Lavender Moon

[Wortcunner]

A slow crunching, wet trail through the brush. A dark form slipping through wet leaves and swamp grass. Blind eyes stared, a nose pushing through the dirt. She searched for plants without eyes to identify the green. Wortcunner's nose bumped against something. She sniffed, rubbing nostrils against it. Tentatively took a bite.

"Wormwood," she muttered to herself, a raspy voice. Did not need it now. She tracked the scent of water down with a sniff, and moved farther away from it. Another scent caught her nose, earthy, slightly floral. She slithered closer, and the scent was acrid to her nostrils. Immediately recognizable.

"Marsh marigold," she thought for a moment, remembering her shopping list. She dug her nose in near the base of the plant. Stung her nose and her skin. Her needle teeth caught the base of the root within her mouth. Her body would hate her for this. She could already feel the waxy leaves rubbing their toxin on her. But that was future Wortcunner's problem, and she was running low on Marigold. After drying, it would be worth it. With the Marigold firmly in her grip, she pulled from the dirt, and dragged it along the slow route back to her herb cache.

"Speech."

[Stag]

Everything felt... Muggy. And it wasn't just their body- their mind was filled with cotton, red eyes squinted in the relative dark as their owner reared their antlered head. It was too bright here for the beast.

Calculating, as they always did (how long had always been?), they swung their skull to the side in a languid movement to take in everything. Ears pivoted and pushed forward at the fluttering sound of a bird. Nothing- the stag grumbled in the back of their throat.

Stag. That's what they were, right? Who they were? As they stepped forward on razor-sharp claw tips, they sucked in a breath of unease. Stags. What were stags? Beings of nobility, and power- and of horns. Well, they had two of the three, right? Their heavy head tilted to one side as they rolled an eye to look at the thorny ram growth curling up from behind their ear. A thrill ran up their spine; they had horns. Stag it is, then.

If it weren't for the weight they'd been gifted with, Stag would've shaken their head to clear it out, instead resorting to a quick blink and a raised neck as they continued onward. Steps persisted, squelching in wet mud, until a sound rose above them- soft, faint, and recognizable.

It was a voice. A thought, like the ones Stag had, even if it was simply the name of- something. Marsh marigold must be a specific plant, no? Marsh was where they were, marigolds were... Weeds, of some kind, their mind supplied. Or flowers? Something like that.

It wasn't hard to spot the motion of plants in the distance as this marsh marigold was dragged away to its home. Was that the thing that spoke? Stag prowled forward, dropping to touch their chest to the ground as a predatorial gaze set upon the plant. No, something was dragging it, and upon recognizing that fact Stag uncharacteristically halted the hunt to draw their head back as far as it could go.

What. Was that thing? A lip curled up to show sharp teeth as it watched it go, holding their breath before stalking forward again. It looked like a worm. But, who knew, maybe worms really did have brains.

A grunt of a noise rose from Stag's throat as they cleared it. "Hey- you." They stood up straighter, staring at the worm-snake-thing with a stern glare- unfortunately, their default expression. The noise was but a mere test of intelligence; it didn't matter how friendly they looked in the end of it all.

@Wortcunner

[Wortcunner]

Wortcunner paused, the marigold roots snuggly within her teeth. A grunt of noise. Something she might've ignored. And then, a voice. Deep. A speaker. Talking to her, possibly? She released the plant. While normally she might have been excited to hear another creature with the ability of speech, Wortcunner felt a blip of annoyance. She had to get this thing back to her cache before the swelling and blistering began, and each moment she stalled was another moment of pain without need.

But Wortcunner easily suppressed that small bit of annoyance. She dropped the small plant gently. Indented the soil near it, so she could track it again, once she was finished with whatever called for her. Perhaps, if she were lucky, whatever this speaker was would carry it for her.

Blind eyes stared at nothing. Had she sight, the wortcunner might've given pause at Stag's stare. As it was, the world around her was still a pale grey. Still day. Still normal, according to her vision. Whatever the creature was, it was not close enough to block her vision. Next, a search with her nose. The scent was not close. Strange. She sniffed once more.

"The scent of a mammal. A predator? Prey? Unsure. Young. Fresh. A child? No--older. Lacks the milk-scent. The old scent as well. Hmm. Yearling, perhaps." She muttered.

She slithered in the direction of the scent, guiding her path with nudges of her nose and tentacles. Though she was blind, the creature's path was sure. This creature was a new mystery for the caecilian to unravel, thread by thread. Minute by minute. Then, louder than before, she spoke again.

"Who are you, yearling, speaker?" I am called wortcunner. "What is your business with me?"

"Speech."

@Stag

[Stag]

They stepped forward when the thing paused, head held high as a sense of pride settled into their skull. Stag had no way of knowing this creature's lack of sight, but the way they looked- it was odd.

Thoughtful.

They passed the test. A worrying twist of their lips brought Stag to carry some form of an awkward smile, if only for a moment, as they considered what they'd just heralded. Worm, right?

No, it would have a name. She- She, as she spoke, head raised to them and anchored in the air on an ethereal fishing line. They let her speak, approaching in turn, head tilting sideways ever so gently to avoid tipping over with the weight of the crown on their head.

They couldn't hear her from here, but when they were closer, she'd spoken once more.

Her questions threw them off guard. It showed in the half-step they took, a stumble in their perfect form, the rising of their hackles and fur standing on edge. "Who- am I?" Their speech was loud and monotone, coming from deep within their voice-box.

They stepped anxiously. "I am Stag." That was clear enough, and they leaned forward again, huffing in Wortcunner's direction. "Is that what you are? A Wortcunner?" Stag side-stepped and danced around her, investigating as they drew their own breaths to smell plant and marsh on her. Looked more like a worm, to them. They'd never heard of anything called a wortcunner before, anyways.

The plant was brought to mind as it came into view. What was she doing with that? Why name it- out loud, especially- where predators could hear?

What a strange worm. Wortcunner. Whatever she was.

@Wortcunner

[Wortcunner]

A stumble. A wet sound in the swamp. Wortcunner would not recognize the raise of hackles, it had no sound to her. But she did recognize a dim in the light. The same, monotone voice speaking. Wortcunner had gotten close to them. Or, it had gotten close to her. She could feel the body heat it gave off, immediately recognizable to a coldblooded creature.

"Stag," The small creature repeated. The huff of breath carried scents with it. The old, coppery scent of a hunter's breath. "Yes--the deer smell is there. Something else. Different." The end of the sentence turned into a hum.

"Are you a liar? Misinformed?" Though accusatory, the questions were asked without malice. Wortcunner, in truth, did not know. "Am I a Wortcunner?" She began again. It was a bit of a silly question, she thought. "I'm certainly not a firecunner. Or a Watercunner. Though it does sound useful..."A pause, her thoughts drifted as she considered having power over water or fire. "I know of Worts. Study them. Create with them. And that makes me a wortcunner."

The dark in Wortcunner's vision disappeared from one eye, and appeared on the other. Again, it did this. The Stag-creature was circling her. Investigating her as she did them. Her intrigue was piqued, self preservation be damned. The circling had her more curious than anything. Then, something clicked in her mind.

"Ah, do you study Stags, as I do Wort? Adopt their scent?"Stagcunner had a ring to it, she thought. "Perhaps you can help a fellow researcher. I cannot smell it right now, but there is a plant back there. I could use your assistance with it." She could already feel the tip of her nose prickle with newfound pain.

"Speech."

@Stag
Escort mission for 0xp and free blisters

[Stag]

They continued to pace around the worm- Wortcunner, their brain supplied over the moniker they gave her. They were quiet, if not for a brief moment, stopping in their tracks when she looked for information.

Their ears flicked up and their toes squelched softly in the mud. "I am not all deer- but I am still Stag." It was a quick conclusion, they figured, as they certainly were mostly deer rather than anything else. That must dictate enough to earn the spot of naming.

Stag picked up their pacing again, pacing around Wortcunner's other side. She didn't follow like something with pure vision, something was wrong, and they bent their head back down again when she spoke further.

"Why would you want to study worts?" That seemed... Odd. Not useful, if you were that small. "There are broader things to study. Worts is a small..." They drew back, their lip askew as they glanced to the distance. "Part, of healing. Why focus just on that?" It took some roundabout thinking to come to the idea, though it was awkwardly put out between them. It seemed like a waste of brainpower (which, briefly Stag wondered if she even had a brain, being (perceived) worm and all).

"I don't focus solely on stags. I hunt, I eat, but I don't study because I want to know the prey. I study because I need to, if I'm to hunt." Another circle. "But I am no 'cunner. Just a Stag." And so went the repetition, circling and circling more.

They stopped when the plant came into mind. "Ah." Stag's nose tipped towards it. The... Marsh marigold, was it? They leaned to it as they studied this, in turn, leaning down like a deer prepared to graze before glancing back to Wortcunner. 'Wortcunner. What a long name,' Stag briefly mulled on as they looked between the two.

They were quiet for a moment that drew out almost too long. They offered no movement, no more dancing, and only softly swishing their tail in the air as they studied the plant as they did Wortcunner.

"I can carry it, if that's what you mean." A paw stepped forward. "You've pleasant conversation. I haven't had that in-" They raised their head briefly, thinking. "I can't remember."

The horned face came back down to gently take the plant in their teeth, lips curled up just in case it was some form of toxin. Couldn't be too careful. It certainly wasn't long before they stepped back to Wortcunner and placed the flower next to her, staring down and coming back to her level.

"I can carry you, as well."

@Wortcunner
Carry the Plant[tm]

Rolling 1d20: 15
Success