Of War and LOve (me and Dream)

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Gabriel sighed, as he walked along with his father, into the former rivaling lycan’s territory. It was quite hard for him to understand that they both needed each other now, when all he had been taught for years was to hate the lot of them. The lycan was everything that was expected of a warrior, having a tall and toned body. Short black hair and deadly green eyes. The small scar, to the side of his face proving that he had been in quite a few battles…and survived.

It seemed baffling to him, that while their own numbers were dwindilling, the Merchant clan was thriving, since they had enjoyed their protection. After all, almost all of the fighting with the humans had been carried out by them. “This is humiliating” he said, to the man that had come up to meet them, to help their clan get settled in to what was to become their new home. "You should be getting on your knees and thanking us"

 

[Osheaga]

• • • • • • • 
              
              "It's you who should be thanking us. We're being gracious, sharing our women, or food; our beds, our homes. Against the behest of many I welcome you here. So you'd do best to guard your tongues." Hezmat, the grand merchant and guardian of his people, was summoned to meet with the visitors from their sister clan which consisted of heavily skilled warriors and champions. Hezmat was young to be the grand guardian, a few years shy of his thirties, but he had the wisdom that his father possessed before his passing two years prior. He ran a hand through his shaggy, chocolate brown mane and crossed his hands across his lithe chest. Darkness was coming, and fast - he could tell by the orchestra of crickets chirping ever so cheerfully, and the sun's light waning on the horizon.
              
              The current abode that the merchant clan had nestled in was a small thatch of land ensconced by a series of mountains. There was only one entrance, which was approximately two miles away from their current village, and was heavily guarded by merchant and warrior alike. Much to his chagrin, Hezmat became cognizant of the group of accumulating lycans that were nosily listening in on their conversation. "Enough of this. We will talk privately. Please follow me to my tent." During their trek Hezmat was greeted with friendly smiles belonging to what little numbers his clan had left. They had expected him to marry shortly and hold an heir, but the one woman he displayed inexplicable passion for did not reciprocate his love.
              
              The light haired man's yurt was large; the roof hoisted high so it wouldn't catch fire. It was isolated well. There were books and tomes lazily disdained on a make-shift desk he had, along with candles and quills. The most prominent object in the tent was the satchel he carried. It was a messenger bag forged of tanned leather and salmon skin which rested neatly on his cot. All merchants had one, and it marks their right of passage when they received one. "We have many things to discuss, but ... the night is coming quickly and I tire of this irrelevant satire-" as he proceeded to speak, a woman entered the tent. Her presence made his heart stop and his mouth run dry; he blinked and all but gawked in her direction.
              
              She was Ammon, the woman he was smitten with. Everything about her he found attractive, from her thick, unruly coal mane to the hue of her evanescent green eyes. She was a bronze-skinned beauty, tall and very curvaceous. She was sought after by many men but refused to wed or bare children. It was her vow to be a merchant and server her people that kept her from doing so. "A-Ammon. Why ... why are you in here?" He was always dumbfounded by her arrogance; she had came and went as she pleased. As perusal, she took moments before replying. "Aubrey wants the grimoire you found in Alabaster. She is both pregnant and restless ... I'd rather not return to her empty handed." Hezmat was entranced by her soft, motherly tone. He took a moment to mull in it, but then motioned towards his desk. [/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

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“But it has been our blood that has been spilled in order to keep these pesky humans in check…and not yours” Gabriel replied to him. He didnt care much for the man’s status or position. The young lycan had been in far too many skirmishes to let any insults pass. His father placed his aged hand over his chest, letting him know that he should keep quiet. Leadership of his own clan wasnt his yet. Although everyone whispered, behind closed doors, that it wouldnt be long, before their elder leader would pass away. Leaving his impulsive son to take his place.

Father and son followed Hezmat into his tent, in order for all of the terms of their newly forged agreement could be well ironed out. Gabriel would never admitit to it, but he was facinated by it. His green emerald eyes just looking all over the place, curious glances resting upon the many objects that Hezmat had there, just laying around. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Since their clan lived much more sparsely, with little less than a roof over their heads, food and a few quills as well. “Satire or not, the details should be fully discussed now” said Gabriel father. With his son just lurking in the background.

But when the woman entered the tent, Gabriel couldnt help himself from simply staring at her. Trying his very best just not to lick his lips. The number of females had seriously dwindelled in his clan over the years, and that had been one of the main reasons why the deal had been struck in the first place. It was only natural for him to be very interested in that, now that he was old enough to take a mate. He repeated her name to himself “Ammon”, inside his head. Not wantng to forget it, when the time was right.

 

[Osheaga]

• • • • • • • 
              
              "We, too, have suffered heavy casualty." Suddenly, Ammon intervened. She took perch aside her chieftain Hezmat, standing tall and proud like a rooted oak tree. "The moment the sun breaks the horizon tomorrow morning a caravan of our merchants will be traveling to local villages to barter, buy and sell what little spoils we have at our disposal to feed your mouths. I, of all our people, am most grateful that you've made this trek here safely to aid us in this time of need. I think it's safe to say we've both sacrificed much, it's not a matter of who's lost more then the other."
              
              It was the young woman's words of wisdom that left Hezmat guffawed. Ammon was wise beyond her years, this much was true, but the woman ... she had rarely spoken. Often more then not Ammon left her actions speak and she always remained impartial. As to why she suddenly intervened, it was beyond him. The people of their clan knew Ammon only got herself involved if the matter intrigued her in some manner. Hezmat pressed his lips in a hard line and heaved a heavy groan of defeat. "I hate when you come in here and ... sputter truth," Hezmat prodded playfully. "But! I won't be moved. We'll all talk tomorrow with full bellies, huh?" He let forth a deep, jolly chortle, one that shook the very foundation of his yurt.
              
              "Speaking of food ... Ammon, wanna be a doll and get these gentlemen something to eat and show them to their tents?"
              
              "I'd rather not."
              
              "Damn it, woman. Stop being so difficult." Ammon was silent for a moment - there was a low light of acceptance in her voice. She then raised her hand, and beckoned for the father son pair to follow.[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]

 

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“Yes, I think it’s fair to say that we have both sacrificed much. Even I would agree to that” conceded Gabriel, shrugging his shoulders. As the woman started to grow more and more attractive to his eyes. His father eventually spoke, agreeing with Hezmat as the pair followed in her lead. “That would be wise, we will talk some more tomorrow then, Hezmat… When we are all well fed and slept. There is still much we need to discuss” said their leader.

The young lycan was more then willing to follow Ammon around, afterall, he was starting to get hungry and he didnt think it was too likely, for anyone to commit any acts of rebellion and attack them. Since that would mean war and so he let his guard down a little and tried his best just to enjoy the moment. “And so what exactly are we having for dinner today?” he asked her, with a faint grin on his lips. Not that it really mattered, but it was just a chance he had to seize, in order to strike up a conversation with her.

“I assume you have already made preparations for our accomodations? It wouldnt be exactly too friendly, if all of you slept under a tent and we got stuck with just the nightly sky above our heads now, would it?” he asked her, with his father giving a cold stare. Trying to get him to stop from always being such a nuisance.

 

[Osheaga]

• • • • • • • 
              
              The grown lycan's chiding did all but irk Ammon. Even with his playful gestures she seemed unmoved. It was the stagnant lapses of silence she exhibited that always worried Hezmat, but when she spoke, her voice was like untreated honey, slow to move, but sweet to hear. Outdoors the group was greeted with bewildered stares belonging to a few of the settling merchants. They were displeased that they had to volunteer their time - when they could have been watching their children or benefiting themselves with work in some manner - helping these new comers, why others were more then happy to help the cause.
              
              "Assume nothing," she replied curtly, keeping steady, long strides as they exited Hezmat's massive yurt. The sun outside was dying, and the dark sky swept over the horizon like an obsidian veil. For a moment Ammon directed her tempest jade eyes towards the twinkling bright stars that dotted the coming night sky, then fixed her gaze on a copse of yurts beyond a collection of aging grand willow trees. Their foliage cascaded over the roofs of the tents that a handful of the clan's best carpenters erected earlier that morning. Abruptly, a red-headed woman ambled out in front of the group. She was a healthy woman, and heavily with child. "Ammon, dear, did you fetch that old tome for me?" The woman, Aubrey, inquired. Ammon gentle passed the grimoire to the woman's and trekked past her. "Oh so, good ol' Hezmat made you escort these fine men, did they? Good, good. There's some slabs of venison on the fire, help yourself gentlemen." With a ginger smile she returned to her tent, rubbing her baby bump all the while.
              
              Ammon followed the men into the tiny encampment. "Your tent is to the back, near the young willow tree. Hezmat just finished erecting it earlier this afternoon." She crossed her hands over her chest and tilted her head, tossing her inquiry to the young son rather then the older father. "Is there anything else you need, or am I free to go?"[/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u][/list:u]