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Author Topic: The story of Rr'ipar begins...  (Read 9220 times)
AGM Turnip
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« Reply #45 on: February 26, 2010, 02:32:20 PM »

It was just as well that Rr'ipar didn't rely on his sense of smell, for the unpleasant odour filled his nostrils and put him constantly on the edge of a sneeze.  At least the feeling was easy to control and he was in no danger of beginning to sneeze uncontrollably.

After about ten candlemarks, they arrived at a fork in the waterway.  A small tributary fed into the 'main' waterway that they were travelling on.  The ixit spoke to him in strained whispers.    "Ya, thad biggie bada thing be'd here."  They glanced around, eyes darting quickly from place to place.  The boat picked up speed as they began to pole the craft along faster.

Rr'ipar could see some evidence of something large having been in the area as the boat passed the place that the ixit had spoken of.   The marks in the soft ground were very evident but difficult to interpert, especially from the boat, but it seemed like whatever it was had come down that small tributary.  Where it was now, he couldn't say.   Should Rr'ipar want to investigate the area, the green skinned creatures would at first refuse, then, very reluctantly allow for a five minute stop.   It was very obvious that they would rather keep going.  "Jesta bit further up'ther."  They indicated the 'main' waterway."

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Rr'ipar
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« Reply #46 on: June 04, 2010, 06:18:58 PM »

OOC:  After a long hiatus I have returned, ready to slice, dice, stab and poison my way to greatness once again!  Sorry to any fans of evil felines that may have gotten bored waiting on me >Smiley And thanks for waiting Turnip.

IC:  Rr'ipar spent much of the trip concentrating on taking slow, shallow breaths, doing what he could to reduce the amount of noxious scent he had to deal with.  While glad he was able to avoid a sneezing fit like the one he experienced upon entering the swamp, he dearly missed having his nose fully functional.  Being handicapped, with regards to any of his senses, would be intolerable if he had to deal with it for too long.

  Since his nose was crippled, Rr'ipar took advantage of the Ixit's silence, listening carefully to the swamp around him as they navigated their little water-craft along.  With each sound, he freely allowed his ears to rotate to better sample it, analyzing them as best he could to determine direction, distance, movement, and so forth to attempt to determine any possible threat.

  Of course, he did not neglect his eyes, and when his guides pointed out the tributary where whatever creature had so frightened them supposedly appeared, the black feline focused his eyes on what scant sign was to be had there.  Though difficult to see from the boat, he did his utmost to learn what he could from this as well.  But, he didn't think that information would be enough.

  "C'n we stop t'boat fer a few fellers?  I be wantin' a better look at t'sign this monster y'seen 'round heres," he said, waving his spear at the markings the whatever-it-was had left in its wake.  "I doubt I can tells ya much 'bout it, not without seein' the critter itself ferst, but maybe I can figures out which way it went when it left.  Then you'll know which way be safer to hunt fer yer weeds," he explained, hoping to curb their fears quickly, but readying further arguments in his devious mind just in case.  If he knew anything about Ixit, it was how stubborn the little green buggers could be.
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AGM Turnip
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« Reply #47 on: June 07, 2010, 08:31:46 AM »

The Ixit very reluctantly slowed to a stop beside a large tree root which Rr'ipar could climb out onto without a risk of slinking into the oozing muck, as long as he used great caution not to slip on the black slime.  If he chose to do that, he was better able to take a look at the marks in the very soft earth.  From the boat he would be unable to learn much more than he knew now.

OOC:I'm assuming that you want to get out of the boat.  Let me know if you don't

He could see marks along the minor tributary much more clearly from the root where he was poised.  There seemed to be marks on top of marks, so he was almost certain that whatever it was moved up and down this tributary fairly frequently.  The oozyness of the mud made it very difficult to determine specifics about the creature, as the markings were all filled in.  The feet looked large however, perhaps a foot and a half or two feet long.  Some part of the creature was being dragged between the footprints, but whether it was just the tail, or it was the whole body being dragged along was impossible to determine.   There also seemed to be other drag marks, lots of them, as if the creature dragged things along the smaller of the waterways fairly frequently

Equally difficult to determine was whether the creature had been coming or going during its last movements.    As he stared at the large footprints, he had the a vauge impression that it had come down the tributary to the main waterway last, but the footprints disapeared into the black water, making it impossible to determine which way the creature went.

The Ixit were getting restless now, whispering among themselves.  They glanced up at him.  "So where da gatorcroc? It gone back ta it home?"  They were tense and poised for motion.  Rr'ipar got the feeling that the least noise would send them scuttling, leaving him stranded on the root.  "It safe ta go gatherin'?"
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Rr'ipar
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« Reply #48 on: June 29, 2010, 03:43:43 PM »

Rr'ipar moved onto the large root without hesitation, but as usual decided to be cautious about it.  He put his faith in his feline sense of balance to move quickly, but didn't attempt anything fancy.  He just moved as close as he safely felt he could, then crouched down for a better look, angling his spear across his knees with the point out toward the water, between himself and any predator that might launch up at him.  Flimsy defense perhaps, but whatever he had was better than nothing.

  Examining the tracks was difficult.  He was not experienced enough to be anything close to an expert at tracking on land, and had no experience at all with water.  Still, there was some information to be had, even to his less-than-fully trained skill level.  As the ixit began their muttering, he felt the need to soothe them somewhat by narrarating his findings.

"Near's I c'n tell, t'critter went draggin' down inter the main water-ways from here.  Tracks be fillin' in wit mud'n water pretty fast here, so's its hard t'tell fer sure.  There's lots'o tracks around here, I be thinkin' t'thing makes 'is home up here in'is tributary.  Might not see'im goin' in, but... it might come back while we's in 'ere."  He paused for a moment, considering. 

  "I t'ink is just a big durned croc, not sumpin worse'n 'at.  Where I's come from, when they talk 'bout it at'all, the old timers say t'Serpent be, well, a serpent.  Serpents a'int usually gots no feets, nor legs fer them feet t'be hooked to.  Whatever t'is is, its got feets t'make tracks wit' so I think its sumpin I c'n kill iffin we needs t'get past it onna'way out. "  Here he paused again, and took a number of shallow sniffs from the air, checking the wind direction and trying both to get a lingering scent of the vegetation nearby that the beast might have touched on its way by, as well as to see if the scent the gobs had given him for garsis weed was possible to detect nearby.  Either way, if his other findings were correct... he'd suggest going up the tributary a short way.  And hope it didn't get him killed. 
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AGM Turnip
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« Reply #49 on: July 05, 2010, 03:40:38 PM »

OOC:  I will be going away for vacation for a couple of weeks.  I'll get a post for you as soon as I get home  Cheesy
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AGM Turnip
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« Reply #50 on: July 19, 2010, 07:40:54 AM »

Other than the occasional slipping foot, Rr'ipar had no trouble keeping his balance on the roots, even though they were quite slippery.  Now fighting on the roots... that may be a different story.  Hopefully, should it come to a battle, there would be a more stable place to plant his feet.

Though he was prepared for it, no toothy beast launched itself from the murky water, though he did see a snake moving across the surface not too far away.

He could catch no scent of the weed the gobs were searching for, but he did catch a tangy, musky scent from the vegetation around the  tracks.  It did smell somewhat like a croc, but not quite.  There were some subtle differences.

When he suggested that they go up the tributary to see if the creature went that way, the Ixit looked at him as he'd grown a second head.  "Why'd we be goin' thata way?  Them herbs be 'long this river, not thata one."  However, with a little fast talk, and a reason that seemed like a good one, (at least on the surface,) the Ixit could be convinced to at least go a little ways down the smaller waterway.

They waited briefly for Rr'ipar to reboard the boat, and started slowly along the narrow channel, which grew more narrow as they moved.  The mud on either side of the waterway grew more solid, and the marks grew more easy to read.  It was obvious that the creature moved along this waterway frequently.  There was an occasional, very minor branch to the stream that they were on, which also showed evidence of being traveled on, but by far the tributary they were on was the most traveled.  There were so many tracks here that it was impossible to tell which way the creature had gone, and Rr'ipar was even less sure of his earlier impression.  What he could tell was that the creature traveled this way frequently, perhaps even daily.

The Ixit had been whispering among themselves, then apparently coming to a decision they stopped abruptly enough to rock Rr'ipar where he stood.  "Thada be lotta tracks.  Meebee more than ona them Gatorcrocs.  Too hardta getta round here.  Ken't run iffen we wanna.  Not goin' no further.  You wanna go, go.  We be goin' up t'other way 'n gettin' the garsis, 'cause I think that gatercroc be up that way."  He indicated the direction they'd been going.  "Iffen he be up there, we kin git the garsis just fine.  You wanna come, fine.  You not wanna come, we kin gitya when we go back, iffen yer at the forks."

The Ixit would wait for a few minutes for Rr'ipar to scout the immediate vicinity and make a decision.  (OOC: To move the story along I'm assuming you want to take a quick look around.  Please disregard if you don't)  The ground ahead was firm enough to walk on, if caution was used to avoid soft spots, and one stayed on the upslope, away from the narrowing water.  The smell of the gatorcroc was stronger here, and he was able to smell it over the abient stench of the swamp easily.

When Rr'ipar make a close examination of the tracks, he didn't think that the gob had been right about there being more than one.  He was pretty sure that there was only a single creature making this trek, but it was certainly a good sized one, but the amount that its feet had sunk into the mud.  While examining the tracks, a glint caught his eye.  Upon closer examination, the glint proved to be a gold ring, the remains of it's previous owners finger still attached, pressed into the mud.  If he was careful, he could get the ring without the gobs noticing.

Upon returning to the boat, the Ixit looked up at him.  "So whacha gonna do?"
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Rr'ipar
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« Reply #51 on: October 18, 2010, 06:40:10 PM »

OOC:  Sorry for the long delay.  To make a long story short, life got in the way.

IC:  "You boys ever been up this way befores?  Mayhap there be more of yer precious weeds up this way than y'think.  If'n we goes a ways and don't see no sign, we c'n always turn back 'round.  But if a big croc lives 'ere, I'd wager good coin that not many goes up here t'gather.  Could be more weed, bigger weeds.  Less work gatherin' fer yas, more profits t'be made... and since I said I'd fight t'is croc if'n it shows up, ye can always run fer it while it eats me if'n I lose," Rr'ipar said to the skeptical ixit.  He didn't know why, exactly, he felt like going up this tributary, but he felt the need to do so somehow.  If they were convinced, he'd simply ride in silence, watchful for danger.  Otherwise, he'd need to get more inventive to convince them.

OOC:  Assuming that we did go up this route, as your last post seemed to work that way...

IC:  Rr'ipar suppressed an irritable snarl when the ixit stopped the boat, staggering him with the sudden change of momentum.  He turned his eyes towards them, a questioning look that he hoped would speak more aggressively than words., while they explained the stop and their intent to turn back.

  This is annoying, he thought, tapping his claws along the shaft of his spear.  I'm not even sure why I feel the need to go this way, my goal is Lirynn and a few dead elves, not hunting crocs or monsters.  This is an unnecessary risk... or is it?  Which way is Lirynn anyway? he wondered suddenly, and put the question to words with his adopted accent and explained "I cain't choose which way t'go till I knows which way them longears be in.  I's want to put m'spear through a few of'm, and I'll go alone if'n the best route be this way."  Still, a part of him hoped to continue up the tributary, he was intensely curious about the large creature who had left such sign in its wake.

  Either way, he would take advantage of the firmer ground to stretch his legs and adjust his balance, still unused to spending time in a boat.  Judging the size of the various prints around, the murderous feline decided internally that the ixit were fools.  Unless there were many beasts of exactly the same size, it seemed clear there was a single individual.  The numerous prints were most likely due to it being very active in this area, possibly hunting, possibly patrolling a territory it felt the need to defend.  The scent of the area also seemed to confirm his conclusion, the smell was much stronger than before in this area, but seemed to be a single, individual scent.  Rr'ipar double checked his nose, trying to be sure there were no other croc-like scents buried under the odd one he had already sensed, just to be sure.

  Upon finding the ring, Rr'ipar took the opportunity to snag it while the ixit were not looking and quickly conceal it.  In his mind, he quickly put together a new aspect to his plans for these gobs, new ways to use these new assets to his benefit.  Which way to go with these ideas would depend upon the ixit, however. 

  If they insisted that the best way to Lirynn was up the main river they had begun the journey on, he would reluctantly agree to join them.  The creature seemed to be in that direction anyway, so it was entirely possible he might sate his curiosity going in that direction.  If not, it was an acceptable irritation to continue his personal quest.

  If they told him that Lirynn could best be reached in the direction he had tempted them, he would reveal the ring in much the same way he had earlier flourished his dart.  He would tempt them with the lure of unclaimed gold and jewels left with the crocs victims, ripe to be plucked and far more valuable than even the biggest load of garsis.

  While making these distinctions, Rr'ipar reviewed his "companions" one more time, gauging the way they moved, their size and muscle mass, and their potential armaments, deciding which would be the most dangerous in a fight.  If his quest led him further up this tributary, he meant to have a boat to make the trip.  If they refused to take him up on his offer to loot the dead no doubt available upstream?  Then he'd make an attempt to disable or kill the most dangerous of the brothers, take the weakest hostage, and force the other to steer them up the tributary.  Anyone who died in the confrontation would go in the water, an offering to whatever beast the ixit so feared.
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GM Faust
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« Reply #52 on: November 08, 2011, 08:55:24 PM »

OOC: Hello, there, and a belated welcome back to Telgard. I, too, am a revenant Telgardian, and for now I'll be modding your thread. And so...

IC: "That way's where the longears be," Patyr told him, pointing a dingy claw back toward the river. "Take you 'round the edge of the Bittering, not straight on through, but quicker'n the other anyhow. An' we can shift ya a fair ways before we gots to swing back."

Though it might not matter to Rr'ipar now, he saw that Patyr, the leader of the ixit trio, was most definitely the strongest of the three. Even beneath the layers of concealing filth the youth's wiry strength was apparent. In addition to his spear he had both a woodsman's hatchet and a heavy dagger hanging from his belt. While the latter were probably meant more for use as tools than as weapons, it didn't take much imagination to suppose that the ixit knew how to use them to deadly effect. Geerit and Kolm were more difficult to pin down, as there was little to differentiate the two. They might have been twins for all the different that the misharr could make out between them. Both seemed somewhat younger that Patyr, but still likely to be able to hold their own in a fight. Currently Geerit was manning the pole of their little craft, but he too had a knife visible at his belt, and what looked like another strapped to his calf. Kolm was bearing a long, spiked club... a curious thing to carry on a simple expedition for garsis weed. Still, Mirg... and the Bittering... did have a strong tendency to punish the unarmed and the unwary.

Assuming that Rr'ipar held to his decision to allow the ixit to ferry him back up the river, the little party soon found themselves in what passed as open water in the fringes of the Bittering swamp. At which point, as if out of some sort of cosmic irony, the sky turned dark as storm clouds rolled in very nearly out of nowhere. What began as a drizzle soon developed into a full-out downpour. Before terribly long the misharr, ixit, and their little craft were caught in a storm that rivaled the one which had doomed the ill-fated expedition which first brought Rr'ipar to Mirg. The rain did little to wash off the accumulated grime from Patyr and the others, but it did soak the misharr right down to the skin. And it went on this way for what felt like hours. What little conversation he had from the ixit during this time mostly concerned a running debate about the likelihood of the skimmer capsizing in the storm, of how far they were being blown off course, and whether those ominous sounds which Rr'ipar could just barely hear above the wind did in fact indicate that hungry gatorcroc was approaching.

When the storm finally dwindled back to a miserable trickle of rain, the three ixit could agree only on the conclusion that they were now fairly lost, but that they were still somewhere on what they considered the Mirgian side of the Bittering. Which made it all the more surprising when, after a considerable amount of what seemed to be some fairly aimless poling around the Bittering while the ixit tried to get their bearings, the wind carried to them the faint sound of human... and elven!... voices.

"Hsst!" Patyr held up one clawed hand in an urgent gesture for silence, half flattening himself into the boat as he did so.

Kolm and Geerit likewise ducked down so as not to be spotted, as Patyr pointed with his spear at a circle of figures huddled together in apparent conversation, not a hundred yards distant, yet still barely visible through the fog that the now-dying storm had brought with it. There looked to be no more than five or six of them, gathered together on a small island in the bog, with what was most likely a boat of their own not far away from them.

"Longears, here?" Patyr growled, his voice so low as to be nearly inaudible. "Not right. Tain't right at all. These be Mirg waters, I know it! Ours. Not theirs."
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Rr'ipar
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Long live the dark places of the world...


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« Reply #53 on: November 09, 2011, 09:06:07 PM »

OOC:  Hello there Faust, and a belated welcome back to you as well my fellow revenant.  Tis good to have a mod again, I missed my murderous little friend here.

IC:  Rr'ipar suppressed a frustrated grumble.  The real goal and the object of his current curiosity simply did not line up.  He would have to choose which to satisfy, and curious though the big cat was, he knew he would have to stay focused.  After a moment's hesitation, he turned to the ixit and gestured with a claw of his own back towards the river.

"Alright fellers, I'sll stick witcha.  Wouldn'ta minded a look at what be up t'ataway, but if'n the longears be this way, this way I go," he said, settling into the boat as best he could for the ride ahead.

Going over the size, strength, and armaments of his travel "companions" in his head as they moved along the water way, Rr'ipar decided that if worst came to worst Patyr would need to die first, then Kolm, with Geerit being the lowest priority.  He did his best to show no sign of these thoughts outwardly, it was still worth hoping that they would bring him where he needed to go without such measures.  With their fear of the great beast that had made those markings, he at least could keep his weapons at the ready without arousing suspicion.

The storm made the misharr miserable.  Rr'ipar had never had issues with water, be it standing, flowing, or falling from the sky he in fact quite enjoyed it.  Pouring, driving rains with fierce winds and no shelter were another matter.    With the ixit still covered in dirt and grime, it didn't even have an upside.  Not knowing a thing about boats, nor the swamp through which the tiny craft bobbed and drifted, Rr'ipar kept his mouth shut while the gobs argued about where they were going to end up and fretted about tipping over or being eaten.  It wasn't something he could influence one way or another.  So he simply kept his eyes and ears sharp, as best he could, wary of threats as always.  And found himself touched by an odd sense of familiarity.  Almost... nostalgia.

Rr'ipar didn't bother to suppress his irritated hiss at the news that the group was now lost, once the rain finally let up.  The ixit seemed rather put off by it themselves, he was sure it wouldn't bother them any more than the situation did.  At least it was a relief when they declared themselves still on the gob's own side of the Bittering.  Or so the misharr thought, as he waited for the gobs to find some familiar landmark or other in all their polling around.

At the sound of unfamiliar voices, the cat froze in place momentarily before joining Patyr in ducking low.  He mentally cursed the fog even as he counted it a blessing.  Details about the potential foes would be difficult to pick out, but at the same time it would make it harder for said foes to spot him or his escort.  As the ixit hissed about the presence of longears on their side of the border, Rr'ipar did his best to learn what he could of the group ahead of them.  Numbers, armaments, size, how well they moved, anything useful at all.

"Not jest longears," he reminded Patyr in as quiet a voice as he could manage.  "There be horsie-face humans wit' em too.  If they be wit the longears, they's almost s'bad ain't they?"  The murderous cat would report whatever he had learned from observing the group ahead, and listen to any information the ixit had picked up in case he'd missed anything.  And while he did so, he'd turn his attention to the terrain around them.  It was clear he and the ixit were outnumbered, if only by a small bit.  Rr'ipar wanted to kill these people, if for different reason than the gobs probably had.  The best way would be the sneaky way, if possible he'd prefer to get close enough to fling poison darts at at least two of the foes.  Fighting in close quarters while on the skimmer seemed unwise.  And if the terrain didn't favor a stealthy approach, it might be best to try and slip away in the fog.  Assuming he could talk the ixit into such a plan, of course.  Seeing elves in Mirg, they'd be unlikely to let it go easily.
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GM Faust
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« Reply #54 on: November 15, 2011, 04:56:57 PM »

There were indeed six dark figures in the fog. Two were human, and built like warriors, their size and stature apparent even at this distance. The other four were taller and much more slender than they. Those had to be the unfamiliar figures of elves. Making out weapons was very difficult, given the fog and the distance between the two parties, but with his sharp misharr eyes Rr'ipar could just make out the glint of steel hanging by each human's waist. Those might have been the hilts of daggers, or even swords. As for the elves, one had a longbow strapped to his (or her) back, that weapon being quite recognizable even through this dismal gloom. But it was impossible to tell whether the other three were armed or not. Most elven weapons were crafted from wood with the Lifesong. There would be no tell-tale gleams of light on polished metal to give them away.

Nor could Rr'ipar discern anything from the way his prospective quarry moved, because the circle of dark-clad figures was hardly moving at all. They seemed to be deep in debate or discussion, so much so that they gave no sign of noticing a boatload of ixit and misharr who had poled out of the swamp almost on top of them. Their conversation was faintly audible in the relative silence of the swamp. Most of it was in elven, making it impossible for Rr'ipar to follow, but there were enough human phrases thrown in for the misharr to understand some of it. Something about the Church of Dargotten, and the human city of Maston in Korresh, and a business deal gone disastrously awry...

"Longears and longears-lovers, hardly no difference from one to th'other," Patyr hissed back, albeit in the barest whisper. "But that one there's gots a bow. Stick-flinging coward. He's any good, he maybe plinks two or three of us before we reach land."

"Plenty trees on that island," Geerit put in, his voice just as low as those of the others. "Lotta trees, lotta scrub. We pole 'round to th'other side, real careful like, slip on through... them longears never see us comin'. Stinking longears' ow ain't so good when I'm up with a knife in 'is face, hey?" He was already poling their little craft slightly away from the island, very carefully, so as not to give away their position. If they were close enough for Rr'ipar to make out the silhouette of a longbow, after all, they were also close enough for an alerted archer to put an arrow right through any one of them.

The young ixit was correct, though. Though quite small, the island in question really was overgrown with a variety of unsightly marsh flora. There would be ample cover for a small party attempting to stage an ambush. Assuming, of course, that they could make their was around the little island without alerting the humans and elves to their presence. Besides which, while the fog showed no signs of abating, the hour was apparently growing rather late. Before long it would be night fall... though there was no telling whether the strange gathering of humans and elves would conclude their mysterious business and depart before then.

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Rr'ipar
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Long live the dark places of the world...


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« Reply #55 on: November 17, 2011, 12:57:35 PM »

Rr'ipar kept his position, low in the boat.  If they were spotted during their approach, he wanted to be the last one seen so that he could pop up and pounce on an unsuspecting foe during the fight.  Hopefully his dark coloration would serve him well in that regard.

With the ixit giving him so little time to plan an attack, or even his own role in it, the feline allowed his mind to race quickly over the handful of details he had about the enemy.  Two humans, both quite large and strong in appearance, possibly armed with daggers or swords.  Four elves, at least one of which possessed a longbow.  Despite the ixit's claim that this made him or her a "stick flinging coward," Rr'ipar had seen a bow used by ixit before.  The green-skins wouldn't hesitate to use anything that worked to survive in the green after all.  A longbow would be devastating if the elf had time to fire at them.

"Listen here fellers," he tried to whisper as low as he could, so that only his companions would hear him.  "The two humans what looks like fighters, and t'longears wit th'bow, they needs killin' first I thinks.  Geerit, you wantin' the coward wit'the bow, so that'n be covered," he hissed softly.  "Patyr, you and me, we gots spears.  We oughta put em through them humans.  Them ugly elfy-lovers can be strong, we's can hold em off with the spears if'n they don't die right away."  With that, he gestured to his last companion, Kolm.  "That club ye been toting around, think y'can paste more'n one longears wit'it?  Them trees is gonna get us close without gettin' stuck fulla arrows, but theys'll keep me from stickin' them with darts just's well.  Ye'd have to hold em in place until we's can finish our targets, that or kill em all yerself."  Looking around the boat, Rr'ipar hefted his spear in his claws, getting a proper grip while remaining hidden, tensed to rush in for the kill.

"Anyone gots any problems wit that?  Speaks up before we gets there if'n ye gots better ideas."
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