The Deep Path

[foaloke]

The cold reality of his situation battled with the heady thrill of the hunt. The young wild elf druid crouched motionless within the dark, humid underbrush of the Chultan jungle awaiting any sign that he was discovered. Nothing. He ignored the constant buzz of the insect life about him and the tickle of his sweat as it ran down his sinewy neck. All else was still; almost too still. The aspirant, as all the uninitiated of his pack were called, knew his goal lie ahead and had learned all he could of the dangers it brought. He must continue, and enter the deep path; his taumbumen. A small white shape caught the corner of his sight. He focused his gaze, trying to make sense of the distant object. It lay on the gray moss beneath a large tent-leaf, only a stone’s throw from him, shadowed but not hidden. It was the size of a small melon and seemed smooth-surfaced, yet…. His pulse quickened as his grip on the serrated, bone long-knife tightened. A skull. The aspirant sprang into motion, bounding forward in a low sprint. A shrill, high-pitched chitter sounded from somewhere off to his left. He moved with blinding speed, deftly weaving through the damp under-canopy, as his eyes searched for the portal he knew must be near. The sound suddenly seemed everywhere at once, bearing down on the young druid with a palpable, malevolent hunger. A rune-inscribed archway came into view almost at the same instant, its weathered, vine-covered archway bordering a dark, swirling mass. His mind instantly dismissed the structure’s oddity, intent only on forcing his burning muscles to reach it. The jungle about him bulged unnaturally, as though becoming a sea of engorged pythons eager to drown the life before it. He gritted his teeth against the rising fire in his straining lungs. I will not die here. The young aspirant used his last energies to dive toward the archway’s swirling surface. Darkness engulfed him.

A cool breeze with an unknown scent caressed his face. How strange. His eyes flickered open as he became aware of his aching body. Gone were the damp, moss-covered confines of the Chultan under-canopy. Instead tall, thin trees with fine needles stood in small stands about the rolling hillside where he lay. The sun was high in the cloudless-blue sky, and strange buildings rose in clusters off in the distance. A large white shape caught the corner of his sight. Again, as he had before, he focused his gaze, trying to make sense of the distant object. A slight smile took shape on the young druid’s lips. The peak of one of the far hills was of smooth, white stone, giving it the appearance of a huge skull. This was no coincidence. He had survived his first trial, and now embarked on his taumbumen.

[Mick]

Nice. I have to be honest. Your PC and this story intrigue me. Look forward to playing with you more.

[danielmn]

*smiles, applauding heartily* Hiye, Inut. Good story, ears wait for more. What will be, though, will be.

Daniel

[valn99]

ooooh!
/me Like!!!

[Brokenbone]

Nice introductory story.

But if I see any Chultan dinosaurs chilling near the Old Skull Hill... *shakes fist*

[PensivesWetness]

ooooh!
/me Like!!!

*snorts* What's a matter, Jen? Afraid of things pink?

wonderful story, foaloke.

[foaloke]

But if I see any Chultan dinosaurs chilling near the Old Skull Hill... *shakes fist*

Yabba Dabba Doo!

[Longhorn]

So...a fine first look at our newly arrived tattooed one.

[foaloke]

The long shadows of the setting sun stretched out before Tuo as he sat atop a huge, moss-covered branch. This was one of several spots where the great expanse of the Chultan canopy gapped just enough to allow a glimpse into the dark vastness of the Undercanopy far below. Twice the moon had turned full its face since Lupaa had descended to embarked on his taumbumen. Tuo and he had been embraced as aspirants by the Nim’carak on the same name-day so many years past. They had run side-by-side on countless hunts, and brought honor to their prey before the Thunderfalls on each other’s behalf. Together they had first seen the strength of Ubtao, and repeated the remembered-words voiced by their Alpha. It was now time for Tuo to prove his worth to the Pack and face his own great Shaping. Like Lupaa and so many before, he would leave the touch of the Sun to find his taumbumen within the darkness of the Undercanopy. Packless, alone, he would walk the Deep Path.

[foaloke]

My first hunt within the valley of Shadows took place not long ago, just as the Sun began its westward descent. An edan called Ricpeth had begun offering odd tasks, and this day it was my task to scout a goblin-kin tribe somewhere south of the village. It would seem the need for this task was significant, as Ricpeth had given it also to a mountain-blood named Nari and another edan calling himself Vastarini. Nari seemed as his blood heritage, both strong and resolute, with the flicker of earth-fire within his bold eyes. The dark-haired edan was both average and yet not. His smooth words spoke of Sembia, and his agile hands seemed comfortable with the bolt-thrower of the n’tel’quessir. Words of greeting and introduction were briefly shared as we set off to find our query.
The air had begun to cool with the soft embrace of night as the first flicker of a cooking fire was seen. Though our approach was not subtle, we remained unseen. I reached out to the land, and was quick to feel my neck itch with the angry thoughts of some small, furry watcher from the trees, indignant at the stench of these loud, flesh-eaters and their flames. The image, though brief, was unmistakable. A nod to the others confirmed their suspicions, and we began our slow advance.
A lone scout stood along the camp’s perimeter, his beady black eyes fortunately disinterested in his task. We had prepared a simple formation should battle ensue, with the mountain-blood at the fore. Without so much as a word, Nari dashed forward with an eager grin on his bearded face, holding to a low sprint as he brought his weapon to bear. The goblin sentry turned just in time to focus on the axe that would cut short his next breathe. Vastarini and I hastened our approach, certain that any others within the camp would hear this less-than subtle, yet efficient kill. A high-pitched, slobbery cry went up as our suspicion proved true. Three more goblin, one with bow, another with blade, and the last four steps behind, became aware of our hunt. Narin again charged forward, his now-bloodied axe held high. The dark-haired Vastarini was quick to moved into a flanking position, sending a bolt into the upper chest of the goblin nearest him. My movements mirrored Vastarini’s, letting loose an arrow to find purchase in the shoulder of another. The mountain-blood, Nari, seemed unstoppable, his axe splitting my target from shoulder to mid-sternum. A quick glance to my right showed Vastarini already preparing his next bolt, his first already slicked with the life-blood of its victim. The hunt goes well. Coarse, gutteral chanting jerked my attention back to the last upright goblin. A crude tattoo on his forehead and the skulls of several small animals lashed to his tattered belt marked him as their shaman. My kill. I sprang forward, dropping my shortbow to quickly ready my shield and club. But before I could closed the distance, a blast of sickly, red light engulfed Nari sending the bold, mountain-blood to the ground in a crumpled heap. Fury fueled my swing, and my club found bone just as the goblin’s body arched with the pain of another well-aimed bolt. A second blow collapsed the shaman’s skull, ending any thoughts of a second incantation. Crouching at Nari’s side, I reached out to the land as my hands gently touched the ground about me. Great watchers, Life about us. Share your power with this servant of the Hunt, that aide may be given to the fallen. The familiar warmth crept up my arms and pulsed through my chest. My touch upon Nari’s forehead brought with it a soft, green light and a brief jerk of his torso. A coarse cough and sharp inhalation followed as Nari’s eyes opened wide. After a few blinks, and a moment to find his voice, the mountain-blood smiled ruefully. “Bout time ya did sumthin’ useful!” A good hunt, indeed.