Sirana finds her schemes cast to the wind as she finds herself increasingly under the Staggs' mercy...

Sirana paused from her scribblings, glancing up at the large, smooth rock which doubled as her blackboard, her hands dusty with a makeshift chalk. It was a lucky find, this rock, being so close to the centre of the Stagg 'encampment'. Consideration of this object was, in truth, a mere consoling distraction from the presence of several large Staggs nearby. She looked at her plans once again, the rock being defaced by her schematics for the crude catapults she somehow managed to invent. If these Staggs could make total sense of these plans then they might have a dozen machines by the end of a fortnight, but for various reason she had a low estimation of their learning capacity.

OOC> Drasta says, "Their whupass capacity, however, is pretty darn high"

Drasta moves silently through the underbrush, the smell of a recent kill on her. She doesn't bother to mask her scent...she /wants/ the irritating little whelp in her employ to understand precisely who she was dealing with. Coming up behind Sirana, she towers over the NIMH rat, arms folded and watching curiously. "Well?"

Sirana turns her head slowly, whiskers taut. "It's coming along, Huntress. If you want, you could have the others start gathering materials now; all we need is a lot of wood and wood fibres...and a little bit of something called 'metal'. That last bit...I'll be the one to deal with that." There is little cleverness or humour in her voice. Something about her has changed, made her more methodical, serious, and reserved, at least for now. "The plan are pretty much complete, as you can see." She indicates the smooth rock with a wave of her hand.

Drasta nods, observing the etched rock. "So I see. Very well then." She nods to the nearest clanmate. "Take a band of eight or so and begin gathering wood. Bring it back here to this one," she says, pointing to Sirana. Her clanmate nods, and dashes off to obey the order. "Metal...like the weapons the redfur and the scarred one had?" she asks, furrowing her brow.

OOC> You ask, "Redfur? Scarred one?"
OOC> Drasta says, "Redfur=Justin. Scarred one=Kieran"

Sirana takes a moment to discern whom Drasta might be referring to. "Yes. I know where to find some, but the task of preparing it is a delicate one which, I think, is best reserved to myself, but don't worry; I won't spike it or anything." Probably the first joke she's cracked since getting here. The faux feral stretches and looks upon the 'chalkboard' again, adding a few more scribbles and schematics. "The colonist do not have such weapons as these, so even three or so would suffice, I think, but if you /really/ want the overkill...just hope that they don't find out about it, though. The colonists have many friends in the forest." She says enigmatically.

Drasta glowers down at Sirana. "I'm not worried...but you ought to be, if this doesn't work." She smiles at the word 'overkill', showing her sharp teeth. "Oh, I'd say it's just enough kill." She bends down to Sirana's level, getting right into her personal space. "Is that so? You wouldn't happen to be playing both sides, would you? That's the sort of destructive game /you/ seem to enjoy."

Pike seems to be quietly observing the scene below him from his perch on a low tree branch; perhaps he'd always been there and just snoozing, or perhaps he'd done some jumping from tree to tree. Regardless, he seems very interested in what is transpiring, though he remains as quiet as ever.

"Oh, please," says Sirana, starting to regain some of her usual spark. "I've vowed never to set foot anywhere near their little community...maybe to steal some of their food, though, I might. No, I really much prefer the great Wild. Besides, you ought to be more worried about your guest; he did supposedly 'abandon' his colony, after all." She continues to scribble on the board, now in the final stages of writing up the plans. "But enough about him, I'm hoping you would be able to, um, interpret these?" She points at the board again; surely /she/ must be at least a little smarter than the rest.

Drasta snorts at Sirana's blatant hypocrisy at Owen's abandonment of the colony. "So did you, little one. Be careful how you sling your accusations...they may come back and strike you." She peers at the pictures. "Hmm. This is how it's built, I take it?"

Pike drops down right next to Drasta, peering over the plans with a curious eye. "Ooh... and what are we building, my dear sister?"

Sirana blinks. "Frankly, it was more like the Colony abandoning me." She is quick to drop this unhappy subject as she regards the plans again. "Basically. The wood ought to be cut to certain dimensions, and with some time I can help you make such tools. Now, the wood fibers need to be made into rope, and I may have to deal with that part myself as well, but once assembled it can be attached as indicated." Despite her solemn tone Sirana seems to be rather excited about this, though whether it is because Drasta surprised her by understanding the plans (sort of) or because of anxiety is unclear. Pike's arrival doesn't surprise her one bit; his scent was rather obvious. She is, however, interested by the fact that Pike is her brother...or is that only how they addressed each other? She peeks at them discreetly.

Drasta shrugs. It isn't much of a concern to her in any case. "I see...we do have some skill with making rope, if that helps." She turns to Pike, smiling. "Hello, brother. We're building a weapon...a different kind of weapon, to deal with those irritating colonists."

Pike raises an eyebrow. "Our hunter's strength isn't enough to overcome them?" he asks, surprised. "What sort of weapon?" he asks almost skeptically.

"A machine," says Sirana tersely. "It is a thing built from many materials that can increase your destructive power." She turns and smiles at him slyly. "They expect barbarians with sticks and stones, but with these devices you will catch them wholly unprepared. Assuming, of course, that we can built enough before they catch on." She looks at Drasta, surprised to learn about how dexterous and intelligent these Staggs really were. She had ventured to the city, yes, and heard stories from the regular street rats, but to see the facts for herself in the face was quite discomfiting. If they were smart enough to use tools then what else could they really do? What could they do...if they coerced her to use the full strength of her intellect? "As I said before, these things are useless without your hunters," she states without missing a beat. "Ultimately they must be lead, whipped into battle, like any other underling."

Drasta chuckles at Pike's reaction. "Yes, of course...but isn't this even more fun? So much damage, so much chaos...easy pickings for us." She glances at Sirana briefly, and nods. "I can assure you...we are experts in that regard."

A slow, smile spreads across Pike's muzzle, and he inhales as if already smelling the sweet perfume of the blood, bones, and hides of their enemies. "Yess... Always did enjoy a good bit of chaos, yes."

Sirana tries her best to show her shared enjoyment at the menace her plan would cause, but in reality her heart is not in it. Her plan, her real plan, had failed. She is no longer in control of the outcome of this conflict but is yet another pawn, whisked about by the cruel winds of fate. It is something she despises greatly, but lest her life be forfeit she dares not reveal this to anyone, least of all these two. A spark of stubborn independence flared up momentarily as she considered her lot. She may be bound to build these machines but she certainly wasn't going to provide any tactical advice or anything like that! Yet, if she withheld too much they may blame her for her ultimate failure, for not taking all the factors into account. Maybe, just maybe, they will accept even a perfunctory bit of advice. "Chaos is difficult to sow when order reigns amongst them. There are the few in their ranks who are great leaders indeed, whose very cry of battle will inspire so much hope and determination. If you are to succeed, great hunters, you must find a way to neutralize them."

Drasta chuckles a bit at her brother. "You're so predictable, Pike. Rather sad for an anarchist." She glances back to Sirana, and is pleased to note that she's clearly not happy. But her words certainly makes sense. "Great leaders or not, they'll all be neutralized...but you're right, it would be foolish to underestimate the colony."

Pike smirks at his sister. "I'm only predictable in my unpredictability, dear sister," he says, beginning to circle around to Sirana's other side, perhaps hoping to discomfit her somewhat.

Sirana pauses, taking a rhetorical breather as Drasta and Pike exchange witty banter. Witty? She had little expected quite that much depth from these savages. She turns around to keep herself facing the Staggs, her back to the 'blackboard'. Perhaps she could still make something of this. "I hope your battle tactics are somewhat more substantial than that," she quips, crossing her arms. "The colonist soldiers know how to expect what is unexpected."

Drasta rolls her eyes at Pike's antics, but she's clearly amused and not at all inclined to stop him. Her expression becomes more serious, however, as Sirana mentions the colony soldiers. That one in particular.... "Yes...that is true. I've fought them---they are truly worthy adversaries." She glances down at Sirana, her brow furrowing in thought. "One of them--their leader, by the looks of it--told me his name. Santiago, he said. Do you know of him?

Pike continues to circle Sirana, not letting her truly rest, though he seems to be content to remain in the background of this conversation.

Mention of Santiago piques Sirana. "Of course I do; I did mention him earlier." As Pike circles her, and Drasta looms, she starts to put the pieces together and, with a horrid realization, starts to become very anxious. "Wh...what are you going to do?" she asks, doing her best to restrain her sudden excitation.

Drasta grins, showing her teeth. "What we do best. Kill things. Killing Santiago will be a battle I'll relish...even to die at the hands of a worthy opponent...it's a beautiful thing." She moves her gaze to Sirana, raising her eyebrows. "I hope you weren't fond of him. It would be rather a shame."

Pike merely grins an unsettling grin at Sirana, licking his chops a little.

Sirana blinks. "Yes, it would be," she responds blandly. Idly she tosses aside her piece of chalk, wringing her hands. "I need to rest. The design is practically finished already, so you won't need me until you start building the wooden infrastructure. I'll be close." She starts to walk off, heading deeper into the woods, but not directly away from the Stagg area.

...

Sirana walks for some time, past the crude dwellings of the Stagg 'village' and into the wilderness, where a comfortable-looking hollow tree she saw earlier was positioned. It reminded her of her treestump home, despite its crudeness, and somehow that was enough to make it seem very comfortable. Looking up at the walls she noted how empty they were, but they were dry, suitable for writing upon. Some scribblings of Liszt might make it seem more homely. Sirana falls onto her knees, weak and helpless, and begins to weep, utterly alone and helpless amidst the wreckage of her fragile youth.