It was the Medruzz again. Andy knew that, but forgot to name it out loud. Sorry. Pictures attached. I found a cloudcover mod over at MTS2. I've only just gotten it and am not really sure how to use it yet but it gave me impressive storm clouds right off the bat.
A couple more pictures of the clouds. They're so neat looking. BTW, the rain is an entirely separate mod that I downloaded a way long time ago. It's very tricky. I can't save the game if I start the rain.
It's OK. I like suspense. I figured it was probably the Medruzz. Fabulou spictures, as always!!! And now, to bed. I'm up much too late, posting pictures to my own story, and just had to stop by ...
Wow! absolutely amazing pictures... such a feeling of forboding that the clouds create. Andy looks healthier than she did. and those trees... I hate those trees individually but massed... what ambience
What was it Hugo had said about the Medruzz? This is the seventh month, and it is the time of the Nomei, of which the Medruzz is one, and these are the demons that run unhindered over the frozen land, fed by the Rashida Wind The wind was gone and the land was no longer frozen but this particular Medruzz was still running around unhindered. The wild one, the Sorceress had warned me, was the one to be feared. I remembered its growl, You are mine. Had I just imagined that it spoke to me? No, because I had heard those same words before, when it had first chased me through the snow to Cecils house. Why did it play with me, its prey? Amathaon had described it as hungry, and there was definitely something of the hungry cat about its looks, but what exactly does a demon in this world hunger for? I shut the door against the rain and crouched down on the floor, holding tight to the knife. The Medruzz was afraid of the knife. I lifted some of the cloth from around the blade then immediately covered it again. Its light was too painful. I rubbed at my eyes and blinked around at the walls of the tiny stone hut, trying to bring them back into focus. Looking at the knife itself was as bad as staring into the sun. Very carefully I slipped the knife into the sack and pulled out a small loaf of bread. The Medruzz now knew that I had the knife and he would probably not come back to the hut tonight, but he would continue to follow me, stalking me. Eventually, I would need to sleep.
Sitting up, facing the door, my fingers wrapped around the shape of the knife inside the sack, I waited out the night, sometimes dozing and then waking with a startled jerk at the sound of a noise outside the hut. I do not know what it was that moved around in the woods at night but as I had guessed, the Medruzz did not return. At least he did not come inside the hut. The rain ended, the window brightened with the morning sunlight, and I heard the light chatter and buzz of small animals and insects. Cracking open the door, I squinted around its edge, and then pulled it wider. Animals the size of mice and squirrel disappeared into the brushwood or raced in fear up the tree trunks into the leaves. I suspected they would not share the woods more easily with the Medruzz than with me so I concluded he was not around and stepped outside. Rubbing at my stiff neck and shoulders I returned to the road and started walking again. Its stone blocks were slippery with a mixture of green slime and mud, and it made for miserable walking. I was quickly tired and hungry. I have no idea how far I walked but when the sun was directly overhead I came to a shrine or holy place beside the road. It was very small, with four columns on a stone platform. There was a dark block of stone in the center, carved with script that I couldnt read. Someone had placed offerings around it, including a bowl of fruit. I stared at the bowl, tempted. Take the fruit, said the voice at my elbow. I jumped aside and spun around. I had not heard him come up behind me. Steady, my Lovely, he said. I am only a hungry poet and I wont hurt you. He bowed with his hand to his chest, then smiled up at me. I have already eaten some of the fruit. Its very good. It wasnt left here for us to steal. Ah, he waved a hand at it and shrugged. Pilgrims. If they come by again and find it missing they will believe the gods have favored them by eating it. See there? I have left two pits at the feet of the idol. Goodbye, I said, and turned for the road.
The vagabond caught my arm. “I have offended you. Please forgive me, and tell me how I can return myself to your good opinion! Perhaps with a little juggling. See? You are amused? No? Some poetry, then… "My Love in her attire doth show her wit, It doth so well become her; For every season she hath dressings fit, For Winter, Spring and Summer. No beauty she doth miss When all her robes are on: But Beauty’s self she is When all her robes are gone.” I tried not to laugh and failed. “Nice,“ I said. He grinned, “A little thing passed down from father to son for more generations than I can name. We have all been poets.” “How about your own name? Do you remember that one?” “In the clamor of this most beautiful of mornings the formality of a name has completely escaped from my thoughts. And besides that, my Lovely, I feel as if I have known you my life and so should call you Friend, as you should call me. However, the name my mother gave me is Egan. What was the name your mother gave to you?” “Andy.” His forehead wrinkled and he looked puzzled. “Are you sure?” he said. “Perhaps your brothers teased you with that clumsy word. You are Wauna, or Niabi, or Amayeta, I am certain. Dyania! May I call you Dyania?” “Call me Andy or Andromeda. It’s my name.” “Andromeda? Yes! Your mother was right. It suits you. Andromeda it will be.”
Hee, he's funny. I'm kind of curious, now, though. Which skin does Andy have? At first I thought it was Enayla's because of the lighter part at the corners of the mouth, but then I noticed that the ribs are much more defined, and, ahem, the cleavage is different. What skin did you give her?
I'll look it up tomorrow when I get back into the game. I don't think it's Enayla (because hers are more carefully done) but I'm pretty sure I got it from MTS2. Anyway, I'll look it up.
LOL, as soon as my guys spout poetry they become suspect. But yes, Egan definitely lives on the edge. Whether or not he suffers the gruesome consequences of misbehaving :yuck: that befell his counterpart (an equally charming fellow) in my original story I don't know yet. I hope not, but it depends on what he does this second time around. (I am changing some things as I go along. )
I suspected my new friend was more thief than poet, but he might also be good company on a road I did not know very well. And I hoped that with Egan nearby, the Medruzz would leave me alone. So I pointed up the road and said, Im going that way. What about you? He rubbed at his chin and peered intently in both directions, then said, I have already been down to that gloomy pile of rocks where live a multitude of unfriendly men. The night was very dark and very wet and full of unholy noises in the trees all around. All I asked of the priests was a dry corner to lay my head. A stone for a pillow, my needs are few. They refused, and worse, they called me wretched names that would have set my poor mother to weeping if she had heard them. I sighed and looked at the sky. The clouds were moving and piling up again. More rain? I hoped not. Egan, Im leaving. Walk with me if you like. I turned around and started up the road. He was immediately at my side, matching my stride. I have sorted myself out and now realize that this is also the direction for me. Now tell me, Andromeda, where do you come from? What land? I confess a weakness for the people with skin the color of yours. I have an urge to take your hand and kiss your lovely fingers, then your arm, softly, one warm kiss following another up your arm to Ah! No! Dont turn your eyes on me with such a look of fire. I would not act on this urge. I swear on the tears of my poor mother that I will not touch you. I am only speaking freely of my thoughts because we are friends, you and I. He smiled without guile, and I wanted to believe him. I kept walking. He said, Are you going home to family? I have been to many places along the river and have never met anyone who looks like you. He was contradicting himself but I didnt care. I said, With all that traveling, have you met Cecil and his wife? I think her name is Donata. They are farmers and live somewhere along this road. If they are family and look like you, then no, I havent met them? Theyre not family. Just farmers, and I need to find them. Easily done. All farmers in this valley take their wares to the market in Brydia Fields. There are no harvests yet so all they will have to sell are the stores remaining from the winter, but theyll all be there, trading with each other and with the pilgrims. We will reach the market in a day or two, maybe three, if we continue on this road. Good, I said, and walked faster.
It didnt rain. The clouds moved overhead and then away to the mountains that I could barely see through the trees. Above us, the sky was clear and blue. We stopped for a little while to rest and eat. I finished what remained of the small loaf of bread from the night before. Egan pulled out two pieces of fruit, large and round and overripe. I knew where hed gotten them, from the shrine. I shook my head when he offered me one. The only other thing in my sack besides the knife was a squat jug. Its narrow mouth was sealed with wax. When I noticed Egan looking at the jug with great interest I handed it to him. He gave me the biggest grin Id seen yet and with the ease of long experience he cut out the wax plug with a small knife, then lifted the jug to his face and drank deeply of the contents. He handed it back to me. What is it? Water? I tried to see inside it. Now I know with certainty that you are not from anywhere along the river and have come from a land much further than even I have traveled. Surely your people know the secrets of the spirit of the Chumana. Drink and you will know it. Its very good. Where did you get it? His eyes narrowed a little. He assumed Id stolen it. Someone gave it to me. A rich gift. In return for somelittle kindness, perhaps? His question wasnt worth an answer. I lifted the jug and took a cautious sip of what I guessed would be wine. I almost spit it out again but forced myself to swallow the stuff. Wine, yes, but it was harsh and badly made. My people, I said, giving him the jug, do a better job of it. Then I must go there, he laughed, and drank again. When we got up from our rest he held the small jug in his arms as we walked, and frequently raised it to drink more, until it was all gone and his face was flushed. Then he tossed it off into the trees and chattered about his travels for the rest of the afternoon. At first, it amused me. After awhile I just ignored him. It was late afternoon but still light when we came to the inn where I met the woman that Egan loved. Naturally, thief that he is, she was another mans wife.
The first person we encountered outside the door to the inn was the innkeeper himself. I could see that he had dressed himself with care, but he hadn't bothered to shave his chin, or to take a bath, going by the smell. When he saw Egan they got into an argument. Apparently Egan owed him money, and Egan responded to that demand by complaining about the food and the wine and the bugs in the bed. He said it had taken him days to rid himself of a stomach ailment brought on by the food, and months to rid himself and his belongings of the bugs. With a great deal of unnecessary and colorful detail he described his suffering from itchy welts on his arms and legs. If I didn't already know about Egan's tendency to exaggeration I might have walked away from that inn then and there. The elderly woman who was sitting on a bench by the door when we first approached watched the argument for a few minutes then shrugged and went into the inn. It was only a moment later that the other woman came outside. With a puzzled glance at me and without looking at Egan at all, she walked up to the innkeeper and started talking to him in a voice so soft that I could barely hear what she said. I was not much interested in what she said anyway. The expressions on the faces of the two men were much more fascinating. Every angry line had melted away at sight of her. They were both in love, and the reason was obvious. She was beautiful, so beautiful that I became curious about her. What was someone you would expect to find in the court of kings doing out here in the middle of a dark and muddy forest? I suspected that if I asked Egan I would not get the truth. The woman managed to persuade the innkeeper to take in two more guests. Then with a nod to us she took the old man's arm in hers and led him inside. Egan and I followed them. Although she had acknowledged our presence she was careful not to meet Egan's eye, or even to look at him. Egan, on the other hand, had no such sense of caution or self preservation. He watched her every move, his eyes moving from her head to her feet and then back again, slowly. His look was hungry, even possessive. I took a deep breath of the fresh woodsy air before stepping through the door of the inn. I was beginning to think I should get away from Egan, maybe by leaving before everyone else awoke in the morning. The odor of danger around that man was getting too strong.
I have several pictures of the inn and the people there, but I'm at work now. I'll post them after dinner tonight. I guess I'm curious to see if people agree with me that Egan's love interest is as beautiful as Andy thinks she is. I've been inspired by the beautiful sims created by SBW, Kristalrose and Sylla. I confess she's not particularly unique in her features, kind of the standard Barbie doll, in fact. But it's a change, however brief, from my usual heroines.
Awww, shucks, but I like your sims the way they are. Anyway, I'm sure she's quite pretty. I love the pictures. The forest is incredible. So dense and lush looking. And I love the line about "thief that he was, she was another man's wife." Made me smile.
I have a few minutes before dinner, so here are some pictures: 1) Andy and Egan approach the Inn. 2) They stand there looking at it (because I wanted another picture of the front of it.) 3) The innkeeper sees Egan and demands money. 4) Egan complains about the food and the bedbugs. 5) The Other woman comes out of the inn and talks to the innkeeper.
Drum roll -- two pictures of the woman that Egan loves. A side note about my sets, like this one. I built the Inn on a large lot, toward the back of the lot, and made my own winding dirt road with some green stone groundcover thrown in. I put in a lot of trees, the three big trees that come with the game, plus the bamboo and (with moveObjects) the cattails. The groundcover is a variety of stuff all over, trying to make it look muddy. Outside the lot I used the neighborhood forest trees to give the woods more depth. When I build these sets they've got everything a sim needs. The Inn, for instance is a residential lot complete with old kitchen and a bathroom and a string of tiny bedrooms for 'travelers.' I never know in advance exactly what's going to happen in these lots and what I might want to take a picture of, so I think about everything in it. Of course, they've got a TV and bookcases and chessboard and easel upstairs for relaxation. Besides, it's all fun.
