Post by tansy on May 24, 2006 23:12:51 GMT -5
Swiftwings, Dagda, Caesar
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The barnyard is arguably the heart of the farm - and at its center stands a tall, centuries-old oak tree with long, gnarled branches. The ancient behemoth creaks and groans, thick leaves rustling in even the slightest breeze. At its base, among the roots, sits the skeletal remains of a rusted steam automobile on cement blocks. This tarnished relic provides plenty of hiding places for smaller creatures - like the mice who have taken up residence in the car's open glove compartment, or that cats who seem to enjoy snoozing in the cool shade of the back seat. A long, winding dirt road carves its way through the barnyard, flanked on either side by patches of tall green grass, dandelions and daisies.
But what would a barnyard be without the barn itself? Fashioned from long planks of rotten wood, the namesake seems to have fallen into a state of disrepair. Here and there, chipped bits of white paint can be found clinging to the structure's exterior - a reminder of better days. Beside the barn is a tall woodpile, overgrown with weeds and dry moss, a notorious nesting ground for spiders, centipedes and a plethora of nasty insects.
The farmhouse sits across the dirt road from the barn and, thankfully, is in much better condition. It carries the warm smells of freshly baked pies and bubbling stews left to simmer on the wood stove. It's a modest, one-story dwelling that looks more like a cottage than a house; it's small, painted bright white, with just enough room for a small family.
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A day at the farm! It's bright and sunny day with clear skies above. Swiftwings rides the breeze far above the treetops of the forests and meadows that he has passed, wings spread wide and flapping only every now and then. Updrifts keeps him aloft more than any physical flapping on his part, and the ride is a luxurious one. But it's not one that's taken without necessity. Dark eyes scan the scenery below as he goes from region to region, apparently taking special interest on the barnyard. Tucking his wings he begins a slow and spiraling descent towards the large and old oak tree at the center of the yard, and as he nears a high branch, he extends clawed feet and grasps at the bark. After a bit of rustling, he makes a smooth enough landing.
Dagda, having nothing on his schedule - or a schedule to speak of - has taken up the pastime of lying down in the shade offered by the run-down barn. Sprawled comfortably on his stomach with his hind legs *ever*-so-slightly crooked to the side and his head resting heavily between his paws, he seems utterly asleep. The massive dog's bulky ribcage moves in and out faintly, each warm breath that wafts from his drying nostrils creating a drift in the dust and crumbled paint chips on the ground in front of him. Dagda may be the picture of inattentiveness, but appearances can be deceiving; despite the constant hustle and bustle around the barnyard, the faint rustle from the old tree strikes him as foreign and he lifts his head, looking blearily ahead but not realizing what he’s looking for.
Another makes his way out of the barn with a yawn escapes him, it is Caesar the number one dog of the farm. His just waken from a nape to get on with the nightly patrol of the farm land and such. He wanders on over to a water bowl left out for the dogs and goes about getting a drink while his ears flick forward as he catches movement around him. His head tilts and he peers over towards Dagda curiously while licking over his maw before he turns and starts to trod towards the other dog.
Dark eyes peer about quietly now that Swiftwings has found his balance. As large as he is, he isn't exactly hidden, nor does the eagle mean to be as he perches on the thick branch. There are many things that take his attention, mostly the smaller mammals that he can see here and from a distance. Sheep. Small sheep. Appetizing little lambs. But if he's here to eat he's not making any move towards doing so. Perhaps just taking a look at the menu. But it's not long before the farm dogs catch his attention next and his head slightly turns to one side. "Farm dogs. The epitome of attentiveness," he chuckles to himself, his voice rather dark for a bird.
The darkly-coated dog shuffles his still-idle paws for a second or two before deciding to actually haul himself up, which is quite a little workout when you’re as large as Dagda and not 100% in shape. Which isn't to say he's completely /out/ of shape, he's just ... slightly lazy, that's all! With a faint groan, he gets to his feet; still feeling fuzzy, he gives a half-shake of his hindquarters, not really putting all his effort into waking up his sluggish muscles. His tail, jostled by the tiny shake, keeps on swaying back-and-forth once he catches sight of Caesar, in way of a friendly greeting. "Sunny day, ya?" he addresses the head dog casually. He'd forgotten about the small noise that roused him so gently from his nap, but the voice from the tree brings a quirk to one brow with vague concern - mostly curiousity - which he points toward the eagle once he sees him perched there.
Caesar smirks some at Dadga. "I suppose so.. You look like your getting sorta lazy there.. Gona have to get you out and running with the master more when we go hunting I see. Can't have a lazy dog on my watch! Specially with all them damn wolves, lynx and such about." The wolfhound offers with a bob of his head. A ear flicks forward and a glance is offered upwards to the large bird that is in the tree.. "My my.. An't that a big buzzard.." He mutters to the other dog, but all joking aside this isn't a good thing as eagles could go over things like chicken and like here.
Swiftwings rights his head as the dogs' attention are turned his way, and he seems to lean forward a little as he sees one of their mouths moving, but is unable to hear his mutter. "You should speak clearly," he advises as he lifts his head regally once more, wings tucked neatly behind him. "Mumbling is unbecoming even for a dog. You wouldn't want to prove your wolven brethren right, would you? Ha, you should hear the things they say," he says with a chuckle, his beak curving slightly at the corners. His eyes turn from Ceaser to the other large dog, still looking amused. Or .. as amused as a bird can look. "Are the two of you the alpha males?"
Dagda ambles forward a few steps, belying his apparent laziness at least somewhat when the tone of his muscles shows through his coat with the slight movement. He gives a good-natured grin to Caesar upon his comments and answers, "Hunting, eh? Don't know about that, but I'll get up on a real runnin' regimen, ya?" He /almost/ sounds like he's joking. While he chats with the head dog, his eyes are on the raptor in the tree - his floppy ears flicker ahead when the bird addresses them. Personally, Dagda doesn't care what the wolves think of him or any dog (but maybe he should, considering). "Well, they sound like mean fellas, them wolves," he replies in a laidback manner, then gives a sideways look to Caesar in gesture. He continues to sound friendly, despite the negativity of the eagle’s speech. "Not me, but you're lookin' at one here!"
Caesar grins at Dagda and nods. "Better believe it.. And don't think your gona get out of it that easily, your coming hunting with me and the master next time ye hear?" His attention goes back to the bird and he smirks some while moving closer to the tree it is in. "Well, I didn't know another was around.. Perhaps if you wasn't hiding in trees it wouldn't be a problem now would it?" The hound hisses out slightly through gritted teeth as he eyes the eagle. "I'm Alpha of this farm, under the master of course.. What brings you here hawk?" He knows it is an eagle but likes to tease them it seems..
"They're .. entertaining at the very least," replies Swiftwings to Dagda, regarding the wolves. As he names Caesar as being the head hauncho, his eyes soon turn his way, but he stays quiet as the head dog approaches and speaks. "Don't insult me, dog. I'm keen enough to know your species, I /would/ appreciate at least the same from you," he says, sounding lazily insulted. "What brings me here? Curiosity more than anything. Wanted to see how you farm animals lived. I also wanted to oversee your herd.." he says suggestively, looking towards the pasture. "Is it not the calving..foaling..whatever season for the flock?"
Dagda doesn't reply any further to Caesar's insistence that he go hunting - mostly because he's listening to the eagle, who gets a silly look. If it weren’t for Caesar's presence, Dagda would probably be trying to make jokes and break the tension with the predator who could very well wreak destruction on the livestock. As it is, he simply follows for a few steps before coming to a plodding halt a few feet behind and to the side of the other dog. "That's a suspicious question comin' from a bird with claws like yours," he says, the faint hint of blame hiding behind the general jovialness of his voice. He glances over at the pasture, but his eyes are not that of a sheepdog's.
Caesar smirks some at that. "I see.. fina then bird." He'll not call it what it is now mind you. "And why would I tell the like of you?.. Who could easily get at one of the new spring lambs if they so wanted to." The dog snorts some. "But if you try you shall be met by the rest of the dogs that protect this land, and that inclused the pasture mind you." The lambs are being brought in at night thanks to lynx tracks he and the master found a few days ago, though during the day the guard of the dogs have been more then normal. Still an attack from the air would be hard for any dog to stop most likely..
"Talons," says Swiftwings, looks at Dagdaw as he lifts one of those hooked claws from the bark. ""You have claws." Uppity thing, isn't he? Smirking in a slightly superior way, his lowers his food and shifts his weight a little, but still remains nestled upon his branch. "Come now, dog. Do you really think I truly /need/ your knowledge of when the lambs will be dropped? I was only trying for conversation. If I want a lamb, the lamb will be mine," he assures with a faint chuckle. "But you needn't fear me. I've no interest in sheep. I've easier prey without the hassle if your subjects nipping at my tailfeathers. It /should/ be the wolves that trouble your thoughts. But should I suppose that you've all of that taken care of? How many dogs do you really have watching your herd?"
"Taaalons," Dagda repeats, as if recalling that he knew that, once upon a time. "'Pologies." The darker of the two large dogs sits down on his haunches - a clear indication that he doesn't feel threatened by the eagle, although he doesn't give it any more thought than wanting to flop his rear down. Dagda gives Caesar a surprised look from behind at something or other the head honcho said, but keeps his maw nice and quiet, save for the occasional 'smack' of his jowls as he opens and closes his mouth between pants from the midday warmth. He leaves the questions to Caesar, only giving cursory glances to the snaky eagle now and again. This isn't his business; he's not authority nor herder.
Caesar rolls his eyes as the bird talks on. "Please.. I'm not going to tell you how many are out there. Enough to watch the ground and the skies for theif's like you though." The hound points out with a lash of his tail. "There is plenty of food in that forest, if your hungry find something around there.. Unless you plan to eat on rats and mice, but I figured one of your kind wouldn't do something like that never know what the vermin have gotten into." Though he wouldn't mind if the eagle got a hold of a poisoned rat, one less thing to worry about. A slight glance is offered to Dagda then his looking back to the bird.
Swiftwings gently twists his head to the side, eyes darting towards Dagda now. "Is he always so ... pleasant?" he asks, sarcasm evident as he speaks to the other dog. "I pity you. Though I suppose you can't choose who your leaders are. Shame, really. I'm only trying to help," he says, directing this last part to Caesar himself. "Thank you for your concern over my diet, but as you can see I fare well without it." More sarcasm, and the bird shifts his weight upon his feet, shifting his wings a bit as he takes note of the direction of the breeze. "I can find out how many dogs you have on my own, I was only trying to save myself the trouble of scouting. But cutting one corner only makes two more. I'll leave it up to me. Thank you for this rivoting conversation, dogs," he says with a dip of his curved beak. "I'll leave you be to your..." a look around the barnyard. "..duty."
A brief, but wide, smile is offered when the eagle comments on Caesar's winning personality, but Dagda doesn't go so far as to comment in mixed company. As the bird continues on, Dagda is looking distracted by this point, slowly tossing his head in one direction then the next - past the tree, around to the water bowl by the barn, toward the rusted old vehicle, anywhere, for a several moments, but Caesar and the eagle. It's timely that the serious little chat seems to be coming to a close, because he's not one for such talk, and his attention span has obviously waned. "Bye-bye now!," he calls out amiably enough up to the tree branch. In a lower voice, as a side-joke meant for Caesar, he adds: "Guess it'd be in bad taste to say 'happy hunting' to him, huh?"
Caesar smirks.. "Thanks crow.." He spits right back at the bird as he turns to leave.. "Hope he gets hit by lighting.." A glance is offered to the dog as he catches half the grin and he snorts. "Don't get to friendly with him.. And ya it would be bad taste don't ya think?" Oys the dogs he has to work with...He wonders where his master finds them.
Swiftwings doesn't hear Dagda's softly spoken words to Caesar, but he does in fact hear the "crow" comment. Crow indeed! But he isn't the type to usually let his irritation show, although he does ruffle his feathers slightly before his wings spread. It's an impressive span, longer than the average man from one tip to the other. And as he hops off of his branch, he does a bit of flapping before he catches an updraft that spirals him high above the barnyard once more, leaving the dogs behind as he swoops back towards the wild.
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The barnyard is arguably the heart of the farm - and at its center stands a tall, centuries-old oak tree with long, gnarled branches. The ancient behemoth creaks and groans, thick leaves rustling in even the slightest breeze. At its base, among the roots, sits the skeletal remains of a rusted steam automobile on cement blocks. This tarnished relic provides plenty of hiding places for smaller creatures - like the mice who have taken up residence in the car's open glove compartment, or that cats who seem to enjoy snoozing in the cool shade of the back seat. A long, winding dirt road carves its way through the barnyard, flanked on either side by patches of tall green grass, dandelions and daisies.
But what would a barnyard be without the barn itself? Fashioned from long planks of rotten wood, the namesake seems to have fallen into a state of disrepair. Here and there, chipped bits of white paint can be found clinging to the structure's exterior - a reminder of better days. Beside the barn is a tall woodpile, overgrown with weeds and dry moss, a notorious nesting ground for spiders, centipedes and a plethora of nasty insects.
The farmhouse sits across the dirt road from the barn and, thankfully, is in much better condition. It carries the warm smells of freshly baked pies and bubbling stews left to simmer on the wood stove. It's a modest, one-story dwelling that looks more like a cottage than a house; it's small, painted bright white, with just enough room for a small family.
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A day at the farm! It's bright and sunny day with clear skies above. Swiftwings rides the breeze far above the treetops of the forests and meadows that he has passed, wings spread wide and flapping only every now and then. Updrifts keeps him aloft more than any physical flapping on his part, and the ride is a luxurious one. But it's not one that's taken without necessity. Dark eyes scan the scenery below as he goes from region to region, apparently taking special interest on the barnyard. Tucking his wings he begins a slow and spiraling descent towards the large and old oak tree at the center of the yard, and as he nears a high branch, he extends clawed feet and grasps at the bark. After a bit of rustling, he makes a smooth enough landing.
Dagda, having nothing on his schedule - or a schedule to speak of - has taken up the pastime of lying down in the shade offered by the run-down barn. Sprawled comfortably on his stomach with his hind legs *ever*-so-slightly crooked to the side and his head resting heavily between his paws, he seems utterly asleep. The massive dog's bulky ribcage moves in and out faintly, each warm breath that wafts from his drying nostrils creating a drift in the dust and crumbled paint chips on the ground in front of him. Dagda may be the picture of inattentiveness, but appearances can be deceiving; despite the constant hustle and bustle around the barnyard, the faint rustle from the old tree strikes him as foreign and he lifts his head, looking blearily ahead but not realizing what he’s looking for.
Another makes his way out of the barn with a yawn escapes him, it is Caesar the number one dog of the farm. His just waken from a nape to get on with the nightly patrol of the farm land and such. He wanders on over to a water bowl left out for the dogs and goes about getting a drink while his ears flick forward as he catches movement around him. His head tilts and he peers over towards Dagda curiously while licking over his maw before he turns and starts to trod towards the other dog.
Dark eyes peer about quietly now that Swiftwings has found his balance. As large as he is, he isn't exactly hidden, nor does the eagle mean to be as he perches on the thick branch. There are many things that take his attention, mostly the smaller mammals that he can see here and from a distance. Sheep. Small sheep. Appetizing little lambs. But if he's here to eat he's not making any move towards doing so. Perhaps just taking a look at the menu. But it's not long before the farm dogs catch his attention next and his head slightly turns to one side. "Farm dogs. The epitome of attentiveness," he chuckles to himself, his voice rather dark for a bird.
The darkly-coated dog shuffles his still-idle paws for a second or two before deciding to actually haul himself up, which is quite a little workout when you’re as large as Dagda and not 100% in shape. Which isn't to say he's completely /out/ of shape, he's just ... slightly lazy, that's all! With a faint groan, he gets to his feet; still feeling fuzzy, he gives a half-shake of his hindquarters, not really putting all his effort into waking up his sluggish muscles. His tail, jostled by the tiny shake, keeps on swaying back-and-forth once he catches sight of Caesar, in way of a friendly greeting. "Sunny day, ya?" he addresses the head dog casually. He'd forgotten about the small noise that roused him so gently from his nap, but the voice from the tree brings a quirk to one brow with vague concern - mostly curiousity - which he points toward the eagle once he sees him perched there.
Caesar smirks some at Dadga. "I suppose so.. You look like your getting sorta lazy there.. Gona have to get you out and running with the master more when we go hunting I see. Can't have a lazy dog on my watch! Specially with all them damn wolves, lynx and such about." The wolfhound offers with a bob of his head. A ear flicks forward and a glance is offered upwards to the large bird that is in the tree.. "My my.. An't that a big buzzard.." He mutters to the other dog, but all joking aside this isn't a good thing as eagles could go over things like chicken and like here.
Swiftwings rights his head as the dogs' attention are turned his way, and he seems to lean forward a little as he sees one of their mouths moving, but is unable to hear his mutter. "You should speak clearly," he advises as he lifts his head regally once more, wings tucked neatly behind him. "Mumbling is unbecoming even for a dog. You wouldn't want to prove your wolven brethren right, would you? Ha, you should hear the things they say," he says with a chuckle, his beak curving slightly at the corners. His eyes turn from Ceaser to the other large dog, still looking amused. Or .. as amused as a bird can look. "Are the two of you the alpha males?"
Dagda ambles forward a few steps, belying his apparent laziness at least somewhat when the tone of his muscles shows through his coat with the slight movement. He gives a good-natured grin to Caesar upon his comments and answers, "Hunting, eh? Don't know about that, but I'll get up on a real runnin' regimen, ya?" He /almost/ sounds like he's joking. While he chats with the head dog, his eyes are on the raptor in the tree - his floppy ears flicker ahead when the bird addresses them. Personally, Dagda doesn't care what the wolves think of him or any dog (but maybe he should, considering). "Well, they sound like mean fellas, them wolves," he replies in a laidback manner, then gives a sideways look to Caesar in gesture. He continues to sound friendly, despite the negativity of the eagle’s speech. "Not me, but you're lookin' at one here!"
Caesar grins at Dagda and nods. "Better believe it.. And don't think your gona get out of it that easily, your coming hunting with me and the master next time ye hear?" His attention goes back to the bird and he smirks some while moving closer to the tree it is in. "Well, I didn't know another was around.. Perhaps if you wasn't hiding in trees it wouldn't be a problem now would it?" The hound hisses out slightly through gritted teeth as he eyes the eagle. "I'm Alpha of this farm, under the master of course.. What brings you here hawk?" He knows it is an eagle but likes to tease them it seems..
"They're .. entertaining at the very least," replies Swiftwings to Dagda, regarding the wolves. As he names Caesar as being the head hauncho, his eyes soon turn his way, but he stays quiet as the head dog approaches and speaks. "Don't insult me, dog. I'm keen enough to know your species, I /would/ appreciate at least the same from you," he says, sounding lazily insulted. "What brings me here? Curiosity more than anything. Wanted to see how you farm animals lived. I also wanted to oversee your herd.." he says suggestively, looking towards the pasture. "Is it not the calving..foaling..whatever season for the flock?"
Dagda doesn't reply any further to Caesar's insistence that he go hunting - mostly because he's listening to the eagle, who gets a silly look. If it weren’t for Caesar's presence, Dagda would probably be trying to make jokes and break the tension with the predator who could very well wreak destruction on the livestock. As it is, he simply follows for a few steps before coming to a plodding halt a few feet behind and to the side of the other dog. "That's a suspicious question comin' from a bird with claws like yours," he says, the faint hint of blame hiding behind the general jovialness of his voice. He glances over at the pasture, but his eyes are not that of a sheepdog's.
Caesar smirks some at that. "I see.. fina then bird." He'll not call it what it is now mind you. "And why would I tell the like of you?.. Who could easily get at one of the new spring lambs if they so wanted to." The dog snorts some. "But if you try you shall be met by the rest of the dogs that protect this land, and that inclused the pasture mind you." The lambs are being brought in at night thanks to lynx tracks he and the master found a few days ago, though during the day the guard of the dogs have been more then normal. Still an attack from the air would be hard for any dog to stop most likely..
"Talons," says Swiftwings, looks at Dagdaw as he lifts one of those hooked claws from the bark. ""You have claws." Uppity thing, isn't he? Smirking in a slightly superior way, his lowers his food and shifts his weight a little, but still remains nestled upon his branch. "Come now, dog. Do you really think I truly /need/ your knowledge of when the lambs will be dropped? I was only trying for conversation. If I want a lamb, the lamb will be mine," he assures with a faint chuckle. "But you needn't fear me. I've no interest in sheep. I've easier prey without the hassle if your subjects nipping at my tailfeathers. It /should/ be the wolves that trouble your thoughts. But should I suppose that you've all of that taken care of? How many dogs do you really have watching your herd?"
"Taaalons," Dagda repeats, as if recalling that he knew that, once upon a time. "'Pologies." The darker of the two large dogs sits down on his haunches - a clear indication that he doesn't feel threatened by the eagle, although he doesn't give it any more thought than wanting to flop his rear down. Dagda gives Caesar a surprised look from behind at something or other the head honcho said, but keeps his maw nice and quiet, save for the occasional 'smack' of his jowls as he opens and closes his mouth between pants from the midday warmth. He leaves the questions to Caesar, only giving cursory glances to the snaky eagle now and again. This isn't his business; he's not authority nor herder.
Caesar rolls his eyes as the bird talks on. "Please.. I'm not going to tell you how many are out there. Enough to watch the ground and the skies for theif's like you though." The hound points out with a lash of his tail. "There is plenty of food in that forest, if your hungry find something around there.. Unless you plan to eat on rats and mice, but I figured one of your kind wouldn't do something like that never know what the vermin have gotten into." Though he wouldn't mind if the eagle got a hold of a poisoned rat, one less thing to worry about. A slight glance is offered to Dagda then his looking back to the bird.
Swiftwings gently twists his head to the side, eyes darting towards Dagda now. "Is he always so ... pleasant?" he asks, sarcasm evident as he speaks to the other dog. "I pity you. Though I suppose you can't choose who your leaders are. Shame, really. I'm only trying to help," he says, directing this last part to Caesar himself. "Thank you for your concern over my diet, but as you can see I fare well without it." More sarcasm, and the bird shifts his weight upon his feet, shifting his wings a bit as he takes note of the direction of the breeze. "I can find out how many dogs you have on my own, I was only trying to save myself the trouble of scouting. But cutting one corner only makes two more. I'll leave it up to me. Thank you for this rivoting conversation, dogs," he says with a dip of his curved beak. "I'll leave you be to your..." a look around the barnyard. "..duty."
A brief, but wide, smile is offered when the eagle comments on Caesar's winning personality, but Dagda doesn't go so far as to comment in mixed company. As the bird continues on, Dagda is looking distracted by this point, slowly tossing his head in one direction then the next - past the tree, around to the water bowl by the barn, toward the rusted old vehicle, anywhere, for a several moments, but Caesar and the eagle. It's timely that the serious little chat seems to be coming to a close, because he's not one for such talk, and his attention span has obviously waned. "Bye-bye now!," he calls out amiably enough up to the tree branch. In a lower voice, as a side-joke meant for Caesar, he adds: "Guess it'd be in bad taste to say 'happy hunting' to him, huh?"
Caesar smirks.. "Thanks crow.." He spits right back at the bird as he turns to leave.. "Hope he gets hit by lighting.." A glance is offered to the dog as he catches half the grin and he snorts. "Don't get to friendly with him.. And ya it would be bad taste don't ya think?" Oys the dogs he has to work with...He wonders where his master finds them.
Swiftwings doesn't hear Dagda's softly spoken words to Caesar, but he does in fact hear the "crow" comment. Crow indeed! But he isn't the type to usually let his irritation show, although he does ruffle his feathers slightly before his wings spread. It's an impressive span, longer than the average man from one tip to the other. And as he hops off of his branch, he does a bit of flapping before he catches an updraft that spirals him high above the barnyard once more, leaving the dogs behind as he swoops back towards the wild.