Thread: [CLOSED] Pulp Inc. Presents: Thrilling Tales of the New Continent! [Deante & Lasciel]

Though Siona had read that there existed cultures that ate crustaceans raw, she'd never had the desire to try one herself. Her experience with the small, yellow-brown creature she'd caught reinforced that lack of desire. The uncooked meat was mushy and slick, and required much work with her teeth and tongue to coax the flesh out of the carapace. For all her efforts she managed only a few bites, even as she deigned to eat the green and yellow guts that sat in the main body cavity. Her luck was insufficient to provide a creature flush with tasty eggs, or even one with a shell softened from a recent molting. If this was indicative of her future meals, then, she considered elevating starvation to be higher among her list of concerns-- Gods below, was that a body? It was, Siona learned, after making a fool of herself in running and hollering at the corpse. What brief hope she'd felt at spotting Billy Bayson? Buck? was extinguished when she realized he'd either developed a penchant for sleeping with his snout in a tidepool, or had long since drowned. A quick, tentative push at his ribs with one of her toes verified the latter. She turned him over, thankful to find that his eyes were closed and his expression only vaguely horrifying. Of course, Siona had experience with cadavers from her schooling, but there was something very different when the body before you was someone you'd seen up and about only a short while prior. Still, dead was dead, and it wasn't as if he could take his things with him where he'd gone at least, not as far as Siona's own belief system ascribed. She quickly relieved Buster of his knife and his belt, but stopped before taking the pocket watch to ensure that it worked. A working way of telling the time would make her life a fair bit easier, but if it was spoiled by the water she would've had no way of repairing it. Lerron! Siona greeted, accepting the frantic hug for a moment before gently prying the badger from herself. I could get that started, but I don't think there's anyone to signal. If we can find a few more folks, and some supplies, I could try to get a message back to the Continent. Whether the necessary focus had washed up on shore, or was lost forever to the bottom of the sea, was another story. Beyond that she'd need enough people to form a Circle, but as long as one member knew the Ritual everyone else's roles remained passive. We don't know what's out there, Siona warned, when Lerron had moved to crack open the barrel of what she suspected but could not confirm to be pickled sausages. We can't eat it all in one go, and it will attract attention. Her voice was stern, but when it was clear the badger wouldn't press the issue, she added in a softer tone, We'll come back to it if we can't find anything else, but I think we'll both be happier with some grilled fish. As they walked, Siona again tried to piece together what had happened in her head. She could remember being aboard the ship, the captain warning that the dark smear on the horizon would be one hell of a squall, and being urged to go below-decks and stay there until it passed. She had done as instructed, packing her notebooks and her few personal effects back into the medium-sized trunk that served both as her wardrobe and her desk. On her back she still carried her backpack, though it contained only her spellbook, too precious to be let out of her sight. And, at first, she'd tried to remain where she was, wedging herself into a corner and reading a single book she'd purposely left out of her trunk by the silvery glow of a summoned finger-light. At some point, she wasn't sure when, the violent rocking and jumping of the ship had become too much for her mostly land-dwelling stomach. She'd gone up, intending to only stand in a stairwell, in the hopes of getting some fresh if rain-filled air. And then... And then, nothing . She huffed in frustration, but made no signs of wanting to discuss whatever vexed her with her companion. In fact, she remained silent for most of their walk, with her eyes mostly glued to the shore in the hopes of spotting some additional living member of the crew, or perhaps some useful bit of equipment. Instead, all she saw was a beautiful beach lapped at by a sparkling, blue-green ocean with water clearer than she'd seen in any natural place for all of her life. It would've been breathtaking, had it not been so terrifying a reminder that she was very far and away from anywhere she knew. It took Siona several moments to differentiate the sound of the inland-borne stream from the dull roar of the ocean's waves. When she felt certain, she increased her pace, waving for Lerron to follow excitedly. Both the last report of the initial, doomed mission, as well as the first camp of the second mission, had made mention of a river along the New Continent's north coast. Though neither had settled at the river itself, if it was one and the same with any of the prior attempted settlements, it would provide a useful waypoint by which to orient herself. Lerron quickly caught up with her, then surged ahead to point at something. Siona followed the badger's gesticulations, noting the unfamiliar fruit which had drawn his attention. Of course, it could've easily been toxic, and she opened her mouth to warn him off from running over and eating it before she could give it a more proper inspection-- Something came from the jungle, and all Siona could do was watch as something yellow and brown and green? grabbed a hold of her companion and began to admonish him in a language neither her nor Lerron spoke. Belatedly, she grabbed at her belt knife, though the fox would've admitted if asked she hadn't exactly an idea what she would've done with it had push came to shove. The stranger, feminine in shape with a lean and muscular appearance Siona would've envied had she the spare thought cycles to do such. The green, she realized, came from the color of her hair, but otherwise the woman at least had the shape of something she could easily recognize as person rather than animal, even if her mode of dress and natural markings struck her as peculiar. Once her spell had been activated, Siona's first words were a request for the stranger to please slow down and repeat herself. When the feline replied with something resembling reverence, she found herself first taken aback, then curious. Back in Ulchark, the major cities were so lousy with minor magic-users such as herself that it was impossible not to see such workings on a daily basis. But if her small spell was worthy of a bow like that, clearly there was a very different perspective taken with regards to magic on this continent. Quietly, Siona wondered if perhaps it was restricted in use to leaders, or elders, or religious representatives. She hoped it wasn't the latter, for while the biologist knew little and less of anthropology or diplomacy, she figured that upsetting the local preistesses would be a bad way to make a first impression. Siona tendered her own bow, though she made no effort to curl her tail around her leg. The fluffy mass was hardly pliable or long enough, and her calves were far thicker than the other woman's. She hoped it was a good enough attempt, and pondered the cat's warning. In all likelihood it was little more than religious superstition... Siona was not so thick as to deny the presence of gods and goddesses in the world, or to ignore their influences, but it was rare that deities took so personal an interest in any one person, place, or thing. Still, it would hardly serve herself, or her Empress, to anger the locals. The river is sacred to her people, I think. She explained to Lerron in the Ulchark tongue, gesturing for him to stay where he was. She says the river needs a prayer, and maybe an offering. Then Siona returned her attention to the woman. We are new to this continent, and are unfamiliar with Kanjalli . She explained in the jungle cat's tongue, her pronunciation of the spirit's name a bit rocky and closer to 'kang-jelly' than the lilting and musical word the woman had spoken. I am Siona, and this is Lerron. The vixen introduced, with a gesture first at herself then at her companion. What does the spirit want as tribute? We do not have much, but we do not wish to make enemies of Them. Siona added, hoping that the tribute could be satisfied with prayers or something she could conjure up.