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Date Posted: 13:32:26 12/05/03 Fri
Author: Rhiea
Subject: ** With an awkward grin, she steps in. She looks at the wolf's eyes, seeing if that whole "read their thoughts" crap would work. Of course it didn't... it was crap. Crap never worked. Moving her gaze to the inside of the fort, she sees it is slightly less impressive than she had assumed. Shrugging, she makes a half-hearted attempt at conversation.** Do you have a name?
In reply to: Rhiea Varshil 's message, "* Rhiea was a young mustelid, roughly three seasons in to adulthood. Her cold azure eyes scan the territory, taking in the details of the immense fortress. The looming stone walls intimidated her not. She had seen larger things in her days. A smile crosses her features, as she strays off the path, her famous curiosity carrying her to the opposite side of the fort. A gruff voice calls down to her, as a wallguard turns, wearing ridiculously heavy armor and weapons. Pawing the blade of her basilard, she swings her bolas slowly over her head. Light and quick... that was the way to be. Bolas break bones, and blades slit throats. She realizes her position has been compromised, but keeps her weapons at hand.* " Hello. Might you open the gates for a weary traveler?"" on 13:56:01 12/04/03 Thu


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  • *The smokey-colored weasel, catching sight of the newcomer, watches them curiously from her seat beneath an elm tree with amber eyes flicking among them like coals burning in ash, her ragged, too-long talons toying with the hilt of her long and narrow-bladed knife. She calls out to the wolf* Who've we gat, a visitor? (NT) -- Xan Smokespire, 14:13:43 12/05/03 Fri
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