Post by manschett on Feb 5, 2007 20:06:40 GMT -5
They burn or bury their dead, humans, which is the first sign of how they are not of natural origins.
Sure, the burial allows the return to nature, but it prevents, as does burning, something to fill the stomachs of scavengers.
One might think a graveyard was the best place for a raven, but oh, how wrong they'd be. All the scents of a good meal with none of the substance. Ah well. Berries and nuts were not filling, perhaps, but they would sustain him for a while. Yamaa alit on a large rock, vague markings chisled into it. It would be clear to a human that the family of the deceased could not afford a proper headstone. Preening his feathers, he looked about him, disgusted at the sheer number of Vranka about. There were Tama about too, he'd have to be on his gaurd. The stealthy little bastards could get you good if you didn't notice them coming.
Stopping his grooming, he sighed, inching about on the stone. The night was cold, and he was tired from two days of ceaseless flying in search of carrion. Looking about for a place to roost, he briefly pondered chatting up one of the Vranka. If they knew of Vrand about, it would be a good thing. Wherever there were Vrand about, there were food.
He was just about to fly off in search of a suitable tree when he heard the ever-so-faint sound of fur brushing against stone. He whipped around, beating his wings in a frenzy to find...
Sure, the burial allows the return to nature, but it prevents, as does burning, something to fill the stomachs of scavengers.
One might think a graveyard was the best place for a raven, but oh, how wrong they'd be. All the scents of a good meal with none of the substance. Ah well. Berries and nuts were not filling, perhaps, but they would sustain him for a while. Yamaa alit on a large rock, vague markings chisled into it. It would be clear to a human that the family of the deceased could not afford a proper headstone. Preening his feathers, he looked about him, disgusted at the sheer number of Vranka about. There were Tama about too, he'd have to be on his gaurd. The stealthy little bastards could get you good if you didn't notice them coming.
Stopping his grooming, he sighed, inching about on the stone. The night was cold, and he was tired from two days of ceaseless flying in search of carrion. Looking about for a place to roost, he briefly pondered chatting up one of the Vranka. If they knew of Vrand about, it would be a good thing. Wherever there were Vrand about, there were food.
He was just about to fly off in search of a suitable tree when he heard the ever-so-faint sound of fur brushing against stone. He whipped around, beating his wings in a frenzy to find...
