Black Yoshi
look at that PUNGENT KILLSTICK.
"Now, you are to carry this message to your assigned recipient. Is that understood?" A woman with blood-red lips sat in a large chair, her face obscured in shadow. Four other women and seven men also in chairs, all their invisible eyes bearing coldly on the group of small boys and girls. The children nodded, mumbling their 'yes sir's and 'yes ma'am's.
"Excellent." One of the men said. He leaned forward, revealing short silver hair and red eyes, accompanied by his sharp features. "Now, run along children. The council has business to attend to. We want those messages delivered and our assets here with the next ten minutes, alright?"
The children nodded silently, and a few tried to step out of the pavillion. "I certainly hope that you all know your targets. Shame if you brought the wrong soldiers here." This other man, seated in the center, barely whispered the words, yet they were heard very clearly by all, the children freezing and staring up at him, wondering if he would ever threaten them. the other council members were holding their breath, and the children cautiously made their way outside, to fresh air, where they felt like normal children on a simple errand again.
---
Two young men sat next to a fire, one a teenager, young with black hair, hunched over a hunk of wood. The other, a very large man casually flicking his knife across a piece of wood as it slowly became a statue.
Cedrick McBride, the smaller, looked up in frustration. One could see his block of wood was nothing more than a poorly shaved log, stripped of its bark by his knife. "Tell me this, how long before you got good at this, Cookie?" He asked the large man.
"Well, Ced, my Ol' Man and I used to carve things on our porch every day since I was six. I was like you at first; frustrated, unskilled. In a few years, though, I was able to carve a bird. Just remember, Ced; Above all, if you want to turn a hunk of wood to art, you gotta' keep your knife sharp." As he delivered this metaphor, Cookie tapped his head, to drive his point home.
"Oh, very philosophical. Why don' t you keep that stuff to yourself, Cookie? I have plenty to think... About... As is..." Cedrick slowed as he saw the frantic boy dashing towards them.
The boy skidded to a halt next to Cedrick, breathing heavy, and took a moment to gather himself. "... Cedrick?" He asked. Cedrick responded with a simple, but slow nod. "Council... Now... Council wants... To see you... Ah, I'm not going back, though!" The boy took off in a completely different direction, eager to be away from the council.
"Wow. You're a regular VIP, Ced." Cookie chuckled to himself before Cedrick threw his terribly shaved log at the large man's face.
"Shut up, Cookie. And don't eat my food, I'll be right back. Burn the carving, but not the tent, save me a seat, and watch my stuff." With that Cedrick began on his way to decorated tent. The only tent with four highly trained and highly bored guards out front, the only tent of any importance, where he'd only been in on the day his master died: The Council of 12's Pavilion.