[PRP] Strangers (Nawiri'chiwa x Godlam & Sarangerel)

[Uta]

The lioness trotted near the borders of the pride lands, the sun just barely inching its way over the hills. Nawiri'chiwa was often an early riser, enjoying the quiet moments of the morning when many within the Kitwana'antara were still asleep. Unfortunately, there was almost a constant state of unrest amongst the pride, and it was most unfortunate to hear the echoes of coughs and hacks or moans of pain serenading the night.

The fever always seemed to worsen at night. . . .

Perhaps its why the grey and black striped lioness took small comfort in daylight. It was one more day for the pride, for its members, for its children, for her. . . Though she would never turn a deaf ear or blind eye on those that suffered, the young female couldn't help but selfishly yearn for just a few minutes to herself. A few minutes she could pretend everything was going to be all right, a few minutes she could pretend she wasn't sick and wasting away, that her most beloved family wasn't in a constant state of suffering. Even those members whom helped care for the sick, the leopards, the cheetahs, the wild dogs and hyenas. . . there was a weariness in their gaze, a pain she could swear she witnessed every day.

Things had gotten better for the pride in the most recent months. They were larger with new members and new families; Sliabh had brought much life back to the pride, and a handful of foundlings had been given or abandoned near their borders. In fact, the most recent edition of Lutum and Eione were the cause of much joy and celebration, as there was now royalty once more. An heiress could be chosen. . . . which meant security for the Kitwana.

Even if there was no King.

The hurt of her pink furred mate still stung. Sometimes she roamed the borders, as she did now, not only for a retreat to think, but . . . in hopes that maybe, just maybe, she'd catch sight of the other. That he would return, even if it was only to explain what happened and where he went. If only he could put the pieces together so she wouldn't have to wonder why he had left, and why they hadn't found him. Maybe the pressure of being king, of being mate to her, was too much? May the responsibility was overwhelming?

Meh, it mattered little.

No, she could be both King and Queen, and make sure her pride was taken well care of. Until she picked another, until she found the one who was meant to rule beside her. Pesilence might someday grant her a boon, a blessing. . . . but until then, she would continue to rule as best she were able. Even without the support of another, even if it was a bit untraditional.
 

[Mimsey]

They traveled quickly and single-mindedly. If the Nergui had perfected any art, it was the art of moving with sheer intent.

After the attack on the Motoujamii, the small regiment had spread outwards and into the mainland. A home that was no stranger to Godlum, who had once lived there as both rogue and Mizimu. Graos Oma willed them to collect, and these lands had much to absorb. And while he was not as clever or conniving as Tzora or the rest of his kin, Godlum had lead them through with finesse.

They had three major directives. The first had already been accomplished, and from what he gathered, was a success. The second... the second started once they had arrived on the strange, colorless lands of the Kitwana. The scent of disease was around them, a scent that would ward most travelers away. To the Nergui, it was a curiosity. A land that smelled of magic and gods. These were the sort of places that would be of great interest to them when the time came to descend upon this region.

With the sour smell still lingering in his nose, the large black lion turned towards his followers. A black raven landed overhead. "A one ovvruocrak, one uk this sruiv. We verr not ossocd just aeas." he spoke, in the low cryptic tones of the northland.

He sensed someone in the distance, patrolling.  

[Kimaria]

One of Godlum's 'followers' was the proud lady, Sarangerel, although her appearance certainly did not imply that she was a 'lady' of consequence. Her fur was wiry and matted; showing signs of a rather unkempt life. And yet, she moved with all the care and regality of a queen.

In the same guttural tongue, she responded: "I duibs they verr be omae threat." She doubted that a patrol of this strange land would be strong enough to pose any danger to themselves. You could say many things about Sarangerel, but nervous she was not. She had come here to these lands to prove herself; to her pride and mate both. Mostly her mate. Their last conversation had ended with him scorning her lack of scars and she had taken that insult to heart. Had he thought her too weak for such a task? He had certainly looked angry when she had volunteered to go with Godlum. The thought of that pleased her.

She started to breathe deep, but the strange scent in the air cut her short. Snorting to clear her nostrils of the stench of disease, she stepped up to stand next to Godlum's side. Compared to him, she certainly was a plain looking creature; natural coloured with not a single odd marking to her name. Sarangerel might have even been deemed unfashionable and if it had not been for her ancestry, would have mostly been overlooked.

"This ek a cireuik land, Godlum. You roqa a ksrumsar voice srom I: kikkum them?" She was asking, of course, if Godlum wished to summon the patrol to them and instigate this meeting.

Wheeling in circles above her head was another raven; dark of feather with piercing eyes. It gave only a low croak; impatient perhaps to keep going. Especially now that they were so close.  

[Uta]

It was destiny that would bring two worlds together, and this morning would be the start of such things. Unbeknowst to Nawiri'chiwa, as she walked through the borders of the hillside landscape that made up the eastern most borders of the pride. Coming over the crest of the hill, tall grasses parting, Nawiri'chiwa herself had certainly not expected to notice movement.

Well, maybe not so much movement as a flash of color not quite akin to the grasses surrounding them. Pulled from her reverie and deep thoughts, the lioness paused as she focused in on the slightest of movement probably a couple hundred yards out. There was at least two that she could see, and they were dangerously close to the borders. . . .

Nawiri'chiwa had crossed Ndale making his rounds earlier, and knew the large male wasn't terribly far from where she walked. He would likely cross the crest of the hill shortly himself, and might very well stumble across the pair of strangers. They certainly weren't of Kitwana blood, that was obvious. . . Strangers? Visitors? Guests? . . . enemies?

Well . . . she couldn't just let them walk in uninvited! Not that they weren't welcome, strangers from the outside were always well received, especially if they brought news of neighboring lands or stories of their travels. Standing tall, the petite female gave a warning chuff, alerting them of her presence, though it was far from unfriendly. She didn't want to surprise them, but also wanted to read their body language, see how they responded to her presence. There were two, if not maybe more elsewhere, and Nawiri knew she could be in trouble if ganged up upon.

Still . . . Nawiri'chiwa was not a pessimist. Everyone was welcome, until proven otherwise. Trotting forward, down the small hill, the lioness knew Mittere would chew her out for her foolishness. She was the Queen, after all, and was purposefully putting herself out near trouble. But, gosh darnit, she couldn't stay holed up forever! She had a duty, a purpose, and she was just as capable as any guard when it came to meeting visitors.

This was her land, after all -- she might be ill, but she wouldn't go down without a fight. "Salutations!" She called out, slowing her pace as she approached, not wanting to get TOO close . . . cautious, but not unfriendly.

 

[Mimsey]

"Duakm's seem macakkorae," the ragged lion said, his eyes tracing the path in front of them until they fell upon a lioness. It seemed they would not need to go through any trouble of summoning the locals. She smelled of the plague. Godlum wasn't particularly free-thinking. He tended to parrot the words of Tzora, even when hundreds of miles separated them. He felt her words even now, speaking of this strange land: they worship disease. To have it is to be blessed.

Whether or not that was true, the Nergui had an interest in whatever power had corrupted the land. Was an artifact hidden here, perhaps more powerful than any they had found? Or did a god cowardly hide amongst the mortals, sucking the energy from his servants like leeches? His whiskers twitched. "Sra has sra touch."

Godlum moved forward, watching the lioness with his own strange eyes. She spoke the common tongue, and for a moment his throat struggled to bid it back. It hadn't been that long since he'd been in the South, but Godlum was anything but 'witted'. "You call, hello." His deep voice rumbled. It was neither hostile nor kind, jilted and throaty.

"These lands have a leader, we shall see it." He continued. His ear docked to the side, as if he expected to be so easily lead.  

[Kimaria]

Sarangerel sniffed at Godlum's words as though disappointed that they would not be able to declare their presence in a more intimidating fashion. She seemed to have forgotten that they were here under the orders to investigate. In fact, it would be correct to say that she hungered for trouble. Fortunately she was making a strong attempt at obedience, knowing in the back of her mind that if word got back that she had stepped out of line she would not be allowed out of sight again.

When the other female came into view and moved down towards them, Sarangerel's green eyes watched her every movement, almost as if waiting for the other to shy away. The plague-blood was apparently stronger than expected. After all she had chosen to approach them alone and make the first move to speak. Others might have turned tail and fled, though Sarangerel wasn't sure whether this was confidence or stupidity. The female seemed small, though she possessed interesting markings about the eyes; a reminder that she, herself, had none.

And then the speaking began.

Sarangerel, however, could not join in. Her knowledge of the common tongue was severely limited to a few words she had picked up only from spending time watching over their slaves. What the words meant, however, she did not know and so she did not speak them.

Her tail jerked with irritation as she realised she was going to be left on the sidelines. Perhaps there was an advantage in understanding the language of the unworthy ones.

Above her head came the snapping of wings as the dark raven, Moma, back-winged to land expertly on a gnarled branch of an overhanging tree. Her eyes gleamed as she gave another low caw. The sound distracted Sarangerel and the female curled a lip at the creature before snapping her eyes forwards again.

She only growled.  

[Uta]

Nawiri'chiwa had made sure she kept an appropriate distance between herself and the strangers. Not only because she couldn't entirely be certain of their intentions, but also because she was outnumbered. One on one was a little easier to deal with, and if there were two . . . .well. . . . it was very possible there may be more lurking hidden, unseen, and beyond her line of sight.

Still, the pair didn't appear hostile, and it wasn't as if they were marching in to the lands completely uninvited. They were near the borders, and their reasons for coming could number anything . . .they might be rogues, lost, and in search of seeking a bearing; they might be in search of a home, they might be looking to learn more. On the other paw, the war with the now dispersed neighboring pride, the warriors that had all but commited suicide trying to wipe them out, was still painted clearly in her mind. She had been a young cub, born at the end of it, but had lived long enough to understand the implications of the battles.

It was the reason she became Queen, or at least in part. Her mother had sacrificed herself freely, willingly, to better the future of the pride. To grant them a boon, to have them find favor once more with the Great Goddess. That war had been part of her drive to death. . . . . and that was a war Nawiri'chiwa would never forget.

Still, she watched the two closely, confident but also prepared to react. She was sick, but she wasn't so infirmed that she couldn't walk or run. There was life yet to her, despite the slow death that plagued her. What surprised Nawiri'chiwa the most, wasn't just the foreign scents written all over the lion and lioness (all strangers carried such foreign scents!) . . . . but it was his cryptic way of speaking, the heavy accent that colored his words. She'd never heard of such a language, especially one so . . . .foreign in accent.

Surely these lions had come from very far.

They wanted to see the Kitwan'antara's leader. Part of Nawiri'chiwa couldn't understand if he was making more of a request or a demand. It certainly sounded like the latter, but then again, with his thick accent, it was quite possibly that he was limited in his knowledge of vocabulary. Or perhaps, where he came from, pleasantries weren't spoken. Still, Nawiri'chiwa had never and would never turn down a request for her time. . . . .

She was Queen, but as far as she was concerned, she was a pride member and healer above all else. She had a duty to her people, but she didn't like the title to get in the way. Now was no different. Giving a slight dip of her head, greeting the two, she fell in to a more formal role. So much for just being plain and simple Nawiri'.

"Well then, it's most fortunate I have found you. I'm Nawiri'chiwa, Queen of the Kitwana'antara . . . Who might you be?" There was no doubt about it. There was no deception in her gaze, no mistrust on tongue, and her body language truly could touch upon the regal when she wished it to. While Mittere would likely maim her once word reached her that she was fraternizing with strangers on the border, the grey lioness found fortune in this meeting.

It meant, above all else, that these strangers (depending upon their desires and requests) did not have to be lead in to the heart of the land. While she was risking herself, especially by admitting to her rank, at least she wasn't risking the pride or those within.  

[Mimsey]

Godlum watched silently, struggling to decide whether or not to believe her. It was a functionally robotic gesture- not so much out of fear of being wrong, but flat calculation. What was the likelihood of X? His muzzle crinkled, and he turned towards Sarangerel. "Traer queen," he explained. He then proceded to make a snide estimate about the level of security in these lands. It seemed this grey place was content in the 'protection' of its god.

After sharing a few words with his companion, the lion turned back towards this queen. He squinted, estimating. She seemed nothing like Tzora, who in his mind was about as close to queenly as one could get. "You are queen?" He said, his thick voice still laced with skepticism. "We are Nergui."

In other lands, that would have been enough for the local group to step aside. He didn't expect such a reaction from the southlands. "Ambassadors," A crude way to phrase it, if ever there was one. "From Groas Oma. He hears of this land and its strangeness. We are extending greetings."

Not the typical modus operandi of the Nergui. But unlike other prides with strange artifacts and trappings, this group had power. Not foolish power like the firekin or the seth. Actual god power.

It was exciting.

"The crovrems rurda makes its slow trip to these lands. It would greet you an ally should you assist us."  

[Kimaria]

The female spoke and though Sarangerel watched intently she understood nothing. Even words that might have been the same were pronounced so oddly that the female could not guess at their meaning. If Godlum had not been here, who knew, it might even have descended into chaos. It had happened before, after all.

This little creature was a queen? A ruler? She had the strange markings on her face, but what else made her special? Other than the plague stink. Perhaps she was a favoured one. A treasured possession of the god who had stretched its curse across the lands here. That would make some sense. But she was foolish to declare herself so with no one at her side to guard her. Sarangerel had only to leap and...

She snapped her jaw shut and took a step forwards, eyeing the female as if she were some rare creature she had never set eye upon before. Then, she spoke; though it was to neither Godlum or Nawiri'chiwa.

"Not kicr of o queen, I do mus think. Skorr. Imkesmekecoms. Do aeui think kra lies su us? Nu. Perhaps mus. Is would ba a creka to emsrudica yourself ok someone aeui are mus." She was mostly thinking out loud. Wondering how such a creature could become a queen of such a land. And then she turned to look at Godlum and she smiled. The smile was not particularly kind.

"Do aeui think rar god vuird come su her oed if kra were su come su harm?" She was asking him if he thought their god might appear to them if he thought one of his subjects might be in danger.

As if sensing the sudden darkening of Sarangerel's thoughts, the raven gave a harsh and piercing caw, hopping sideways down the length of the branch to come closer still.

To the raven, the land of death smelt like a land of many bounties. Carcasses to pick upon. Food aplenty. She did not want to be turned away so soon.  

[Uta]

It was strange how quickly the day had changed. While she didn't often spend time near the borders, while she didn't often step away from the heart of the pride, the female had met strangers of all backgrounds. She'd met gods, she'd met strangers, and no harm had come to her.

But there was a new, unspoken tension that seemed to settle upon the wind. The two strangers were strangers still, and the male spoke in such broken script and a heavy accent it was difficult to understand him. Perhaps worse were his intentions. He cam as . . .an ambassador? What was the Nergui anyway? They certainly hadn't been a group or pride that had ever been mentioned, not by scout or visitor. . . . .

Unfortunately, Nawiri was still a young queen. She had been barely older than an adolescent when she ascended to her rank. While she was open minded and compassionate, this was the first time she'd ever actually run in to such a . . well. . . diplomatic summons. It pleased and worried her that their pride had a reputation -- they were plagued, diseased, and many kept their distance.

Groas Oma? He . . . ? The name meant nothing to the lioness, though she listened intently. On the one paw, they were extending greetings. While Nawiri'chiwa often delighted in other prides, of learning of the differences and embracing peace and alliance she . . . . also wasn't entirely sure about the strangers last phrase.

Assist them? It was one thing to greet a pride, but hear of some strange . . .something . . . making its way to their land? Why? And what assistance did they actually need? If they couldn't help or if she denied them? The back of her throat tightened and she instantly was concerned about war. . .another hostile take over . . . . It was no surprise many prides looked upon the Kitwana'antara as an enemy, something that should be wiped out. And what of these Nergui?

Her features darkened some as she became thoughtful, looking between the male and the female. The lioness suddenly spoke in, what she presumed, was her native tongue. Nawiri'chiwa tried to recognize anything, but other than a few words such as god and harm and lies . . . she had difficult discerning what any of that meant, if those words even had the same definition as what she believed!

The raven's cry caused Nawiri's ears to flatten a bit, but she did turn back to Godlum. Her attitude had shifted from open and welcoming to more introversion, diplomacy. Though part of the lioness worried and now wondered what these strangers wanted. . . she would not show them fear. Death did not concern her, as she already had such a fatal sentence on her head. But if they thought she would stand aside or let their words intimidate her, they would be mistaken.

This was her pride, her responsibility. And there was just something off that caused her concern. Dipping her head respectfully, the lioness decided to speak. "I have not heard of the Nergui, or of those that you speak. While I appreciate you coming to give greeting to the Kitwana'antara, I wish to know more about you and your kind. It isn't often we get strangers from other lands that wish to greet us so cordially."

And it was cordial. The strange, brown-coated lioness didn't look particularly friendly but . . .then again . . .neither had Mittere. They were still strangers, and while she often welcomed others freely, and played a most hospitable guest . . . she couldn't quite invite them on to the lands. Not yet. Not with their strange tongue, and not knowing their intentions.

This was no casual visit, no rogue. . . This was dealing with another band of strangers, strangers that were (potentially) on their way to the pride this very moment. "Furthermore," she added calmly, "I wish to know what aid you think my pride can give you? We are diseased and quarantined, after all."

 

[Mimsey]

Godlum gave a throaty laugh that tapered off into nothing, as if he completely forgot what it was he found amusing. Was it Sarangerel's comments? Or the Queen's lack of knowledge of the Nergui? He didn't really elaborate. Instead, the rough looking lion took a few long strides towards the grey one, taking careful note of the thick scents around them.

"Is isnt redarae. Nergui roqa bested srek goddess bakura," he said to Sarangerel. It wasn't exactly the first time the Nergui had had dealings with this particularly breed of death goddess. The Nergui had learned a lot of their initial suspicions about the gods from felling her... including that death, for a god, was rarely a permanent thing. It was possible the goddess still lingered here... but he suspected a company of only a handful wasn't going to be enough to rouse an old spirit.

And if it had- there were many less honorable ways to die.

"Yes, sickness," Godlum returned to the queen. "Can smell it. Not normal, stories go. We hear of stories, eventually, we come to investigate. The gods do find strange places to drain Tra Ord Omak's power. But we are always thinking."

To this, Godlum sat. His matted white mane seemed particularly bright against the arch of his dark shoulders. "You have been trapped in this place, you worship this god...we call them Kulukadok. Like parasites. But they do not realize they also give power that we may wield. And your pride has been given a great power. If you joined our crovrems rurda, you would not be trapped any longer."

It perhaps sounded like the ravings of a madman. But he spoke with a solemn tone, as if all of this was already known.  

[Kimaria]

Sarangerel could not say she was surprised at Godlum's response. It would take more than that to summon a god. But maybe some were more foolish than others. Maybe they cherished the lives of their people more than their own. If that blasted Kaar Oma back with the rest of the group had been able to slay one then surely someone such as herself should manage it with ease!

She growled, long and low in her throat, though only in reaction to her own thoughts. The often took her down to dark places. And then when Godlum settled back into speaking with the little queen, her ears only twitched when he spoke the words she recognised.

And only when Godlum had given his words did she add: "Oma day orr of sra land verr know uk the Nergui. Trruisr us, Graos Oma verr create o vast akvera and sra gifts uk these Kulukadok will ba reclaimed umca more. Tarr them, Godlum, sros they vuird be imveka to rakika our ukkar." Again, she wanted it known that it would be a foolish thing to turn they away without accepted the offer they were setting out before this queen.  

[Uta]

The gravity of this situation was becoming more and more apparent for the young queen. In fact, this was one of the first opportunities of diplomacy she had been granted in her short reign. Her mother, spirits bless her soul, had made the ultimate sacrifice in search of peace . . . . and things had been looking up!

The pride they had been at war with had been culled, disbanded, and ultimately left them alone to their own devices. Her mother had sacrificed herself, her father was now a quiet but trusted vizier . . . Things had been fairly quiet since Nawiri had taken over. But what to do in this predicament? She was young, and she considered the words of the foreign lion carefully.

Trapped.

That wasn't entirely accurate. . . was it? They weren't all trapped. Some were able to leave, though it wasn't exactly encouraged. Those that were not touched by plague were granted more normal lives than those of them marked with diseased. Certainly the diseased sorts had been quaranteind, but it was for their well being. They couldn't leave, couldn't risk spreading the disease to others . . . Granted, in their history, there had been times where the quarantine had been relinquished, but the last that had happened had been long before Nawiri'chiwa or her mother's lifetime.

Trapped?

The lioness said nothing for a long moment, keeping her red and blue eyes calmly on the two lions. Though Godlum stepped forward, she refused to retreat, refused to look weak even if she didn't dare him too close. It sounded as if they making an offer, an offer . . . for what though? To join them, to . . . to use their power? Was their disease such a use to another pride? And what exactly would they expect to gain . . . .?

Granted, Nawiri'chiwa understood very well that their pride could be devastating to others. If they so desired, they could attempt to spread the plague, to use it against others as a weapon. But such a thought was preposterous! While the grey lioness understood that their lot was difficult, and there were more than a few in the pride that were unhappy being 'trapped' . . . it was all they could do to save themselves and save others. They needed each other as a pride, lest risk eradication by those that might fear them. Furthermore, they needed each other to hold one another accountable for their actions.

Pestilence was a strict mistress. . . . but they honored their traditions and ways because this was her bidding. What she gave, only the Great Goddess could take away. . .

The not-so-friendly female said something, again, their words foreign to her ears. The aches in her bones seemed to worsen, and a new anxiety overcame the grey lioness. "We follow strict traditions here," she began slowly, a new tension suddenly making the air surrounding them heavy. "And for good reason. What you request, what you ask is an allegiance with an unknown pride . . . and a breaking of everything we have known. I hope you understand, but this is something that would require much consideration." That in itself wasn't entirely accurate either. . . .

This lion, this stranger, he spoke almost in riddles. There was much he hadn't told her, and much he hadn't admitted to. Nergui. She'd not heard of their kind but their attitude alone, these ambassadors, put her on edge. They spoke of the disease as if it were to be a weapon, a power to be used. . . . and that is something Nawiri'chiwa could never, would never allow. But, at the same rate, she had to tread lightly. She didn't understand what the Tra Ord Omak might be, but it was obviously something they thought highly of. A different god? Maybe . . . But he had admitted to the Kitwana'antara as having a great power. . . .she just didn't like the context in which he spoke about it.

To tell them no right off the bat, without consideration, could possibly cause more problems. They might think she wasn't giving their offer the proper consideration, which might very well cause the tension to truly spill over. She would be a fool to answer so swiftly, but there was no way she could agree to their desires. She had so many questions - hadn't she said someone, or something was heading toward their pride? If she said no, would this bring on a declaration of war?

"If we were to agree, what would happen then?" She questions carefully, just as solemn as the lion standing before her. "And if we were to decline?"
 

[Mimsey]

Godlum nodded at his companion's words, but did not elaborate. Godlum was no diplomat...although he was perhaps the closest facsimile the Nergui could muster. Negotiating with groups was not the usual workings of the crovrems rurda. These interactions typically had a very different way of working. If this had been a proper Nergui coup, he would have waited behind until they found an outsider from the pride willing to work with them. The northlands stereotyped the nergui as savages- in truth, they were quite methodical and practiced.

But this wasn't some pride that simply sat upon some artifact or charm they wished for their collection. Or held bodies it could use as slaves. Real power was a tricky thing, and in it, Graos Oma demanded tact. Why he'd sent these two, was a mystery.

"To join the crovrems rurda is a powerful thing. It is to have no enemies but the gods themselves, and the honor of the old ones. We do not trouble ourselves with being idle or complacent, as other groups do. We are no pride. We watch, and we learn. We bring strength back to the earth," he continued in that same, oddly rehearsed tone. "If your kind were to join, they would be very precious to Graos Oma. Perhaps moreso than the magicians and prophets that speak to him."

"They would not need to stay in this rotting place. They could be free and honored for what they could bring to us," he concluded. He glanced over to Sarangerel, repeating quickly what he had said in their tongue...with a few annotations here and there.

"As for if you do not, Godlum does not decide such things. The Nergui do not negotiate often, so, I would suspect there is a contingency plan."  

[Kimaria]

Sarangerel watched with growing impatience, forcing herself to remain still by curling her claws into the tainted earth. The smell of this place seemed to be weighing heavily in her lungs as if she were being drugged. Perhaps she was. Her tail whipped back and forth now as she listened to the unknown words bounced back and forth between Godlum and the queen of these plagued lands.

She pitied them, in a way. These people who had no idea of the world or the way things worked. They had been given a blessing and they had chosen not to use it. To thwart a power was, to Sarangerel, a heinous crime. They underestimated its strength and in doing so made a mockery of these 'gifts'. It was truly wasted on these people and their little queen.

Her mind wandered on these things until Godlum turned to give her the brief translation of their conversation.

And all she said was, "I du not sremd they ora worthy uk such o gift."