Post by Credence Power on Jun 12, 2019 14:13:53 GMT -5
Kotar was a very different place from the northern country of Oswia. Surrounded by mountains and being so far from the temperate zones of the planet, it was always cold there. Sunlight could barely penetrate the thick fog, leaving the air cold and gusty. Their storms were not made of rain and thunder but of snow, and where other places had to watch their water sources for flooding, in Oswia the main river was almost always frozen solid. It was a completely different place, with worries being about literally freezing to the ground, avalanches, and snow drifts so tall that people were trapped in their houses.
When he'd been sold and headed South, the native Oswian beast man really had no idea how to cope. For them, it only snowed a couple of times a year. The temperature was still biting and cold, but sometimes it would melt snow into rain, it'd form puddles in the pit that Creed and his fellow slaves would have to clean up by dumping more sand in the arena. The wide open meadows of this country meant that storms came and went quickly, not trapped by mountains, frozen rivers or glaciers. It was his first experience with warmer weather ever, his first time seeing a puddle that was not frozen, his first time standing in the rain, soaking his clothes and his fur, it was enlightening, uplifting, he loved nothing more than to run around the coliseum's outskirts just bathing in the wet atmosphere, splashing in puddles making crude structures out of mud.
But life in Kotar was a whole 'nother beast. It got downright hot in the summer, the sun sweltering, unrelenting. Even now, after having lived here for years, the beast man never expected the heat, wasn't used to it. He always ended up taking off whatever heavy tunic he'd put on that morning and would walk around the brothel shirtless, sweating bucket loads and feeling tired, lethargic. It was so hard to function in this heat, when your only salvation would come from a glass of water with some ice or a nice swig of chilled ale. But the brothel was a sauna of a building, with so many bodies passing through and with very few functioning windows, the heat really built up. So deliberately, the half gnoll decided to take a day off, to go outside finally and try to find a shady place to draw and relax.
The Summer Festival was not usually his choice of location, he preferred smaller crowds, places that were more quiet. But, as he passed it on a neighboring road, he decided to experiment, to see what the festival had to offer. Though he'd lived in Kotar for a while, he had never concerned himself with city-wide get togethers. He got plenty of socialization back home in his brothel, but he was quickly realizing that he needed to make more acquaintances outside of the Sex trade to make more money and bring in new customers, so he turned his mount- his white wingless land-dwelling dragon Django- down a side road that would lead back toward the festival. As they neared the city center, Django started to fuss a bit under saddle. He'd only recently been trained to take a rider and was still very new to the idea and was skittish and distressed, like a horse might be, approaching such a large crowd. So, about a block away from the party, Creed pulled his dragon to a stop, hopped off of the creature's back and proceeded to tie his reins to a post designed for holding horses- it had some hay and a big trough of water. A carnivore, Django was not interested in the hay, but sweating from the heat, the water was an invaluable resource. Creed patted his thick neck affectionately before turning to the nearby crowd, ready to dive right in and see what all of this festival stuff was about.
When he'd been sold and headed South, the native Oswian beast man really had no idea how to cope. For them, it only snowed a couple of times a year. The temperature was still biting and cold, but sometimes it would melt snow into rain, it'd form puddles in the pit that Creed and his fellow slaves would have to clean up by dumping more sand in the arena. The wide open meadows of this country meant that storms came and went quickly, not trapped by mountains, frozen rivers or glaciers. It was his first experience with warmer weather ever, his first time seeing a puddle that was not frozen, his first time standing in the rain, soaking his clothes and his fur, it was enlightening, uplifting, he loved nothing more than to run around the coliseum's outskirts just bathing in the wet atmosphere, splashing in puddles making crude structures out of mud.
But life in Kotar was a whole 'nother beast. It got downright hot in the summer, the sun sweltering, unrelenting. Even now, after having lived here for years, the beast man never expected the heat, wasn't used to it. He always ended up taking off whatever heavy tunic he'd put on that morning and would walk around the brothel shirtless, sweating bucket loads and feeling tired, lethargic. It was so hard to function in this heat, when your only salvation would come from a glass of water with some ice or a nice swig of chilled ale. But the brothel was a sauna of a building, with so many bodies passing through and with very few functioning windows, the heat really built up. So deliberately, the half gnoll decided to take a day off, to go outside finally and try to find a shady place to draw and relax.
The Summer Festival was not usually his choice of location, he preferred smaller crowds, places that were more quiet. But, as he passed it on a neighboring road, he decided to experiment, to see what the festival had to offer. Though he'd lived in Kotar for a while, he had never concerned himself with city-wide get togethers. He got plenty of socialization back home in his brothel, but he was quickly realizing that he needed to make more acquaintances outside of the Sex trade to make more money and bring in new customers, so he turned his mount- his white wingless land-dwelling dragon Django- down a side road that would lead back toward the festival. As they neared the city center, Django started to fuss a bit under saddle. He'd only recently been trained to take a rider and was still very new to the idea and was skittish and distressed, like a horse might be, approaching such a large crowd. So, about a block away from the party, Creed pulled his dragon to a stop, hopped off of the creature's back and proceeded to tie his reins to a post designed for holding horses- it had some hay and a big trough of water. A carnivore, Django was not interested in the hay, but sweating from the heat, the water was an invaluable resource. Creed patted his thick neck affectionately before turning to the nearby crowd, ready to dive right in and see what all of this festival stuff was about.