasionally dunk themselves into a pool of water in order to remove particularly grimy and upsetting substances from their feathers, but they would take every precaution to either avoid such a mess to begin with, or ensure that every possible avenue of alternative action had been exhausted before they came to such dire decisions. Noth, as a half-human hybrid had never quite inherited the innate disgust and repulsion of his fellows over the subject of water, and had indeed deigned it necessary to bathe on a far more regular basis than many of his feathered kindred. That was not to say that he had somehow adopted a Biqaj or Mer outlook on the subject, however, and even now as he trampled through mud and slick earthen slopes, he grunted in outrage over the prospect of being absolutely and undeniably soaked.

Perhaps the most irritating aspect of attempting to traverse any manner of terrain when it had begun to rain was the fact that his talons would sink heartily into the softened earth, the toughness of the typically harsh soil having fallen incrementally with each additional droplet of rainwater until the knives upon his feet merely slashed directly through to more solid under soil. Upsettingly, this carried with it the side-effect of absolutely drenching his talons in mud and guck, and he had to pause in his travels several times as he maneuvered through the woods to shake the bladed implements off.

He had been pre-occupied throughout the trial, and had only vaguely taken notice that there was a rainstorm on the horizon. Indeed, the effects of his mission had seemed quite successful at the time, and so he had placed all of his mental capacities and efforts into accomplishing his goal. He had been traveling from the minor hamlets of Etzos, pausing near them in order to begin seeding the minds of the residents with thoughts that were more aligned to his purpose than those of his foes, and while it was true that it had been a time-consuming venture, he was now fully aware of the fact that at least several dozen persons were beginning to think in a far more… sympathetic light. A journey to Middlecleft and its surroundings had been warranted, and he had quickly made the trip in order to attempt to assert some measure of similar sympathy on the inhabitants.

Of course, those attempts had been somewhat foiled when he had encountered a pair of bounty hunters who had stopped him upon the road, fought with him rather harshly, and promptly met their grisly fates. They hadn’t been experts by any means, but they had managed to slash at the Avriel several times, and while their blades had never managed to pierce the metallic hide he now wore, there was still a great deal of blunt force that had impacted his flesh, bruising the muscle and bone underneath and leaving him utterly miserable with the soreness. That misery had only been exacerbated by the sudden introduction of a rain cloud in the area, and he had been slinking ever closer towards the trail which would return him to his home ever since the hostile encounter, convinced that he could simply wait to begin his expedition.

Noth was a hunter, both of men and of beasts, one for sustenance and the other solely due to the necessity of a situation, and so he was not unaware of the sudden trampling sounds deep within the foliage, of the loud crash and crackle of sticks and branches and plants as they were uprooted by a hooved beast. The armored warlord quickly spun upon his heel, digging mud further into his talons with an irritable grunt, and drew the adamantite mace at his side, expecting for another attack to make its way towards him, or perhaps for a show of strength in order to ward off some dastardly predator.

When the bovine-like appearance of the ox made itself known, and the creature began to slow to a more casual trot, standing in the middle of the road, the hybrid was rather taken aback. He had been certain that he would be under attack… and now he felt somewhat foolish for preparing to fend off the likes of what was very nearly a cow.

There… in the brush… a second set of steps… perhaps this could be the assault he had expected, and the bovine was merely a distraction? He tightened his grip around his mace, crimson eyes glaring into the foliage.