Tars Tarkas, Jeddak (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
we_dont_fly) wrote2015-05-09 09:18 am
we_dont_fly) wrote2015-05-09 09:18 am
[oom] Fourth Teean 65, 38 O 94 HE
The Thark hunting party returned to the city of the ancestors just ahead of the early summer storms. The air was thick with dust, heavy with the bite of static. Ions, Dejah Thoris had called them, and he smirked himself to remember her impromptu lesson, scratched into the dirt with the tip of her knife. All Tars knew was that if they did not retreat to the ruins before the first storms hit, the very air would snap at them, striking the thoats first around their feet and mouths. A startled thoat was not something one wanted to be astride, even when the air was clear and the sky above was gold. So they made good time the last karad, a half day's ride roughly. The entire village turned out to welcome them and their precious cargo.
The riders' saddle bags were stuffed with a brood of fresh hatchlings, each and every one of them squalling to the heavens in indignation. A strong, healthy clutch, he was proud to note. There was a great deal of excitement in the crowd as the women came out to receive them. He was pleased to see only a few fist fights broke out, and those were quelled in a heartbeat with only a stern look from their Jeddak. He kept a weather eye on them as the tiny green bodies scampered over the ground, trying to fight their way free. Hands grabbed at them as they squirmed by, grabbing them up by their heels. Their tusks were barely visible in their round faces but their lungs were good. He could tell that much by the racket they made.
Tars Tarkas swung down from his thoat and passed off the reins to one of his lieutenants. "We feast tonight! To the honor of our ancestors and the strength of our descendants!" The crowd roared their appreciation for their Jeddak and his proclamation. It was good to be home again. He needed a drink.
His eyes were closed in fatigue when he pulled back the skin that marked the door of his rooms. When he opened them again, it was on an entirely different scene than he expected.
The riders' saddle bags were stuffed with a brood of fresh hatchlings, each and every one of them squalling to the heavens in indignation. A strong, healthy clutch, he was proud to note. There was a great deal of excitement in the crowd as the women came out to receive them. He was pleased to see only a few fist fights broke out, and those were quelled in a heartbeat with only a stern look from their Jeddak. He kept a weather eye on them as the tiny green bodies scampered over the ground, trying to fight their way free. Hands grabbed at them as they squirmed by, grabbing them up by their heels. Their tusks were barely visible in their round faces but their lungs were good. He could tell that much by the racket they made.
Tars Tarkas swung down from his thoat and passed off the reins to one of his lieutenants. "We feast tonight! To the honor of our ancestors and the strength of our descendants!" The crowd roared their appreciation for their Jeddak and his proclamation. It was good to be home again. He needed a drink.
His eyes were closed in fatigue when he pulled back the skin that marked the door of his rooms. When he opened them again, it was on an entirely different scene than he expected.